Soterius posted two additional guards at the door. Then he and Esme helped Tris inside. The wolfhounds' greeting was subdued as the dogs flanked Tris, watching his every move, and the mastiff padded closer protectively. Esme and Soterius helped Tris lie comfortably in his bed. The pain potion was beginning to do its work, dulling the throbbing in his arm. It was all Tris could do to keep his eyes open.

"Sleep will help," Esme instructed. "Eat when you feel like it. And if you're worried about the medicine, it will wear off after sup-pertime. You can wait to take more after your meeting, if you like."

After this, the generals will be more set on war than ever, Tris thought as the medicine took effect. He drifted off, barely hearing the click of the door as Soterius and Esme let themselves out.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Tris awoke, a clay pot with his dinner in it warmed on the hearth. On a small table next to his bed lay a trencher with cheese and a pitcher of watered wine. A fresh tunic, belted with a sash so that Tris did not need to pull it over his head, was at the foot of his bed. Just as he was about to remove the ruined remnant of his shirt, a young, dark-haired boy stuck his head into the room. "May I help you get dressed, Your Majesty?" Tris tried to move his injured arm, winced, and nodded. Coalan rushed to help, gently removing the tatters of Tris's shirt and fetching a rag and a bowl of water to wash away the blood.

Coalan's dark hair bounced in a mop of ringlets as he moved. Jared had driven off or killed most of the palace's servants. A luxury like a valet came second in Tris's mind to the necessity of restaffing the kitchen and the stables, and he was loathe to allow someone so close to him unless he was completely sure of their loyalty. He would have done without, but Soterius saw the opportunity to help both Tris and his own nephew, and proposed a plan.

When Jared's troops had destroyed the Soterius family manor, only Soterius's brother-in-law, his nephew, and a loyal servant had survived. Coalan, barely in his fifteenth year, had volunteered to fight beside his uncle in the resistance, and fought with valor. But Soterius was desperate to get his nephew out of danger. And so, seeing Tris's need for a valet of unquestioned loyalty, Soterius had proposed that Coalan serve the king, getting him out of the line of fire. Tris had not expected his service to become invaluable quite so soon.

"I picked a shirt that you don't have to pull over your head," Coalan said with a grin. Tris had known Coalan all his life. Bricen and the late Lord Soterius had been fast friends, and Tris had spent many weeks at Huntwood with the whole Soterius family when it was the season for hunting stag. Losing Soterius's family hurt nearly as much as losing 'his own, Tris thought, and he was happy to give Coalan a role where he could remain safe. Lady knows, we've all lost too many to fate as it is. And while at fifteen, Coalan was almost grown, Tris found it hard to think of Ban's nephew as old enough to bear a sword.

"Thank you," Tris said, gritting his teeth against the pain. Just jostling the shoulder made his vision swim. Coalan hurried to fetch Tris's dinner from the hearth, but Tris waved him away with his good hand and insisted on sitting at the table.

"I'm glad you're all right."

"The bad part is, I'm starting to think feeling like this is actually 'all right,'" Tris replied with a sigh. Even moving his good arm brought a fresh wave of pain. How can I bring Kiara here, when I can't guarantee my own safety? Even worse, how I can leave her alone here so soon after the wedding and go to war? We obviously haven't found all of jared's loyalists yet.

"Uncle Ban said to tell you that he's put the generals off until eighth bells. He said some other things, too, but I probably shouldn't repeat them."

Tris was in no hurry to see the generals, although he knew they could not be pushed off for long. The thought set his teeth on edge.

"It's a lot better, now that Ban's a general himself."

Coalan laughed. "Knowing Uncle Ban, he shook them up a little!"

Having Soterius among the generals was a decided advantage, although Tris knew that not all of the seasoned military men saw it that way. While they might accept the youthfulness of their new king, some of the older men chafed at Soterius's age and rapid rise in rank. But after Soterius's success in rallying deserters and refugees and creating an effective fighting force that helped Tris win the throne, the generals could say nothing openly against Soterius's new commission. More to the point, the newly rebuilt Margolan army owed its existence in large part to the personal allegiance many of the recruits felt toward Soterius, and Tris knew that the soldiers, embittered by Jared's misuse of the army, would likely desert if Soterius. stepped down.

Sweet Chenne, I don't think Margolan can survive an outright war just now, Tris thought darkly as he picked at his stew and sipped the weak wine. We don't have the extra men to fight. We don't dare go after Trevath right now, even if they did send the assassin.

"So it's true—Trevath sent the bowman?" Coalan ventured. Tris wondered if he was trying to distract him from the pain.

Tris grimaced. "Trevath gold doesn't mean the Trevath king had anything to do with it. Down near the border, both Margolan and Trevath coin spends equally well."

"Could throw off the scent, using Trevath gold. Get people looking in the wrong direction."

Coalan may not know politics, but he understands a hunt. He's got as good a head on his shoulders as Ban does. Maybe with luck, we can keep him in one piece.

"I wish everyone used as much common sense as you do," Tris replied. Curane might like the idea of a war. If Margolan could not sustain a fight, or if Tris were to be killed in battle, the instability could create an opportunity for Jared's loyalists to declare a regency and put Jared's bastard on the throne.

"I'll let Uncle Ban know you're up." Coalan said.

"Tell him I'm in no hurry."

He opened the door that connected to what would soon be Kiara's chambers. They, like his own rooms, had been newly refinished. Tris refused to stay in Jared's chambers, even after he'd had all his half-brother's personal possessions destroyed. Serae's chambers and the old family suite next to them had been the site of the murders, and the memories were too strong for Tris to even think of bringing Kiara to those rooms.

The dogs stirred at a knock at the door, then whimpered and retreated, heads down and hackles up. It was enough to tell Tris that his visitor was vayash moru, and to guess the identity before he opened the door. Mikhail stood in the doorway, and smiled as Tris waved him in. He was, in face and form, just in his early twenties, although a glance at his eyes gave a clue to his real age, of lifetimes, not decades, one of Those Who Walk the Night. In the firelight, his pallor was not notable, and the smile that touched his lips did not reveal the over-long eye teeth.

"I was on my way up," he said. He peered over Tris's shoulder. "So those rooms are for Kiara?"

Tris nodded. "After what happened, I couldn't bring her to the old quarters."

"I can understand that."

"While you and Ban were out rounding up Jared's men, we moved everything over to the old guest suite," Tris said. "I'd rather have a smaller space than be in either the old quarters or Jared's rooms." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain... but things like what happened here leave an impression in the energy long after they're gone. Almost like the walls remember." He repressed a shiver. "Most people just say they get a 'bad feeling' in a place like that. But for me, even when the ghosts are set to rest, I can still sense the energy—at the worst, I can get images in my mind, even from long ago."