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him no end of trouble. But the little ones—ah, now they were his true joy in life. He had adored Adrina when she was ten. Now he was almost frightened of her.
    “Might I suggest you place a guard on the princess? She could decide to defy you.”
    “She won’t defy me,” Hablet assured him. “It willoccur to her soon enough that she’ll be the Karien Queen one day. Adrina isn’t stupid, Lecter. She’ll do what I want, but not because it pleases me. She’ll do it because it pleases her.”
    “I hope your trust in her is not misplaced, your Majesty.”
    “Trust has nothing to do with it. She’s been dying to escape the palace, and I’ve just given her a crown.”
    “A crown she could turn on you one day?” Lecter suggested tentatively.
    “Hah! Adrina? And that simpering Karien prince? I don’t think so! Adrina might have it in her to commit such treachery, but Cratyn is as spineless as a jellyfish. Did you see what they’ve agreed to? How much timber they’re willing to part with, just to get access to Solanndy Bay and the Gulf? They’re idiots!”
    “You control the only access to their holiest shrine, your Majesty, not to mention any chance they have of sea-going trade. You didn’t really leave them much choice.”
    “They want the secret of my cannon,” Hablet added. “They want that even more than they want trade or access to that miserable Isle of Slarn. What sort of god chooses a lump of rock like Slarn to make his home, anyway?”
    “The same sort of god who will demand your daughter convert to his worship. Your grandchildren will be followers of Xaphista.”
    “Adrina pointed out the same thing,” the king mused, walking back to his desk. “Odd to hear you two in agreement on any point. Still, Laryssa is due to whelp any day now. She’ll give me a son and it won’t matter how many Karien bastards Adrina has.”
    “Of course, your Majesty.” It was clear Lecter was as doubtful of the possibility as everyone else was. But surely Jelanna would not deny him again. Laryssa, the eighth woman he had taken to wife, had proved her fertility. She’d already given him two healthy bastard sons. Hablet had decided he would not marry any woman who couldn’t produce sons and it was perfectly reasonable to assume that she wouldn’t let him down this time. The thought warmed him, almost making him forget his anger at Adrina. A legitimate son. Nothing would make him happier.
    It wasn’t that Hablet didn’t love his baseborn sons. On the contrary, he adored them. But naming one his heir would cause problems. The throne needed a clear line of succession, and the law was clear, although not well known: either he sired a son himself, or the crown would go to Hythria, thanks to an almost forgotten twelve hundred-year-old agreement that Hablet had been trying to find a way around for thirty years. As he would rather fall on a rusty blade than see that happen, the only solution, if he did not have a legitimate son of his own, was to name one of his bastards heir. But he couldn’t do that until he had removed the threat of any Hythrun heirs to his throne, a situation he planned to see to personally once he was across the border into Hythria. Then, if Laryssa failed to whelp a boy, he could legitimise one of his baseborn sons, probably Tristan, and not just because he was the eldest. Tristan was the brightest, the most personable, and the least likely to allow Adrina to control him. Although, given last night’s disastrous escapade, Hablet was beginning to wonder about that.Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to send him north with Adrina…
    Hablet sighed. It was a moot point. Laryssa would give him a son. Adrina would be off his hands, out of sight and out of mind in Karien. Let her play Queen of the Realm in the north. He had their timber, their gold and their iron. In return they were getting his most troublesome daughter and a promise he had no intention of keeping.
    All in all, Hablet decided, looking