Alric employed numerous informants and scouts, but none were as effective as Riyria. Arista had originally hired Royce and Hadrian to kidnap her brother the night their father had been assassinated. Since then, their services had proved invaluable.

Royce entered the banquet hall alone. The small man with dark hair and dark eyes always dressed in layers of black. He wore a knee-length tunic and a long flowing cloak and, as always, carried no visible weapons. Carrying a blade in the presence of the king was unlawful, but given he and Hadrian had twice saved Alric’s life, Arista surmised the royal guards did not thoroughly search him. She was certain Royce carried his white-bladed dagger and regarded the law as merely a suggestion.

Royce bowed before the assembly.

“Well?” her brother asked a bit too loudly, too desperately. “Did you discover anything?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Royce replied, but his face remained so neutral that nothing more could be determined for good or ill.

“Well, out with it. What did you find? Are they really leaving?”

“Sir Breckton has been ordered to withdraw all but a small containment force and march south immediately with the bulk of his army.”

“So it really is true?” Marquis Wymar said. “But why?”

“Yes, why?” Alric added.

“Because Rhenydd has been invaded by the Nationalists out of Delgos.”

A look of surprise circulated the room.

“Degan Gaunt’s rabble is invading Rhenydd?” Earl Kendell said in bewilderment.

“And doing quite well from the dispatch I read,” Royce informed them. “Gaunt has led them up the coast, taking every village and town. He’s managed to sack Kilnar and Vernes.”

“He sacked Vernes?” Ecton asked, shocked.

“That’s a good-sized city,” Wymar mentioned.

“It’s also only a few miles from Ratibor,” Pickering observed. “From there it’s what—maybe a hard day’s march to the imperial capital itself?”

“No wonder the empire is recalling Breckton.” Alric looked at the count. “What were you saying about miracles?”

“I can’t believe you couldn’t find anyone to ally with.” Alric berated Arista as he collapsed on his throne. The two were alone in the reception hall, the most ornate room in the castle. This room, the grand ballroom, the banquet hall, and the foyer were all that most people generally ever saw. Tolin the Great had built the chamber to be intimidating. The three-story ceiling was an impressive sight and the observation balcony that circled the walls provided a magnificent view of the parquet floor, inlaid with the royal falcon coat of arms. Double rows of twelve marble pillars formed a long gallery similar to that of a church, yet instead of an altar there was the dais. On seven pyramid-shaped steps sat the throne of Melengar—the only seat in the vast chamber. When they had been children, the throne had always appeared so impressive, but now, with Alric slouched in it, Arista realized it was just a gaudy chair.