“How long do you plan to stay at the palace, Sir Roel?” Princess Caroline asked, breaking the silence. “Are you heading to Brackith soon?”

“I’m not sure. The Graecian Empire should reply within a week.” King Mathieu could name commanders and give military orders to his council, but he still needed to pretend to wait for a reply from the Graecians. Otherwise, it was dishonorable to officially mobilize the armies without the opponent’s acknowledgment of the charges laid against them. Such was the pretense of Calorin honor in war.

“Perhaps I’ll head south,” he mused.

“What’s in the south?” she asked.

“Just an old friend.”

“A good friend, yes? You’re smiling.”

“Am I?” He was. “Yes, a good friend.”

“Another paladin?” Charlie asked.

“No, just one of those greedy, soulless merchants,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s a shame though,” Caroline said sadly. “I was going to invite you to my debutante ball.”

“Ah, when is it?” he asked.

“It should be –”

“Next month!” Charlie shouted. “Sis is going to get married next month!”

“Charlie, quiet down.” Caroline sighed. “I won’t be married immediately, but a lot of the major lords will be there. They say Lord Sigvard of the Volshek Confederation has a particular interest in me.”

“Whoever it is, you’ll make an excellent wife,” he said.

She gave him a small smile. “Thank you. And, um, if you’re not busy, please feel free to ask for me. I’ll be busy for the next few days, but I can make time for you.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“You have to see me first though,” Charlie said. “Or wait, you could take me to Brackith with you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, Prince Charlie.”

“Why not?” Charlie cried.

“You can’t keep being so spoiled,” Caroline scolded her brother. “And I haven’t forgotten about your little prank. That servant boy is not a good influence. I should have Father replace him.”

“Father won’t listen to you.”

“He will after I tell him what the boy did.”

“Dagfinn didn’t do anything wrong.”

“How’d you get into Sir Roel’s room?”

Charlie fell quiet.

“Well?” she pressed.

“It was unlocked.”

“Liar. Dagfinn took a key, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know.”

She gestured at the letter on the table. “And what about this? That’s not your writing, is it? Have you been teaching the boy to write?”

“I’m leaving now!” Charlie yelled, dramatically flourishing his arms as a herald might upon announcing the departure of the king. He sprung out of his chair, gave Roel a short bow, and took off running into the garden.

Roel chuckled. “My condolences. He seems like a handful.”

“He just needs to mature a bit,” the princess said, half-amused and half-annoyed. “I can barely handle Charlie; I don’t know how I’ll stand another.”

“Ah, yes.” He recalled that the queen had given birth to another boy a month or so ago. “Gilbert, was it? How is he?”

“Yes, he’s a month old and very cute. A bit sickly at the moment, but the doctor said it'll pass. Mother is very happy to have another son, but I’m never quite sure what Father thinks. No one ever really knows what Father thinks. It makes me worry sometimes. Father’s going to decide who I marry, and I don’t know how he’ll choose.” She looked up at him and then quickly averted her gaze. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble on and on about things.”

“It’s fine.”

“If…” Her voice trailed off, and then she started again. “If the man I marry is a violent tyrant, could I ask you to rescue me, Sir Roel?”

He looked at her in surprise. There was a slightly pleading look in her eyes. Some peasant girls got married as young as twelve, but fifteen was the standard for aristocrats. Still, it was hard to believe that such a young girl would be the foundation of an alliance between two countries.

“I’ll do whatever I can, Your Highness, but surely, your father wouldn’t –”

“I know my father well enough to know that I don’t know him very well at all. I know that’s a confusing way to put it, but my father is not very expressive. When I was younger, I used to give him things. Things I sewed, things I learned to cook from the servants.”

She smiled bitterly. “When I gave them to him, he would always just nod and continue with what he was doing. He gave no praises, but he also didn’t scold me for cooking as my mother did. No reaction at all. Eventually, I got fed up with it and stopped giving him things.”

“I see. He’s a hard man to understand.” He knew there was no point in saying more. She was upset, but she wasn’t seeking consolation; he could hear it in her voice.

Perhaps to fill the silence, the girl began to hum. It was a familiar tune, slow and somber like a dirge. However, the story it told was one of triumph, of the glory of revenge.

“Sir Gabin and the 27 Knives?” he asked.

She stopped humming and looked at him with surprise. “You know it? Yes, it was my grandmother’s favorite. She –”

One of the maids, a brunette who looked to be in her mid-twenties, came over to the princess and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and turned back to him. “It seems I’m out of time, Sir Roel. I do apologize for cutting it short, but I have a very busy schedule today.”

“Not at all.”

“As for what I said earlier, I do hope the day will never come in which I need to rely on you. But if it does…”

“I will serve you as best I can, Your Highness.” He gave a low bow and left the pavilion.

His immediate priority was to get back to his room and entrust the prince’s gift and a message to a servant. He wasn’t sure where Charlie ran off to, but he could imagine the boy's upset expression when he received the message and learned that Roel was leaving soon. All the more reason to leave sooner.

He had made up his mind on his next destination: before the Graecians’ reply came, he would head south to the city of Albine where Olivier lived. There were certain things he needed to confirm with his friend. Besides, more paladins were headed to the palace; he had no desire to see them. The higher-ranking ones would no doubt be displeased that he was being assigned commander.

When he got to his room, he was surprised to find another note on the floor. It was on the same coarse parchment, though only a scrap rather than a whole page, and the writing was in the same rough scrawl. There were four simple words on it:

Do not trust her.