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In the center of the room, however, was the tableau that he had been brought in to witness. King Scrainwood stood talking to a tall, handsome woman with white-blonde hair and eyes as pale as Princess Sayce’s. Between them was a tall, clean-limbed man wearing a green leather mask. He had the thin line of a beard running about his jaw, so Will guessed he was old enough to legitimately be wearing a mask.

Scrainwood let a smile slither onto his face. “Ah, Will, there you are. Please, meet your father’s wife, Lady Nolda Norrington. This is your half brother, your elder half brother, Kenleigh Norrington. He is, obviously, the Norrington.”

Kenleigh smiled down at Will as the thief approached. The man’s big brown eyes watched him closely and his left hand moved to cover his purse. The clothes he wore were quite stylish, but Will had learned enough about fine clothes to realize these had likely been taken from Linchmere’s wardrobe, since they did not quite fit correctly.

Will’s gaze flicked up to meet Kenleigh’s, and he was surprised to see the man flinch because Kenleigh had to have five inches and forty pounds on him. Will looked at Kenleigh’s hands and saw how rough they were, and scarred. They weren’t the hands of a noble or even a warrior.

They were the hands of a farmer.

A chill that ran bone deep shook Will, and he looked up at King Scrainwood. “I know why you are doing this. I’ve defied you. You hate me. Fine. I have to ask, though, do you realize what you are going to do to Kenleigh?”

Kenleigh spoke up in a soft voice. “I’m not afraid.”

“No?” Will looked up at him. “I bet you’re not. And you know why? Because you’re a good man. You believe in hard work and honesty, right? And you’re here because the king sent for you and your mother and told you that you have a duty to your nation?”

His half brother nodded solemnly. “The prophecy calls, and I am here to do what must be done.”

“Of course you are.” Will sighed. “The problem is that those things that need to be done might just be beyond you.”

Scrainwood hissed. “Some gutterkin telling an Oriosan noble that he is inferior?”

“Inferior? No. He’s just too nice.” Will shook his head, then looked up at Scrainwood. “If you were a coin with your eyes put out, you couldn’t be more blind, could you? Let me suppose some things. Once my father went over to Chytrine, you confiscated the Norrington holdings and wanted to forget the family and the prophecy. My father’s wife and her sons were reduced to poverty. You couldn’t punish Norringtons, so you punished these people. And when I was brought forward as being the Norrington of prophecy, suddenly you wanted me to be your Norrington. You gave me a mask, the lands that should have belonged to them, and you wanted me to be your pet.“

The thief glanced up at Lady Nolda. “You’d always clung to the idea of the prophecy as a way to redeem your life and you assumed one of your boys would be the Norrington. You remained ignored until a week ago, when you were sent for because I would not do King Scrainwood’s bidding. He promised you your lands again if your son would be the Norrington.”

The woman raised her chin imperiously. “It is for the good of the nation.”

Will scrubbed a hand over his face. “No. It’s good for you. It’s also insane.”

Will’s voice rose. Yes, he was angry with Scrainwood for being a greedy manipulative toad, but he was also angry with everyone else for not seeing what Princess Sayce had said: that they were wasting time. Every moment that was not spent fighting against Chytrine only allowed her to grow stronger.

Most of all, though, he was angry with himself. Deep down inside, when Scrainwood had announced that there was another Norrington, Will had felt happy. The burden that had been thrust upon him had been lifted. He was free. He’d had enough adventures to be drinking off them forever. He might have not killed any sullanciri, but he’d survived their attacks. He’d done countless things that would satisfy a lifetime’s desire for adventure.

The problem was, of course, that those things were not enough. Chytrine was still out there. He had to do more, and what he had to do wasn’t going to be pretty, and a lot of folks would die—including folks who never should have been involved.

Starting with Kenleigh.

Will looked past him to his mother. “You want lands and titles? Before I leave Meredo I will sign over to you all the Norrington lands. They’re yours.”

Lady Nolda’s eyes half lidded with contempt. “They are already my son’s.”

“Not for long. The king will only let you keep them if your son proves to be the Norrington.”

“He is.”

“Trust me, Lady Nolda. Your son may be brave and kind and considerate and a hard worker, and he may love you more than he loves his country, but the Norrington he’s not.”

Kenleigh reached out and settled his left hand on Will’s right shoulder. “I know who I am.”

Will’s body tensed. In the blink of an eye he could have plucked the hand from his shoulder, then rotated beneath it, twisting the arm around. A quick wrench and a kick to the back of Kenleigh’s left knee, and the man would have been driven to the floor. Then the thief sighed and let his body relax. He didn’t need to resort to physical violence.

“Kenleigh, I know who you are, too, and that’s why I know you’re not the Norrington. If you were, you’d kiss your mother good-bye right now, because you’ll never see her again. I don’t know how they’ll do it, but they’ll kill her. Ask the king; he knows. Can you imagine it, Kenleigh, standing here, with your mother’s head new-plucked from her body and placed in your hands? Can you see her expression as she stares up at you? Can you feel her blood seeping between your fingers?”

As Will spoke, Scrainwood’s face drained of color. “How dare you!”

Will pointed his left index finger at Scrainwood. “Going to hit me again? I dare because you are a coward.”

Stars exploded before Will’s eyes and he suddenly found himself sitting on the ground. He looked up at Kenleigh and saw Dranae restraining his half brother. Will blinked; his left eye was already beginning to swell shut. And Kenleigh’s angry expression had already begun to melt into one of horror at what he had done.

“Nice punch.” Will drew himself to his feet carefully, but still staggered back a step. He shook his head again, then snorted a spray of blood. “Really, nice punch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” The thief wiped his nose, then flicked the blood on the ground. “You see, King Scrainwood? I insult you, but you don’t dare hit me now. Your son didn’t dare hit me. It took one of your countrymen to do it. If you were worthy of such loyalty from stouthearted men, Oriosa would be a bulwark against Chytrine. Oriosa is not because you are a coward and fool.”

He looked back over at his half brother. “And you didn’t hit me just for what I said about the king, did you? You hit me because you didn’t want your mother to die. You love her and your country so much that you’d become the Norrington if she and the king told you to. And when you learned that she’d die because of it, you were torn, right?”

Kenleigh glanced down, not meeting his gaze.

“Well, here is the thing of it.” Will wiped a bloody smear on his sleeve. “I don’t know if I’m really the Norrington or not, but Chytrine and her sullanciri seem to think I am. They’ve killed my friends because of it. They’ve tried to kill me. So, until we can convince her different, I’m the Norrington.”

He walked over to Kenleigh and patted the man on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, too good for this business. Use the lands well and wisely. Lands and titles don’t make me the Norrington, and they’ll be in good hands with you.”