Arista took a breath. She was not used to the new Mauvin. “Aren’t you supposed to be Alric’s bodyguard now? Isn’t that hard to do without a sword?”

“Hasn’t been a problem so far. You see, I have this plan. I sit here and watch the ducks in the courtyard. Well, I suppose it’s not really so much a plan as a strategy, or maybe it’s more of a scheme. Anyway, this is the one place my father never thinks to look, so I can sit here all day and watch those ducks walking back and forth. There were six of them last year. Did you know that? Only five now. I can’t figure out what happened to the other one. I keep looking for him, but I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him gently.

Mauvin reached up and traced the lead edges of the window with his fingertips. “Yeah, it was.”

She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. First her mother, then her father and Fanen, and finally Hilfred—they were all gone. Mauvin was slipping away as well. The boy who loved his sword more than Wintertide presents, sweet chocolate cake, or swimming on a hot day refused to touch it anymore. The eldest son of Count Pickering, who had once challenged the sun to a duel because it had rained on the day of a hunt, spent his days watching ducks.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mauvin remarked. “The world is coming to an end, anyway.” He looked up at her. “You just said Alric is sending that bastard Linroy on the Ellis Far—he’ll kill us all.”

As hard as she tried, she could not help laughing. She punched his shoulder, then gave him a peck on the cheek. “That’s the spirit, Mauvin. Keep looking on the bright side.”

She left him and continued down the hall. As she passed the office of the lord chamberlain, the old man hurried out. “Your Highness?” he called, looking relieved. “The royal protector Royce Melborn is still waiting to see if there is something else needed of him. Apparently he and his partner are thinking of taking some time off, unless there is something pressing the king requires. Can I tell him he’s excused?”

“Yes, of course you—No, wait.” She cast a look at her bodyguard. “Tommy, you’re right. I’m hungry. Be a dear and fetch us both a plate of chicken or whatever you can find that’s good in the kitchen, will you? I’ll wait here.”

“Sure, but my name is—”

“Hurry before I change my mind.”

She waited until he was down the corridor, then turned back to the chamberlain. “Where did you say Royce was waiting?”

CHAPTER 4

THE NATURE OF RIGHT