“Have you ever been in love, Hadrian?”“I’m not sure. How do you tell?”“Love? Why, it’s like coming home.”Hadrian considered the comment.“What are you thinking?” Bulard asked.Hadrian shook his head. “Nothing.”“Yes, you were. What? You can tell me. I’m an excellent repository for secrets. I’ll likely forget, but if I don’t, well, I’m an old man in a remotejungle. I’m sure to die before I can repeat anything.”Hadrian smiled, then shrugged. “I was just thinking about the rain.”

“What’s going on?” Royce asked as throngs of people suddenly moved toward him from the field and the castle interior.“I mentioned that you saw the thing and now they want to know what it looks like,” Hadrian explained. “What did you think? They were coming to lynch you?”He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kinda guy.”“Half empty?” Hadrian chuckled. “Was there ever any drink in that glass?”

“You think he’s still alive?” Royce asked, nodding his head toward Alric.“Sure,” Hadrian replied without bothering to look. “He’s probably sleeping. Why do you ask?”“I was just pondering something. Do you think a person could smother in a wet potato bag?”Hadrian lifted his head and looked over at the motionless prince. “I really hadn’t thought about it until now.”

“Hadrian shook his head and sighed. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult? They’re probably not bad people—just poor. You know, taking what they need to buy a loaf of bread to feed their family. Can you begrudge them that? Winter is coming and times are hard.” He nodded his head in the direction of the thieves. “Right?” “I ain’t got no family,” flat-nose replied. “I spend most of my coin on drink.” “You’re not helping,” Hadrian said.”

“You’re too visible, Albert,” Hadrian explained. “Can’t afford to have our favorite noble hauled to some dungeon where they cut off your eyelids or pull off your fingernails until you tell them what we’re up to.”“But if they torture me, and I don’t know the plan, how will I save myself?”“I’m sure they’ll believe you after the fourth nail or so,” Royce said with a wicked grin.”

“And you? Did you find the doorknob?”Hadrian picked up a jug and downed several swallows, drinking so quickly some of the water dripped down his chin. He poured some in his palm and rinsed his face, running his fingers through his hair.“I didn’t even get close enough to see a door.”“Well, look on the bright side”—Hadrian smiled—“at least you weren’t captured and condemned to death this time.”“That’s the bright side?”“What can I say? I’m a glass-half-full kinda guy.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Royce said as Hadrian prepared the bow. “It’s just that we’ve learned over the years that honor among nobles is usually inversely proportionate to their rank. As a result, we prefer to rely on more concrete methods for motivations—such as self-preservation. You already know we don’t want you dead, but if you have ever been riding full tilt and had a horse buckle under you, you understand that death is always a possibility, and broken bones are almost a certainty.”“There’s also the danger of missing the horse completely,” Hadrian added. “I’m a good shot, but even the best archers have bad days. So to answer your question—yes, you can control your own horse.”