The third-year bracket was in its final round wherols on the walls began shouting that outriders had just passed the thornknife graveyard. Within minutes, a pair of Royal Thorns was at the gatehouse requestiry for the king’s ente.

  Beed Twelve, the third-year championship hopefuls, were forced to dey their half-finished match while they and the rest of the students scrambled to put themselves in an order befitting the arrival of royalty.

  Nine ged into her set of clothing; to the close-rat, clothes were already uphill finery.

  Twenty-six, who wasn’t ied in showing any type of defereo the dirter king, remained in what he was wearing.

  Izak ged into his soiled clothing that had been waiting for undry day.

  “I’d hate for someoo miss my pt for our sn and his lovely queen,” the priold his roommates with an acidic smile.

  By the time the royal carriage pulled into Thornfield’s walls, the bailey was boiling with young men jostling for a view of the carriage door. Even Nine ractically cmbering up Izak’s side.

  “Stop it!” He shoved her off.

  “I want to see a royal, me. Me and Pretty seey a’ fancy folk afore, but never royal folk.”

  The uppercssmen had seen the king the year before, and a smaller number had seen the queen with him the year before that, but they were still awed by the bined presence of Their Majesties. Most of the first-year css had never seen a noble before; they stared on in open-mouthed wonder as the carriage door opened.

  Izak was Teikru-blessed enough to admit the mad queen was beautiful. A wonderful, gropeable body dripping with deadly allure and smooth, fwless skin—if you could find it uhe caked filth and dried gore. One might think she bathed in raw sexuality, if one didn’t know that what she truly bathed in was the blood of infants. Add to that the plete ck of less smelly, less dirty women to pare her to, and the temperature of the crowd raised several degrees as a Royal Thorn helped the queen desd the carriage steps.

  Grandmaster Heartless showed the royal couple ihe disappoi alpable as the keep’s doors closed behind them and the masters ushered the students back to finish out the third-year bracket.

  Before the sns’ arrival, Beed Twelve’s match had been the subject of ear debate, raucous cheering, and much advice-shouting. After, the young men fiheir match a distant sedary attra to the much more fasatiertai of reliving the appearance of the soft curves, bloodred lips, and dark ris of the Queen of Night.

  ***

  Throughout the year, an unpreted number of fourth-years had been grafted to private postings. Three to the lord of Siu al, a baker’s dozen scattered across the coastal holdings where the lords were up in arms about bolstering defenses against the pirates, and three to the governor of the Coffee Isnds, who was always cm that the natives teetered on the verge of revolt. Well over the usual sprinkling of private Thorns the king gifted to his most favored and sometimes least trusted courtiers.

  With two more seniors dead from the ague that wihat left a meager thirty-one ready frafting. A small crop indeed. Most years the king least a score ao replenish the royal ranks, and he nning on giving his wife another six to throw away.

  Grandmaster Heartless hated to do it, but he’d spent several sleepless days preparing a list of the best third-years as well to fill the gap. Some, like Beech, the winner of the third-year bracket, were excellent swordsmen but not mature enough for a posting. Others like Twelve, the runner-up, were close to ready all around—skilled, educated, and capable of handling the stress and strain that came with being grafted. Another year at Thornfield would have given Twelve the fidend authority to bee a ander, but the strong gods were rarely ied in waiting for what a man could bee.

  Ohe king and queen were settled in the royal suite, the best appointed a used chambers at Thornfield, and the king had sed himself of the dirt from the road, Hazerial called frandmaster.

  Like the rest of the fortress turned school, the royal chambers were only kept pstered enough to plug up the drafts, and as a kio the future Thorns of those who slept there, the rooms were sparsely appointed. No tapestries or hangings or unnecessary furniture rge enough to ceal an assaint. As it was higher in the tral tower, however, the windows were true windows with leaded gss panes, not narrow archer loops. The bed’s down-stuffed mattress had been aired aen bato luxuriant softness, and the bedclothes were of the highest quality avaible in the area. It might not have been what the king and queen were used to, but to the boys of Thornfield, it would have seemed a piece of paradise.

  “Your Majesty,” Grandmaster said, bowing from the doorway.

