“You can’t!” Borenson said, tensing. “They’re your father’s orders, and yours cannot supersede his! Your father has given an order—a hard one that no man could envy. But I must carry it out. I will serve King Orden, even if you will not!”

Borenson did not want to argue. He loved Gaborn as a brother. But Borenson could not see how he could ever be faithful to House Orden if the Prince and the King did not agree on this issue.

In the distance, toward Castle Sylvarresta, the high call of Southern battle trumpets sounded—Raj Ahten marshaling his troops. Borenson’s heart pounded. His men were supposed to delay the army, and even now were racing to Boar’s Ford, where they would do little good.

Borenson shoved his axe back into its sheath, drew his own horn, sounded two long blasts, two short. The call to prepare arms. Raj Ahten’s troops would not hurry to Longmot if they had to watch for an ambush every moment. Almost, Borenson wished his troops were still here, that he had the men to fight.

Borenson felt exposed at the edge of the woods. Gaborn took the helm off dead Torin, put it on his own head.

Gaborn looked up. “Listen, Borenson: If we have forty thousand forcibles, my father has no need to kill his friends. He can slay Raj Ahten, then place Sylvarresta back on the throne where he belongs.”

“That is a frightening if,” Borenson said. “Can we risk it? What if Raj Ahten kills your father? By sparing Sylvarresta, you may consign your father to death.”

Gaborn’s face paled. Certainly the boy had seen this danger. Certainly he knew the stakes in this battle. But no, Borenson realized, the boy was too innocent. Gaborn promised, “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Borenson rolled his eyes, clenched his teeth.

“Nor would I,” Iome answered from where her horse stood beside the stream. “I’d rather kill myself than see another come to harm on my account.”

Borenson had tried to keep his voice down so she would not hear, but of course his voice had been rising in anger. He considered. At this moment, King Orden was racing to Longmot with fifteen hundred warriors. Messages had been sent to other castles, calling for aid. Perhaps three or four thousand might meet at Longmot before dawn.

But Raj Ahten would stand at the head of a massive army, once his reinforcements arrived from the South.

King Orden had to get those forcibles, and once he had them, he’d have to hole up in Castle Longmot. No castle in this realm could better withstand a siege.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. In all likelihood, Raj Ahten had so many endowments from his people in the South that if Borenson killed Sylvarresta and Iome, it would gain no benefit for King Orden. That is what Gaborn believed.