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turned to go.  
    While he waited for Jon, to keep his thoughts from the food, he walked to his office and stood over his desk. Behind it was a wide window looking out on the city and the palace in the distance. The window was obscured by the stack of letters and papers before him. As Valemidas’ power grew, so did his responsibilities for the church. He had much to catch up on, but he could not let that distract him from preparing his guidance to Jon. This conversation could bear many fruits in the coming days.
    A knock at the door announced the knight’s arrival. “You may enter,” Yates said as he returned to the dining room.
    “It is a pleasure to see you, Father.” Jon bowed lightly and kissed the priest’s ring. The knight moved with the powerful grace of a panther, but his face was innocent as a boy’s.
    “And you, my dear Jon. We have shared company in the presence of two princes, but I do not think we have ever dined together, just the two of us. Come, come,” Yates gestured to the table, “let’s eat while the food is still warm.”
    The old priest nodded to Petra. She would wait just outside his quarters, leaving them alone. She already knew much of what Yates planned to ask, but no one would overhear this conversation.  
    Yates took his seat and folded his hands in his lap, every instinct screaming at him to devour as much food as possible. Jon sat across from him, smiling but obviously curious about what was behind the priest’s invitation.  
    Yates said a blessing over the food and took a bite of bread. His belly rejoiced as he began asking Jon casual, open-ended questions. How do you like the early autumn weather? What is new in the palace? How is Andor doing? What do you know about the Sunans? They settled into easy conversation as they ate. Their plates were clear before Yates turned to the real purpose of the meeting.
    “You are fine company,” Yates said, “and that would be reason alone to invite you here. But I confess I had specific motives for inviting you this night.”
    “I thought you might.” Jon slid his plate to the side and leaned forward. “You have always held Andor’s trust, and so you hold mine. What is it, Father?”
    “Our god, our city, and our prince need three things from you. Our city and our prince do not yet know that they need them,” Yates began. He had chosen his words carefully, beginning with the easiest task and moving to the hardest. “Are you familiar with a woman named Mailyn?” He asked.
    “Yes,” Jon said with surprise. “Why?”
    “I thought you were, and you know whose tent she shared on the march to Icaria?”  
    Jon nodded.
    Yates continued in a whisper, “she carries his child.”  
    Jon nodded again, this time with his eyes open wide.
    “Every child deserves a good home, a safe home. This child will be important in what is to come. This may seem improper, but I trust your discipline, Jon. Invite Mailyn to live in your quarters in the palace. Protect her there, even from the eyes of others. She does not yet show that she is with child, and no one should learn of it. Do you understand?”  
    “I think so, Father, but how will I convince Mailyn this is a good idea?” Jon shifted in his chair, uncomfortable.
    “She is expecting you, Jon. In fact, she is here in the Cathedral, and she will leave with you tonight. You—”
    “Why not keep her here?” Jon interrupted. “Or maybe she could stay with my mother. My apologies, Father, but it would be safer for her outside the palace. Why me?”
    Yates had expected some resistance. He hoped Jon’s reputation for obedience would hold true. “Jon, you said that I held your trust. You need to trust me. Will you do this?”
    Jon paused long enough for Yates to second-guess himself. Maybe it was too much to ask. He kept his face calm and sipped his wine, waiting.  
    “Okay,” Jon finally said, “I will do as you wish.” Despite his delayed answer, his voice did not waiver in the