The first thing Sir Gareth understood was that the boy had known his name before anyone had spoken it.
The second was that there was no time to ask how.
Boots struck marble beyond the eastern archway—six men at least, moving in the disciplined rhythm of soldiers who expected doors to open before them. The sound belonged to Lord Regent Morvus's inquisitors.
Gareth's gauntleted hand remained clamped over Toby's forearm.
Even through steel, he could feel the heat of the Sovereign Crest.
"Cover it," he whispered.
Toby looked at him without fear.
That frightened Gareth more than the glowing mark.
"Now."
The boy calmly pulled his ragged sleeve over the crest. The amber light disappeared beneath the cloth, but Gareth could still see a faint golden glow leaking through the worn fibers.
Behind them, Tempest scraped one enormous black hoof across the flagstones.
The imperial stallion had crippled three stable masters before breakfast. Now he stood behind the orphan like a silent guardian.
Gareth glanced toward the southern tower.
"The person who told you I would keep you alive," he said under his breath. "Who was it?"
Toby's expression changed.
For the first time, something almost childlike appeared in his eyes.
Fear.
Not fear of Gareth.
Fear of answering.
"She said you would ask that."
"She?"
The courtyard doors opened.
Gareth immediately released Toby and stepped away.
Six inquisitors entered beneath the stone arch, dressed in blackened mail beneath long crimson surcoats. Their commander walked at the center.
Captain Veyron.
Gareth had never liked him.
Veyron was too thin, too polite, and too observant. He had the unpleasant habit of smiling when other men became nervous.
His gaze moved from Gareth to Toby.
Then to Tempest.
The smile disappeared.
"Interesting," Veyron said.
Gareth folded his arms.
"You have an unusual definition of interesting."
Veyron ignored him.
The inquisitor's eyes settled on the imperial stallion.
Tempest was standing quietly.
Too quietly.
"Three men were carried from this courtyard this morning," Veyron said. "Master Hullen may never walk properly again."
"Then Master Hullen should learn not to strike a royal warhorse."
"And yet this animal appears remarkably peaceful now."
Veyron looked at Toby.
"Who is the child?"
"A kitchen rat."
Toby's eyes flicked toward Gareth.
Gareth silently begged him to understand.
Veyron approached.
"Does the kitchen usually send barefoot children to handle the missing Crown Prince's horse?"
"No. Which is why I was about to have him whipped."
Toby remained silent.
Good boy, Gareth thought.
Veyron stopped directly before him.
"What is your name?"
"Toby."
"Only Toby?"
The boy hesitated.
"Toby Vale."
Gareth almost looked at him.
Vale.
He knew that name.
Or thought he did.
Veyron crouched until his face was level with the child's.
"Where are your parents, Toby Vale?"
"Dead."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"You don't remember?"
"I never knew them."
Veyron's smile returned.
"How unfortunate."
He reached toward Toby's shoulder.
Tempest screamed.
The sound exploded through the courtyard.
The stallion surged forward so violently that two inquisitors drew their swords. One stumbled backward. Another raised his shield.
Tempest's teeth snapped inches from Veyron's face.
"Hold!" Gareth roared.
Toby turned.
"Tempest."
The horse froze.
Absolute silence followed.
Toby's face went pale.
He had made a mistake.
Everyone knew it.
Veyron slowly straightened.
"Tempest?" he repeated.
Toby said nothing.
Veyron's eyes narrowed.
"How does a kitchen orphan know the private name of the Crown Prince's warhorse?"
Gareth stepped between them.
"Everyone in High Keep knows the beast's name."
"No."
Veyron brushed dust from his sleeve.
"Everyone knows him as the Black Terror."
His gaze remained fixed on Toby.
"The name Tempest was used only by Prince Edric and those permitted inside the royal stables before the massacre."
Ten winters ago.
The words did not need to be spoken.
Everyone standing in that courtyard remembered what had happened.
King Aldren murdered.
