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swung down nimbly. “I know the way, Uncle.” Could he forget I lived in this castle, as did he?
    “Protocol,” he muttered under his breath. “Behave yourself.” Louder, “Those kinsmen who would see the body of Elena may step forth.”
    My words came fast on his, and equally loud. “Yes, as soon as I have my time to bid her farewell. Gather the kinsmen, that they may follow my visit.”
    His arm twined with mine as we walked at stately pace toward the entry of the donjon. Softly, “I’ve made the arrangements, and you’re not to befoul them. Open viewing is part of the ritual.” His fingers dug into my forearm.
    We proceeded past the banister down which I’d so recently slid. Would I ever be free to act the child again in Castle Stryx? I looked for Rustin, but he was caught somewhere behind the nobles, in the long slow procession.
    At the entry to the hall wherein lay Mother’s chambers I whirled to face the stairs. “Elena Queen is dead,” I sang out. Larissa of Soushire looked startled; Uncle Mar glided purposefully toward the open door.
    “Now do we, Rodrigo King and heir, commune with her remains—”
    “King?” A snarl, half whisper, that only I heard. Uncle Mar’s eyes blazed. “You overstep yourself. The Council of State hasn’t yet—”
    “—in the ancient and secret rite of our House. We shall be alone with her for that purpose.”
    He hissed, “Secret rite? What nonsense is this?”
    I slipped between him and the door, gripped the brass handle with sweaty hand. I flashed a tight smile full of malice, as I murmured, “We’re in public, Uncle.” I clapped my hands. “Where is my liegeman? Rustin, come forth!”
    A muttered oath, as Rust thrust his way through the astonished ranks. “Here, my lord.”
    “Out of the way, boy.” Uncle Mar reached for the door.
    I stepped back, barring Uncle’s way, scowled at Rustin. “Your place was at our side. Heed what you were told, worthless vassal!”
    While Uncle Mar gaped I slipped through the doorway, hauled Rustin after. I swung the door closed, blotting out the staring faces, Mar’s rage, the nobles and their minions. I slid tight the bar.
    Rust shook his head. “Rodrigo! Even Father never spoke to me so, before nobility.” Something in my face stilled his jest. “Oh, my liege!” He caught my head in the crook of his arm, pressed me tight. “Don’t cry, Roddy. I can’t abide it.”
    I wiped my eyes. “I was scared witless.”
    “Mar couldn’t tell. Nor I. All we saw was that you defied him in front of them all. And then to dress down a noble, in full view of the court. No man would dare provoke an inevitable duel, save the King.”
    I tugged him along the corridor toward Mother’s chamber. “You’re not angry, then?”
    “Mortified.” He tried to glower, but his approval broke through like a sunbeam in a scattering storm. “Unless you’re acknowledged King. What shame could there then be, in accepting rebuke from the King himself?”
    “Then I must be proclaimed.”
    At Mother’s chamber, from habit, I knocked.
    Within, half a dozen of Mother’s ladies clustered about the bed. Nurse Hester, her acid voice for once stilled, her eyes bleak, trudged wearily to her plank table.
    Lady Rowena of Halle bowed deep, the formal bow of state. “I’m so sorry, Rodrigo.” I thanked her, and shooed the ladies from the chamber as graciously as I could. Only Hester refused to budge.
    As they departed, fluttering, a small form shot across the room, buried itself wailing in my arms. I staggered from the force of his assault. “Easy, Elryc.”
    “Mother’s gone!”
    “Be a man.” I tried to pry loose his fingers. “Don’t disgrace yourself.”
    Rustin opened his mouth to speak, decided on silence. Before he turned away, I saw his reproach.
    I clawed at Elryc’s fingers that locked round my waist stifling my breath. I shifted the boy to a safer position, cuddled his head under mine. How could I forget he was but eleven?