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“Horred’s temple. Is he dead?”
    “Not dead, sir. He’s gone.”
    “Gone?” A wave of relief passed over him. Why he should care so much about a boy—the enemy—he had no idea. “But, he could hardly breathe.”
    “Or so he led us to believe.”
    A fork clanged on a glass, and the conversations muted around them as the king stood to speak. Nathaniel ushered Kent to the back of the hall. “Show me the last place you saw him. The gates have been closed for the night, so there’s a chance he’s still in the city.”
    “As you wish, lieutenant.” At least a little color had returned to the young man’s face.
    “Do not fret. We will make this right.” Before he left, Nathaniel glanced back at Valoria. She met his gaze with a questioning raise of her brow. Her eyes held a flicker of desperation. Could he leave her?
    He had to. She was his no more than the claim to the throne. If he were wise, he’d do his duty without any more thoughts of her. Resolve hardening inside him, Nathaniel turned from the dinner and followed Kent into the corridor beyond. He found two soldiers guarding the entryway and dispatched them to gather the others off duty and search the thoroughfares.
    “Why did you not bring this to Commander Brax’s attention?” Nathaniel whispered as they exited the temple and walked across the city square.
    “The Commander seemed busy at the moment with his intended. Besides, I know you will find a way to…soften the blow.”
    No one wanted to be the target of Brax’s fury. But, Nathaniel couldn’t keep his superior ill-informed for long. “If we find the prisoner, I may not need to.”
    A light bell chimed as they entered the apothecary’s shop. They walked past the shelves of medicines and hanging, dried herbs to the barn in the back. Most of the patients slept wrapped in white sheets and thick bandages. The older man Valoria had attended to sat propped on a pillow reading a scroll of parchment by candlelight.
    Kent led Nathaniel to the back. “We moved all of the seriously wounded patients here.” He pointed to an empty bed. The cords used to tie the boy’s arms and legs had been cut. “He laid here.”
    Nathaniel picked up the broken cord. “He must have stolen a scalpel when the medics weren’t looking.”
    Unease stirred in Kent’s gaze. “With the bustle from the influx of minstrels, I couldn’t watch each patient.”
    Nathaniel placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He wasn’t much older than the boy who’d run away. A mistake this early in his career would send him back to the farms where he’d come from. “No one will blame you.”
    “Commander Braxten will, as he should.” Kent hung his head, looking at the old planks on the floor. “I am supposed to keep track of all medical equipment.”
    “Then, I will leave his means of escape in question. It is not important.” Nathaniel scanned the rafters above. The barn had no back door, and every floor plank was in place. A single white dove sat by a cranked window. Even in prime shape, that climb would be difficult.
    Nathaniel approached the older minstrel. The candlelight reflected a staff with notes on the parchment. What manner of song did he read? Tragic or sweet? Hopeful or sad?
    “My apologies for interrupting, sir.” Nathaniel bowed. “I regret I did not introduce myself earlier. I’m Lieutenant Nathaniel Blueborough.”
    The old man glanced above the parchment. “You may call me Echo.”
    “Echo.” An honorable name for a minstrel. Nathaniel wished he could learn more about him and his connection to Valoria. But, they had more urgent matters to speak of. “A prisoner has gone missing. He lay back there in the bed in the far right corner. Have you noticed anything unusual?”
    Echo rolled the parchment and brought the candle forward. Admiration shone in his eyes. “I remember you now. You saved my life earlier on the battlefield.”
    A flash of memory lighted Nathaniel’s mind. Raiders swarmed around