Chapter One: The Ashen Invitation

Why had a funeral master handled an invitation to pray for a sick king? “Don’t go.” Serena Vale stood in the doorway with a stack of ledgers in her arms. Rain darkened her brown hair, and her gray eyes held none of a noblewoman’s polite distance. “The order says every blood heir.” Lain set the letter beside the brazier. “A bastard’s blood is worthless until someone needs him to die.” “Pretend to be ill.” “In six years I’ve used fever, a riding wound, an old illness, and a collapsing bell tower. This time they will send a physician. If he finds me healthy, I have defied a royal command. If he finds me sick, I doubt I survive the night.”