Queen Elara found dead beneath the western gallery.
The royal household slaughtered.
The Crown Prince missing and presumed dead.
And Lord Morvus—the king's younger cousin—eventually appointed Regent of a kingdom without an heir.
Gareth had survived that night.
Sometimes he wished he had not.
"Search him," Veyron ordered.
Two inquisitors stepped forward.
Gareth's hand fell to his sword.
"So now the Regent's men search children because horses like them?"
"We search anyone who behaves strangely around royal property."
"You'll have to go through me."
That changed the air.
The inquisitors stopped.
Veyron studied Gareth carefully.
"Are you threatening officers of the Regent?"
"I'm reminding them that this courtyard remains under the authority of the Sovereign Guard."
"There is no sovereign."
Gareth's jaw tightened.
Veyron smiled.
"Unless you know something we don't."
For one dangerous moment, nobody moved.
Then a bell rang from the northern tower.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Veyron's expression hardened.
A young inquisitor hurried through the archway.
"Captain."
"What?"
"The Regent commands your presence in the council chamber immediately."
"Why?"
The young man looked uneasily toward Gareth before answering.
"Something was found beneath the old queen's chapel."
Veyron's face changed.
Only slightly.
But Gareth saw it.
Fear.
"Found by whom?"
"Stoneworkers repairing the crypt."
"What did they find?"
The messenger swallowed.
"A body."
Veyron immediately turned away.
"Seal the chapel. Nobody enters or leaves."
He pointed at Toby.
"And bring the child."
Gareth stepped forward.
"No."
Veyron looked back.
"Sir Gareth—"
"I said no. He's under guard for trespassing. Mine."
"Then make certain he remains here."
Veyron walked toward the archway before stopping once more.
"And Gareth?"
"What?"
"If that boy disappears, I will assume you helped him."
The inquisitors departed.
Their footsteps faded into the keep.
Gareth waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then he seized Toby by the shoulder.
"Come."
They crossed behind the stables and entered a narrow feed passage. Tempest followed without being called.
That should have been impossible.
Gareth shut the wooden door behind them.
"Show me your arm."
Toby obeyed.
The crest remained there.
Dark again.
A winged serpent.
No.
Gareth stared more closely.
Not a serpent.
A dragon.
Exactly as he remembered it.
Twenty years earlier, he had seen the same mark on King Aldren's arm during the Northern Campaign.
Ten winters ago, he had seen it on a much smaller arm.
A baby's arm.
Gareth stepped backward.
"How old are you?"
"Ten."
"When is your birthday?"
"I don't know."
"Who raised you?"
"Different people."
"Names."
Toby hesitated.
"Mostly Sister Mara."
Gareth went still.
"Mara?"
"Do you know her?"
He did.
There had been a Sister Mara inside High Keep on the night of the massacre.
A royal midwife.
Official records said she had burned to death with the other servants in the nursery wing.
"Where is she?"
"Dead."
Gareth closed his eyes.
"Of course."
Toby watched him.
"She died three weeks ago."
That made Gareth look up.
"Three weeks?"
"She was sick for a long time."
"What did she tell you before she died?"
Toby reached inside his tunic.
Gareth caught his wrist.
"Slowly."
The boy withdrew a small object wrapped in cloth.
He unfolded it.
A key rested in his palm.
Old silver.
Blackened by age.
Gareth recognized the dragon engraved on its bow.
His stomach tightened.
"Where did you get this?"
"Sister Mara."
"What does it open?"
"She didn't tell me."
"Then why give it to you?"
"She said I had to come to High Keep."
Toby paused.
"And find you."
"Why me?"
"Because you owed my mother a promise."
Gareth stopped breathing.
Outside, Tempest shifted heavily.
Somewhere beyond the stable walls, another bell began ringing.
Gareth's memories returned in fragments.
Fire.
Blood on white marble.
Queen Elara screaming.
A bundle pressed against his armor.
And a woman's voice:
If everything fails, save the child.
