Rak nodded, turned away, and grimaced at the robes. “Are you ready, Tebber? This wil not be easy.”

  “Need help?” Jisten asked wistfuly from the doorway. The colors of the phoenix on Rak’s back drew the eye.

  “Yes,” said Tebber and Rak in one breath.

  Jisten appeared at their side. “The wings have to be smoothed through first, yes?” he said in a breathless voice.

  Rak nodded and started directing them. It was easier with two assistants, and Jisten’s hands instinctively knew what to do with the wings, when to push, when to smooth, when to pul.

  “Getting out of them is just as much fun as getting in them,” Rak quipped once it was over.

  “I would think it would be harder to get the wings out,” Jisten said, missing the tease.

  “Hmm,” said Rak, trying not to laugh at the man he already thought of as a friend.

  “Time for the prince’s resurrection,” Jisten said, now catching Rak’s humor.

  “Ai, let us al stand witness to the miracle of Jethain’s resurrection,”

  said Rak. “As foretold. By me, three nights ago.”

  The great hal was crowded with miling, sleepy, and some grumpy nobles. Even Owain looked a little haggard. Jezaia looked like a hawk, both in her sharp eyes raking over the room and her tense posture. Sed and Kordri set Jethain on the padded table in the center of the room.

  Photas and Murson trailed behind them in a type of cream and gold funeral procession. Forael was notable by his absence.

  Jisten took a place next to Jethain’s head, since Owain hadn’t claimed the spot. To pass the time, Rak preached about the importance of some obscure sacred thing that no Koilathan had even heard of. Scorth snickered softly from behind Jisten, who grinned, just a bit.

  The nobles looked like they were about to go into comas. Thezi were not known for their stirring sermons. One noble even fel back asleep. His head fel to the side and he snored softly. Photas listened with true interest but Murson had on his usual sour expression, eyebrows knitted together and shoulders hunched.

  Finaly, Rak turned to Jethain. ” Arise!” he said and waved his arms.

  Jethain sat straight up and yeled, “Mercs!”

  “Behold the power of the Lord of Night!” Rak clawed his hands skyward. Then he leaned toward Jethain. “And brother, we kiled al of the mercs.”

  Jisten hastened to reassure the prince. “Sire! You’re in the palace!

  Safe!”

  Jethain looked wildly from Rak to Jisten to his own father, who looked vaguely disappointed. Rak understood the confused expression on the prince’s face. One moment Jethain had been fighting, and then wounded, and then Rak was pouring something down his throat, and now this?

  Jethain doubled over his stitched abdomen with a moan of pain.

  “Prince! S’Rak!” Jisten said and supported Jethain. Owain perked up.

  Rak was immediately at his side. “Forael couldn’t heal everything.

  There are stitches, you must take it easy.”

  “Aside, dark one,” Murson said. “I wil take care of the prince. Do not make matters worse for yourself.”

  “You both may inspect Jethain,” Owain said. “There is no dispute between the crown and the Sun Temple.”

  They laid Jethain back down and Rak scrutinized the wound. “So far, so good.”

  “My healing is more than so far so good,” Murson snapped.

  “Forael? Mercs? Wait, I remember, oh,” Jethain went quiet at the memory of the sword impaling him. He ignored Murson.

  “He’s dying again?” a noble asked.

  The queen, not to be ignored, wailed and threw herself on her wounded son. Jethain gave an involuntary cry of pain. A resigned Owain and Jisten puled her back before Rak could throttle her. Jisten gestured to Sed and Kordri, who carefuly helped Jethain onto the litter.

  “Dying? No. But he took a mortal wound and it is only half healed,”

  Rak told that noble. “Please take the prince to my quarters.”

  Owain came over and laid a heavy hand on Jethain’s shoulder. Jethain flinched and looked up at the king. “My son wil recover in his own chambers,” Owain pronounced. “He took a mortal wound after al. But his brother, my eldest son and crown prince, is here now.”

  Rak muttered under his breath, “Where al the curious visitors wil make sure that he never heals.” Aloud, Rak said, “Let us put the prince in bed. Where he wil remain until I say otherwise.”

