“Fifteen.” Yu’s eyes were grave. “I went on my knees to the zŏngtŏng, the president, and begged him for what my father had stolen.”

“And?” Myrddin’s eyes were narrowed.

“He asked for my plan. I proposed we survey the country, dig tunnels and canals, and build dams and lakes. So he gave me what I needed, and we got to work.”

“You led this project?” I was in awe. I’d had no idea.

“Why on earth did you become a sailor after that?” Bear asked.

Skop grinned into his bowl.

“Oh—sorry,” Bear said.

Skop shook his head, unfazed.

“I spent ten years on the move,” Yu said. I’d never seen his broad face so alight with intensity. “I studied my people, natural medicine, every centimeter of Zhōng Guó. Working in a government office wouldn’t have been a reward. It would have been a life sentence.”

“Teaching, then,” pressed Bear. “You could have gotten a position at any university in the world after that.”

Yu barked a laugh. “That would have been even worse! Days spent in meetings? Currying favor for a living? I may be older than you, boy, but I’m not dead yet.”

“But Zhōng Guó.” Bear asked, “How could you just leave your home and your people?”

Yu took a long moment to chew his bite of pudding, eyes dark and thoughtful. “Zhōng Guó is yet and always the center of my world,” he said at last. “Everything I do is for my country. For my people and my family.”

Myrddin tipped his head to one side. “Fascinating.” And despite his melodious accent, the word and his gaze were sharp.

I glanced around and suddenly realized half the room was following our exchange. “Seneschal-elect Selah of Potomac, of course,” King Constantine said offhandedly to some newcomers nearby. “Visiting the prince.”

My heartbeat stumbled in the succeeding silence.

“Relax. They’re simply curious,” Bear whispered. He cleared his throat quietly. “And you look very nice.”

You do, too, I almost said without thinking. But I bit my tongue.

“Your Grace,” Prince Bertilak called, “we dined tonight on venison my men and I brought home from the hunt. And Dà Yu brought a most intriguing account to dinner.” Bertilak cocked his head. “I trust you haven’t forgotten our bargain?”

“Of course not, Highness.” I rose and passed him the posy in my hand. “From the children at the village school this morning. They performed Saint George and the Dragon and were very sorry to miss you.”

Myrddin turned to me, eyes sharp and inquisitive. “What did you think of their adaptation, Your Grace?”

I swallowed.

I knew the story of Saint George and the Dragon. But the children had shown me quite a different myth.

“I rather think,” Sir Perrault said languidly, “that the dragon should have been a wolf.”

“It should not,” said Bertilak sharply.

The room went still.