“Father?”

  Severin stared ahead into the empty hall and seemed to see a figure.

  He saw his father. Flesh and blood.

  He stood upright, as handsome as ever, with a slight frown. As if any moment he’d scold him again. He often did, even though Severin was past forty, with four children and soon to wed his eldest son. His father always had something to say. He’d even berated him on the night he died, poisoned by some food. But that was long ago. So why did he see him now?

  The image of Oberon the Second, son of Oberon, was stern and seemed to radiate coldness. Severin sweated as he gazed at it. Alone in the throne room, he didn’t know what to say to his father. Just as it had often been when he was alive.

  Outside, a wolf howled. Then a second. They were the ones from the royal court. And when a third joined in, his father vanished.

  Severin leaned back, resting against the feather-stuffed blankets draped over his throne. Two heads of dead wolves protruded from the armrests, where he’d placed his hands.

  When subjects of the kingdom or guests from afar came, Severin removed the blankets and, masking how much it pained him, managed to sit on the throne like a true king. Which he was. But now, he expected no one. So he’d spread the blankets and settled in as comfortably as the impossible seat allowed.

  Right now, neither people nor his subjects interested him. Alone, in the approaching evening, he sat on the throne of teeth, holding something he’d named a bone, though he wasn’t certain it was. The object was long, hollow, and slightly curved. It had the shape and texture of a bone. When he grasped it with one hand and raised it, it was no longer than his arm. Held to the candlelight beside him, he could see its hollow core. In all the days he’d had it, he’d tried several times to break it, but each time it began to crack, his heart pounded faster and fiercer, leaping like a team of horses. Then Severin gave up and set it beside him again. Until the object itself called him back.

  And again, he took it in his hands. He felt a surge of some emotion. Not joyful, nor bad—just a wave washing over him from within. This time, it was interrupted by the sound of the thick, heavy throne room door creaking open slowly. The two guards standing rigid beside it stepped back, and between them emerged a short, thin man. The slight figure approached with quick, wide strides. Severin wondered if he too was a vision, but no. He knew this man. Black-haired, with a dangling necklace around his neck. A necklace Severin had personally given him for his service to his father and himself. It bore wolf claws. Such a necklace was rarely bestowed—only two men possessed one. One was Yorick.

  The man came as close to his king as possible, bent a knee, then rose just as swiftly.

  “You summoned me, King Severin.”

  He didn’t recall summoning him. Lately, he’d been forgetting things. That, too, was because of the bone. He was sure of it. This barbaric object was overtaking his mind more and more. Yet it soothed him in some strange way.

  “Sit, Yorick,” Severin said, gesturing to one of the chairs at the table in the center of the hall. He took the bone in hand, rose heavily from his throne, and joined him. His back felt relief. Sometimes he truly hated that throne. Sitting down, he placed the bone before Yorick’s hands and met his eyes. “What do you think this is, Yorick?”

  “A bone, King Severin.”

  “I can see that. But why was it so important to the barbarians?”

  “The barbarians? I don’t know.” Yorick lowered his gaze to the bone. He took it in both hands, turned it, examined it from all angles, even tried to snap its tip but failed. Then he handed it back to Severin.

  “It looks like an animal bone to me. Nothing more. If you ask me, you’re wasting your time.”

  “Look, Yorick, the barbarians may be ugly and vile, dressed in rags even the poorest in my kingdom wouldn’t wear, but they’re not stupid. They’re strong fighters, and lately, they’ve been giving me quite a headache. But they’re poor. All that drives them is hunger for food and gold. And this bone… this bone was on a pillow, carried by two pretty barbarian girls. Well, the girls died afterward, but at least ten warriors guarded them. Guarded them, but really, they were guarding the bone. I think I took something very important from them.”

  “It was a remarkable victory, milord. We lost fewer men than at Eagle’s Bridge a few years back. We’ve two gravely wounded who might not live much longer. That’s it. While the barbarians…”

  “Two are nothing compared to that triumph. But one thing I don’t understand—why was this bone so vital to them? It must be sacred to them.” Severin still couldn’t grasp it.

  Yorick took the bone again and twirled it. He inspected it, brought it close to his small eyes, then held it at a distance before delivering his weighty judgment.

  “If you ask me, my king, it’s just some barbaric trinket they worship. If I may mention them, it’s like Lilith’s textbooks or Borin’s love for ships and the sea. They’d die for those whims too. This bone is another oddity the barbarians use for inspiration. You know they don’t much honor the common Gods. They bow to things like this.” Yorick set the bone on the table and pointed at it dismissively.

  The wound from the battle, still festering on his arm, began to throb. Severin pressed his other hand over it, and his palm turned red with blood. It was bleeding again. Yorick noticed.

  “Shall I call Martin, the healer?”

  “No, Yorick. He can’t do more. It’s just healing slowly, that’s all. I’ll bear the pain. It’s nothing compared to what I did to the barbarians. Oh, if you’d seen how they died on my sword’s edge.” Severin lifted his chin slightly, staring into nothing. He still relished the battle as if it were before him. He loved killing barbarians. Even now, at forty-one, he was skilled at it. Trained by the kingdom’s best, he’d surpassed them all. He hoped Bromir would too.

