Captain Lang rubbed the back of his neck. He’d washed the charcoal smudges from his fingers, and he looked strangely formal without them. I drew my shoulders back, straightening politely, feeling almost wistful; we weren’t aboard the Beholder anymore.

“Seneschal-elect—” Lang nodded at the older man. “This is Myrddin, the king’s chief adviser. He’ll be escorting us to dinner. Myrddin, this is Selah, Seneschal-elect of Potomac.” Perrault drew himself up, looking affronted that Lang and not he himself had introduced us.

The older gentleman gave a slow, deliberate bow. “Your Grace. King Constantine has asked me to express his delight at having you here at court.”

“Good evening,” I gulped. “And thank you.”

“And who is this?” Perrault asked hastily, gesturing to the younger man, as if determined not to be left out of the conversation.

“Ah, yes,” said Myrddin. “Seneschal-elect, may I introduce Bear Green, your personal guard for the duration of your stay at Winchester.”

The adviser’s accent was soft—singsong, even—but I stiffened.

“My guard?”

“Good evening, Seneschal-elect.” The young man stepped forward. He uncrossed his arms, but his lofty accent was clipped and cynical; he practically tossed the words at me.

I blinked at him, then turned back to Myrddin. “But—half my crew came ashore. Why do I need a guard?”

“We always assign security to visiting diplomats,” the adviser explained evenly. “Merely a precaution, of course, but he will attend you at all times. And Bear’s quarters are quite convenient to yours.” Myrddin gestured to the door they had just exited, beside the rooms Lang and Yu, Skop and Perrault, and Cobie would occupy for our stay.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I tried and failed to produce a natural smile. Bear met my attempt with a blank stare.

Captain Lang glanced between us and squared his shoulders. “We should go.” He offered me his arm as Myrddin led us from the hall.

I pretended not to notice. I didn’t want him to feel my hands shake.

Grand doors opened on a crowded banquet hall hung with red and gold. An unseen voice announced us to the gathered assembly.

Beneath the singeing heat of their staring eyes I shrank between my shoulders, withering like a vine. Cobie jabbed me in the back.

“Would you just stand up straight?” she hissed. “They’re not going to cook you.”

I straightened, startled by her remark, as a pale, silver-haired man rose at the center of the room. “Welcome, friends! Welcome to you, Seneschal-elect.” He drew near us, crown glinting in the lamplight. “It has been long since we have had visitors from your country. I am King Constantine.”

I was going to pass out. Pull it together. “I’m grateful for your hospitality, Your Majesty.”

“And I am pleased to introduce to you my son, Prince Bertilak.” One of the men at his table stood and joined him.

My heart caught in my throat.