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about slander!”
    Lord Stefn had little choice but to precede Severyn from the room, limping down the stairs, through the house, and out into the
    bright, windy afternoon. When he passed through the gate and saw the pit, his ashen countenance took on a greenish hue.
    “He’s to dig with the others,” Severyn ordered Corliss. “Make sure he works without stopping until sunset.”
    Corliss nodded, grinning.
    Severyn stood, arms crossed on his chest, watching with grim enjoyment as a pitchfork was thrust into the young man’s hands
    and he was sent stumbling into the debris.
    “And for Loth’s sake,” added Severyn, belatedly remembering his first encounter with the doe-eyed earl. “Don’t let him get
    away.”

    Michael tried to keep his mind on business for the remainder of the day. He stood with Severyn’s engineer on Shia’s
    overgrown parade ground and listened while the man pointed out where he envisioned various buildings.
    “ …mess hal . Most of the additional barracks wil be tents at first, of course, but we expect to have a permanent structures to
    hold at least five hundred additional troops by next year. Eventual y, men with families can settle in the nearby vil ages, or so we
    hope, but we’l stil need barracks for those without families… ”
    None of them actual y used the word “revolution.” It was such an ugly word, implying violence, wholesale destruction, and
    death. Loth wil ing, theirs would be a bloodless coup and any opposition slight. Arami would abdicate quietly, wil ing to spend the
    rest of his days in a transformed Shia, wel -guarded, surrounded by every luxury, and free of the responsibilities he ignored routinely
    anyway.
    Tanyrin needed a king, a strong one. Each year, it seemed, the weather went from bad to worse. Summers had become cool
    and wet while winter’s icy reach extended further south every year. Beaten down by winds and rain, grain rotted in the fields.
    Reports of crop failures grew. Hunger and fear spread like some deadly disease. In the east, famine was said to be widespread. Yet,
    in spite of the obvious hardships of their people, the Church and the Royal Court demanded more and more from them. Even the
    nobles were feeling the strain.
    Al the while, King Arami kept to his rooms, lost in pelthe dreams, oblivious and uncaring. If the Wet was indeed returning, the
    people of Tanyrin would turn to whoever offered the promise of safety. The nara were no longer here to blame, but there were
    plenty of h’nara. If the House of Lothlain couldn’t protect the people, then it would be the Church. And if it were to be the Church,
    God help them al .
    Returning to the main house, Michael found the prince on the second floor of the west wing, looking down on the lane.
    “These are good rooms,” said Severyn by way of greeting. “Look at the view!”
    Obligingly, Michael joined him. The windows were filthy and a few had rags stuffed into empty panes, but Severyn was right.
    The view was spectacular.
    Shia was built on a large, artificial hil . The keep occupied its highest point and from it, one could look out across the
    outbuildings, over the top of the wal s, and onto the rol ing land beyond. From here, he could see the meadows, turning gold with the
    approach of autumn. To the east, the blue shadows of spruce forests marked the foothil s. Banks of white, fluffy clouds hid the more
    distant peaks of the Lothwal range.
    “Storage,” Severyn said, shaking his head. “The rooms are either empty or stuffed ful of rubbish. What do you think about
    turning them into bedroom suites? Gods, can you imagine a summer sunset through these windows?”
    “Do what you wish,” replied Michael. “It’s your brother who wil be living here.”
    “Yes.” For a moment, sorrow touched Severyn’s face, then his jaw hardened. He shrugged. “But when he passes on, it wil
    revert to your family, as it should.”
    “After al the evil done inside these wal s, I’m not sure I want