"Nothing," William managed.
Elizabeth held his gaze for another moment, clearly unconvinced, but she spared him the embarrassment of saying so. Her hand slid from his arm into his, fingers fitting easily between his own as she started down the corridor.
William looked at their joined hands.
Then at her.
Elizabeth kept her attention ahead, wearing the composed expression of a princess carrying out a perfectly ordinary duty. The small curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
Behind them, Aldric inhaled through his teeth.
William glanced over his shoulder. "Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"You were about to."
"I was about to admire the masonry."
Henry walked beside Victoria, his wife's arm linked comfortably through his. "You have never admired masonry in your life."
Aldric looked wounded. "I am a man of hidden depths."
"You were nearly killed by a shallow ditch this morning," William said.
Victoria laughed, and even Elizabeth's grip tightened faintly around his hand as though she were holding back one of her own.
They followed the corridor away from the throne hall, leaving the gathered houses and the question of the Ghost ambush behind heavy doors. The palace became warmer as they moved deeper into the royal wing. War banners gave way to family portraits, old hunting scenes, and stained-glass windows depicting Maximilian kings beneath eight-rayed suns.
William still felt the new title sitting awkwardly on him.
Sir William Lockhart.
Lord of Ashford.
Youngest knight made in Albion's living memory.
His hand felt less steady whenever he thought about it. Elizabeth seemed to notice every time his fingers tightened, though she said nothing now. She simply kept holding on.
They turned the final corner before the royal dining hall, and two small bodies came racing through the open doors.
"Daddy!"
Henry barely had time to plant his feet before the twins crashed into him.
Elias reached him first, wrapping both arms around one leg. Elise came half a heartbeat later and launched herself straight at Henry's waist. He caught her beneath the arms and lifted her clear off the floor while Elias clung stubbornly to his boot.
Henry's whole face changed.
The officer disappeared. The heir disappeared. Even the firstborn Lockhart who had torn Ghosts apart with radiant chains was gone. What remained was a father smiling so openly William almost did not recognize him.
"There you are," Henry said, pulling Elias up with his free arm. "Have you both been behaving?"
"No," Elias answered immediately.
Elise slapped Henry's chest with her little palm.
"Where have you been, Daddy?" she demanded. "I missed you, and I've been all alone."
Victoria stopped beside them and slowly turned her head.
"Alone?"
Elise froze.
Victoria narrowed her eyes. "You have been living in a palace with your mother, your brother, your grandmother, three aunts, twelve nurses, and enough servants to invade a small country."
Elise buried her face against Henry's shoulder.
"I was lonely inside."
Aldric covered his mouth with one hand. William looked down quickly, but his shoulders shook.
Victoria placed a hand on her hip. "Lonely inside."
"She has you there," Henry said.
Victoria stared at her husband. "Do not encourage her."
"I'm not. I'm acknowledging a sound defense."
Elise peeked out and gave her mother a tiny, victorious smile.
Henry kissed the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I have one more trip tomorrow, but tonight I'll be right here with you lot."
"Promise?" Elias asked.
"I promise."
Both children tightened around him at once.
Then Elise spotted William.
Her eyes widened. "Uncle Will!"
William had just enough time to brace before she wriggled out of Henry's arms and ran at him. He bent carefully, caught her beneath the shoulders, and lifted her despite the pull across his healing ribs.
"Damn," he said, shifting her weight. "You're getting big. What are they feeding you at these royal dinners?"
Elias burst out laughing.
Elise looked offended. "Food."
"Clearly too much of it."
She slapped William's shoulder with less force than she had used on Henry. "I'm growing."
"So I see."
Elias circled William, studying him from every angle. "Did you really fight three thousand Germans?"
William glanced toward Henry.
Henry's expression said, You're on your own.
"Not all at once," William said.
"How many at once?"
"Enough."
"Did you cut their heads off?"
"El—" Victoria began.
"Yes," Aldric answered helpfully. "He leapt between horses like an angry squirrel with a sword."
William gave him a flat look. "That is not how it happened."
"History has already improved it."
Before Elias could demand a demonstration, the room changed.
Queen Elizabeth Maximilian entered through the opposite doors.
