“For the first time in your life, you have an image problem,” Wallace said to True. “And the first time in Carrington’s career, he’s made a subtle strategic move that will have long-lasting ramifications that will strengthen his hold on your father and his control of the throne, all this accomplished by weakening you.”

“And we know he’s raising an army,” True stated.

“Quietly, but yes,” Bram replied. “He’s dispatched recruiters across the realm, and they are at work. And it’s my understanding through missives from the queen that the king knows this and sanctions it.”

Bloody hell.

He had definitely been cast out.

As had, it would seem, his mother.

“You need to be regent,” Alfie stated quietly.

“I need to form a parliament,” True replied.

He felt Farah stiffen beside him.

“That would be impossible, unless you’re regent,” Alfie returned.

Alfie was correct, as his friend had been correct in the many times they’d discussed this, even before Cassius became regent.

“You wish to give up your rule?” Farah asked softly.

He looked to his intended. “I wish to give my people a say in how their land and their lives are governed. I would be the final voice. If I felt what was decided was not for the good of the realm, I would have last right of refusal. And my name would need to be signed to any law, tax, treaty, proclamation for it to be valid and put into effect. But that would not happen unless my people have spoken through their representatives about how it should be done.”

“That would mean it could take ages for decisions to be made, and it might even be mayhem, no?” she replied.

“It is better than an entire country at the whims of whatever personality the gods bestow on their monarch and whatever choices he makes for his advisors,” he said.

She held his gaze for a long moment before she whispered, “You are a marvel, Prince True of Wodell.”

He felt relief she was not against this idea.

In fact, it appeared she championed it.

“He is a man of his people,” Alfie declared.

“Not in the now,” Bram noted. “He’s a man who’s besotted with his Firenz bride and wishes to give her a lavish wedding to be paid for by every thatcher, blacksmith, wealthy orchard owner and shepherd. This is a blow, True. And you need a swift recovery. Your mother expects a good deal from you, but I agree with her in this stead. Carrington has taken advantage of your absence. You need to go home.”

“Do you have coin?” Farah asked abruptly.

True turned to her. “Pardon?”

“Of your own. Do you have currency of your own?”

His men grew alert at this question but True simply answered, “My maternal grandmother left me an inheritance. I’ve not needed to touch it. So yes, I have coin.”

“Is it substantial?” she inquired.