Carroway shook his head. "We've got a mess to clean up just restaffing the castle," he went on. "And we have to convince the servants that the vayash moru will keep the truce, or they won't step foot back in the kitchen. We'll be eating cheese and salt beef for the rest of our lives."

"I don't know," Tris teased, "all that time on the road kind of gave me a taste for salt beef."

"Trail rations never hurt anyone," Kiara joined in. "Builds character."

Carroway rolled his eyes. "I've had my character built enough for ten lifetimes. Now I just want one of those comfortable court positions where I can write songs immortalizing the king and his lady and become one of the most honored bards of the kingdoms."

"Let me know if you don't have enough material for good stories," Tris said. "I can send you back out for a while with Ban. Or maybe Gabriel would take you in."

Carroway gave him a sidelong glance. "No thanks. I think I've got enough to work on."

Kiara laughed. "You two have got business to take care of. I'll go see how Carina and Jonmarc are doing. Don't worry—I'll be with you shortly."

Tris kissed her and let her go, watching as she headed down the corridor.

Carroway looked at Tris, dressed in a borrowed tunic and trews, and shook his head. "I can see that the first order of business is to get you outfitted like a king and not like a tent rigger. Come with me, and let's see what we can find."

CHAPTER FORTY

SIX weeks later, the palace courtyards were again filled with cheering crowds for the formal coronation of the new king of Margolan.

"Carroway really outdid himself." Kiara sat with Tris in the banquet hall after the coronation ceremony.

"Remind me never to make him a dare again," Tris replied. True to his word, Carroway had engineered a fete of grand proportions on short notice, with musicians, entertainers, bonfires, and jousts. Tris protested, to no avail, that far too much had been made of the event.

"Staden's enjoying himself," Kiara added. She glanced toward where the Principality king sat, regaling the others at their table with hunting stories. Berry sat next to him, resplendent in a gown of emerald brocade, looking bored. Royster, still unready to return to his self-imposed exile at the Library, was exuberantly keeping the noble ladies on the terrace entertained with his stories.

"He's certainly entitled to it," Tris replied. In addition to the reward treasure they had left behind in Principality and Vahaman's gold, Staden and Berry presented Tris with a generous coronation gift of precious gems.

"Harrtuck looks no worse for the wear." The burly soldier came into view, milling among guests and guardsmen who greeted him with cheers and back slapping.

"I almost think he enjoyed himself out with the mercs," Tris said. "He's certainly enjoyed telling stories about the adventure."

Harrtuck had returned a few days before the festivities began, riding from the Principality border after dismissing the mercenary troops. The nights before the coronation had been filled with an exchange of stories. The friends had sat up late, trading news of the last days of the campaign over brandy and the cellar's best dried fruits.

"Now there's an odd couple." Kiara looked across the room to where Sakwi and Alyzza bent together in conversation. Sakwi had been successful in his journey to Eastmark to hold back the Nargi troops. This was the first time since his return that Tris had seen the pair without Royster, with whom the two mages eagerly exchanged lore.

"I imagine Royster will have two more visitors, assuming Alyzza and Sakwi don't move in with him altogether," Tris chuckled.

Jolie and Astir moved comfortably among the guests. If any of the nobles thought amiss of Jolie's presence, they said nothing. Jolie brought gifts for the occasion, with bolts of fine Mussa silk and casks of aged Cartelesian brandy, whose origin Tris decided not to consider too carefully. Maynard Linton joined them; it was clear that Jolie and Linton were long-time trading partners.

For Kiara, Jolie brought bolts of creamy Noorish satins and silks. She gave them to Kiara with an aside that brought a crimson blush to the princess's cheeks. Along the back wall, the innkeeper Lars and his wife Tabethe were dressed in fine clothes. They looked dazed, as if they could not believe themselves guests at the king's coronation. Tris had no doubt that once the designation of "king's favored inn" was widely known, Lars would never again lack customers.

"Damn fine feast, Tris," King Harrol boomed, clapping Tris on the shoulder. "Your father would have been proud." Harrol, Bricen's brother-in-law, was more than pleased to preside over the coronation and present Tris with the crown, bringing with him welcome news that the magicked beasts on Dhasson's borders were destroyed.

"Blame Carroway," Tris grinned. "He's out to build a legend."

Harrol laughed heartily. "He doesn't need to. He can tell your stories until his dying day and never lack for an audience." He looked down at Kiara. "Remind me to tell you some stories of my own, about Tris's fostering, sometime when there's a flask of brandy on the table," he said with a broad wink to Tris.

Kiara gave a wicked grin. "That sounds tempting." If Tris intended to make a rejoinder, it was cut off as the musicians struck up a lively tune. Harrol moved away with a wave, seeking out one of the noble ladies to dance with him as the celebrants crowded the dance floor.

"I haven't seen Carina in a while," Tris said, watching the festivities.

"She's probably out walking with Cam," Kiara replied, her toe tapping to the music. King Donelan, thinking it unwise to leave Isencroft so soon after his recovery, had sent Carina's twin brother as his ambassador. Cam had arrived from Isencroft with news of King Donelan's full recovery. The brother and sister had retreated for many long, private walks, recounting their separate adventures. Cam had also carried a private correspondence for Kiara, within which Donelan granted his unreserved permission to honor her betrothal contract with Margolan's new king. Although she and Tris had announced their betrothal in exile, proclaiming it at the coronation made the celebration even more festive.

"How's Jonmarc putting up with the competition?" Tris chuckled.

"Reasonably well. He hasn't squabbled with Carina in a day or two, so it must be true love. Honestly, those two deserve each other!"

Even the palace ghosts, now returned from their long banishment, were determined to make the coronation memorable. They appeared freely to the guests, and Tris could sense their whole-hearted approval and blessing.

Tris watched the entertainment restlessly. A nearly endless line of well-wishers and boon-seekers formed to greet him and offer their fealty, renewing pledges made to his father and grandfather. But in the tower on the far side of the palace were the nobles who had freely assisted Jared, along with dozens of soldiers loyal to Jared who had been imprisoned for their crimes. Their trials and, most likely executions, loomed ahead, an unpleasant part of assuming the kingship.

Kiara squeezed his hand. "Don't borrow trouble."

"Sorry," Tris said with a smile. "An old habit."

"I have to admit, you know how to throw a party." Vahanian joined them, making a perfunctory bow. Even with his leg in a splint, Vahanian managed to stride across the room as if he owned it. A sling of black silk held his still-healing sword arm, but the splint on his leg was more difficult to hide. Vahanian was dressed in black with a dark burgundy long coat, his swordbelt notably visible. Tris gladly granted him permission to wear his sword in the presence of the king, though until Vahanian's arm healed the gesture was largely symbolic.