She had exchanged the rigid splendor of the throne hall for a deep red dinner gown edged in gold, though nothing about her looked informal. Her back remained straight, her pale hair pinned flawlessly, her gaze carrying the same authority that had silenced Colonel Reeves without a word.
Everyone bowed.
Everyone except the twins.
"Nana!"
"Nana, Daddy's back!"
They tore away from William and Henry and rushed her. Queen Elizabeth had enough time to open her arms before both children caught her around the skirts.
The High Queen of Britannia looked down at them, and all the sharpness in her face softened.
"Calm yourselves, my young ones. We have guests."
They did not calm themselves.
Elias began telling her about Henry's promise. Elise spoke over him to explain how she had been lonely inside. The Queen listened with grave attention until Victoria reached them and gave her daughter another suspicious look.
"Ignore that part, Mother."
"I would never ignore the suffering of my grandchildren," the Queen replied.
Elise looked vindicated.
Victoria closed her eyes briefly. "You are all against me."
Queen Elizabeth kissed both twins on the forehead, then raised her eyes to the others.
"Welcome," she said, warmth remaining beneath the royal edge. "All of you. Tonight I have ordered a special dinner for our newest son-in-law and his recent accomplishments at Ashford-on-Lea."
William's heart tripped over itself.
Beside him, Elizabeth's face warmed. She turned slightly, pretending to inspect one of the stained-glass windows.
Her mother noticed and continued without mercy.
"The betrothed of my youngest daughter has acquired quite the rising reputation. A young man of such renown deserves a dinner worthy of his achievements."
William smiled because he did not know what else to do. He bowed, nearly caught his own tongue, and somehow made everything worse.
"Tha—thank you, Your Majesty. I don't know what to sa—say."
The Queen laughed.
It was not the quiet, restrained laugh William expected from her. It was genuine, warm, and made his nerves tangle further.
"Enough of the formalities. You may call me Mother, dear boy."
William stared at her.
"Yes, Your Highness." He stopped. "I mean—Highness Mother. Your Mother—"
Aldric turned away and pressed his fist to his mouth.
Henry looked down at the twins as if they required his full concentration.
Elizabeth covered the lower half of her face with her fingers.
Queen Elizabeth laughed harder.
"Mother will suffice."
"Yes, Your—" William caught himself. "Yes. Mother."
"Much better."
Elizabeth leaned close enough that only William heard her. "You did very well."
He glanced at her. "I fought three thousand Germans."
"And my mother defeated you in two sentences."
Before William could answer, a palace herald struck the butt of his staff against the floor.
"His Majesty, King Arthur Maximilian. His Majesty, King Philip Lockhart. Princess Jane Maximilian."
The room snapped back into order.
King Arthur entered first, still broad and commanding outside the throne hall, though the severity had loosened around his mouth. Princess Jane followed in a gown cut so precisely that even the candlelight seemed required to behave around her. King Philip Lockhart walked beside them in white and gold, stern-faced, his formal cloak sitting across his shoulders like armor.
William bowed with everyone else.
The children did not.
They started toward Arthur, but Queen Elizabeth caught each by the shoulder before they escaped.
"Your grandfather will still be here when he has sat down."
Arthur passed behind the Queen's chair, pulled it out for her himself, and waited until she sat. She caught his sleeve before he moved away, drew him down, and kissed his cheek.
Aldric glanced at William.
William glared a warning at him before he could say anything.
Nobody else moved. Heads remained bowed while Arthur crossed to his own chair. The scrape of wood across stone sounded enormous in the silence.
He sat, looked around the table, and raised one hand.
"Enough. Rise."
The room breathed again.
Arthur gestured broadly toward the round table. "Sit, sit. This is your celebration, my son. A tremendous occasion for Britannia and an embarrassing defeat for those Germanian bastards."
"Arthur," the Queen said, though her agreement showed at the edge of her smile.
King Philip gave a low, approving sound. "Quite embarrassing."
William bowed once more before sitting. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Both of you. I—"
Arthur waved him down. "You have thanked us enough today. Sit before the food goes cold."
The servants moved the moment everyone had taken their places.
