On the other hand, times were uncertain. Orden and other kings had sent assassins south. Perhaps even traitors in Raj Ahten’s own lands would see his absence as a perfect time to bid for power. One could not discount the possibility that at any given moment, the endowments Raj Ahten had gained here in Heredon would become vital to him.

No, Borenson needed to kill these vectors. He sighed. With a heavy heart, he pulled his war axe. Urged his mount forward.

Gaborn caught the horse by the reins. “Stay away from them,” he growled in a tone Borenson had never before heard from the Prince.

“I have a duty,” Borenson said, regretfully. He did not want to do it, but he’d argued the point so convincingly that now he saw he must.

“And I’m obligated to protect Iome and her father,” Gaborn said, “as one Oath-Bound Lord to another.”

“Oath-Bound Lord?” Borenson gasped. “No! You fool!” Now he saw it. Gaborn had been distant these past two weeks as they journeyed into Heredon. For the first time in his life, he’d been secretive.

“It’s true,” Gaborn said. “I spoke the oath to Iome.”

“Who witnessed?” Borenson asked the first question that came to mind.

“Iome, and her Maids of Honor.” Borenson wondered if news of this oath could be covered. Perhaps by killing the witnesses, he could undo the damage. “And her Days.”

Borenson set his axe across the pommel of his saddle, looked hard at King Sylvarresta. Who knew how far this news had spread? From Iome’s maids to the King’s counselor, to all Heredon. He couldn’t hide what Gaborn had done.

Gaborn had a fierceness in his eyes. What pluck! The little ass! Borenson thought. He plans to fight me. He’d really fight me over this?

Yet he knew it was true. To give the Oath of Protection was a serious matter, a sacred matter.

Borenson didn’t dare raise his hand against the Prince. It was treason. Even if he carried out Orden’s commands in every other matter, he could be executed for striking the Prince.

Gaborn had been watching Borenson’s eyes, and now he ventured, “If you will not allow me to rescind my father’s order, then I command you thus: Wait to carry it out. Wait until we reach Longmot, and I’ve spoken to my father.”

Gaborn might well reach the castle before Borenson. There, the King would be able to settle this tangled matter.

Borenson closed his eyes and hung his head in sign of acquiescence. “As you command, milord,” he said. Yet a horrible sense of guilt assailed. He’d been ordered to kill the Dedicates at Castle Sylvarresta, and if he slew the King and Iome now, he would thus spare other lives; he would spare all those who were vectored through these two.