  “Or one of the senior sun priests clears him,” Owain corrected mildly.

  “Such as myself,” Murson said petulantly.

  “Ix. He is my patient now. I wil not let some arrogant sun priest overrule me. Only Forael, who is the same rank as I, has that right.”

  “The high priest would know best, King Owain,” Photas said deferentialy. “Forael placed the prince’s healing in his hands. I witnessed it myself.”

  Murson’s glare at the junior priest made the younger man’s throat apple bob.Rak inclined his head to Photas. “Thank you.”

  Photas inclined his head gravely in return.

  “Wel, wel, let’s not have a theological squabble over ranks,” Owain said.

  “There is no squabble,” Rak assured the king. “Jethain is my brother, my friend, and my patient. Photas, warn your felows to steer clear.”

  “Forael’s orders were quite clear. Quite,” Photas said. “Since our Ylion wil recover in a day or so, they remain in effect.”

  “With me, Photas, we have much to discuss.” Murson pointed his staff and the junior sun priest’s throat apple worked nervously again as he exited.

  Rak gestured to Sedrael. “Let us go. This discussion is over.”

  Sed and Kordri picked up the litter. Jisten took point. Rak didn’t give a wyvern’s ass what Owain thought of that, either. They walked out on him.

  Owain went back to politicking with the sleepy nobles, although most just wanted to go back to bed.

  “I might as wel take up residence in Jethain’s quarters,” Rak grumbled as he walked.

  “There are spare bedrooms,” Jisten said, “I’l use the lounge chair by the prince’s bed.”

  “I don’t need nannies!” protested Jethain. He tried to sit up. “Ow.

  What did I miss? Ow. What’s going on?”

  “Al sorts of things, and I’l only tel you if you lie quietly on your bed like a good patient,” Jisten said.

  Rak resisted the urge to flop on a chair. He hovered instead, as the guards moved Jethain into his bed. He had hovering competition, for Jisten jockeyed for position as wel. Every time Jisten brushed against him, Rak shivered in delight fueled by slave fires. Jethain protested al the while, but his face was pale and his lips bloodless. Healing did not create extra blood, and the prince had lost a lot.

  Once Jethain was in the bed, Jisten asked Rak, “Check the wound, please?”

  Rak touched Jethain. “Are you ready?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but bared the wound. The stitches were holding, so he palpated. The topmost edge of the wound seeped blood, stressed from when the prince had sat up.

  “Stop that!” Jethain gasped and batted at Rak’s hands.

  “Blood!” Jisten cursed and dropped a blood amulet on the prince.

  Rak ignored the batting hands. At least Jethain wasn’t chewing on his arm like that firemane had. Rak summoned a bal of night flames. When he set them on the wound, Jisten and Jethain watched with identical expressions of surprise and interest. Jisten pressed against Rak, eyes wide. Rak suppressed his moan of desire and pressed back.

  “What is that?” Jethain asked. The flames danced along his bely, finding the seeping area and healing it.

  “Night flames,” said Rak. He shooed them away with a finger before they could heal the cut completely. He worried that wound rot could stil set in a lower layer and need to be drained. The flames danced across Jethain’s body, healing al sorts of minor scrapes and wounds and bruises.

  “How do you feel?” Jisten asked the prince once the night flames vanished.

  “Better,” said Jethain, sounding surprised. He tried to sit up but couldn’t balance. He would have falen back, but Jisten caught his upper body.

  “Please do not do that again without permission,” said Rak.

  Jisten grinned at Rak, then the prince. “You heard the high priest.”

  While Jethain grumbled, Jisten dragged a giant chair next to the bed. “And I’m here to enforce it.”

  “Awake a bare hour, and already he is noncompliant,” said Rak to nobody in particular. “And they cal me a bad patient?”

  “You’re a prince and a high priest,” Jisten said. “Double dose of stubbornness?”

  “That is possible,” agreed Rak gravely, stifling the laughter that wanted to bubble out.

  “Yes! Prince and high priest!” Owain entered the room with royal presence. “Thank Zotien for returning my son to me!”

  Jethain stretched his legs under the covers and stiffened. “Where are my socks?”

