“No!” Miranda snapped, pulling Mercy close.

Guy stood up slowly. “Let go of the child,” he ordered.

“No.”

“Sentinel Guy!” Arcadius shouted. “She’s just a peasant girl. An orphan I took in.”

“Is she?” He drew his sword.

“Be reasonable. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I think I do. Everyone was so focused on Esrahaddon that you went by unnoticed. Who could have imagined that you would point the way to the heir not just once, but twice?”

“The heir? The Heir of Novron? Are you insane? Is that why you think I spoke to the regents?”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. “I came because I suspected they hadn’t thought about the question of succession, and I wanted to help educate the next imperial leader.”

“But you insisted on this girl-only this girl. Why would you do that unless she really is the heir?”

“That makes no sense. How could I know who the heir is? Or even if an heir still lives?”

“How indeed. That was the missing piece. You are actually the only one who could know. Tell me, Arcadius Latimer, what did your father do for a living?”

“He was a weaver, but I fail to see-”

“Yes, so how did the poor son of a weaver from a small village become the master of lore at Sheridan University? I doubt your father even knew how to read, and yet his son is one of the most renowned scholars in the world? How does that happen?”

“Really, Guy, I would not think I would need to explain the merits of ambition and hard work to someone such as you.”

Guy sneered back. “You disappeared for ten years, and when you came back, you knew a lot more than when you left.”

“You’re just making things up.”

Guy smirked. “The church doesn’t let just anyone teach at their university. Did you think they didn’t keep records?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t think you’d see them.” The old man smiled.