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Haydn reminded his brother of the king’s temper on their journey south. Anger him, and they could return to Kenshire without land or title. He’d done as much to other border lords, though King Edward would find deposing an earl more troublesome. Leary of the power of his earls, he also knew firsthand how quickly they could band together against him.

“My lords.”

Haydn didn’t see the attendant until he stood practically upon them. The tall doors to the hall were open. It was a massive room he’d seen only once before, when accompanying his parents here a year ago for the king’s second marriage, to Margaret of France. Struck by the sixty-year difference in their ages, Haydn had wondered if he might be as old when he eventually took a wife. Having rejected every match his parents presented to him, little did Haydn know at the time he’d be returning one year later to take a bride.

Ushered into the hall, Haydn and his brother bowed as they crossed the threshold. As he approached the throne, he was struck, as he’d been every other time in his presence, by the king’s size, even seated. Despite his age and one of his eyelids sagging, he was as formidable a sight as he’d been the first time Haydn and his siblings were presented to him as children. Haydn and Holt once again kneeled in front of him.

“You may rise,” he commanded in a tone clearly accustomed to ruling men for many, many years. His voice echoed in the massive hall, mostly empty save for a smattering of attendants and two guards. The king stared at him, and then his brother, long enough for most men to become uncomfortable.

But not the sons of the Earl and Countess of Kenshire.

“May I present Sir Haydn Waryn,” an attendant announced, “first Baron Waryn of Rymerden Castle, and his brother, Sir Holt Waryn, sons of Sir Geoffrey Waryn, fourth Earl of Kenshire, and Lady Sara, the Countess of Kenshire.”

“Your parents tread too fine a line of treason,” the king said.

Haydn was not surprised by the king’s bluntness, as he was known for such a manner. “They continue to be loyal subjects, Your Grace, as are we. Serving the king and queen of England has been an honor for my family for many years.”

“You will recall our grandfather’s role,” his brother added, “at the Battle of Taillebourg.”

Haydn was going to kill him. If the king didn’t do it first. Surprisingly, though, Edward’s famed temper showed no signs of surfacing. Instead, he leveled Holt a look of clear displeasure.

“Unfortunately, I am unable to recall any Waryn by my side at Falkirk.”

He may be the king. His brother may have been rash to speak out. But no one would speak to Holt with that tone.

“You know well, Your Grace,” he said, taking the attention away from his brother, “my parents have fought tirelessly for many years to keep the Eastern Marches relatively safe. Your precious resources needed to keep the lawlessness along all other parts of the border are unnecessary courtesy of our men.”

“Your men,” his eyes narrowed, “and your allegiance to Clan Kerr.”

He could not, and would not, deny it. “Their chief and his nephew have achieved something the other Wardens have not. Because of that allegiance, trade flows freely both out of and into England.” He paused and then added, “Your Grace.”

The target was fully on his back again.

“The same nephew who recently travelled to the French court?”

Dammit. He himself had told Rory not to do so. To be seen so openly with one of the three Guardians of Scotland and ally to the Scottish cause, courted nothing but trouble. Of course, their Scots cousin cared little for the opinion of the English monarch, but Rory should know better. Unfortunately, Haydn and his family had no choice but to care. Incurring the king’s wrath had been something they’d somehow avoided until these last few years.

“Our allegiance with my uncle and his father has brought prosperity to a land that would otherwise be fraught with reivers and nothing but trouble for Your Grace.”

Never mind more of those reivers were his father’s friends than not.

“As I wrote to your father, who should be here now. . . ”

Haydn had wondered when the king would mention his absence. It had been Haydn’s idea to come alone. To avoid further reminders of their close ties with the Kerrs and Father’s reiving friends.

“It is that very allegiance that necessitates you be here. You will marry the earl of Sherfield’s daughter in three days’ time here at Westminster.”

Here? In three days?

Haydn hadn’t been expecting that. But his own thoughts mattered little. King Edward had made clear his purpose for this union, not even bothering to hide his motives. The earl’s daughter would keep Haydn’s family in check.

He did not trust Haydn or his parents.

He may have enjoyed a good relationship with them once. Haydn’s father and grandfather may have fought for the Plantagenet kings in the past. But none of that mattered.After Edward’s loss at Stirling Bridge, and despite his victory at Falkirk, the king continued to simmer, angry he’d not yet captured the person he held responsible for both. William Wallace was rumored to have travelled to France to gain the king’s support, though none knew for certain if it was true. But in his absence, when the king issued a summons asking for feudal service from his magnates across the realm and only two earls, Gloucester and Lincoln, responded to his call, he now had more to blame than Wallace himself for his current predicament, his inability to bring the Scots fully under his control. After the pope demanded Edward withdraw from Scotland, and without the support he’d hoped for, their king had been forced to sign a truce with the Scots.

No one, least of all he and his family, expected the truce to hold. Edward wanted both vengeance against Wallace and to make Scotland the next Wales. Many, including his parents, did not support the king’s position and found themselves in an increasingly precarious position. One that would not be alleviated anytime soon.

As Haydn was about to acquiesce, to assure the king he would, indeed, marry the spy, his liege surprised him again by lifting his chin and looking toward the back of the hall. Haydn and Holt turned to see the doors being opened again. A man and woman stood there, but they were too far away for him to see either clearly.