Page 331 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

“A former exile who dabbles in alchemy and spent weeks in the employ of pirates,” he said dryly. “Yes, that sounds like someone they would want to mold the minds of the next generation.”

“You have seen more of the world than others have written of it. Imagine the insight you could bring, Niclays. You could shake the dust from the lecterns, breathe life into the textbooks.”

The possibility warmed him. He had not given it serious consideration, but perhaps hewouldask Ermuna if she could intercede with the university on his behalf.

Aleidine looked toward the mausoleum. Her breath shivered out in a white plume.

“Niclays,” she said, “I understand if you would rather live your life here as a different man. But … if you would favor me with your company from time to time—”

“Yes.” He patted her hand. “Of course I will, Aleidine.”

“I’d be so glad. And of course, I could reintroduce you into society. You know, I have a very dear friend at the university, about our age, who I know would be delighted to meet you. Alariks. He teaches astronomy.” Her eyes were sparkling. “I amquitesure you would like him.”

“Well, he sounds—”

“And Oscarde— oh, Oscarde will be overjoyed to see you again. And of course, you’d be welcome to stay with me for as long as you liked—”

“I certainly wouldn’t wish to intrude, but—”

“Niclays,” she said, “you are family. You could never intrude.”

“You’re very kind.”

They looked at each other, slightly breathless from the outpouring of courtesy. Finally, Niclays managed a smile, and so did Aleidine.

“Now,” she said, “I hear you have an audience with our High Princess. Ought you not to get ready?”

“I ought to,” Niclays admitted, “but first, perhaps I could ask a small favor.”

“Of course.”

“I want you to tell me, in”—he checked his pocket watch—“two hours, everything that has happened since I left Ostendeur. I have years of politics and news to catch up on, and don’t want to look a fool in front of our new princess. Jannart was the historian, I know,” he said lightly, “but you were the one in the know when it came to gossip.”

Aleidine chuckled. “I should be delighted,” she said. “Come. We can walk by the Bugen. And you can tell me all about your adventure.”

“Oh, dear lady,” Niclays said, “there is enough of a story there to fill a book.”

74

West

In Serinhall, Lord Arteloth Beck worked in a study, a stack of letters and a leather-bound notebook beside him. His parents had gone away for a week, ostensibly for a change of scene, but Loth knew his mother was trying to prepare him for the future. To be Earl of Goldenbirch, with a seat on the Virtues Council, responsible for the largest province in Inys.

He had hoped that, as the years passed, something would shift in him, like clockwork into motion, and that he would be ready for it. Instead he longed to be at court.

One of his dearest friends was dead. As for Ead, he knew she would not stay in Inys forever. News that she had slain the Nameless One had spread, and she wanted none of the renown that would come with it. Sooner or later, her path would bend southward.

Court would never be the same without the two of them. And yet it was where he thrived. It was where Sabran would rule for many years. And he wanted to be there with her, at the heart of their country, to help usher in a new and golden age for Inys.

“Good evening.”

Margret walked into the study. “I do think one should knock,” Loth said, stifling a yawn.

“I did, brother. Several times.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Here. Hot wine.”

“Thank you.” He took a grateful sip. “What time is it?”

“Past the time we both ought to have been asleep.” Margret rubbed her eyes. “Strange to be on our own. Without Mama and Papa. What have you been doing up here for hours?”

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