  Jisten was up in a flash. He rummaged in a drawer, withdrew a black mass, and returned to the bed. “Stay down,” Jisten ordered. “I’m sure stretching to put on socks is not what the high priest ordered.”

  Rak watched, mystified. “Do you have trouble keeping your feet warm? I have heard of that. And ix, definitely no stretching like that.”

  “A prince should put on his own socks,” Owain muttered, but his expression cleared. “Quite a miracle you puled off, Araken.”

  Rak turned to Owain to block him from Jethain. “As I told you, the potion has been used for hundreds of years, and it has always worked in that exact manner. There was no doubt that Jethain would awaken on schedule.”

  Owain clapped Rak on the shoulder. “Not that the nobles knew that.

  But now they are convinced of your power. A prince should be powerful.”

  Jethain turned his face to the wal. Jisten frowned as he puled on the prince’s socks.

  “Jethain is powerful,” replied Rak carefuly. “And now he is even more powerful, because I am his aly.”

  Owain sat on the bed and shook Jethain’s shoulder heartily. The prince winced but turned his head back towards the king. Rak hovered to prevent Owain from injuring Jethain.

  “Now Jethain, you have the rest of the night to sleep, and we’l present you to the council in the morning alongside my son Araken. That wil be a show of power!”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Ix. The prince does not leave this bed until I say he can.” Rak’s voice was flat.

  “I thought he was healed!” Owain huffed.

  “He lost a lot of blood and needs to recover from that. Healing does not fix everything,” said Rak tiredly.

  “Jethain, do you want to lie in this bed?” Owain’s question was condescending.

  “This is not something he has a choice in,” said Rak sharply.

  “I’l be strong, Father,” Jethain said, ignoring Rak. “I’l show you and the nobles. Just a little sleep and I’l be there.”

  “Ix,” said Rak. “At least a ful day and night!”

  Owain patted Rak. “Son, the animals can rest a day and night. You are a high priest, you understand duty. Us royals can’t take the luxury of such.

  Jethain knows this.”

  “Please consider postponing the council meeting one day, sire,” Jisten said. “Half the nobles were up for Jethain’s awakening. They’l want to sleep late.”

  “Jethain’s imminent demise and miraculous recovery was deemed worthy of a new council meeting.”

  Rak sighed and let his shoulders slump. “Very wel. Do as you wil, but do not come crying to me when it goes badly wrong.”

  “I think I’l sleep now.” Jethain curled on his side, facing the wal. Jisten watched him with a worried expression.

  “Go,” said Rak to Owain. “Let your son sleep.”

  “Yes, do get some sleep.” Owain bustled out.

  Rak immediately turned to Jisten. “Where can we hide him?”

  Jisten’s worried expression lifted. “The west back corridor is lined with doss rooms only used for extra servants during the largest festivals.”

  Rak unroled the litter. “Let us go. At this hour of night, not even the servants wil see this.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?” Jethain roled back over and looked at the two.

  “Ai, now, gently ease yourself onto this litter.”

  Jisten pointed to the litter. “There, my prince, or face a council of sleepy, irritated malcontents.”

  “Did I ever mention that my first spouse tried to steal me?” asked Rak to distract Jethain from the fact that they were defying the king. Both prince and captain snapped their attention to Rak.

  Rak gave them both an innocent look. “What?”

  Jisten and Jethain looked at each other and then said, “Nothing.”

  Rak was baffled. They both knew he’d been a slave. “Just get on the litter,” he said.

  “Tel us?” Jethain said as he settled on the litter. Jisten and Rak lifted the litter and carried Jethain out of the royal suite.

  “It is a long story. His attempt failed.” He told them the short version as they walked. They turned down a narrow halway that ran alongside the great hal. It wasn’t connected to the kitchens at the far end, which limited its usefulness as a thoroughfare.

  “But here you are. How did you escape?” asked Jethain. Jisten indicated a random door, the fourth one down.

  Rak just smiled and said, “Here we are, your new sanctuary.” They took Jethain into the plainly furnished room. Rak glanced about and nodded. “This wil do.”