William found himself between Elizabeth and Aldric, with Henry and Victoria across from them. The twins sat between their parents, already whispering about which desserts they intended to steal. Queen Elizabeth and Arthur occupied the upper curve of the round table, Philip near Arthur, Jane beside her mother.
Attendants draped fine white napkins across their laps and, to William's surprise, fastened a narrow fold of linen at each collar.
Aldric looked down at his own. "They've dressed us for battle."
"They know how you eat," Henry said.
Silverware appeared in precise ranks. Goblets were filled. Plates of white porcelain edged in gold settled before each guest.
Along the walls, attendants lifted their hands. Small signs passed through trained fingers, followed by tiny red flares of aura.
Fire Muti ran from wick to wick.
Dozens of candles caught in a smooth wave around the room. Gold light climbed the white walls and flashed across the polished table.
Then the kitchen doors opened.
The scent reached William before the food did.
His head turned.
The first platter required four servants.
Sun-Roast Crownback Beef rested upon a carved silver board, the broad cut browned dark around the edges and shining beneath a layer of glow sauce. Crownback oxen were massive Britannian cattle bred to pull war wagons and feed fortresses; the older they grew, the deeper and richer their meat became.
This one had been seasoned in drago powder, crushed black pepper, masil, and jazmary. Steam rose when the carver's knife entered it, releasing a smell so heavy and savory that William forgot for a moment that he was sitting with two kings.
A drop of juice ran down the cut face.
William leaned forward without realizing it.
His mouth watered.
King Philip saw him.
"I taught you manners, son," he said calmly. "Show some respect at the King's table."
William straightened so quickly his chair creaked.
Arthur looked from him to the roast, then broke into a booming laugh.
"Let the boy enjoy himself, Philip. He has spent enough time eating campaign grain and healer's broth."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Arthur's laughter stopped just long enough for him to turn toward his oldest friend.
"I told you to stop calling me that."
Philip's mouth moved faintly. "We are sitting in your royal dining hall."
"We have known each other since we were boys. We have fought together, celebrated together, buried friends together, and now our families are tied through our sons and daughters." Arthur pointed his knife at him. "Stop with the silly 'Your Majesty.'"
Philip shook his head, but the smile escaped anyway.
"Sure, Arthur."
"There. Was that so painful?"
"A little."
The second great dish entered while they were still laughing.
Albion's Gold Goose sat beneath a lacquered skin of deep honey-brown, stuffed with Albion golden apples, oathgrain crumbs, sweet Lea onions, Crown herbs, and black bacon brought from Moor Town. Cider gravy pooled around the bird, with roasted shieldroot lining the platter like pieces of burnished gold.
William's smile dimmed and changed when he heard Lea onions.
Ashford-on-Lea.
Something from the village had reached the King's table.
Elizabeth saw it. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand once beneath the table, soft enough that no one else noticed.
More dishes followed.
A whole loin of Whitehart Venison arrived glazed in Crown Currant sauce, darkened with red wine, beef stock, Albion butter, black pepper, and rainpear vinegar.
Wheels and wedges of Goldvein cheese came with warm bread and preserved fruit.
Then dessert waited along the sideboards: Gleam Lemon Tarts, sugared and shining under the candlelight.
Golden ale filled Arthur's cup. Queen Elizabeth chose the Chapel Thyme infusion. Jane accepted watered wine. Aldric reached eagerly for a glass of Mason's Binapple Cider Hammer Tonic until the servant warned him that the name was not decorative.
Aldric paused. "How hard does it hammer?"
"Hard enough that Lord Roses should eat first."
"Then the evening has finally issued me a worthy challenge."
William barely heard him.
His eyes moved from beef to goose, from venison to cheese, then back to the beef again as though it might vanish if he chose incorrectly.
Elise noticed.
"Uncle Will looks hungry."
"He always looks like that around food," Henry said.
"I was nearly dead two weeks ago," William replied. "My body is rebuilding."
"Apparently into a castle."
The first plates were served. William tried to remember every dining lesson he had ever been taught, but the first bite of Crownback beef nearly erased his upbringing. The meat gave way beneath his knife, dark, rich, hot with pepper and herbs. The glow sauce carried sweetness at first, then a warm sting that spread across his tongue.
