“I need your help.”Royce looked up as if his head weighed a hundred pounds, his eyes red, his face ashen. He waited.“One last job,” Hadrian told him, then added, “I promise.”“Is it dangerous?”“Very.”“Is there a good chance I’ll get killed?”“Odds are definitely in favor of that.”Royce nodded, looked down at the scarf in his lap, and replied, “Okay.”

“There you are!” he shouted at them. “Father has half the castle turnedout looking for you.”“Us?” Hadrian asked.“Yes.” Fanen nodded. “He wants to see the two thieves in his chambersright away.”“You didn’t steal the silver or anything, did you, Royce?” Hadrianasked.“I would bet it has more to do with your flirting with Lenare this afternoonand threatening Mauvin just to show off,” Royce retorted.“That was your fault,” Hadrian said, jabbing his finger at him.”

“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.”

“Royce turned to Hadrian. “It’s supposed to make them look tough, but all it really does is make it easy to identify them as thieves for the rest of their lives. Painting a red hand on everyone is pretty stupid when you think about it.”“That tattoo is supposed to be a hand?” Hadrian asked. “I thought it was a little red chicken. But now that you mention it, a hand does make more sense.”Royce looked back at Will and tilted his head to one side. “Does kinda look like a chicken.”

“Another last-minute, good-deed job,” Royce grumbled as he stuffedsupplies into his saddlebag.“True,” Hadrian said, slinging his sword belt over his shoulder, “butthis is at least a paying job.”“You should have told him the real reason we saved him from Trumbul—because we wouldn’t see the hundred tenents otherwise.”“That was your reason. Besides, how often do we get to do royal contracts?If word gets around, we’ll be able to command top salaries.”“If word gets around, we’ll be hanged.”

“As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer.“There,” Hadrian told Royce, “we’ve got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax.”“Actually,” Myron said sheepishly, “I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well,” he added hastily.”