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“You’re in no condition to travel. Stay here. Rest. I’ll leave at first light.” Renvalle was only a few days away. Rufe dared anyone to stop him.

Rufe urged Princess on. If he’d only stopped in Renvalle before proceeding to Cormira, he’d have been there for Niam’s arrival.

Niam. In trouble. The boys were in trouble. Rufe would kill the sonofabitch who’d dared take them. And if someone harmed them? He’d rain fire on their heads. He rode hard, barely sleeping or eating in his desire to get to his lover.

His lover. King Niam. As much as Rufe hated being named heir to Father’s dukedom, thanks to Emperor Avestan, Rufe the untitled bastard now became Lord Rufe Ferund, heir to Altonois Ferund, the Duke of Haston.

No longer a bastard, no longer a mere soldier. The tattoo on his wrist caught his eye. Though Avestan outlawed marking prisoners, some would still view Rufe as a traitor. The new decree came too late to save him from a lifetime of mockery.

Any seeking comeuppance from those who’d wronged him would have to wait. First, he must ensure Niam’s health and well-being.

Four of Father’s guards traveled with him, two he’d known since childhood who’d never remarked on his dubious reception into the world, and two younger ones who appeared to shrug off anyone’s opinions but their own. Soldiers were often away from home for many seasons. Bastards were a fact of life.

Only a few miles remained when night fell on the sixth day of travel. “I want to keep going,” Rufe told the men. “A little longer, and we’ll sleep in actual beds tonight.”

To their credit, the men didn’t grumble; they simply kept going. How strange to end this journey without having once been attacked.

Lights glowed in the distance, some low to the ground, likely cottages, other higher ones from the castle windows.

Hard to tell which rooms they were at this distance, but trying to guess kept Rufe’s mind occupied until he reached the front gates.

Was Niam in one of those rooms? Stars glittered overhead, full dark now upon them.

One of the gate guards rushed forward. “Commander Rufe! We weren’t expecting you so soon. Shall I send a runner to the castle and inform King Draylon?”

So, at least they’d expected him. “No. It’s late. I’ll find bunks in the barracks tonight for me and my men. ”

The gate swung open, but the other guard stood in the way. “I’m sorry, Commander, but King Draylon said to send you to him immediately when you arrived.”

So much for getting rest first. As much as he’d love to find out about Niam, Rufe needed sleep and a clear head, or he might go haring off to Delletina unprepared. However, when Draylon called, Rufe answered, like a million times before.

He followed the guard across a courtyard he’d first seen strewn with dead Renvallians mere seasons ago, after Yarif’s father’s planned rebellion, and entered Renvalle castle. At least he didn’t have to step over bodies this time.

Rufe sat in the antechamber of the rooms Draylon shared with Yarif, rumored to have once been the domain of Yarif’s grandfather, sipping tea and waiting.

He’d barely set the cup down when the door opened. Draylon stepped out, yanking Rufe out of the chair and crushing him in an embrace.

“Oi! Go easy, Dray! I’ve had a rough few days!”

Draylon stepped back, chuckling. “My apologies. It’s so good to see you.” His smile broadened. “Lord Rufe.”

Rufe snorted, nearly falling into the chair. “I’m just Rufe, the same as ever. I didn’t even want the title.”

Draylon’s smile fell. “I know. And I’m sorry about your brother.”

“So am I. Now, enough small talk. What’s going on with Niam? Where is he? Is he all right? Is he safe?” Rufe’s heart hammered.

“He’s fine, currently asleep in guest quarters.”

Rufe shot to his feet. “Where? Take me to him!”

Draylon placed his big hands on Rufe’s biceps, holding him in place. “Hold up. He’s resting. He’s had some rough days, too. I need to talk to you before you see him.”

Oh. This again. Rufe sighed. “I know. As a lowly soldier and a bastard, I have no right—”

Draylon’s hand over his mouth stopped Rufe’s tirade.

“First off, my brother named you a commander, a position I used to hold, and now you’re an emissary, a position for which I’m uniquely unqualified.

Second, I know my brother legitimized you; third, you’re now a duke’s heir, so you’re titled nobility. Get used to it. I had to.”

Rufe rolled his eyes upward, glowering at Draylon, and licked his palm.

Draylon yanked his hand back. “Ewww… you little…” They stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Draylon bent and embraced Rufe again. “Damn, but I missed you.”

“Likewise,” Rufe managed enough air to say while squirming from Draylon’s crushing embrace. “Being an emissary doesn’t really suit me.”

Draylon finally released his hold. “Why not? ”

“I kept wanting to stab people, and I’ve been told that’s not a successful diplomatic strategy.”

“I’d save drastic measures for a last resort.”

“When can I see Niam?”

“Soon. Avestan is on his way.”

“Really? Why?” The situation must be worse than Rufe originally thought.

“We need to make our support official. Whreyn fears a treaty, but his highhanded assholery guaranteed the outcome. Avestan is coming to complete negotiations, and we’ll sign treaties with Delletina. Then, the Cormiran forces will back King Niam against the coup attempt.”

Rufe’s heart hammered. Desperate men acted without thinking. “What about his sons? Whreyn could kill them out of spite.”

“We already have a team in place for a rescue effort.”

Of course, Draylon did. “Who are they? Do you trust them?”

“I only need to say one word to calm all your fears, so here goes. Exa.”

“Exa? Countess Exa?”

“Yes. Although officially Delletina doesn’t trade with Renvalle, she’s sold many of her prize horses and mules to nobles over the border, as well as hunting dogs, and learned the area.

Instead of her usual entourage, she took soldiers with her.

She’ll discover the boys’ location because nobody gossips like a noble, then arrange to free them or let us know where they are.

” Draylon lowered his voice. “Exa attended temple schools with Yarif but left consort training for the military once it became clear she preferred to be her own woman. She married on her terms, not her father’s or anyone else’s.

If it can’t be one of us, no one is better suited for this mission than Lady Exa.

Think of your mother with more knives and less reserve about using them. ”

Rufe trusted Exa, but not the boys’ captors. He scrubbed his tired face with his hand and lay back in his chair. “How are Yarif, Emile, and Adrina?” Mother would be appalled that he only just now asked about Draylon's family.

“They’re well, though Yarif is understandably worried for his aunt and cousins.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t mounted up and charged across the border by now.”

A wry smile twisted the edge of Draylon’s mouth. “He made it as far as the village due north of here before I intercepted him.”

How very like Yarif, from all Rufe had learned of him. “And now?”

“Now, he’s willing to wait and handle matters officially.” Draylon worried his bottom lip with his teeth, dropping into the next chair and pulling a flask from his pocket. He poured amber liquid into two glasses.

“May’s special recipe?” The Renvalle head cook regularly brewed spirits strong enough to down a platoon.

“Yes.”

“Cheers.” Rufe clicked his glass to Draylon’s.

“There’s one more thing.”

Rufe paused, glass halfway to his lips. “What’s that?” He took a sip of the potent drink, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat .

“To further seal an alliance with the empire and thwart Whreyn’s plans, Niam must marry a Cormiran noble.”

Rufe sprayed May’s creation all over Draylon. “What?” Not only would Niam marry another, but one of Rufe’s own countrymen. “But…” Words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t even spare a thought to be embarrassed about spewing his drink on a king.

Draylon merely arched a brow. “I meant you, you graceless oaf.”