He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat.
Elizabeth leaned closer. "Is it good?"
William opened them. "I might defend this table too."
Her laugh came softly against his shoulder.
Dinner found its rhythm after that.
Elias demanded the crispy part of the goose. Elise announced that shieldroot looked like armor and therefore made her stronger. Victoria tried to convince both of them to eat anything green. Henry surrendered half his venison to his daughter after she stared at it for a full minute without blinking.
Jane asked Aldric about his wounded leg.
"A Ghost nearly took it from me," he said gravely.
"You were cut above the knee."
"A near amputation."
"The healer's report called it superficial."
Aldric stared at her. "Why have you read my healer's report?"
Jane lifted her goblet. "I was bored."
Even Queen Elizabeth smiled at that.
The night warmed around the round table. For a while William could almost forget the throne hall and the Ghosts and the fact that men in another room were deciding who wanted him dead.
Then Arthur leaned back with his ale and looked directly at him.
"William."
The table gradually quieted.
William set down his fork.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
Arthur ignored the title this time.
"Many young men do not see their first true battle until eighteen. Fewer are expected to command in one. You arrived at Ashford and found pandemonium already waiting for you, yet the reports say you kept a clear head."
William felt the room tilt by a fraction.
Arthur gestured with his cup. "Damn the report. I heard the version written for scribes. I want the tale from the Gate Knight himself."
The smell of roasted meat changed.
For a heartbeat it became smoke.
The candlelight jumped in William's vision and turned into burning houses. The table blurred beneath sheets of rain. He could hear the south gate screaming on its hinges, Hobbs roaring from the wall, Osric's hand sliding from his sleeve.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
Elizabeth felt it.
"Father," she began, "perhaps tonight isn't—"
Arthur raised one palm.
She stopped at once.
He did not look angry. He did not say a word. The gesture alone ended the interruption.
That made the room feel smaller.
Every face seemed turned toward William now. King, Queen, father, brother, princesses, children, servants standing motionless near the walls.
His heartbeat pushed into his throat.
King Philip's voice reached him from across the table.
"Steady your soul, boy."
William's eyes found his father.
Philip's expression was stern, but beneath it was the man who had taught him to ride, to hunt, to keep standing when his legs wanted the ground.
"Sharpen your mind," Philip continued. "Deepen your heart."
The old Lockhart words.
William drew in a slow breath.
Steady my soul.
The screaming moved farther away.
Sharpen my mind.
The table came back into focus. Candle flames. Plates. His father's eyes.
Deepen my heart.
Something warm touched his hand beneath the table.
Elizabeth's fingers slid over his.
William turned his head.
She was watching him, no teasing now. Only steady concern. When he met her eyes, she gave him the smallest smirk, as though daring him to let the memory defeat him in front of her.
His breathing settled.
He looked back to Arthur.
"It was war, Your Majesty," William said. "Nothing less. Nothing more."
The table remained still.
"One moment I had only just reached the town. The next, everything was moving so quickly I barely remember the space between."
He paused, rebuilding the horizon in his mind.
"I remember the rumbling first. Before we saw them. It sounded like a storm trapped under the earth. Then the Germanian line came over the horizon."
William stared past the candle in front of him.
"A dark sea. Black armor stretching nearly two miles from one end to the other, and more men behind the first ranks than I could count. It looked endless."
Elias had stopped eating. Even Elise sat quietly now.
"I watched trained soldiers decide the town was already dead," William continued. "The enemy hadn't reached the walls, but fear had. That was enough."
Arthur listened without moving.
"When the order came to leave, I tried to follow it. I knew Reeves outranked me. I knew I had been sent to watch, not command."
William's thumb moved once beneath Elizabeth's hand.
"But I looked at the people who would be left behind, and I couldn't go. It didn't matter what the order was anymore. I would rather die defending people than live knowing I had ridden away from them."
Queen Elizabeth's eyes shifted briefly toward her daughter.
William did not see it.
"That is why I wanted to become a knight," he said. "Not because I have no fear of a fight. Because when someone needs help, a knight is supposed to run toward it."