Gareth looked at Toby.
"No," he whispered.
"What?"
Gareth grabbed the boy's shoulders.
"Who was your mother?"
"I don't know."
"Did Mara ever tell you her name?"
"No."
"Think."
"She wouldn't tell me."
"Think!"
Toby flinched.
Gareth immediately released him.
The boy's calm facade finally cracked.
"She said names could get me killed."
Gareth stared at him.
That sounded exactly like Mara.
Toby looked down at the silver key.
"But she gave me something else."
"What?"
"Her last words."
Gareth waited.
Toby swallowed.
"She said, 'When the black horse bows, the first lie will die.'"
Gareth felt cold despite the heat of the stable.
"The first lie?"
"I don't know what it means."
But Gareth did.
Or at least he feared he did.
The official account of the Great Courtyard Massacre contained dozens of things he had never believed.
Perhaps one of them was about to be exposed.
Suddenly, voices sounded outside.
Gareth drew his sword.
Toby backed toward Tempest.
But the voices continued past.
Gareth lowered the blade.
"We cannot stay here."
"Where are we going?"
"The southern tower."
Toby stared at him.
"That's where she told me to go."
Gareth turned sharply.
"What?"
"Sister Mara."
The boy pointed upward.
"She said if you believed me, you would take me there."
A terrible realization crept through Gareth.
Mara had not merely sent Toby to High Keep.
She had planned Gareth's reactions.
Perhaps years in advance.
They left the stable through a forgotten servants' passage and crossed beneath the keep.
The tunnels smelled of damp stone and ancient smoke.
Toby walked beside Gareth while Tempest remained behind; the horse was far too large for the underground passages.
After several minutes, they reached a spiral staircase inside the abandoned southern tower.
Nobody had used it since the massacre.
Officially.
Gareth climbed first.
Dust covered the steps.
Yet halfway up, he stopped.
A footprint marked the dust.
Fresh.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
He motioned for Toby to remain silent.
They continued upward.
At the tower's highest chamber stood a narrow wooden door.
Gareth tested it.
Locked.
Toby looked at the silver key.
Neither spoke.
He inserted it.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a chamber Gareth had not seen in ten years.
A child's room.
A cradle stood against the wall beneath a moth-eaten canopy. Wooden animals rested on a shelf. A faded royal banner hung above a cold fireplace.
Toby slowly entered.
"Whose room was this?"
Gareth could barely answer.
"The prince's."
"The Crown Prince?"
"No."
Toby looked at him.
Gareth stared at the cradle.
"His son's."
Silence.
The kingdom believed Crown Prince Edric had been unmarried and childless when he disappeared.
That was one of the great certainties upon which Morvus's regency had been built.
Toby stepped toward the cradle.
Something lay inside.
Not dust.
A sealed envelope.
Gareth snatched it up.
The wax seal was fresh.
His blood turned cold.
Someone had placed it there recently.
Written across the front were three words:
FOR GARETH ALONE.
"Don't open it," Toby whispered.
Gareth looked at him.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Then why say that?"
Toby's face had gone white.
He pointed behind Gareth.
On the wall above the fireplace, where only faded stone had been moments before, thin golden lines were appearing.
The Sovereign Crest on Toby's arm was glowing again.
The same light spread across the wall.
Hidden writing emerged from the stone.
Gareth read the first sentence.
Then read it again.
His sword slipped from his hand and struck the floor.
Toby stared at him.
"What does it say?"
Gareth could not answer.
Because the message was written in Queen Elara's own cipher.
And Gareth had watched Queen Elara's corpse carried from the courtyard ten years ago.
Yet the glowing words said:
GARETH, IF THE BOY HAS RETURNED, THEN I FAILED TO KEEP HIM HIDDEN.
Below it, a second line appeared.
DO NOT TRUST THE BODY THEY FOUND IN MY TOMB.
And then the final sentence burned into the stone.
I AM STILL ALIVE.