“You’re not next in line for the throne,” he said. It being my turn to laugh, I did.

“I already knew that,” I said. “You told me not that long ago, over dinner, how long the line was before me — if someone of my mixed blood could be considered at all.”

“Two,” he said. “Two stand before you.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What happened to all the others?”

“Dead,” he replied.

“Bad year for the flu?”

He gave me a nasty smile.

“There has been an unprecedented number of fatal duels and political assassinations recently.”

“Which sort dominated the field?”

“The assassinations.”

“Fascinating.”

“…And so you three are under black watch protection of the Crown, and were given into the care of your respective Houses’ security.”

“You’re serious.”

“Indeed.”

“Was this sudden thinning of the ranks a matter of many people simultaneously seeking advancement? Or was it a smaller number, removing roadblocks?”

“The Crown is uncertain.”

“When you say ‘the Crown,’ who, exactly, are you referring to, right now? Who’s making decisions in the interim?”

“Lord Bances of Amblerash,” he replied, “a distant relative and longtime friend of our late monarch.”

“I sort of recall him. Could he have an eye on the throne himself, and be behind any of the — removals?”

“The man’s a priest of the Serpent. Their vows bar them from reigning anywhere.”

“There are usually ways around vows.”

“True, but the man seems genuinely uninterested in such a thing.”

“That needn’t preclude his having a favorite, and maybe helping him along a bit. Is anybody near the throne particularly fond of his Order?”

“To my knowledge, no.”

“Which doesn’t mean someone mightn’t have cut a deal.”

“No, though Bances isn’t the sort of man one would approach easily with a proposition.”