“Take your cohort,” Kieri said. “They’ll go with you willingly, and the prince has asked me to return them to Tsaia. Jandelir is headed south with a cohort—they are giving him the North Marches.” Dorrin noticed that Kieri did not say “my domain.”

“But they’re not mine—”

“Essentially they are,” he said. “Ask them, tell them I approved it. See what happens.”

“I—” For an instant her vision blurred. She blinked back tears. “You really think I can do it.”

“Don’t you?” Answer and challenge both.

She stared past him, out the narrow window; snow fell again, fat flakes in twisting curtains. “Yes,” she said. “I can. I will.”

“Then let me be the first to congratulate Dorrin, Duke Verrakai,” he said, holding out his hand. “And let us toast it.”

Dorrin clasped his hand, tears stinging her eyes. For so long he had been to her the elder brother she never knew, the father she never had—just, honorable, kind. And now she must take the lessons she had learned and apply them … without him.

Tsaia’s messenger rode off the next morning before dawn; Dorrin marshaled her cohort in the inn’s common room and marched them to their usual drill field, thinly covered with snow. Weak sun bloomed the clouds to pale gold; the snow was soft, already melting.

Instead of drill, she called them into close formation. “A messenger arrived from Tsaia late yesterday. A message to me from the prince.”

They stared at her, some faces showing confusion and others calculation.

“Most of you know that I am a Verrakai. You all know we were attacked by Verrakai soldiers on the way here. That act of treason was compounded by an attack on the royal family in Vérella. The entire family is under an Order of Attainder—all except me, because I have been estranged from them for so long. The prince has asked me to take over as Verrakai. I have agreed to do so. Now I ask how many of you will come with me. King Kieri does not command, but says you may come if you like.”

“To serve under you, or someone else?” Selfer asked.

“My command,” Dorrin said. “And you would be going back to the Duke’s—to the North Marches—eventually. Arcolin’s been granted that domain; he’s on his way to Aarenis.”

They looked at each other, saying nothing. “I will walk,” Dorrin said. “You will think.”

“I don’t need to think,” Sergeant Bosk said. “Captain, I’ll follow you anywhere. To Verrakai, to clean up that mess—of course! What better could we do, with our Duke—the king—gone?” Others nodded.

Dorrin felt a surge of elation. “All of you?”

“Well, you aren’t like that other Verrakai. You’re loyal to the Duke—to our king, aren’t you?”

“I will be swearing allegiance to Tsaia’s king.”

“Of course, Captain, but he’s Phelan’s friend, right? And you’ll need some loyal soldiers to start with. Couldn’t trust those Verrakai soldiers.” He spat into the snow.