A figure appeared suddenly in the doorway. Costis’s hand went to his empty sword belt. Aulus and Boagus crouched forward in their seats and then relaxed. The figure was Ornon. Squelched laughter leaked out like the flames of a poorly snuffed candle.

“Ambassador Ornon,” said Eugenides in a slightly choked voice. “How good of you to drop by.”

“I believe you have been having a joke at my expense, Your Majesty,” Ornon said, crossing the room to sit in a chair by the fire screen.

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Ambassador.”

“I am so relieved. I might have to suggest a celebration to mark your return to health. A day of special audiences, perhaps.” As the king’s expression changed he added, “A royal parade?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Well, I do think it would be a fine way to reassure the populace, but not if Your Majesty disliked it.”

“Thank you. I dislike it very much. My apologies if we have offended you.”

“Not at all.” Ornon’s dry smile registered points scored on either side, then faded. “If you are done laughing, send your keepers away. I am afraid I have news.”

“Bad news?”

Ornon shrugged. “Good for our hopes of peace and a unified triumvirate to stand against the Mede. Bad news,” he said gently, “for the heir of Sounis.”

Laughter gone, the king said, “They have his body, then?”

“No. Not yet. But we have reports that Sounis is retaking the countryside. If the rebels had him alive as a hostage, they would have said so by now.”

“I see.”

Ornon signaled the Eddisians. “Perhaps you would excuse us?”

The king waved Costis out of the room as well.

Costis followed the looming bulk of Aulus out of the bedchamber and through the anteroom and from there to a waiting room filled with the paraphernalia of women—embroidery stands, sewing tables, a harp, and, looking uncomfortably out of place, the king’s attendants. The queen’s attendants were nowhere to be seen, displaced by the men who had little to do to serve their king and instead sat kicking their heels. They looked at the Eddisians and at Costis with hostile eyes.

“There is a guardroom,” said one of the attendants pointedly as Aulus settled into a chair.

“There is a guardroom, Your Highness, I am sure you meant to say,” said Aulus as he leaned back and hooked a table closer with one booted foot and then rested the foot on top of it. Both chair and table creaked alarmingly. “I’m sure it’s a very nice guardroom.”

He smiled. The attendants took his meaning. They looked as if they thought Aulus might be pulling wool over their eyes, but none of them had the nerve to call what might not be a bluff.

Costis didn’t think it was a bluff. Aulus looked very little like a prince, but that meant nothing—Eugenides didn’t look like a king. Ornon needed someone to sit with the king and restrain him, someone who would be safe from Eugenides’s retaliation. A prince of the house of Eddis would be a natural choice if there was one on hand. No prince of Attolia would serve as a common soldier, but that also might be different in Eddis. Costis didn’t think Eddis had any brothers, but this might be a close cousin of Eddis’s and a prince of the house.

Costis realized that the entire room was now looking rather pointedly at him. He wasn’t a baron, or the heir of a baron, or a prince. What was he doing in the waiting room? The king’s attendants clearly thought he should go. Trying to look as if he really didn’t care what they thought, he looked toward Aulus for his opinion.

“Huh,” said Aulus. “That’s a good question.” He turned to Boagus. “Go ask what Gen wants done with his pet guard.”

Boagus went and came back. “He said he wants Costis in the guardroom round the clock. He says you can go to hell.”

“Are you Costis?” Aulus asked.

Costis nodded.

“Off you go, then,” said Aulus. Costis went. As he started for the door, Aulus bellowed, “Go to hell yourself, you silly bastard.” The knickknacks on the table almost seemed to rattle. The attendants looked pained. As Costis stepped through the door, he caught a glimpse of one of the queen’s attendants looking through the doorway from another room. She was equally pained.

Costis spent the rest of the afternoon in the guardroom, feeling no more welcome than in the attendants’ waiting room. He’d expected to be greeted when he arrived. He nodded to the lieutenant on duty. The lieutenant looked right through him. Puzzled, Costis had looked around the room at the men standing on guard at the door and at the others in more relaxed poses around the room. No one met his eyes. Men who’d seemed comfortable working with him a few days earlier looked away. Shrugging, Costis picked a spot on a padded bench and sat. He was off duty, even if he couldn’t leave.

Teleus came through the guardroom later and stopped to speak to him. No one else had all afternoon. Teleus only asked what the king’s orders were, and then he left. Dinner was brought up for the attendants. When they were finished, Costis ate what he suspected were leftovers alone in a makeshift dining room. They were nice leftovers, at least, better than he would have eaten in the mess hall. Phresine showed him where he could sleep, in an interior room with no windows, a narrow bed, and a washstand. There were chests stacked along one wall, and Costis guessed the dismal spot was probably a closet cleaned out to make room for him. Hard to believe the royal apartments, so lavish elsewhere, would otherwise have such a plain corner. Expecting better of royal closets, Costis went to bed disappointed.

In the morning, stiff from a poor night’s sleep, he shaved and washed as well as he could in the fresh water brought to the washstand, then presented himself to the king. He arrived in the middle of an argument.

“I am not interested in one of your moon promises,” Aulus was saying.

“It doesn’t really matter if you believe me,” said the king. “I am throwing you out. The promise was just a sop to keep your feelings from being hurt.”

“And if we refuse to go?”

Boagus was cleaning his fingernails with a knife.

“I have a whole guardroom full of brawny veterans who’d enjoy a chance to drag two Eddisians out of here, particularly if you kicked a lot and they could kick you back.”

Aulus shook his head sadly. “I’m disappointed.”

“Well, I am fed up. Get out.”

Aulus considered, then leaned back in the chair. It squealed in agonized protest. “Noontime. When the watch trumpets blow. We’ll leave then.”

“Oh? I shall magically be healed then, and you won’t need to hang over me like an anxious cow? What of any significance is going to be different at noon?”

Aulus crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Ornon will owe me three gold queens.”

The king’s brow cleared. “I see. Very well. You leave at noon.”

“And…,” said Aulus.

“If you aren’t leaving until noon, there isn’t going to be any ‘and.’”

“And,” Aulus insisted, “you keep your pet Costis with you. If you break your promise to rest easy, he will send a message to the queen, who will pass it to Ornon, who will send for us.”