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full—and then some.”
    â€œStop being melodramatic,” said Lord Bartok. “How in the world would our cause be furthered by your murdering the dead king’s named heir?”
    â€œIt would pave the path to the throne for Aurelia’s bastard child,” said Atticus, stifling a hiccup.
    Lord Bartok pursed his lips ever so slightly. “That is true— if Aurelia can get herself with child, if she can carry it to term and if she can deliver it alive,” he said. “What if she cannot?”
    â€œWell … well …,” began Atticus. When he could think of nothing further to say, he shrugged and reached for the wine jug, presumably in the hope that another drink would help him come up with a suitable response.
    Lord Bartok deftly moved the jug beyond his son’s reach. “If Aurelia fails in her task—an outcome I rather expect, frankly, since she hardly has the look of a female built for breeding—there will be no one of the Bartok bloodline who could challenge the queen’s right to succession.”
    â€œGive me an army, and I could challenge it,” boasted Atticus.
    Wordlessly, Lord Bartok reached out and slapped his son hard across the side of his dented head. “Don’t be an imbecile,” he said, ignoring Atticus’s high-pitched yelps of protest and pain. “This family does not commit treason openly , and when we finally sit upon the throneof Glyndoria, I will not suffer whispers that we stole it. Besides, the cripple might have something to say about you trying to fight your way to the throne, and I do not have an army to rival the size of his.”
    â€œNot even if you take into account the men and horses of those great lords who’ve secretly promised you their support?” asked Atticus, who was still rubbing his head.
    â€œâ€˜Secret’ support isn’t worth the paper it’s written on, Atticus.”
    The young lord’s petulant mouth fell open in amazement. “The great lords put their support in writing ?” he asked incredulously.
    Lord Bartok stared at his son. “No, Atticus,” he finally said. “That is my very point . They have not put their support in writing. They have openly declared their support for the queen, but they have not openly declared their support for me. They fear the cripple, and until they are certain I will triumph over him, they dare not openly move against him.”
    â€œBut how are you to triumph if they will not help you do so?” whined Atticus.
    â€œI intend to make it impossible for them to continue to withhold military support without appearing cowards and traitors to their own kind,” replied Lord Bartok.
    Predictably, Atticus did not press for details of the plan. Instead, in a tone that betrayed his smug pleasure at having detected the fatal flaw in his illustrious father’s reasoning, he said, “Even if your plan works and you manage to defeat the cripple’s army with the help of the great lords, Father, it will get us no closer to the throne.As you’ve already pointed out, they have openly declared for the queen. With the cripple out of the picture, I hardly think they’re going to be seized by a sudden desire to anoint and crown you in her stead.”
    â€œI agree,” said Lord Bartok dryly. “That is why I’m going to do something far cleverer than continue to challenge her right to succession.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?” asked Atticus, his eyes drifting past his father to the wine jug.
    â€œI am going to support her right to succession.”
    â€œ SUPPORT IT ?” screeched Atticus, his watery gaze snapping back to his father’s expressionless face. “But … but you said that the cripple has the queen!” he spluttered. “You said that he means to marry her and get sons upon her! If you fail to defeat him and she is anointed, he will be prince consort—or