The thane shrugged. “Just as you have, and just as I told Aindreas I would. Thorald wants no part of this fight.”

“Are you certain?”

“Surely I don’t have to convince you of this, Father. If we commit Thorald’s army to either side, it will embolden one of them and bring us to war. You’ve said so yourself a dozen times.”

“Yes, I have,” Tobbar said, nodding. “But I’m too old for a war. You’re not. And it may be that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Do you want Davin to sit on the throne?”

The question silenced him. What man of Thorald didn’t dream of seeing his son crowned as king? The Rules of Ascension didn’t allow Marston or Chalton to aspire to the throne, but with Filib’s line dead, their sons could rule. Though only if Glyndwr relinquished the crown.

“Of course I do,” he answered at last. “But I won’t destroy the kingdom to put him there.”

“Is that what it would take?” his father asked mildly.

“Yes. Kearney has a son. And someday the younger Kearney probably will as well. Glyndwr won’t give up the throne. It would have to be taken, and that means war. It also means defying the Rules of Ascension. And if we abandon the rules, then even when Glyndwr’s line does fail, Thorald may need to fight to reassert its supremacy.” He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to see Davin as king, the price is too high. I won’t choose between Javan and Aindreas, and if one of them challenges the king, they’ll have to defeat our soldiers as well as the King’s Guard. I’ll lead the army myself.”

Tobbar nodded, the smile still on his lips. “Very good, Marston. Very good, indeed. The house will be in good hands when I’m gone.”

“You’re not fooling me, old man. You’re too stubborn to die.”

He grunted, facing the fire again. “Hardly. I’m tired, boy. The healers have given up on me, and I haven’t the strength or the will to fight this battle alone.”

Marston felt a strange tightening in his throat and he had to blink his eyes to keep the tears back. He wondered if his father had said any of this to Chalton.

“You needn’t grieve,” the duke said, firelight in his grey eyes. “I’ve had a good life. I’ve been in love, I’ve seen my boys grow to manhood, and I’ve ruled the land’s finest house. Few men can say as much. I would have liked to have more time with your mother, but Bian wanted her for himself.” He glanced at Marston, the smile touching his lips again for just an instant. “I’m eager to see her, even if it is in the Underrealm.”

Marston tried to grin. Failed. “Isn’t it enough to see her on the Night of the Dead?”

Tobbar shook his head, looking away once more. “I want to hold her hand. I want to kiss her. You can’t hold a wraith in your arms.”

He searched for something to say, but nothing came to him. “Perhaps I should leave you, Father. We can speak again later, when you’ve had some time to rest.”

The duke nodded.

Marston leaned forward and kissed his father on the cheek, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He stood and started to walk away, but Tobbar caught his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before letting him go.

Stepping out of the warmth of his father’s chamber into the cool air of the castle corridor, Marston paused. He was hungry, and he would have liked to lie down in a comfortable bed. But first he wanted to speak with the castle surgeon. I’m not ready to be du’te. He needed to know how much time he had to prepare.

Xivled remained in his chamber long enough to give his thane time to reach Tobbar’s quarters. Then he left, descending the tower stairs to the ward, and crossing to the north end of the castle, where the ministers had their rooms.

“Ask her about the messages Father has exchanged with the king,” Marston had instructed. “Father could probably tell me himself, but with his illness worsening, this is something the two of you can discuss. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

It was a simple enough task, one that was appropriately handled by ministers.

But in this case, Xivled hoped it would be merely a pretext for another conversation.

The minister half expected to find her chambers empty. She rarely left the duke’s side, and he thought it likely that she’d be with him this day as well. It seemed, however, that the gods were with him. Knocking on her door, he heard a rustling of scrolls and then footsteps approaching the door. An instant later, the door opened, and Enid ja Kovar stood before him, her ministerial robes hanging on a frame that appeared to be more bone than flesh.

She had once been a pretty woman. Xiv remembered thinking so during his first few visits to Thorald as Marston’s minister. Youth and beauty could be fleeting among his people, however, and Enid had grown old more quickly than most. She still wore her white hair tied back from her face, and her pale eyes still held the same look of keen intelligence and barely suppressed amusement he remembered from earlier visits to the castle. But her face had grown even thinner and more sallow than it once had been, making her resemble a cadaver more than a living woman.

“Cousin,” she said, obviously surprised to see him. “I didn’t know the thane had returned. Otherwise I would have been with the duke.”

“We reached the castle just a short time ago.”

She said nothing for several moments, as if expecting him to speak. When he didn’t, she gave a forced smile. “Well, have you come to fetch me, and bring me to the duke’s chambers?”

“Actually, no. I believe the thane wished to have some time alone with his father. He asked me to find you and learn what I could of his father’s correspondence with the king.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t he ask his father just as easily?”

“With the duke ill, my lord thought it best that he trouble Lord Thorald as little as possible with such matters. But if you prefer, I can seek out one of the underministers.”

This time her smile appeared genuine. “No, that’s not necessary. I can’t remember the last time I entertained such a charming young man in my bedchambers.”

Xiv gave a small laugh, hoping it would mask his discomfort.

“Please come in, cousin,” the first minister said, stepping to the side and waving him into her room.

He took a seat in a lone chair by the hearth. The minister walked to her writing table and sat, eyeing him with unconcealed curiosity.

“So you wish to know about Tobbar’s correspondence with the king.”

“My lord does, yes.”

She gave a slight frown. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. The king sends a brief message nearly every turn, stating his belief that the conflict between the lords of Curgh and Kentigern threatens to tear the kingdom apart, and asking the duke not to commit himself or his army to either man.”

“Does he tell the duke much of events in Curgh or Kentigern?”

“No. Indeed, I expect Lord Shanstead knows more of what is happening in Kentigern than does his father. For that matter, I imagine you know more than I do. Perhaps you can tell me something of your visit to the tor.”

“Of course, First Minister, though we were in Kentigern for less than a day.”

She let out a small breathless laugh. “Less than a day?”

“When the thane made it clear to Aindreas that he agreed with his father’s decision not to commit Thorald’s army to Kentigern’s cause, the duke demanded that we leave.”

“I see.”

“You’ve told me of the king’s messages. How does Lord Thorald respond to them?”

“As any dutiful Eandi noble would. With assurances of his continued fealty to the crown and promises that he will do as the king asks.”

Xiv smiled inwardly at the opening she had given him. “You don’t approve, First Minister?”

She smiled again, her small, sharp teeth looking as yellow as her eyes in the light of the fire. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I merely offer my counsel.”