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to discredit the young lady. We’ve decided to keep watch over all of Siphra’s prophets—the Parnian and her lesser acolytes—scattered as they are while proclaiming the Infinite’s will throughout Siphra. You know from experience what chaos one prophet can provoke.”
    “Yes.” The most profound spiritual and political chaos. Not to mention personal misery.
    He’d been refused. For the best of reasons, but still refused. Akabe planted his booted feet against the tiles. He would not resort to kicking something, but would deal with the humiliation and proceed. Straightening, he slapped his hands on the gleaming table. “What next, my lords? Have you created a list of potential prospects?”
    Faine sighed. “No, sir. We were convinced the girl would accept you—and are shocked that she did not. I suppose that will be our next task.” He paused, clearly choosing his words with care. “Majesty . . . Siphra’s highest-ranked families will hesitate to enter a contract with you due to bloodlines. We know nothing of your past, sir. Despite your position as king, matters would be helped tremendously if you would give details of your family’s history.”
    Lord Trillcliff added hurriedly, “Majesty, this is not to say we consider you unworthy. We do not. It is obvious you’re educated and that you’ve the manners and deportment any nobleman would expect, but . . .”
    “But what?” Akabe stared at each of his counselors in turn, making them shift and cough. “What’s being said of me?”
    “Well,” Piton affected a shrug. “It’s being wagered that you’re illegitimate.”
    Illegitimate? Despite his shock, Akabe laughed. “My parents would be surprised, my lord. As would the priest who blessed their marriage.”
    “Then, Majesty,” Faine pleaded, “who are you?”
    Did he wish to reopen agonizing wounds? To provoke accusations that might shake his court and set Siphra’s highest families against each other? Akabe shook his head. “I am the king. And I’m not illegitimate, though my parents are dead. Let it be enough. Have we received word from Thaenfall regarding the temple’s lands?”
    Piton cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Thaenfall is now traveling to Munra for our meetings.”
    “Good. I want the land sale finalized. The workers are on site—I’d hate to send them away.” Ela’s father among them. Akabe stood and sighed. Enough. He’d had enough for one day. “My lords, prepare your list of potential brides, and I’ll consider it.”
    Akabe marched from the room before his council could protest.
    Until now he hadn’t realized how much he’d depended upon Ela’s acceptance of him as a husband. She’d appealed to him completely, and Akabe had allowed himself to contemplate sharing every aspect of his life with her. If only he’d known she loved Kien Lantec. Truly, Akabe couldn’t fault her choice. Kien . . . Lord Aeyrievale . . . was descended from kings and had proven himself a true friend. Akabe only wished he could do more to defend him now in the Tracelands.
    Had Siphra’s formal plea been effective? When would Kien know the outcome of his trial? Akabe had heard nothing from him in weeks. Troubling, now that he considered the matter. Tonight, he must send a cipher to the Tracelands’ General Rol through one of his household clerks, by way of courier bird. Surely a reply would arrive soon. “Be well, friend,” Akabe muttered. For Kien’s sake, Akabe must abandon thoughts of Ela.
    He would not risk their friendship over a misunderstanding, no matter how deep the hurt.
    Doubtless the Infinite expected such goodwill of him in all similar matters.
    To no one, he muttered, “A bit of divine guidance now and then would be helpful!”

    His third day of trial. Kien glanced around the huge circular chamber, found Selwin, and smiled. Selwin frowned. Poor man.
    Kien settled into his designated chair, then glanced over his shoulder at his family. Father sat with Mother