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the best cure.”
    “There is not time
for rest,” Caelan said, frowning. “And I am well.”
    Orlo touched his
shoulder gently. “A lie,” he said, but the reproof was mild. “Stop the lies, Caelan.
You lie to the world. You lie to the prince. You lie to me. Worst of all, you
lie to yourself.”
    “I don’t
understand.”
    Orlo’s gaze never
wavered. “I think you do. You threw yourself on the Madrun’s sword as though it
was nothing. Stupid or courageous, who can say? But why can’t you throw
yourself on the truth?”
    Caelan’s temper
slipped. “Speak your mind, Orlo. Not these riddles.”
    “He won’t free
you.”
    It was like having
the sword pierce his side all over again. Caelan lost his breath and struggled
to regain it.
    “You are wrong,”
he said, his voice weak against the intensity of his emotions. His fist
clenched on the coverlet. “Wrong.”
    “I have made my
share of mistakes,” Orlo said, “enough to know that it is stupid to walk about
in blindness. His highness will never free you as long as you are valuable to
him. No matter how many times you guard his back when he goes where he should
not. You have served him with all your heart and soul. Yesterday you nearly got
yourself killed for him, and none of it will avail you.”
    “I will be free
again,” Caelan said grimly, staring into space. “I have his word.”
    Orlo snorted, his
square face branded with cynicism. “Oh? You have the word of our kind, honest
master. Soon enough there will be betrayal to balance the honey. I have warned
you enough, but you never heed warnings, do you?”
    Caelan glared at
the trainer, hating everything he said. “Careful, Orlo. You’re stepping close
to treason.”
    “No,” Orlo said. “He
is.”
    Caelan surged to
his feet.
    Orlo took two
quick steps back, balancing on the balls of his feet, his eyes watchful and
wary. “Defend him,” he said in what was almost a taunt. “You always do.”
    “It is my duty to
defend him,” Caelan said hotly.
    “Why? Do you have
hopes of becoming his protector when he takes the throne?”
    The accusation hit
Caelan like a glove of challenge. Caelan’s eyes widened. How much did Orlo
know? How much had he overheard? Or was this only speculation?
    He was not quick
enough to keep his reaction from his face. It was Orlo’s turn to stare with
widened eyes.
    “Great Gault,” he
breathed, taking yet another step back from Caelan. “So he has promised you
that.”
    Caelan felt
stripped and vulnerable. To deny it would be useless, yet he could not confirm
it either without condemning himself. He said nothing.
    Orlo frowned and
slowly shook his head. “You great fool,” he said at last, pity in his voice. “Can’t
you see he is—”
    “He does not use
me,” Caelan broke in hotly. “You understand nothing of this matter. Nothing!”
    “No wonder you
pulled the Madrun’s sword into your side. With that incentive, what man would
not take tremendous risks?” Orlo glanced sharply at Caelan. “But can’t you see
that he is jealous of you?”
    Caelan’s mouth
fell open in astonishment. “Jealous!”
    “Whose name were
they screaming yesterday?”
    “But he is the
prince.”
    “And you have the
popularity,” Orlo said with scorn. Glancing at the door, he kept his voice low.
“When you ride through the streets at the prince’s side, cheers from the
populace are guaranteed. He can pretend the cheers are for him. It sends a
message to the emperor, does it not? But inside, the prince knows the truth.
His popularity is purchased, and at the crux it will not hold.”
    “Take care, Orlo,”
Caelan said in warning.
    “No, you take care. Prince Tirhin is a desperate man, and I tell you to watch yourself.
When you cease to be of use, he will discard you as he does all his worn-out
possessions.”
    Caelan’s chin
lifted with dignity. “I have his word.”
    Without warning
Orlo closed the distance between them and gripped Caelan’s shoulder hard.