Page 59 of Valdemar

Hakkon rubbed his temple, as if his head hurt. “I’m glad I’m not the Crown Prince,” he confessed. “I’d be awful at it.”

Restil punched his shoulder. “You don’t have to be good at being anything but Hakkon, and you’re the best there is at that. But if I were you—”

“Aye?”

“I’d see if the Lord Martial would take me on as a kind of apprentice. Other than Father, he was at the Imperial school the longest. There’s a lot he can teach you, and I bet he could use an assistant at this point.” There, Restil thought. That should suit him down to the ground, and keep him from trying to drag Jon off with his gang of friends. Jon would hate that, and they’d get bored with Jon within a mark. Jon is smart enough to make sure of it, in fact.

Hakkon’s eyes lit up. “Aye, if he would, that would be great! The weaponsmaster keeps telling me to bugger off because he has other people to train besides me. I don’t think he wants me in a mixed class because, well, a royal among inexperienced people with weapons could go pretty badly.”

They talked about that for a while until Hakkon yawned. “All right, if I’m going to catch the Lord Martial at breakfast, I need to make sure I’m there when the first food comes out.”

“And I have to traipse across the grounds to get to my quarters,” Restil reminded him. “At least I don’t have to remind you not to stay up reading in bed.”

“Ha! No chance of that!” Hakkon laughed, as Restil left his room.

You’d think he’d be envious that I got magic, and he didn’t. Or jealous that I was born first and became Crown Prince,Restil thought, as he left the building and headed across the darkened gardens, following the white stones on either side of the path.

:He doesn’t seem to envy anyone or anything,:Darshay observed. :Remarkable.:

:He’s a good lad,:Restil replied. :Sometimes he’s as thick as two short planks, but not because he’s stupid. He’s just not terribly observant when it comes to people trying to be deceptive. Actually, he’s just not terribly observant when it comes to people, period.:

He opened the door to his quarters to find Delia and Beltran waiting up for him. “Our Companions told us about Jon,” Delia said, without any warming up to the subject. “Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know. I think so? He’s just been a lot more secretive than any of us guessed. Father’s taking it hard. He thinks this is his fault. Mother, too.” Restil sat down at the little table with them, and accepted a mug of cider. “Lythe seems to have hit on a winning strategy, by bringing Sable to him. Sable seems . . . well, if half of what Lythe said about her is real, she seems as smart as Sydney, without the chaotic streak.”

Beltran nodded. “I hope the Companions can talk to Jon. Honestly, I think he’d be more comfortable with them than with people.”

Restil snorted. “Honestly, a lot of the time I am more comfortable with them than with people.”

“I like the idea that they want to take burdens from you, to make up for the peril they’ll put you in,” Delia acknowledged.

They sat in silence for a while. Then Restil decided to broach the other thing weighing on his mind.

“Well, we just might be facing imminent invasion,” he pointed out. “I know you all know what happened at the Council meeting. So. What do you think we Heralds can do?”

Beltran perked up at that. “That is an excellent question. Let’s work that problem.”