  Severin rolled up his bloodied sleeve. The wound looked clean, but with each pulse he felt, a fresh trickle of blood emerged, starting to stain the table beneath him.

  “Maybe the spot needs burning, milord. It looks clean—just needs closing, that’s all,” Yorick suggested.

  “Martin told me the wound needs to breathe for his herbs and salves to work. Are you better than him, Yorick?” Severin glanced at him, not expecting an answer. “I’ve no reason to distrust him. A finer healer’s hard to find in our lands.”

  “I don’t know another myself, milord.” Yorick bowed his head. Still, he replied.

  Severin pulled his sleeve down and took the bone again. He met Yorick’s eyes for a moment. What he was about to do might seem foolish. Yorick watched blankly. Severin rolled up his sleeve once more and dipped the bone in the blood.

  Nothing happened. He glanced at Yorick from the corner of his eye. His advisor tried not to look.

  “Forgive me, milord, but you’re starting to act like the barbarians. What was that?” The aging advisor adjusted his spectacles and leaned back slightly.

  Severin furrowed his brow and dropped the bone on the table. His sleeve grew heavier, soaked with blood. The stain had spread across the wooden table. The bone sat there, as useless as ever. He saw nothing in it. But there had to be a reason the barbarians guarded it so fiercely. He’d find out, sooner or later. Until then, he’d keep it safe. And he knew the barbarians had more like it. He’d relish taking those too. Once his wound healed.

  “Enough, I’ll call Martin.” Yorick stood. The blood alarmed him.

  “Stay, Yorick. I’m not in the mood for that herbalist now. A little blood, that’s all. Actually, if you see Martin, tell him to find a book about bones. I want to know what this is. Or if he knows, let him tell me.”

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  “You know, milord,” Yorick said, eyeing the bone, its tip now smeared with Severin’s blood, “our library isn’t that rich, and our healers know more about herbs than objects like this. If I pass it to them, they might figure out what animal it’s from. Maybe they’d say if it’s human, but such books… Perhaps in Shilan, but…”

  “Shilan?” Severin’s eyes widened.

  “Shilan has everything. The greatest thinkers and scribes are there. They’d give you more answers. We don’t have many books, sadly. Or rather, sadly for your daughter Lilith—she’s read them all. Some twice.”

  “And if it’s just a wolf bone? I don’t want to look pathetic before King Soren. He’d welcome me warmly, but if this is just some beast’s bone the barbarians worshipped… I’d be a laughingstock. I won’t be mocked, Yorick.” Severin leaned toward him again.

  “You could ask King Soren yourself when he comes for your son’s wedding, but he’s unlikely to know. His people, especially the wise ones, might. If they don’t, you’d have to go to the barbarians yourself. But that’s too much for some bone.”

  “Soren got lucky twenty-eight years ago. Or rather, not him, but that Ajax. His warrior.” Severin set the bone aside. “I remember the last battle like it was yesterday. But no, Yorick, I’ve no intention of going to Shilan. Actually, I will. But it’ll be when I sit on the throne. The throne in the capital. Then I’ll have the library and the whole World. For now, let Soren come. We’ll talk of battles and women. We’ll drink southern wine and tear into meats. The rest I’ll take myself. When Tristan sends me up there.” Severin pointed upward, meaning the highest of thrones. The one in the capital.

  “But that’s two years away, milord.”

  Severin gave him a look meant to intimidate. And perhaps it did. Then he continued.

  “I’ll wait. I was thirteen at the last battle. I expected my father to live for this coming one. He had high hopes too, but he didn’t make it. Now we’ll win for him. I’m no boy anymore, Yorick.”

  “Valrak nearly won that battle, my king,” Yorick interrupted. “He was a great warrior.”

  “Great, yet he lost. Great warriors don’t lose. Good thing my father didn’t see his defeat.”

  “Again, because of the barbarians, sir.”

  “We’re not sure of that. He was poisoned, but we don’t know if it was them.” Severin gripped the bone again. “He’d be proud now, seeing their rout. But after Valrak’s loss, he withdrew and grieved. He hated losing. And how long’s it been since we had our lord? Eighty years?” Severin didn’t let Yorick answer and pressed on. “Speaking of which, how’s Tristan faring?”

  Yorick straightened in his chair, eyes widening.

  “Honestly, King Severin, without raising false hopes, Tristan’s better than Valrak.”

  “Didn’t you just say you’d never seen a greater warrior than Valrak?”

  “Well, yes. For his time. Now, watching Tristan…”

  “I trust you, Yorick. I trust you.” Severin waved a hand. “But what do you know of battles?”

  “Nothing, milord. I’ve never held a sword. I’m better at writing and talking.”

  “The latter I know. So I’d better trust Tiberis on these matters. By the way, where is he?”

  “Training the new warriors, milord. Several garrisons of fourteen-year-olds last saw their mothers today, sir, and joined the training grounds.”

  “That’s good. Do they have food and water?”

