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holding the lady hostage.”
    “Call her a ward of the crown.”
    “While her father lives?”
    “Her father lives at your pleasure.”
    Braedan rubbed his chin. “I never wanted to rule by fear.”
    “Have you ever caught a bird in your hand?”
    Braedan snickered. “A bird? No.”
    “The trick is getting a firm grip on it, even if it’s just by a wing or a leg. You can control the whole bird if your grip is firm enough. But if you don’t get that first hold, you’ll lose your chance. A firm grip is called for now. You can loosen it later.”
    “And if I accidentally snap its neck?”
    Ronan tipped his head. “Regrets, nephew?”
    “No. But I want to rule by vision. Men will follow a vision if they believe in it.”
    “Your mother had a vision, too. She wanted to restore the old ways. She believed in the earth magic. Her marriage to your father was one of expedience and hope. She thought she could temper his righteousness enough to find a way for the old ways to live with the new, that the Great Kirok in Aliom could find a path alongside what it called witchcraft.” He took one step closer to Braedan, pain and anger and grief in his eyes. None of it was for Fergus. “What did she get for her vision, Braedan? A broken heart, an empty bed, an empty womb, and a husband who shunned her in favor of his divine mission.”
    Braedan remembered. He had seen the Lady Alison weep more times than he could count, her hair hiding her face and her thin shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, as his father pushed the earth magic and the tribes further and further from peaceful relations with Taura. After she’d given him a son, Fergus had even forsaken her bed. She had given up hope in the end and taken her own life when Braedan was ten. “Without vision—”
    “—people waste and die. You sound just like her when you say it.” Ronan’s voice cracked. “Keep religion out of the affairs of state and govern wisely, and you can build your vision. But securing thrones is a messy business. For now, you must tighten your grip.”
    Braedan rested his hands on the arms of the throne. “Bring Daron’s wife to Torlach, but ensure that she is treated with the highest honor. Send word to her father that he can come retrieve her here. I will meet with him when he arrives.”
    Ronan inclined his head. “As you wish, sire. As for who will hold the lands?”
    “I suppose I will.”
    “You?”
    “Why not? It’s my family. The crown needs the money and the men.” He saw hesitation on Ronan’s face. “Who would you see hold the lands?”
    “Perhaps you could place them in care of a steward and give them to your sons, when you have them. But I would not wish to see your attention divided between ruling a country and running your holdings. And I won’t live forever. Eventually, you’ll have to run Stone Coast as well.”
    Ronan’s wife, the Lady Ilyssa, had never been able to carry a child. Ronan refused to set his Esparan lady aside. He named Braedan his heir instead. Braedan knew Ronan’s allegiance to Ilyssa went only as far as his public persona and her wealth. His uncle had no qualms about bedding any woman who appealed to him, and there were rumors that he’d fathered at least two bastards, though none had ever come forward.
    “What of an alliance with Lady Seannan?” Braedan asked.
    “Wed her? Perhaps. An allegiance with an old house would be valuable. Her family could run your holdings in your stead. If you rid yourself of her brother, all the better.”
    Braedan shook his head. “No. I’ll not murder nobles who can be turned. He will have a chance to swear fealty.” He straightened. “I need you to work with my seneschal to begin arranging audiences with the foreign ambassadors who are still in the city. Close the docks. I don’t want anyone else leaving.”
    “As you wish. The Eiryan ambassador—Duncan Guinness—left two weeks ago. His wife was expecting a child. She wanted to be near her family, I