He pulled out his dagger and started trimming his nails, not looking at her. “Don’t be childish, Karin,” he said, and it was only the faintest unsteady note in his own voice that kept it from being patronizing dismissal. “You know I never formally adopted him, even though my queen loved him, even though the lords of voima had not yet granted us sons of our own. He is my sworn man, but I would as soon see you married to Gizor One-hand.”

“Well, small chance of my wanting that!” she said, trying desperately to laugh. She started to ask why then, if he never intended to adopt the baby found at the castle gate, he had had his own wife raise him, but she closed her mouth without asking.

Hadros glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “And Roric is too young to marry anyone,” he said slowly.

“He’s five years older than Valmar!” she thought but did not say.

“He could still carve out a lordship for himself, maybe in the upcountry, maybe somewhere along the coast. My own grandfather won this kingdom in war, and even in these more peaceful times-and maybe especially in these more peaceful times-there is room for a man of courage to rise high through his own strength. I would not see him shackled to a wife and a fancy southern kingdom.”

Karin slowly digested what this implied of the king’s attitude toward his own oldest son. At last she said, very quietly, “But Roric could be fated to die in his first battle as easily as to win renown.”

“And I,” said the king, just as quietly, “would rather see him dead than wasting the strength within him.” He rose abruptly to his feet. “I had better see how those lads are getting along with the foals.”

3

Valmar shouted and waved his hat to turn the mare, then dug his heels into his gelding to pursue her down the line of trees. She saw the pen at the bottom too late, and before she could turn again both she and the foal running at her heels had had the gate slammed behind them.