"No, I know, I just—" He shook his head. "A prince. Sitting at our dinner table eating my stew. My mother is going to lose her mind when I tell her."
"You can't tell her," Alar said. "Not yet. The fewer people who know, the better."
"Right. A secret prince. Got it." Morek picked his caff up again. "So, why did Lesten summon you? Is this about the letters from your mother?"
Alar nodded. "My family submitted a formal diplomatic request for my immediate release. Lesten has no choice but to comply."
"You're leaving," Codric said.
"Tomorrow. After breakfast."
Another stunned silence followed.
Tomorrow.
Codric set his cup down with careful precision. "Am I going too?"
"No. The request names only me. You can stay."
I watched Codric's face cycle through emotions he would normally never let show. Relief and guilt and something raw that he covered quickly with a swallow of caff.
"I should go with you," he said. "We've been inseparable since we were toddlers, Alar. I don't know how to be Codric without Alar."
"You know exactly how to be Codric." Alar's voice was steady, but I could hear the effort it cost him. "You need to stay. You're one of the seven. Shovia needs you. Elucia needs you."
"What about you? What about what you need?"
"What I need isn't relevant anymore."
Shovia reached over and took Codric's hand. "I'll keep him so busy he won't have time to think about you," she told Alar.
It was her way of saying she understood, that she forgave them, or at least that she was willing to set aside her hurt feelings for the sake of what really mattered right now.
"What does your mother say about your father's condition?" Codric asked, his hand closing around Shovia's.
Alar recounted the phone conversation, his mother's evasiveness, her talk of unconventional measures and complex situations. "I don't think it's a physical illness," he concluded. "I think it's political. Something is happening in Catonia that required pulling me home, and my father's health was just an excuse."
Codric leaned back in his chair. "A political crisis. That could mean anything. A challenge to the Crown from one of the other provinces. An attempted coalition against Catonia's leadership of the council." He paused. "Or an assassination attempt."
My blood chilled.
"What?" I said.
"An assassination attempt on the king would explain a lot," Codric said, his voice taking on an analytical quality. "The letters from Alar's mother, each one more urgent than thelast. The coded language about his father's declining health. The diplomatic summons when the personal appeals failed. If someone tried to kill the king and the royal family is circling the wagons, they'd want every prince home and accounted for."
"My father has survived several assassination attempts," Alar said. "You might be right about the panic to call all of his sons to him so they are protected."
"It would explain the urgency," Codric said. "When we left, the political landscape had already been shifting. Several provinces have been making noises about Catonia's dominance on the council. If someone decided to accelerate that shift by removing the king?—"
"We shouldn't speculate," Alar cut him off. "We don't have enough information."
"We're analyzing available data and drawing reasonable conclusions."
I sat very still, my relief at Alar's departure curdling into something colder. I had been so focused on the threat from Veynathei and the mountain passes that I hadn't considered other dangers. The dream showed him dying in Elucia, but that didn't mean Catonia was safe. If his family was facing assassination attempts, Alar might be walking from one death trap into another.
"You might not be safe there either," I said.
Alar turned to me, and I saw in his eyes that he'd already thought of this. "Catonia has an army, a royal guard, and fortified palaces. Whatever is happening, I'll be well protected there. You have nothing to worry about."