His father's expression eased by a degree.
"I wanted to fight a hurricane," William said, a faint, tired smile touching him. "They brought me one."
Arthur's mouth curved.
"So I steadied my soul and prepared for the dark. We fortified what we could. My father and Henry taught me that a wall is only useful when every man behind it understands why it must stand. I told the townspeople they would be safe so long as I was there."
William swallowed.
"I had no right to promise that. But they believed me."
The old woman's testimony from the throne hall returned to him: Like if he stopped moving, the town stopped breathing.
"They carried water. Dug ditches. Raised walls from carts, doors, beams—anything they could lift. They fought fires while arrows fell. Some who had never held a spear stood at the gate because the person beside them needed another shield."
Elizabeth's fingers tightened around his.
"When the first cavalry approached, we had to draw them where we wanted them. Twenty villagers and I went outside the gate and made ourselves insulting enough that they charged."
Aldric murmured, "That part I believe."
Victoria elbowed him lightly without looking away from William.
"We retreated behind the wall. Their horses reached the ditch, broke through the covered ground, and fell onto spikes. Our archers fired while they struggled."
William's eyes hardened as another image returned.
"Then Felix Blackwell came forward."
King Philip sat a little straighter.
"The Binder," Arthur said.
"Yes, sire. Felix the Binder."
William remembered the Germanian commander on his black horse, armor dark beneath the rain, watching men die with the stillness of someone placing pieces on a board.
"I had heard stories about him from my father. Seeing him was different. Black armor. Black helm. He watched his first men fall, learned from it, and kept coming."
William shook his head faintly.
"Every defense we made, he found an answer. We used the ditch, he brought planks. We cut down men crossing, he formed shield walls. We rained arrows, he returned them with Fire Muti. We reinforced the south, he sent cavalry west."
His voice lowered.
"He always seemed ten steps ahead. We only survived because every time he made us choose between two disasters, someone in Ashford found enough courage to hold one of them."
Osric flickered at the edge of William's memory.
His hand slipping away.
William continued.
"I don't believe I defeated Felix Blackwell. I delayed him. If my father had not arrived when he did, I would have died, and Ashford would belong to Germania."
Philip watched his son without blinking.
William looked directly at Arthur now.
"I don't think I did anything heroic, Your Majesty. I did what any moral man—or boy—should do when people are about to be destroyed and he has the strength to stand in the way."
He exhaled.
"I'm glad to be sitting here telling you about the fluke I survived."
Silence held the table.
William became aware of the food cooling before him, of Elizabeth still holding his hand, of Elias staring at him as if he had changed shape.
Arthur set his cup down.
"You could not have said it better, lad."
His voice was quieter than before, but it filled the room.
"Heroism is rarely found in what a man claims to be. It is found in what he does, how he does it, and whether he still does it when the act costs him something."
He studied William with open approval.
"This is why I believe I made the right decision in betrothing my daughter to you."
Elizabeth's cheeks warmed.
This time she could not hide it by turning away. William felt her hand tense beneath his.
"Your heart is gold," Arthur continued, "and your soul is dragonmascus steel. Never lose that. Never forget that your king said it."
William pushed his chair back and stood.
He bowed his head deeply.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Arthur raised his ale and laughed.
"There he goes again."
The table's tension broke.
Philip shook his head, Queen Elizabeth smiled into her tea, and Henry raised his own cup toward William. Aldric followed, then Victoria. Jane lifted hers with measured approval. Elizabeth did not release William's hand until he had to sit again.
The feast carried on into the night.
Elias demanded William tell him the part about jumping between horses. Elise fell asleep against Henry before dessert. Aldric discovered that Mason's Binapple Cider Hammer Tonic had earned every word of its name and spent several minutes insisting the table was leaning politically to the left.
Arthur laughed louder with each cup of ale. Philip stopped calling him Your Majesty by the third. Queen Elizabeth finally allowed William a second Gleam Lemon Tart after telling him that knights did not need permission to eat at their own celebrations.
And sometime near the final bell, beneath warm candles and the red-and-white banners of the Crown, William looked around the King's table and let himself believe—just for that night—that he had truly survived Ashford.