“But I have not taken all the vows yet,” Dain said. “I—”

“Perhaps this will turn your heart to complete belief,” the king said. “Were you not already within the Circle in some part of yourself, this healing would not have taken place.” He smiled at Dain, who was still kneeling there with his hand held up in amazement, then turned to send a steely look at the priests.  “The test,” his majesty declared, “is over. This young man has proven his courage and his true heart. He holds no taint from his mixed blood. The final objections to his advancement are now silenced.”

Bowing, the three priests retreated, as did the servant with the ewer.  “Remain kneeling,” the king said to Dain, and drew his sword. It was old and well-polished by generations of reverent hands. A huge ruby flashed from its hilt as he raised it. “Dain of Thirst, you are hereby proclaimed Chevard of Thirst Hold, to inherit it in full, with all rights due your standing as son of Odfrey. This do I grant.”

As he spoke, he touched Dain lightly on either shoulder with the flat of his blade.

There was a moment of silence. Dain was totally caught up in the significance of the king’s proclamation, until he heard Sir Terent cough in warning.  Then he blinked, realizing the king was waiting for his oath of fealty. Dain’s mind struggled to remember the words he’d been taught only minutes ago.  Instead, into his mind came a thought that was not his own: You are now a chevard, Faldain, but never forget you are also a king.  He swayed slightly and glanced around to see if the ghost-king had come to haunt him at this moment of triumph. He saw nothing but mortal faces around him.  His silence was lasting too long, he knew. Not wanting to offend, Dain fumbled hastily for the words he needed to say. “I, Dain,” he began, and overheard Sir Terent mouthing the words behind him. But at the same time, he seemed to feel another presence enter him, unseen but strongly felt, a presence that gave him the words he sought. “As Chevard of Thirst, loyal freehold, do I kneel here to King Verence, sovereign and liege of Mandria. I give to him my oath of friendship and loyalty, pledging my heart and sword in alliance to his, as long as I do live.”

Quiet fell across the audience chamber. Looking astonished, the king raised his brows.

Dain glanced swiftly around at the appalled faces, wondering what was wrong.

Behind him, Sir Terent muttered, “You changed the words. You changed the words.” Still gripped by whatever unseen force had entered him, Dain didn’t care. The words that Sir Terent had taught him would not come forth. They were wrong by the legal terms of Thirst’s deed. Dain wondered if perhaps Lord Odfrey’s spirit had not possessed him to keep him from inadvertently giving Thirst away. Yet he’d displeased the sovereign. King Verence’s brow was knotted, and he looked stunned.

From the crowd, Dain once again felt a glimmer of a thought, too swift to catch or pinpoint. The enemy that lurked out there among the courtiers was pleased by his misstep, and Dain wondered if he had done more than just offend. Perhaps he’d thrown away everything he’d come for.

In the general hush which fell after Dain’s amended oath, the king scowled at him. “Where in the name of Thod did you learn such a pledge?” Dain opened his mouth, but he knew there was no explanation he could give.