Its not that simple, a voice called from the side. To Varss surprise, it was Erin who stepped forward, dressed in armor as if shed been away playing at fighting. There was a man beside her who might have been a monk, save for the sword sheathed at his back.

Im sure the commander knows war better than you, sister, Vars said.

But he doesnt know what my friend here knows, Erin said, gesturing to the monk.

And who are you? Vars demanded of the man. He looked ragged, bloody, wounded. Hardly a man to listen to at all.

My name… Ive had several, the man said. I was known as Brother Odd for a while, of the Isle of Leveros. Before that, I was… Sir Oderick the Mad.

Around him, the room erupted at the name. Vars could understand why. Hed heard the stories of Sir Oderick, of the slaughters, the chaos he caused. Around him, he could hear the men murmuring in fear.

…has he returned?

…should have his head…

He didnt want to risk angering a man like that, though.

What news do you have, Sir Oderick? Vars asked.

Leveros has fallen, the other man said. King Ravin has breached its neutrality, and is bringing his armies in from the east.

Again, the room exploded in noise, everyone there seeming to have a demand, or a plan, or a worried exclamation all at once. Some seemed to be terrified that all their forces were to the kingdoms south now, having been sent to the bridge. Others were disbelieving, or demanding to know what Vars would do…

It was too much. So many demands all at once were too much to think through. Perhaps his father or his brother might have stood up and shouted for silence, but Vars was terrified that no one would listen. Instead…

…instead, he did the only thing he could think of, and ran from the hall, back to an antechamber, leaning against the wall until he thought that he could breathe again.

No one followed. It helped that there were guards outside the room, but even so, he had expected the press of courtiers to be overwhelming. Vars stood there among the tapestries depicting heroes, among the finery that his house had won through strength, and he felt like a fraud.

When his half-sisters husband-to-be walked into the room, he felt even worse. He felt sure that Finnal would have talked to Lenore and learned what Vars had done, that he would be angry. Instead, he moved over to a low marquetry table and poured himself a glass of wine from a decanter.

Would you like one, your majesty? Finnal asked, and offered Vars the glass. Vars took it and downed it smoothly. He had to remember that he had seen the other side of Finnal in the House of Sighs too, that he was more than just the pleasant young man his sister doted on.

Why are you here? Vars asked.