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Aidric had yet to reach nine years.

I knew the other children taunted him for being a bastard, but he ignored it.

But when those same children targeted a small page fresh from his family’s farm, Aidric laid the other boys out flat.

They did not bother him or the page again.

Aidric truly was his father’s son.

I watched Aidric grow.

He never lost the golden hair or too-bright blue eyes.

And he was a large boy. Strong.

But so awkward. Not with a sword, but with words.

So much like his father.

I named the boy King Maddox had given me Aidric, and he grew as any boy should.

There were times when he would look at me, and I swore I saw his father in his eyes.

Those days were the hardest. Particularly after King Maddox’s sudden death.

I watched my king and friend ride away from my castle.

While he rode tall and strong in the saddle, his heart was broken.

He had lost the woman he loved and had given me a child that shouldn’t exist but did.

A child he loved.

Such distractions were dangerous for anyone.

They were deadly for a king.

I stared at the bundle in the nursemaid’s arms.

The babe’s golden hair and too-bright blue eyes.

And understood why the king had no doubt of the child’s lineage.

Architect-be-damned.

It was his son.

“What do you want of me?” I asked the king.

“The babe cannot be raised beside Prince Caledon. I cannot do that to the queen.”

He turned to me. I knew what he wanted.

And I wanted to banish him from my study. Berate him for all he had done.

But for all of his faults, he took his vows seriously. That was half his pain.

And it wasn’t the child’s fault.