“I’m Gavin.” He stuck out a hand and flashed an impish grin. I shook it gingerly, trying to remember the last time someone shook my hand instead of kissing it. “Gavin d’Ars, Duc de Douane. Although everyone just calls me Gav.”
I found it hard to believe that any person angling for the throne of an empire would refer to himself asGav.
“That’s my first question,” I said.
“Well, Gav is short for Gavin.”
I shot him a chilly look. He favored me with an exaggerated wink.
“Hah,” I managed. “I meant your surname—it’s d’Ars, but a minute ago you mentioned the Sabourin name lending you a certain cachet. How are we two related?”
“They haven’t told you yet?” He tugged at his sun-shadow hair and looked sheepish. “I confess I don’t know much about our genealogy.”
“And I know nothing.”
He sighed. “The matriarch of my family line, Lise Sabourin, was the half sister of one of Severine’s—and your, I suppose—grandfathers or great-grandfathers. It was around the time of the Conquest, if that helps.” He screwed up his face. “Great-grandfather, probably. She was older than he was, but he became emperor because of some inheritance scandal.”
And hence, Gavin’s distant but legitimate claim to the Amber Throne. A whisper of fear tripped along my spine.
“Lise had two sons and a daughter,” he continued. “The sons feuded over some ancient dishonor, and the family split in half. One half stayed close to home—most of them are Beaumanoirs and Legardes, these days—and my half, the d’Ars, expatriated to Aifir, where I grew up.”
“So that makes us … ?”
“Related somehow,” he chuckled, “like most aristocrats of the Amber Empire.”
I must have looked shocked, because Gavin’s smile grew wider.
“You didn’t think the notion of us all being descended from Meridian was mere legend, did you? Scion, a few centuries ago it was considered a point of pride if your family was inbred. Some highborn families still take suchpurityfairly seriously.”
“Really?” My ghoulish interest was piqued.
“Indeed.” A thought or memory ghosted across his face, and his eyebrows tightened. It was the first expression I’d seen him make that wasn’t humorous, and it looked almost obscene on his face. “Just ask your friend Sunder.”
I tasted the bait, felt its sharp edges in my mouth, and decided not to bite.
“You were at court,” I said. “What is your legacy?”
“One of the unlucky Sabourins without one.” He shrugged, and grinned. “Or lucky, depending on your point of view.”
I narrowed my eyes and tried to decide whether I believed him.
“Tell me about your militia. You came to the city with, what, two hundred soldats?”
“Closer to five,” he admitted. “Honestly, I thought you might need help keeping the Amber City under control. But Belsyre’s wolves seem to have that well in hand.”
Was that judgment? “Are they your household garde? I don’t recognize their colors.”
“They are Husterri,” Gavin said. “It translates to something likeRed Riders.They’re primarily Aifiri, although they recruit from across the daylight world. They were loyal to my mother before she died. I suppose loyalty is something one can inherit.”
“As are fortune, property, and position.” The words spilled out of me before I had the chance to corral them. An awkward silence stretched between us. “And your man-at-arms. Is he Husterri also?”
Gavin laughed. “He’s my godfather. He was like a brother to Papa. He’s my advisor, friend, and confidant.”
“You seem flush with support.” I tried to sound neutral. “One last question, and then I promise to stop interrogating you—why did you travel all the way from Aifir with neither invitation nor summons?”
Gavin looked confused, then flushed dark. “You think I’m trying to position myself as Sun Heir?”
“Am I wrong?”
