“My relatives chose one path, sir,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I chose another. Indeed, your honor risks nothing in trusting me.”

“I am glad to hear it, my lord,” the man said. “I will now lead you to the prince.” He turned away and Dorrin followed him across the great outer court to the palace entrance. Paks had described it; she recognized the stairs, the pillars, the carvings.

“I must beg your courtesy,” Dorrin said, as they neared the steps. “I spent my life as a mercenary captain, as you know. I had no training, after early childhood, in the etiquette of nobles greeting one another, or indeed a ruler, and none at all here in this court. Foreign courts were likely very different, and besides, as a mere mercenary …” She stopped. “The truth is, I do not know whether to bow or bend the knee to the prince when I meet him. I do not wish to offend in my ignorance, either this evening or at any of the ceremonies to come. To whom may I look for guidance?”

He almost stumbled, coming to a stop four steps up. “You—don’t know any court protocol?”

“Not at all,” Dorrin said. “I never came to this court, even when I came to Vérella. I did not wish to see my uncle the Duke, nor he to see me—my name was blotted out of the family records. Kieri or Jandelir reported to the palace—I mean,” she said, seeing his confusion, “Kieri Phelan and Jandelir Arcolin.”

“You will need a guide,” he said. “Unfortunately, I cannot serve as your guide, beyond this meeting; I have duties that fill my time. I can introduce you to the Master of Ceremonies, but he, too, is busy organizing the coronation.”

“I told Paksenarrion about this,” Dorrin said. “She suggested I find a boy she knew—Aris Marrakai—”

“Marrakai! She told a Verrakai to ask a Marrakai for help?” He rolled his eyes. “My lord Duke, that suggestion could have come only from a paladin! It is in defiance of all Tsaian history, ancient and modern.”

“I gathered,” Dorrin said. “But at the same time, it is a paladin’s suggestion, and a Girdish paladin’s at that. Have you another?”

“No.” He turned, and continued up the stairs. “I do not, and if Marrakai assents, it will do much to maintain your skin entire. Kirgan Marrakai is one of the prince’s closest companions, as is my cousin Kirgan Serrostin.” He nodded to the guards at the palace doors, which stood open to catch the evening breeze and led her inside. “I can tell you, my lord, for this first meeting you would be wise to go to one knee, heart-hand to your breast, like this—” He demonstrated, half-turned to her. “It is more formal than normally required, but it will look well.”

“Thank you,” Dorrin said. “I will do so.”

Her passage through the palace brought many long looks, some hostile; Dorrin ignored them. She had no idea which rooms were which. They went this way and that, up a set of stairs, down another passage. The officer spoke to a guard at one door, who knocked, and announced “Guard-Captain Serrostin and a visitor” then flung the door wide for them to enter.