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here. We heard of your inspection, but we did not dare hope that you would bless us with your grace and presence.”
    “At ease, man. Could you show me your beautiful village?” King Henrik asked, making a good pretense at interest for his subjects’ sake.
    “Of course, Your Majesty! This way, please,” the scrawny man babbled.
    Steffen rubbed the back of his neck as he watched his father ride down the street. “This has been one stupendous failure.”
    “What makes you think that, Kronprinz?” asked Timo. He was the commander of the king’s personal guard and had handpicked all the guards and soldiers that accompanied Steffen and King Henrik on this inspection.
    “He is still deep in his grief. I knew the loss of my mother weighed heavily on him, but…” Steffen raised and dropped his hand, unable to find words that described the depth of sadness that had taken King Henrik.
    When Queen Ingrid—Steffen’s beloved mother—had passed away suddenly in the spring, there were a few tense weeks where Steffen and his seven siblings wondered if their father would join her, due to the strength of his grief.
    Steffen, his six brothers, and his foster-sister all felt the loss of their mother. The heartbreaking loss had done much damage to his closely knit family.
    “It’s barely been a season since her death. Give him time,” Timo said, unbuckling gear from his mount. He smiled at Steffen, making the white scar on his cheek pucker.
    “It was a mistake to have me ride with Father,” Steffen said, rubbing his horse’s forehead. “It should have been one of my siblings. Someone better at using kind words.”
    “But they do not share King Henrik’s burden, as you do. You know your responsibility to the people, just as His Majesty knows,” Timo said. Behind the older man, another guard—Moritz, a lanky fellow who had the propensity to slink in shadows—skulked, leading several horses to a water trough where the newest member of the guard—Dominik—was pouring out buckets of water from a well.
    “I can’t call him back, Timo. I loved my mother, but I don’t understand this.”
    “Of course you don’t. You have not loved with the passion Their Majesties shared.”
    “I hope I never do,” Steffen muttered.
    “And it is not your responsibility to call him back. You can show His Majesty why he must live, but it is His Majesty who must decide to return,” Timo said.
    “I dislike feelings and emotions, and I have an even greater dislike of speaking about them.” Steffen rubbed his tired eyes.
    “You have a few more stops on this leg of the inspection, and then you can return to Castle Brandis.”
    “For a few measly weeks. Then we begin an inspection of the northeast cities. It’s madness—with the ogre still settled in Carabas,” Steffen said.
    “They are still your people, Kronprinz.” Timo patted Steffen on the shoulder. Then he left Steffen to organize his men.
    “Your horse, Kronprinz,” a flat, emotionless voice said.
    Steffen turned to face Alwin, another one of his father’s personal guards. Why is he not sweating? Alwin always wore his helm with a fastened chinstrap, even now when the sun was insistent and everyone else had removed their headgear. “I’ll water him. Thank you, Alwin.”
    Alwin bowed and moved to assist with unhitching the carriage horses, his movements stiff but methodical.
    Steffen waited until the shadowy Moritz watered the last horse of his throng before he led his gelding up to the water trough. His head ached—not because of any malady, but because of all the problems that crowded his skull, fighting for his attention.
    “It’s a good thing Rune and Falk will be at Brandis when we return,” Steffen said to his horse. “With luck, they will attempt to flirt with Elise and fail in the most pitiful way. I could then call them out. I would welcome a chance to smack sense into someone—especially my brothers.”
    Moritz, as quiet as a cat even though he led four