Back in Runa. Less sore this time. Maybe his muscles were finally toughening to the saddle. Willow hoped so. But—he grimaced at the thought—he had come for an extended stay now. Time enough for those muscles to get tender and squishy again.

He groaned as he headed into the Old Ogre Inn with Creaklee resting in black silence around him. Night here felt so quiet after the rattle and bang of tradespeople at work. He made for the front counter of the common room and paid for a month's lodgings.

"A month?" Roke looked surprised but glad to get the money.

"Possibly longer." Willow dropped his shoulder bag and climbed onto a counter stool, requesting a bowl of stew. A few drowsy candles nodded light into the room, which held only Willow and Roke tonight. The chairs slept tilted against their tables like drunkards after too much ale.

"Why so long this time?" Roke asked.

"I have business with the princesses."

"Ohhh! Bet you do." Roke winked and went to ladle out the stew. Willow noted his former schoolmate's hair looked thin, though he was only a few years older. And he habitually stooped. One of those men who would look middle-aged before thirty, and like an old man ten years later. Nature was not always kind.

"I don't mean it that way," Willow said when the bowl came back. "I'm not courting."

"Mean you haven't taken a fancy to even one of them pretty faces?"

Willow blushed. "Well...."

"HA!" Roke smacked the counter. "Knew it! The curvy black-haired one, I'm betting. She's a luscious little treat—"

"Stop." Willow didn't like that kind of talk. "I like them all. Actually, I haven't met them all. But the eldest is very respectable."

"Ah, so it's the eldest," Roke said. "Can't say I care much for that one. We like the buxom Bella Reino beauty."

"We?"

Roke nodded at the empty common room. "Her name comes up here pretty often. Want to know what the fellows say about her?"

"No," Willow said firmly. Roke merely laughed and told him anyway, and Willow's ears burned to hear a young woman spoken of so grotesquely. Men were such pigs sometimes. He hadn't even met Princess Coralina, yet felt ready to slay those men for her honor.

"Anyway...." Roke seemed to take note of Willow's discomfort. "Some rumors have been floatin' down through the kingdom. Intriguing stuff, too. Heard any of 'em?"

"Why would I?" Willow shoveled in the lumpy stew, now out of temper. He had forgotten about Roke's nasty side. It had been there in their school days, a sort of relish for ugly talk. Willow's mother hadn't liked Roke. He was beginning to understand why.

"You've heard nothing about the new king?" Roke said.

"New king? Of where?"

"Here, of course. The new king of Runa Realm."

Willow's heart went cold, and for a moment he thought he was about to hear of Maelyn's engagement. He stopped eating and braced himself. "Is the eldest getting married?"

"No, no, no!" Roke laughed. "Nothing like that." He lowered his voice. "What's rumbling around is that someone has a greater claim to the throne than Maelyn. A claim by blood."

"By blood? A blood relative?" Willow pushed away the stew. "That's impossible. Dellan and Runa had no children."

"Truuue."

"The only relative is Prince Roald. And he'll inherit Grunwold."

"Also true."

"So what are they talking about?"

"Well, I think history has taught us that kings don't always behave themselves, do they?"

Willow stared at Roke. "An illegitimate?"

Roke smiled with one side of his mouth.

"Is it certain?" Willow asked tensely. He felt afraid for Maelyn.

"No—just a rumor. But even an illegitimate would take precedence over orphans."

"Maelyn does a fine job." Willow didn't try to hide his anger. "Why can't they just leave her alone? Who started this rumor?"

"No one ever knows that. All we know is it's coming from Grunwold. Someone, possibly an old midwife, is claiming Dellan had a son. But not with Runa." Roke finished the smile with the other side of his mouth.

Willow dropped off the stool. He'd heard enough. "You shouldn't talk about this. It's probably not true and you could hurt people!" If this got back to Maelyn, it would crush her. He knew she already felt insecure about her position. This was all made up by mean people who just wanted to wound her.

Roke seemed unaffected by his outburst. "We don't live in a fairyland, Willow. We know those girls won't last. There's a lot to be gained if this rumor is true. Restoring the rightful king would come with handsome rewards for those who helped him."

Willow shouldered his bag. "I'll have nothing to do with it!" He marched up the stairs to his room, wondering what he ever saw in Roke. He was a weasel. He wished he could stop the rumor in its tracks, crush the snake under his boot before it slithered to Maelyn. He knew how this would affect her.

He probably couldn't stop the rumor from reaching her. Hurting her. But one thing was certain: she would never hear about it from his lips.