Lieutenant Vincent Clinkscales had drawn the impossible duty of filling Andrew LaFollet’s place as Raoul Alfred Alistair Alexander-Harrington’s personal armsman. No one could ever truly replace Andrew. Honor knew it was unfair to feel that way, yet she also knew it was true. Inevitable. Andrew LaFollet had been with her through too much, given too much, for it to be any other way. In many ways, she would have preferred to allow Micah to step into his older brother’s place, but Micah was simply too young, too inexperienced. The Conclave of Steadholders would have pitched a collective tantrum at the very notion. They wouldn’t have been able to stop her, but that wouldn’t have kept them from trying. And little though she cared to admit it, they probably would have had a point.

That was why she’d stolen Clinkscales from Protector’s Palace Security. A nephew of Howard Clinkscales and the older brother of Commander Carson Clinkscales, he was several years older than Micah. In fact, he was old enough to have been restricted to first-generation prolong, which would make him look reassuringly mature to Honor’s fellow steadholders in another few T-years. And the Clinckscales Clan was officially sept to the Harrington Clan, which made Vincent legally Honor’s nephew. Not even the stodgiest steadholder could argue with that qualification, and he’d amply demonstrated both his ability and his loyalty.

And if I still don’t know him as well as I knew Andrew, that’s true of every other member of the Guard, she thought sadly. They’re all gone, now. Every one of my original armsmen.

Oh, don’t be so maudlin, Honor! she scolded herself a moment later. Vincent’s a perfectly wonderful young man, or you wouldn’t have picked him in the first place. And if he’s not Andrew, neither is anyone else. So isn’t it about time you stopped dwelling on that and let him be whoever he has to be to take care of Raoul?

Nimitz made a soft sound of mingled sympathy and scolding from his perch beside her, and she smiled at him.

“I’m working on it, Stinker,” she said softly, touching the tip of his nose with her index finger. “I’m working on it.”

He caught her finger in one true-hand and squeezed, and she tasted his approval. Then she looked back at the approaching group and found herself smiling in amusement as she counted noses.

It really is like watching an army, she thought. It’s a pity Mac didn’t come along with them; Emily would’ve had an even dozen if he had! And it’s a good thing the terrace is as big as it is, too.

“Hi, Emily,” she called as the cavalcade came closer. “Did Mac send you to fetch us for supper?”