  “They do. Twenty guards were sent on patrol through the kingdom, and the new ones will take their places. When they return, we’ll clear one stable and, with the recruits’ help, turn it into a sleeping quarters. I heard this from Tiberis and approved it without consulting you. It seemed a good idea.”

  “You did well. Let them learn nothing comes easy. I want a meeting with Tiberis by day’s end. Consider yourself tasked to tell him.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “And the queen? Where’s my Mirena?”

  “I last saw her in the garden, milord. Shall I fetch her?”

  “Who’s with her?”

  “Your daughters, sir. At least, that’s what I saw.”

  “Even Sofia?”

  “I didn’t see Sofia.”

  Severin chuckled. Even if he’d seen Sofia beside her mother, he wouldn’t believe it.

  “And Lilith?”

  “I think Lilith was there too, sir. Talking with… Ariella.” Yorick lowered his head. Severin pretended not to hear and waited for him to continue. “Earlier today, merchants passed through the kingdom.”

  “Where from?” Severin asked quickly.

  “From the settlements by Eagle’s Bridge. The princess asked us to set aside treasury funds to buy some things from them.”

  “Books? Don’t make me drag it out of you, Yorick. Speak.”

  “Books, sir. As usual. She’s read everything in our library. And frankly, it’s not that interesting to her anymore, with all those books on herbs and beasts. She wanted something more engaging. Her interest in books is impressive. Reminds me of myself when I was young. But I don’t trust merchants much, so we chose carefully.”

  “Did you buy them in the end?”

  “Yes, sir. I gave two golden wolves.”

  “Two whole ones? Didn’t you haggle?”

  “We tried, but that was the lowest price.”

  “Fine, fine. It’s not so bad. Still, I’d rather she learned to be a lady than chase books. Those who read too much will serve her in time. She doesn’t need to know it all. And Borin?” Severin hurried to ask.

  “His ship’s nearly finished, milord. I did as you said. Found the best carpenter and arranged for them to meet. They got along, and now the ship’s almost ready. Last I heard, Borin’s gathering a crew. The harbor’s buzzing about him and his ship. Honestly, not all the talk is good.”

  “Talk doesn’t interest me. What’s this crew like? I don’t like this traveling business of his, and he knows it, but he’ll do it to spite me. Are they decent folk?”

  “You should see him when he talks about his ship, sir. His eyes light up, and he seems to soar. He looks just like you when you wield a sword.”

  “Still, these ships are nonsense. He has everything here. Why travel?”

  “I fear you know the answer, sir. Your sister, Liora. From a young age, he listened to her sea tales. She told him of islands beyond, tribes there, about…”

  “And died at sea.” Severin slammed his hand on the table. “Most of her stories were fabrications. And after one trip, she didn’t return.”

  “Not everyone meets their end there, milord.”

  “Find my son a good crew, Yorick. Without him knowing again. Get the best and slip them to him somehow. Take what you need from the treasury.”

  “That last part won’t be hard, sir. From what I hear, Borin’s struggling with funds. But he’s already found a crew.”

  “He has? Investigate them.” Severin took the bone again and twirled it several times. This time, he wasn’t thinking of it. He thought of Borin. Of the great battle two years away. Of Tristan and his son, Bromir. Yorick sat still and quiet beside him.

  “Oh, Bromir? I’ve heard nothing about him, Yorick.”

  “If you peek out the window, you might see him. He’s enjoying time with Lady Jhar. They talk all day. She’s enchanted by him, and it seems he likes her too.”

  “The lovely Lauren.” Severin tried to glance out the window from his seat but couldn’t. “She’s much like my wife. Maybe that’s why Bromir likes her.”

  “There’s some resemblance, sir. Your Mirena was beautiful in her youth too. Still is, actually,” Yorick corrected himself quickly, rushing to add, “The wedding letters are ready too. Just awaiting your order, sir. We’ll send them when you say. We’ll invite the kings of all five kingdoms, and the sixth guest will be the king of kings—Soren.”

  “Not before Lauren’s family arrives, Yorick. They’re already on their way. So be patient a bit longer. I need to meet Lord Jhar and discuss the wedding.”

  “Sounds sensible, sir. And Bromir, will he…?”

  “No, I’m still alive, Yorick.” Severin had guessed his question. “Bromir’s my first heir and will take this wretched throne someday. Until then, he can enjoy the kingdom’s perks. But he’ll start bearing responsibility too. On that note… Summon Bromir with Tiberis. I want them both here. It’s time my son learned how to rule a kingdom.”

  “Something about the wedding, sir?”

  “You’ll know when they arrive. I want you here too.”

  Yorick nodded, and with permission, rose and left the throne room. The knights at the door saw him out as they’d welcomed him. Severin took the bone and reluctantly sat back on the throne of teeth. He had to be there, at least in daylight, when anyone might enter.

  He twirled the bone in his hands, squeezed it tighter, and seemed to hear his father’s voice. He looked around, but he wasn’t there. It was surely his father. He heard his laughter too. Setting the bone beside him, he closed his eyes slowly.

  “If you’re here, Father, know you were right.”