“If I fall into water, this will drag me to the bottom,” Alec muttered.

Sitting on the edge of their silk-hung bed, Seregil grinned as he pulled on his best boots. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much about that at the Palace.”

“So Elani finally has her way.”

Elani had come to regard them as friends during their investigations of the plots that had threatened not only her life, but those of the queen and Princess Klia. She’d wanted to make them courtiers then, by way of reward, but her uncle, Prince Korathan, had talked her out of it on Seregil and Alec’s behalf. After consulting with Thero, Seregil, and Alec, Korathan had gone to his niece and explained something of their work for Skala as Watchers—the network of spies overseen by Thero. Elani had been thrilled to learn their secret and had at once renewed the royal approval of the Watchers, which her aunt, Queen Phoria, had rescinded before she died.

Seregil stood and Alec held out the dark red coat. Seregil slipped his arms into the sleeves and shifted his shoulders to settle it. The garment was as elaborately styled as Alec’s, with golden buttons shaped like crescent moons cradling round disks of jet. Going to the dressing table, he opened a small casket, took his ancestor Corruth í Glamien’s ruby ring from its velvet bed, and slid it on his right forefinger. He already wore a small diamond ring on his left little finger—a reward from Elani. Alec wore a similar ring set with an emerald, also from her own hand. The young queen was generous with her gifts—a charming trait that had nearly gotten her killed during the previous year’s reign of terror.

Brushing back his long dark hair, Seregil hung a dangling ruby earring from his right earlobe. With a bit of sleight of hand, he produced a matching one set with a sapphire for Alec.

“It’s not my name day.” Alec laughed as he put the bauble on.

Seregil gently touched Alec’s ear, admiring the way the jewel matched his lover’s eyes. “We have to put on a proper show. We are about to be barons, after all.”

Downstairs they found Micum dressed for court as well, though not so resplendently as they were. He had little patience with fripperies, as he called any sort of unnecessary ornamentation. His fine green coat was well cut, though, with silver buttons, and his belt was beautifully worked Aurënfaie leather, like his scabbard.

He grinned at them as they came down the sweeping staircase to join him in the salon. “You two look like a couple of soft-handed court lapdogs.”

Seregil made him a mocking bow. “Just what we were aiming for.”

At the Palace a page accompanied them to the huge, vaulted audience chamber. The assistant chamberlain took their names and business, and they went to join the crowd of petitioners gathered in front of the royal dais.

“Ah, here you are, Micum,” said Thero, emerging from the crowd with Mika close by his side. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”