Now he felt like an ox waiting to be yoked. The small fellow nodded politely, and Gaborn knew he would not be left alone again for a while. Another Days in the room was a matronly woman in her forties, a woman with reddish hair going silver. She’d have been Emmadine Ot Laren’s Days when the Duchess still lived. Now she nodded a greeting at Iome, perhaps all the formal introduction the woman would ever give, yet with that introduction she spoke volumes: I am assigned to you.

So the Days watched, and recorded.

Gaborn felt grateful that the Days had not had to record how King Orden murdered his best friend in his hour of greatest need. Instead, in some far day when his father died and his chronicles were penned, it would be told how Orden hugged Sylvarresta and sobbed like a child.

How odd, Gaborn thought, that he cries no tears of relief at seeing me.

Sylvarresta let King Orden hug him until he could no longer withstand the power in the King’s arms, then tried to pull away. Only then did King Orden grasp Sylvarresta’s biceps, feel the lack of muscle there.

“He’s lost his own endowments?” Gaborn’s father asked.

Iome nodded.

Gaborn added angrily, “They both have. Borenson was at Castle Sylvarresta yesterday. He stayed behind when we left. You sent him to kill them, didn’t you?”

Gaborn watched his father’s eyes as he considered the accusation. Gaborn had foolishly believed—when Borenson had said that he was under orders to kill Raj Ahten’s Dedicates—that he spoke only in general terms. He hadn’t imagined that one man alone would be sent to kill those in the Dedicates’ Keep at Castle Sylvarresta.

Now his father’s expression confirmed it. His father glanced down, but recovered quickly, looking sorrowful instead of guilt-ridden. Gaborn gave his father time to consider the implications. All the Dedicates in Sylvarresta’s keep had died. Even if Iome and the King had become vectors for Raj Ahten, now they gave him almost nothing, only their own endowments.

“So,” Gaborn’s father asked, “did Raj Ahten leave all his Dedicates behind when he fled Castle Sylvarresta?”

“Almost. He took his vectors—” Gaborn answered. His father raised a brow. “But I managed to get Iome and King Sylvarresta out.”

King Orden titled his head, considering. He must have recognized the struggle Gaborn had gone through. “I—wonder . . .” He cleared his throat. “. . . why Borenson would let these two go. I ordered him to do otherwise.”

“I countermanded your order,” Gaborn said.

His father’s reaction was so swift, Gaborn had no time to react. His father lashed out and slapped Gaborn’s face so hard that when spittle and blood flew from his mouth, Gaborn thought it was a tooth.

“How dare you!” King Orden said. “You may disagree with me, and belittle me, and even second-guess me. But how dare you fight me!”