“I have just become your chevard—”

“Yes, my chevard,” Verence snapped. “But for how long? When will you abandon Thirst Hold for your throne? Or do you mean to abandon it?” “Thirst is mine.”

They glared at each other, and Dain suddenly saw into the king’s mind. “You think I will seize the uplands. Conquered though they are, the old unrest is still alive. You think I will use that to pull them into my cause as I use Thirst for a base to attack Muncel’s armies, and if I succeed in winning my crown I will then try to annex all of Mandria north of the Charva.” Snarling a curse, the king reached for his sword.

Dain held out his hand in a peaceful gesture. “Majesty!” he said sharply. “Why would I betray you like that?”

Verence glared at him. “Why would you not?”

“Your majesty has shown me nothing but kindness since I came to court. I would not repay you with betrayal. On that, you have my word and my oath, not as the son of Tobeszijian, but as the adopted son of Lord Odfrey, who was your friend.  Odfrey trusted me. He was the first human to treat me well, to show me that not all men are cruel to those of my kind.”

“You are human too, Faldain.”

“Not enough,” Dain said. “Not enough for genuine acceptance. Mandrians take one look at my eyes, my ears, and they make up their minds against me. They assume I am a pagan or that I will cast spells on them. I am to be hated, feared, and reviled. Education and fine clothes, even a title, do not protect me much.” Verence did not stop frowning, but his grip slackened on his sword hilt. “You play this part well, but it will not do.”

“I speak with truth.”

“Perhaps,” Verence said. “But sometimes kings must lie to get what they need.

You need an army. As Chevard of Thirst, you have acquired a small one already.” “Aye,” Dain said. “I have. But I swear to you my intent is not to divide Mandria.”

Doubt remained in Verence’s eyes. Within his short-clipped gray beard, his mouth remained a tight line. “I have another concern, Faldain. My son has spoken often against you. It is plain that there will never be friendship between you. Am I correct in this?”

Dain frowned, but he met the king’s gaze without guile. “Your majesty is correct.”

Verence winced. “And when I die, and my son succeeds me, he will be King of Mandria. If you are King of Nether, will there be war between you?” Dain’s eyes widened. He had not looked that far ahead. But he felt exasperated with Verence for trying to control the future. “I do not know, majesty. It could happen.”

“I detest war, Faldain. Mandria has prospered because my to my realm. But despite what Muncel has done to his own people, he has given Mandria no trouble.  It is to my advantage to let it remain that way. Even a new treaty with Nether is better than nothing. If I reject his request for additional trade agreements, I fear he will allow his starving people to raid the uplands. Raiding can lead to ideas of conquest. That must not be allowed.”

“I understand, majesty,” Dain said quietly.

Verence looked at him. “I hope so. Now, with all that said, let us consider Thirst Hold. It is a key fortress that guards the Nold border. If you cannot or will not serve there as chevard, loyal and faithful to me, then I must choose someone else.”

There it was at last, the threat that was the nexus of this entire discussion.

Alarm stiffened Dain’s spine. Was the king asking him to renounce his new title?

He stared hard at Verence, but the king’s face was stone.

“I do not understand,” Dain said. “Thirst is mine.”

“Not entirely. I remain sovereign over it.”