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Him.”
    “Interesting.” His manner was so overly pleasant that Kien longed to shake him. Then the prosecutor changed the subject. “Did you serve in any official capacity in Siphra?”
    “Yes. Because of my experience as an ambassador to Istgard, I also represented the Tracelands as a special envoy in Siphra’s royal court last year.”
    “Did you save King Akabe of Siphra’s life last year?”
    “I did.” Kien tensed inwardly, almost hearing the next question before it was asked.
    “Did the king reward you as thanks for saving his life?”
    “Against my will, yes. He granted me property and a title while his wound was being stitched.” Indignant at the memory, Kien protested, “No government should work so quickly!”
    Around him, the Tracelands’ government officials laughed and repeated his statement to each other. When the hilarity faded, the lead prosecutor raised his voice again. “What title did the king of Siphra bestow upon you?”
    Allowing everyone to see his aggravation, Kien said, “Lord Aeyrievale.”
    “And is this title permanent?”
    “Though I’ve refused to act upon it, yes. Regrettably, the king’s bequest cannot be rescinded in Siphra, on pain of death. I plannedto destroy the document and run for my life, but the king’s men locked away the record before I could snatch it.”
    “Indeed?” The lead prosecutor’s voice lifted above the crowd’s chuckles and murmurs. “Are you now considered a citizen of Siphra?”
    “Akabe of Siphra termed it a joint citizenship—against my wishes. Yes.”
    Mildly, the prosecutor asked, “As a citizen and a lord of Siphra, are you in a position to establish laws and wield power in that country?”
    Bad question. Kien exhaled. “I have not exercised any authority in Siphra. And I’ve no intention of doing so.”
    “But might you establish laws and wield power in Siphra, sir? Yes or no?”
    Kien quieted inside. Why had the man phrased it that way? “Might you,” instead of “do you”? Answer. He must answer before being reprimanded. “It would be possible, yes.”
    Though the questioning continued, Kien heard and responded in a daze. He knew what the prosecutor was planning. And what the now-frowning judge would be forced to decide. This would be no ordinary censure. Why couldn’t they simply cast him from the military, fine him, and send him to prison? He slid a glance toward his parents and sister. Mother smiled at him, all her love in that look. Kien almost winced.
    His sentence would crush her.

 5 
    I n the seclusion of his royal study, Akabe inclined his head toward the austere Cyan Thaenfall, Lord of the Plidian Estates. Then he nodded to Lord Faine, who opened the leather pouch and displayed the contested ashes.
    Controlling himself at the sight of those ashes and his own seared gold crest, Akabe kept his voice serene. Neutral. “My lord, owing to this rather dramatic display, I presume you wish to renegotiate. Why?”
    Cyan Thaenfall’s smile did not brighten his cool brown eyes and stern voice. “I had forgotten a legal entanglement. Years ago, my youngest daughter’s dowry was attached to this land to provide for her future.”
    “Then,” Akabe murmured, “we will pay her dowry upon the sale of the land to Siphra.”
    Thaenfall didn’t look pleased as Akabe had hoped. “Sir. The land, not its proceeds, is the dowry.”
    “Meaning?”
    “My daughter will marry the purchaser of this land.”
    An uncomfortable chill prickled Akabe’s arms beneath his fine tunic and cloak. Marry?
    Lord Faine protested, “Thaenfall, your daughter cannot marry Siphra—which will purchase this land. Therefore you must name a sum.”
    “Must?” The proud lord’s eyebrows lifted, almost regal. “Recite one law that prevents me from selling this land to whomever I choose, on my own terms.”
    Before the two could argue further, and before his own misgivings interfered, Akabe snapped, “Thaenfall, state your terms—I’m sure