“Even with thousands of soldiers,” King Zachary said, “he would be hard-pressed to take the castle. It is well fortified.”

“And the castle has been warned,” Captain Mapstone added.

“He was prepared for a siege, my lord, and do not forget he knows the castle almost as well as you. And there is one other thing . . .” Beryl looked about the group with haunted eyes. “You, my lord, were not the only one to have someone inside the enemy’s court.”

“What?” Zachary cried.

“Crowe,” Captain Mapstone snarled. “It must be him.”

“The castellan?” Martel’s expression was incredulous.

“Yes,” Beryl said. “On two occasions I tried to warn you. Once when Rider M’farthon delivered the ball and banquet invitation to Lord Mirwell, and a second time when I tried to speak to Karigan after the ball. Both times I was thwarted.”

Karigan tensed as Beryl glanced at her, but the Rider’s expression was not accusatory.

“I left Crowe in charge,” Zachary muttered.

“It is because of him we arrived so late,” Martel said. “He kept delaying me.”

To Karigan, a shadow seemed to drop over the king. Another betrayal. First his brother, then one of his liege lords. Now one of his most trusted advisors. In his eyes, she could see him asking himself why, but he would never voice it. He could not, at least not now, for he was king and his duty was to lead fearlessly. In an odd way, his hurt pleased her, for it made him human and not simply a king with a hard visage who ruled without compassion. She hoped the intrigue and betrayals would never make him indifferent and callous to his people.

“I can send a small detachment for reconnaissance,” Martel was saying. “They would not be detected in the dark. Once we know what your brother has achieved, we can plan our next move.”

The king sighed. “If he has taken the castle, it means exile for me until I can muster a force large enough to retake it.”

“I will be with you, my lord,” Martel said with his fist to his heart. The others in the circle added their resounding agreement.

King Zachary was visibly touched. “Then there is nothing more for today, except to get some reconn—”

A shout went up from among some of Martel’s soldiers on the perimeter. “Rider coming!”

Hands fell to swords and the group ringed themselves around the king.

“It’s a Green Rider!”

All relaxed a bit with this news, but did not let down their guard. Soon, the approach of hoofbeats was clearly heard, and a Rider galloped at full speed into the valley. He hauled on the reins of his gray steed, dismounting simultaneously. He was a silhouette in the dusk as he approached with long strides. King Zachary’s remaining Weapon, Rory, put himself between the messenger and the king.

“It’s all right,” Captain Mapstone said quietly. “I know him. It’s Connly.”

The young man’s dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He had run his horse hard to reach them, and without slowing his stride, he came before the king and dropped to one knee.

“Sire,” he said.

“Do you bear news, Messenger?”

“Yes, my lord.” He stood up then and looked around at each of them. When his dark eyes rested on Karigan, they registered surprise. Just as quickly, his gaze shifted back to the king. “My lord, the castle has been taken.”

The king seemed to sink into himself. Exclamations of dismay passed among the others.

“But I warned Captain Able,” Captain Mapstone said.

“Treachery was at work, then.” Connly placed his hand on her sleeve. “I am sorry, but he and some others hang at the castle gates.”

“He was a good man,” Martel said.

The others stood silently in disbelief in the midst of chorusing peepers.

Finally, Captain Mapstone shook her head. “He was a good man, and a good friend. We’ve lost so many . . . good friends.”

“Yet I am grateful,” Connly said, “to have found my captain and my king alive. I suspect our enemies believe you were defeated here, but when they hear nothing of victory by sunrise, they may grow suspicious and send someone to look things over. It is not safe to stay.”

“We can withdraw to another place,” Martel said.

The king waved the idea off. “We will do that, but first I want to hear what Rider Connly knows of the takeover.”

“Actually, very little, Excellency, except no one in the city is panicked.”

The king smiled grimly. “Another day, another king. Just so long as it does not interfere with their lives.”

“I was spending some time at an inn I frequent on Chantey Street,” Connly explained, “after a vigorous run. Osric, another Rider, was filling me in on the strange happenings over the past couple of weeks. We heard the hoofbeats of Prince Amilton’s army riding in, followed by siege engines and infantry. They simply marched through the city gates. No one was there to close them or defend them. The city went on about its business, people moving aside as the prince rode in. Some along the streets even cheered and hailed him.”

Zachary winced. “Yes, my brother has always had his supporters.”

“Very true, Sire, though there was a show of force at the castle gates. Osric and I followed the army, watching and trying to keep out of sight, of course.”

“How did they get in?”

“They scaled the scaffolding set up for repair on the castle wall, my lord,” Connly said. “They climbed over the wall and took Captain Able and killed many others. The guard seemed to lose its spirit then.”