  Jethain felt sufficiently embarrassed by the litter ride to stand up. Al the color drained from his face and his blue eyes roled upwards. Rak leapt to catch him and colided with Jisten. The three went down in a heap, but Jethain landed on top, cushioned by the two men beneath him.

  Rak closed his eyes and struggled to deal with surging fires. Blastedly handsome men! Rak thought savagely as he controled himself.

  “We should get him on the bed,” Rak finaly suggested. He wanted to add that then Jisten could get him on a bed, too, but refrained. Barely.

  Jisten’s hands searched along their bodies and separated out Jethain’s.

  Rak almost lost control again when Jisten’s hand ran up his leg.

  They arranged Jethain on the bed and Jisten asked, “Please, S’Rak, check the wound.” He obligingly lifted Jethain’s shirt.

  Rak took a deep breath and let his hands slide along Jethain’s muscular abdomen. Nothing felt wrong. “We have been lucky thus far.”

  Jisten sat on Jethain’s bed. Rak masked his disappointment. “You need sleep also,” he said instead of what he wanted to say.

  Jisten stretched his arms up and then behind him to stretch his chest. He yawned and said, “Have to guard the prince.”

  “Guard him during the day.” Rak would have said more, but he was busy ogling Jisten’s chest.

  “Night and day,” Jisten yawned again. He unbuttoned his uniform coat.

  “But since no one knows that we’re here, I can at least take this off.”

  Rak stifled a sigh and found a comfortable place to keep watch from.

  “Sleep, captain.”

  There was a thin golden yelow shirt under the uniform coat that showed off the captain’s muscular chest. Jisten flopped onto a smal couch. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. I wil keep watch.” Rak smiled wryly. “I do not sleep at night as a general rule.”

  “But then you must sleep during the day,” Jisten tried to sound stern.

  “Only fair.”

  “That is customary,” agreed Rak. Under his breath, he added, “If only it were with you.”

  “Hmmm?” Jisten sprawled his legs over the couch. His eyelids drooped.

  Rak admired the legs. “Ah, nothing. Sleep, captain.”

  Eyelids closed al the way and in no time the captain’s chest rose and fel in the steady rhythm of sleep. Rak studied the sleeping captain for a while. Then he was forced to look away. He’d have no choice but to find someone tomorrow. Either Tebber or Yonaph would do. He concentrated on the meditations once more. It passed the time.

  Chapter Nine: A Charming Kingdom

  Musday, the 31st of Evphormon

  “My other son has been abed long enough,” Owain said. “He better be dressed and ready to attend the meeting.”

  “Other son, Your Majesty? I thought that we were fetching Prince Jethain?” Lieutenant Kordri’s step faltered, ready to change direction.

  “Yes, yes, Jethain.” Owain’s ground eating stride didn’t falter and he swept into Jethain’s suite. He surveyed the empty suite. Not even a servant in sight. He growled and his own servants nervously opened doors.

  “He’s not here, Your Majesty.”

  “No matter. We’l fetch my heir, at least, for the meeting.” Owain swept out in the same royal fashion. He led the way to S’Rak’s suite. “I’m certain that Araken is hiding Jethain in his empty bedroom again. He is loyal to his brother. Strong, loyal, inteligent, fertile, yes, we shal have a fine king on the throne.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Kordri agreed. He looked at the king with concern. The servants opened the door for him and he swept into the suite’s empty reception chamber. He continued on to the parlor. Lord Scorth was coiled on the couch, an open book on his knee.

  “Where is Araken?” asked Owain.

  “I haven’t seen him al night,” said the horned black man without glancing up.

  Owain’s servants opened doors and peeked into the rooms. When they opened the door to Rak’s bedroom, they found it empty but for the death hound curled up in a whelping box, nursing her newborn pups. Her deep growl hastened their departure.

  “Where is he?” barked the king, his displeasure growing. He snatched the book out of Scorth’s hands.

  Scorth glared at him with baleful yelow eyes. “He is not here and I would not tel you where he was even if I knew.” He stood, his black wings spreading. “I do not answer to you, but to S’Rak alone.”

  Morth added his deep growl from the chair he’d claimed, his milky white eyes fixing on the king. Kordri took up a defensive position but Owain dropped the book onto the floor and strode out. “Find my sons,”