Page 23 of Given to the Black King

He shrugs. “You dislike advice.”

“I dislike speeches.”

“Then here is a short one. Tell her before someone else does.”

“No.”

“She is already asking questions.”

My head turns.

Ghenn sees it. “The grooms heard the fangs. The servants saw the throne. Vess has probably started a wagering pool.”

“Close it.”

“I said probably.”

“That means she started two.”

He almost smiles.

I mount.

At the lower ridge, a scout waits with fresh mud on his horse.

“Majesty.” He bows from the saddle. “Lord Osk left by the north road at sunset. Turned east after the second watch. He’s riding for his cousins.”

Not home, then.

“How many with him?”

“Twelve.”

“He’ll have two hundred by the week’s end.” Ghenn looks toward the eastern hills. “More if he promises them Serathi land.”

“He will.”

The scout waits for orders.

“Watch him,” I say. “Do not stop him. I want every lord who answers.”

The scout rides.

Ghenn says, “You look pleased.”

“Osk is simple.”

“Unlike the envoy.”

I turn my horse toward home.

“Do not become tiresome.”

“Too late.”

We reach the hold before midday. Iona is crossing the lower yard with Perr and a stack of rolled maps. She sees us and stops.

Her gaze moves over my soaked clothes, the mud, the blood at my mouth. She hands the maps to Perr.