“Of course,” said Aedan with a sour grimace.
“Thank you for delivering the message.”
“You are most welcome.” She gave him a quick, bobbing curtsy, then turned and left the stables with a spring in her step.
Aedan moaned, leaned on his shovel, and hung his head in misery. One of the horses whinnied.
“Oh, shut up!” he said.
A couple days’ bed rest was more than sufficient for Michael to be up and about. After the first day, he was already complaining that he didn’t want to stay in bed, demonstrating he was as hardheaded as he was stubborn. But for a change, the empress put her foot down and gave Aedan orders to make sure he remained in repose, even if he had to tie him down.
Aedan delighted in the opportunity to take these orders literally, and the first time Michael tried to disobey, he tied him to the bedposts.
This brought on a royal tantrum of epic proportions, but after several hours, Aedan succeeded in getting Michael’s grudging word that he would not try to get out of bed if he untied him, and though he complained about it bitterly, the remainder of the recuperation period passed without further incident.
To his credit, Aedan thought, when Michael found out that Corwin had been sent to the dungeons on his account, even though it had only been for about two hours, he was deeply chagrined and immediately sent for the older boy.
Corwin arrived looking pale as death. When Lord Arwyn had ordered him thrown into the dungeons, the poor boy had been convinced that he would never see the light of day again. However, when he was released a mere two hours later, though it had still felt like an eternity to him, it was without any explanation. Consequently, when the jailer came to take him from his cell, Corwin had felt sure he was on his way to meet the headsman’s axe.
Aedan was there when Corwin came into Michael’s chambers and fell to his knees to plead forgiveness.
Michael immediately told him to get up and come over to the side of his bed, whereupon he told the older boy that, by rights, it was he who should be asking his forgiveness.
“What you gave me I had coming,” Michael told him. “I got no more than I deserved. And it was a well-struck blow, whereas mine was most unseemly.
I am truly sorry, Corwin, that you had to spend time in the dungeons on my account. I promise I shall try to find a way to make it up to you.
Will you forgive me?”
Corwin was so flustered, he did not know what to say.
“Corwin, please say you’ll forgive me, or Aedan will be very angry with me and I shall never hear the end of it.”
“But … Your Highness, it is not my place to-“
“Corwin, if I say it is your place to forgive me, then it is your place to forgive me, so forgive me and let’s have done with it, shall we?”
Corwin accepted Michael’s apology, and then Michael accepted his, remarking how it was the first time Haelyn had ever lost the Battle of Mount
Deismaar, and to a goblin general, at that. “Next time, there shall be a reckoning,” he cautioned.
Corwin looked dismayed. “Next time?”
“Of course,” said Michael. “After all, I have a score to settle with the goblins now.”
Corwin swallowed nervously. “Perhaps, Your Highness, next time I might have the privilege of fighting on the side of the Anuireans.”
“No, no, I want you on Azrai’s side,” said Michael.
“Everybody else always holds back a little when they fight me, because I am the prince. But you did not hold bac . And that’s just what I want.
I will never get any better if everyone always holds back and lets me win. Next time, Corwin, I want you to make me work for it.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Corwin said, with a bow, though he was clearly unhappy with the whole idea. The thought filled him with dread.
“And another thing,” said Michael. “I’m tired of everybody calling me that all the time. Your Highness this, Your Highness that…. Nobody ever calls me by my name except my sisters and my parents, and I hardly ever talk to them. What is the point in having a name if no one ever uses it?”
“It would not be proper for people to address the heir to throne by his first name, Your Highness,” Aedan said, not bothering to comment on the fact that the reason Michael’s sisters rarely spoke to him was because they were spoiled rotten and detested him, and most parents had better things to do than spend time speaking with their children, anyway.
Besides, the emperor was in poor health and rarely spoke to anyone these days, leaving most matters of state to his royal chamberlain, and the empress was
too busy with her daughters, trying to get them married off, which was no easy task considering their lofty rank and still more lofty dispositions, to say nothing of the fact that there were seven of them.
“Well, I don’t care. I’m tired of it,” the prince maintained. “Can’t they at least call me ‘my lord Michael’ or something?”
“Hmm,” said Aedan. “As it is a point of royal etiquette, I shall have to consult my father. Perhaps, since you wish it, he may allow it in informal circumstances, but only among your intimate friends at court.”
“He may allow it?” Michael said, bridling. “Why should it be his decision? I am heir to the throne, while he is only the royal chamberlain.”
“That is very true,” admitted Aedan, “but the matter does not rest with him alone. There is the question of precedent, and the etiquette of titles and so forth, which may have to be researched. It is a complicated matter.”
“Well, have him look into it as
