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Just because Dorian had some high-placed relative in the Emperor’s Court he seemed to think he had the right to special privileges here. Hah! If that relative is all that close and highly placed, what’s he doing back here, then? He’s nothing more than another hanger-on, that’s clear, or Dorian would be in the Emperor’s personal train of knights by now.
    Siegfried did feel a twinge of envy, though; Dorian had all the luck! Three years at the greatest court in Europe, and the mere thought of all the opportunities for adventure that must have been given him made Siegfried want to gnash his teeth. If I’d been allowed to go—I surely wouldn’t have come back here! By now I’d have won a hundred tournaments, and I’d have all that ransom and armor to prove it. I’d be the Emperor’s Champion, or else I’d have gone on a quest to rescue a kidnapped lady, or maybe I’d have killed a dragon. The fact that Dorian had accomplished nothing of the sort only made Siegfried more certain that he would have covered himself in glory.
    There was no reason to tell Dorian that, however; he must feel badly enough, going home without anything more than his knighthood to his name, not even a single tournament laurel to decorate the crest of his helm.
    â€œWhy don’t you come on the hunt this afternoon with Benno and me?” Siegfried asked instead, as the squires unlaced his mail shirt. Dorian shook his head.
    â€œMy father ordered my presence; heaven only knows what for,” Dorian grumbled. “I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of—I think he’s been bride hunting for me, and I’m about to be chained down to a homely sack of turnips with a face like a sow whose only virtue is a father with equally fat lands.”
    â€œOh, well—but if her dowry is rich enough, all you have to do is get her with child and then take your pleasure elsewhere,” Benno replied cheerfully, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Plenty of girls about—fat lands means pretty serf girls, for one thing, and there’s not a few lonely ladies need a generous fellow’s company. As for the bride herself, put out the candle, have her women douse her with scent, and it won’t matter what she looks like. Get her with child once a year, and she won’t have anything to complain of.”
    Siegfried frowned; that was no way to talk about a highborn maiden, even if she did have a face like a sow. He hoped the maids watching them hadn’t overheard, and changed the subject back to the hunt. “We’re looking for a new hunting ground; we’ve hunted so much around the palace that we need to let the game come back. Are you sure you can’t get away to come with us?”
    â€œAbsolutely certain; Father was—insistent.” Dorian had lost his anger with Siegfried in his annoyance with his father. “But there will be tomorrow, I hope?”
    â€œAnd the next day and the next, until we find someplace with decent game.” It was Siegfried’s turn to slap Dorian companionably on the back; Dorian stood firm against a friendly blow that would have flattened a lesser man, and his stock rose a bit in Siegfried’s estimation.
    Dorian went off to disarm. Siegfried stripped his own armor off and left it to his squires to gather up. The maidens drifted off to the gardens when it became plain that the prince had no intention of seeking out their companionship or providing further amusement with another bout. Siegfried signaled to a servant in royal livery waiting against the wall for his orders.
    â€œFetch us some bread and cheese and a couple of wine flasks from the kitchen and bring them to the stable,” he told the man, and turned to his friend. Benno was a little shorter than Siegfried, darker, and considerably lighter; what cemented their friendship was a common interest in learning, not fighting. With Siegfried’s tutor, they