“I do,” Kieri said.

“Then you must make the effort.”

“Without risking the security of the realm.” On that he would not yield even to the Lady.

“I do not ask you to do that,” she said. “But security is not just a matter of armies and weapons. It is also a matter of friendships.”

Kieri tried to imagine being friends with the king of Pargun and failed. “I understand that,” he said. “Yet the Pargunese and Tsaians have been enemies for a very long time.”

“And you are not Tsaian. This is a chance for a new relationship, Grandson. Do not waste it.” She rose and was out of the room before he could say more, withdrawing her light.

Kieri looked at his Squires, both of whom looked alarmed. “I have been scolded,” he said. “And perhaps she has the right of it.”

“The elves always want peace, Sir King,” Edrin said. “And peace is a good thing; nobody questions that. But sometimes … sometimes it just can’t be.”

“They can withdraw to the elvenhomes,” Panin said. “It’s easy for them to avoid conflict.”

“They are as the gods made them,” Kieri said. “After a lifetime of war, I am finding that I, too, yearn for peace. And I don’t think it’s entirely my elven blood.”

“Yet every day you find time for sword practice,” Edrin said.

“Of course,” Kieri said. “Wanting peace does not bring it … and if trouble comes, a king or a realm must be prepared.” He stretched, and stood. “Besides—I like swordwork. It’s like riding, that way—it forces concentration, and thus opens up the world. But now, it’s time to return, before someone thinks I’ve fallen asleep.”

The reception was just as noisy as ever, but the room quieted as he entered. “My friends,” Kieri said, “I am reminded that tomorrow is the coronation and I, at least, must have some rest and the palace must prepare a feast. I would not stint your pleasure, but perhaps—”

“Of course, Sir King,” Sier Halveric said, picking up the cue neatly. “We also have duties tomorrow and it would be well to rest now.” He collected his family, and the others, the nobles and the envoys, all found a place in the line that snaked past Kieri, bowing and speaking farewell. At last they were gone, and Kieri went upstairs to his own chamber.

Out the window, a clear night, heavy with stars. He stood there awhile, smelling the fresh air, the sweetness of the first flowers just coming into bloom, looking at the stars, memory and hope melding as he thought of the next morning. He had come home, but too late for his family; he had become what his father had once hoped, but by a path that might make him fail … no, he would not think of that. He went into the bathing room without lighting a candle, stripped, dipped some of the cold water waiting for morning and a fire to become his bath, and washed off the sweat and smell of the evening. He still found Lyonyan nightclothes strange; he pulled on his old nightshirt, hung the sword on its hook by the bed, and stretched only once before falling asleep.