“I share your grief,” his brother said to Aris, taking him by the hand. “And yours,” he said to Camwyn, taking his. “By Gird—we could have lost you both today!”

He led them to the table and sat them one to either side of him. Camwyn looked across at Aris. He had not eaten with Mikeli and the men since their father died; he’d still been in the nursery then.

“We join the Council after dinner. Just for talk—” Mikeli looked at them both. “No more questions—or not as formally, anyway.”

“Do you know yet what it was?” Aris asked. “Juris won’t tell me anything.” He glared down the table at his brother, who grinned.

“The Marshal and instructor believe they do, but are reserving that knowledge for the time being.”

“It was wicked,” Aris said.

“Yes,” Mikeli said. “But we will not talk of it during dinner. We have other things to discuss with both of you.”

Camwyn sat up at that.

“After the meal is served,” Mikeli said. He nodded to the guard at the door; servants came in with food, and the taster sampled each dish without incident. The servant withdrew, and the prince forked a slice of roast goose onto his plate. The others served themselves.

Camwyn ate steadily. Mikeli would talk when he was ready, not before, and the food—more varied and richer than what he was usually served—delighted him in spite of the situation.

Mikeli put down his fork. “Camwyn, you and Aris are not as close as Juris and I, I think. Is that not so?”

Camwyn nodded, his mouth full of roast goose.

“The attack on you two might be because someone thinks you’re like Juris and me—or because you’re my brother and Aris is a Marrakai—or because you were both riding Marrakai-bred horses today. Duke Verrakai planned to put blame on Juris for killing me … whichever Verrakai did this might have wanted to put blame on the Marrakai for your horse’s behavior.”

“But his horse died, too,” Camwyn said.

“Yes. Perhaps they hoped both of you would be injured or killed when your horses reacted to the poison.” Mikeli sighed. “Cam, you’ve never been that interested in Council meetings and such.”

“No …”

“And your tutor says you like anything military better than anything about politics or finance—”

“I don’t like all the gossip,” Camwyn said, ducking his head.

“At your age, neither did I,” Mikeli said. “But I knew I would be king, and must learn why it mattered. Camwyn—you know how close to death I came. And if I had died, you are my heir. You and I are our father’s only living children.”

“Why me? Rothlin’s older and he knows more. If there’s an emergency he’d be better—”

“Because that’s the way it’s done. Roth only gets the crown if both of us die, and that’s after Uncle. Cam, I haven’t pushed you much; I remember too well how I hated giving up my boyhood interests. Now I can’t wait any longer. I need you; the land needs you.” Mikeli stopped there and looked at him.