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of thick reading glasses and pushed off a tall stool beside his workbench. Lean sinewy muscle corded the bowyer’s arms and shoulders surprising for a man near Connal Deveaux’s age.
    On Renau's long wooden counter, a marble chessboard sat arranged as if in mid-game.
    Ronan’s gaze locked on the chessboard. Sir Alcott taught him the game during his twelfth season. He’d had difficulty mastering chess’s subtle nuances, but loved it despite his lack of skill. He’d spent many late nights teaching Rika chess, but she played more to please him than from pure enjoyment.
    That Theon Renau shared two of his greatest passions, archery and chess, drew Ronan to the man like a toddler to saltwater taffy.
    “Ah, Lady Finn. I’m so happy to see you.” Renau bowed before Rika as his glance flickered between Ronan and the chessboard.
    “Master Renau, It’s so good to see you again,” Rika said. “I’d like to introduce you to Ronan.” She gestured toward Ronan, who stood with his gaze locked on the chessboard. “Ronan, please meet Theon Renau, the finest bowyer in the Heartwood.”
    Renau extended his large callused hand toward Ronan in greeting. “Your Majesty, it’s so good to meet you. I couldn’t help noticing your interest in the board. Do you play?”
    Ronan returned the bowyer’s handshake watching his hand disappear underneath Theon Renau’s gargantuan palm. “I dabble in the game, but I have great appreciation for those with true skill.” Ronan cocked his head. “But, I’m curious. Chess is a Meranthian game. Where did you learn to play?”
    Renau’s gaze flickered to Rika and back before answering.
    Rika offered the barest nod.
    “Patron Tyrell taught me the game.” He gestured toward the board. “In fact, he gave me this chessboard as a gift before leaving the Heartwood many years ago.”
    The news hit Ronan like a sucker punch. Tyrell had spoken of Theon Renau many times while teaching Ronan the bow, but he never knew Master Tyrell played chess. Even when Ronan learned the game from Sir Alcott, his training master never spoke a word. He’d give anything for ten minutes with Patron Tyrell over a chessboard. Renau’s revelation tore open half-healed wounds.
    “I’m sorry Your Majesty, had I known —”
    Ronan waved away Renau’s apology. “No. You’ve nothing to apologize for. I never knew Master Tyrell played chess, and I thought I knew everything about him. The news caught me unarmed. I miss him.”
    “I’ll not speak of it again,” Renau said.
    “No. Please don’t hold back,” Ronan said. “I love hearing old stories about Master Tyrell. When he taught me the bow, he mentioned your craftsmanship many times. Your work is legendary among the knights who served under his command.”
    Renau’s cheeks reddened. “You’re much too kind Your Majesty.”
    “Please call me Ronan. I’m not very good with formal titles.”
    Renau nodded. “Okay Ronan. Did Patron ever mention the bow I built for him?”
    Ronan tipped his head back and laughed. “Only about a million times. I learned how to shoot using your bow. No other bow holds a candle to it. It’s the crown jewel of my collection.”
    Renau laughed. “I’m glad to hear it, and I’m glad to hear the bow’s still serviceable.”
    “Master Renau, why don’t you show Ronan the bow we spoke about last week,” Rika said.
    “Yes. Of course Lady Finn.” Renau glanced around the room appearing lost. He scratched his head and furrowed his brow. “Here I go on and on, and I’m sure you’re very busy.” His eyes widened, and he smiled turning to his workbench. He slipped on his thick glasses, knelt, and peered into the murky shadows near its thick legs. He shoved aside handfuls of wood shavings and leaned forward, reaching far beneath his workbench. “Ah yes. Here it is.” The bowyer pulled free a long piece of loose canvas masking something inside.
    Ronan’s eyes tracked the bundle while his pulse quickened.
    Renau hoisted the