  Hazerial motioned for him to enter. After a year of seeing the king’s eldest son nearly every night, it was strao gaze upon those same features mirrored in the sire—thick dark hair with barely a trace of gray, sharp House Khi features, and the ssh-like iions high on the cheekbohat apahe dimples occasionally visible oher side of his mouth.

  A fire had been lit in the hearth early that evening to burn off the spring dampness and st of disuse, but as the night wore on int, it had burnt down to embers, leaving behind a pleasant glow of warmth. A glow that the queen was letting out while she leaned out the southeastern window to watch the young men below with a hungry leer on her face.

  “The best prospects from the year.” Grandmaster handed over the part he’d brought, preparing for the usual questions.

  The king gave the list a cursory s.

  “The hese brats take. Bze. Fuller. Carrion?” Hazerial snorted and rolled up the part, patting it on an open palm.

  Heartless let the ent lie. Given his past, he oor choice to belittle foolhardy young men and the hey chose.

  The king’s dark eyes pierced Grandmaster Heartless. “If we graft them all, who have you pegged as the natural leader?”

  “Striker will try to take that pce, Your Majesty, but he’s not suited for it. His peers think he’s an oaf and a bully, and they’re n. Fuller’s got the support of the group. Irategy and crisis prioritization. If he sts the year, he’ll have the experience dealing with older Thorns. He could easily take over the andery of the Royal Thorns by then. Favors the hand-and-a-half sword.”

  “His sed?”

  “You’ll want Manly for it. Cool headed, but just a touch slower with the critical decisions. Respected by the rest of the students. An excellent shortsword man. Fuller’s solid indoors and out, but Manly excels at close quarters bat.”

  “Which would you reend be grafted to the queen?”

  After everything that had been ied in the young men, after everything the students had gohrough to serve, Heartless would as soon slice them up and toss them into the o with the sharks.

  “Baijalon, Daring, Twelve, Thirty-three, and Pata,” he said. “For their leader, Fieryhands. His name may be idiotic, but he has the gumption to keep a smaller squad atteo their duties.”

  Jadarah’s fine, dirty nose wrinkled.

  “Are they as ugly as the ones you wanted me to graft st time?” She gred at the part as if its presence offended her. “I’ll ihe seniors at the feast and point out the ones I want.” She returo the window, muttering, “Sometimes the ugly ones are useful, though. They try harder, and their seed usually takes faster. We’ll see…”

  Hazerial went on as if the queen weren’t still mumbling to herself.

  “What of our captive pirate? How does he stack up against the rest of our prospective Thorns?”

  Grandmaster Heartless hadn’t imagihat he would be answering for a first-year who wasn’t the king’s son, but he kept close enough tabs on the night-to-night goings on in his school to discuss any student.

  “In quality of on work, the pirate outperform everyone in his year.” It was ary to cim the prince as the highest rank in his crop of thorns, but Heartless had never seen the use in lying—for the sake of royal ceit or anything else. “He’s a devil with a cutss and swordbreaker. He’s well educated, quick, and, excluding a bout with the grippe this winter, hardy.”

  “How is his vision? At night and during the day.”

  “Average at night. However, as might be expected of his people, excellent in daylight.”

  Hazerial tapped the part against his . “So he retains his day vision. How do you expect your report on him will go when it’s time for his grafting? Tell us where you see him in three years’ time.”

  Over at the window, Jadarah’s attention perked up. She ed her o watch her husband while Grandmaster replied.

  “He could bee a leader if he wao, but he shows too much s for his fellow students to do it. Much more likely, in three years, I’ll be suggesting Izak for ander of Priianiel’s Thorns. Izak already has the support, and what he currently cks in stratagem, he fers on with Twenty-six. The pirate, rather.”

  Hazerial’s dark brow rose. “Friends, are they?”

  “The young men who lodge together here often form close bonds. You could graft them uhe same master, and the pirate might take orders from Izak. Might.” Grandmaster betedly remembered Hazerial’s inal uating that the pirate would bee a Royal Thorn. “Of course, Your Majesty is capable ing ao heel, savages included.”

  Hazerial hen after a moment, he smiled.

  The king’s smiles were never pleasant. To Heartless, seeing o like standing over an open grave while a cold wind blew. The wiry white hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he suppressed a shiver.

  “That will suffice, Grandmaster. We grant you leave to go.”