Instead, Adam came forward, lowered himself to one knee, and offered Malcolm the weapon, hilt first.
The king didn’t bother taking it, saying in awe, “Youarea Rivenloch.”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
The king squinted to study him more thoroughly.Adam wasn’t sure it helped.
“Ah, of course, we see it now,” Malcolm said.“We remember you from…from…”
Malcolm obviously didnotremember him, though they’d met several times before.But that was fine with Adam.Until now, his invisibility had always been a useful gift.
“Last spring, I came to my cousin Gellir’s wedding tournament at Perth, Your Grace,” Adam told him.That much was true, even though he’d been in disguise.
“Aye, that’s it.”
The fallen guards began to rouse.They grumbled, trying to regain their balance and their dignity as they saw Malcolm and Adam conversing peacefully.
The king asked, “Why have you come, Sir…?”
“Adam.Sir Adam la Nuit.I’ve come to serve Your Grace.”
“Serve me?How?”
“I’ve come to be a royal scout.”
“A scout?”He scratched his chin.“You mean a spy?”
“If you wish.”
“On whom do you mean to spy?”
Adam glanced at the recovering guards.Could he count on their silence?
The king waved them away.“Leave us.”
“But Your Grace…” the man gripping his injured wrist protested.
“ThisisRivenloch,” the king said.“I trust him.”
The guards reluctantly left.
When they were alone, the king asked again, “On whom do you mean to spy?”
“Fergus.”
“Fergus.”The king feigned indifference.“Why would you—”
“I believe Your Grace intends to attack him.”
Malcolm blinked.“Where did you hear that?”
“There is no faster conduit for secrets than the church.”
Malcolm’s brows rose.Then he sighed.“We must learn to take care with our confessions from now on.”His brow creased in concern.“Does Fergus know?”
“I don’t think so.”Surely Fergus would have boasted about fighting the king if he knew he was nearby.
“So what do you propose?”
