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“Enough!” Auberon roars, finally turning to look at the messenger. “Get out!”

The man flees, shutting the door behind him.

“Well,” Auberon says, his voice back under control. “Looks like we’ll have to postpone our attack on the humans by a few hours after all. First, we need the dragons to get rid of the baseborn rabble, the unwashed swine.”

“You mean your subjects who fund your castle?” Talan says, deadpan. “The people you’re supposed to care for?”

“The people’s main concern should be for their king! The rabble love the humans, you know. I’d bet my kingdom they’re all demi-Fey invading our land,” Auberon thunders. “I’ll give the order straight away. The dragons will torch the demi-Fey knaves on their route here. Any who survive will be used as examples, ripped apart, limb from limb. Once that’s done?—”

Talan cocks his head, his expression one of mock sympathy. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid the dragons are gone.”

This stuns the king into silence.

Talan’s eyes are heavy lidded, and despite the sharp tension in the room, he looks almost bored. He slides his hands into his pockets and leans back against the column. “I sent them away. I won’t unleash hell on this kingdom, and I won’t burn your subjects like you burned my mother.”

“You fool!” Auberon rises from his chair, knocking it backward. “You’ve made things worse. Now we’ll have to use our armies.Moremen will die because of your lofty ideas. Lord Malleus, send a messenger to your father right away. Your family’s bannermen will have to march toward the capital at once and slaughter the human sympathizers.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening, my lord,” Malleus says, his voice trembling. He looks quite like Lord Kahedin, his father. “My father sent me a messenger earlier telling me that his bannermen are…” He clears his throat. “Unavailable.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Auberon snaps, turning his fury on the man.

Malleus cowers. “I…I don’t know, Your Majesty. I’m just relaying what my father?—”

“Lord Aedan!” Auberon whirls. “Get your bannermen here and arrest Malleus. My son as well. And then we will deal with the human-loving peasant mob outside.”

Aedan lifts his chin. “I think I prefer to stay out of this, Your Majesty. Like the Dream Stalker, I have a great aversion to unnecessary death.”

As he speaks, I recall the poisons in his bedroom with a shudder.Man loves his poisons.

Auberon pounds the table. “My son thrives on death. What is the meaning of this?”

Aedan stands. “I tend to agree with Prince Talan. The kingdom has been mismanaged, and that is the cause of the unrest now.”

Every word planted in his brain by Talan long ago.

“This is treason!” Arwenna’s father, the Marquis de Bosclair, gets to his feet. “You will do as our king demands.”

“I will not.” Aedan looks resolute. “It is time to take a stand.”

The marquis’s cheeks turn pink. “Once we’ve dealt with the commoners, I will march my own armies against any noble who refused to obey His Majesty. The king is correct. Any commoners marching on the king are trying to aid our enemies. They’re working for the filthy humans who spread the famine. They’re our enemy within our kingdom, and we must deal with them the way we do any threat to the crown.”

“That’s nonsense.” Ker-Ys’s shrill voice rises. “They’re not helping the humans, and they’re not demi-Fey. They’re just starving. I stand with Prince Talan.”

And here before me, each strand of Talan’s plan weaves together in perfect precision.

Months of whispering dreams into nobles’ ears, of sowing thoughts like threads—now, his schemes stitch themselves into place, a tapestry worthy of Elaine of Shalott’s loom. He’s even managed to construct it so that Ker-Ys has looked like his enemy. For months, he’s been controlling Ker-Ys to oppose him. Now, I realize, it appears that even Talan’s staunchestopponents are siding with him. The threads slide perfectly together.

Shouts and recriminations ring out, echoing off the high ceilings. Altogether, more than two-thirds of the nobles are siding with Talan.

King Auberon unsheathes his sword. At the sound of the metal scraping, the shouts peter out.

“I see,” Auberon says darkly. “This isn’t just incompetence and cowardice, as I’ve assumed. This is outright rebellion.”

Talan looks utterly amused. “Are you about to duel me, Father?”

Auberon’s nostrils flare. “I would destroy you. You are a worthless drunk, a waste of life, but sometimes, a king needs to take a step away and fix problems himself.”

Talan shakes his head and makes a tutting noise. “Not much of a father, and even less of a son. Morgan’s name is etched into every façade in Brocéliande, a lie scrawled across the gates of every tower. That’s the real reason you killed my mother, isn’t it? She remembered Merlin. She knew he was your father. You’ve led your kingdom to believe you were Mordred’s son, that you took the throne after his death. And yet, he still lives in Avalon. Andhesays you are not his son. All the while, your real father languishes in an oak tree. Tell me, did you even try to free Merlin?”