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He says it as if reporting that day’s weather.

“Word reached the capital quickly. As usual, Breywood is well informed.”

“Not as quickly as it reached you, it appears. They say you’ve been in Murwood for near a fortnight now.”

Less, but I do not correct him. Nor do I correct his assumption that we’ve come here to solicit the Voyagers’ help. It serves my purpose to let them think such a thing. Clearly, they know nothing of Aldwine, and I would keep it that way. Although he might not join our cause today, or tomorrow, as long as the king’s son lives, there is hope he might yet be persuaded. Though not, it seems, by me.

“We were provoked, Stokerton, as well you know.”

Thomas adds, “Women and children were never fair game in this fight between us.”

To his credit, the commander seems genuinely saddened by the thought. His smile flees.

“That the borders grow more lawless each day should not surprise you. When Galfrid last requested a parley on that very matter, your queen denied him,” I say.

At the words “your queen,” Stokerton’s eyes narrow. “Cettina wants peace along the borders as much as he does.”

I try not to laugh, knowing it will only incite him.

“Willing it so will do little to make it happen.”

McGreghere jumps in. “I live where the Loigh Mountains meet the Northern Mountains. None wish for peace there more than I do.”

A true Highlander, then, living in a place known for its danger.

“Galfrid has forgotten us,” he says, which is where I cannot help but jump in.

“He is not your king. Your ancestors saw to that.”

And round and round we go, as always, for the rift is bitter and old and full of blame.

Halfway into a second round of ale, I put a stop to the never-ending discussion. “We will not negotiate peace here at this inn, a place where neither of us hold sway.” I pause, calculating, then say, “You’ve also come to solicit the Voyagers’ support?”

No matter what Stokerton says, his eyes share the truth of my words. A fool’s errand. They will never fight for Edingham.

Or Meria.

“Lord Bailor remained coy when I asked of your negotiations.”

Because there were none. But his admission confirms my guess.

“Lord Bailor does not speak for Murwood. Gaining his support will not ensure you get help from any of the others.”

How much does Stokerton know of the people here?

How much do you know? According to Aedre, not very much at all.

“They say you’ve spoken to the mercenary?”

I can feel Thomas tense against me.

“Aye, he’s one of many men we’ve spoken to here,” Thomas says.

McGreghere watches me closely.

Stokerton says nothing for a time. But he’s the one who breaks the silent stand-off, by saying, “I’ve neglected to offer our sympathy on the passing of Prince Matteo.”

Again, I detect no hint of malice. He seems to mean what he says.