Camwyn felt a stab of fear. Mikeli was serious … he had not let himself think much about the assassination attempt. He hadn’t wanted to imagine his brother sitting helpless with a magicked sword coming at him. Now he let himself imagine Mikeli dead, and someone telling him, and having suddenly the whole weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. He couldn’t do it—could not—and yet … and yet he was named for Camwyn Dragonmaster. Did that count for nothing? Was he like an infant’s toy, given a hero’s name but capable of nothing?

“I did not know,” he said, to give himself time.

“No, any more than I did when Father died. I don’t blame you, Cam, but now I need you. I need a brother who may be a king after me, and will be a help to me while I live. I had hoped the menace was over and you could have a few more years—but it’s not, and you can’t.”

Camwyn tried for the feeling he’d had riding back from practice—solid, sober, knightly. He glanced at Aris. The younger boy’s face lit up. Egan Verrakai had said Aris was a cocky upstart who thought he was the equal of his elders. That he was pleasant around Camwyn only because he was currying favor. But since Egan had … left … something had changed in the boys’ riding group. Aris hadn’t acted differently than any other boy his age assigned the duties of page or squire. Now Aris’s smile warmed his fear. “I’ll do my best,” Camwyn said.

“I want my friends to know you better, and you to know them,” Mikeli said. “And I want to know your friends, as well. That doesn’t mean you and Aris have to become like brothers, as Juris and I are, but we need all of you, for the struggle that’s going on.”

The rest of the meal passed quickly; the older ones talked of things Camwyn didn’t fully understand, but he tried, instead of ignoring them. The older men of the Council, the young men’s fathers and uncles, continued to treat him and even Aris as if they were adult, equals. They talked of affairs of the realm without explanation, but Camwyn found it easier to follow a conversation between Duke Serrostin and Duke Mahieran on the movement of funds between Vérella and Fin Panir than to listen to his tutor. Aris, he noted, was quicker to ask questions, willing to risk his father’s correction or his brother’s scorn—which didn’t come as often as he’d expected.

Egan had always insisted that lords must never show ignorance, never admit they didn’t understand, but the Marrakaien—now that he could watch Juris and Aris together with their father—all seemed as comfortable asking questions as answering them.

“What do you think?” Crown Prince Mikeli turned to his uncle and the other Council members after the younger boys had left.

“I think we’re damned lucky they’re alive, either of them,” Duke Mahieran said. “That was a close call this morning; Gird’s grace their instructor knew what to do.”