Ser Calder nodded.

  “Think about it,” Aefric said. “And let me know if you think you could adjust to being castellan of Water’s End, as the position will become.”

  “Your grace would be willing to let me try?”

  “So long as you do try, and don’t fall into old habits.”

  “There’s the hard part,” Ser Calder said with a grimace, then gave Aefric a thoughtful look. “And if I cannot?”

  “I could find a new role for you,” Aefric said. “I’ve been considering asking his majesty for permission to create a new baron to look after the land around the Dragonscar. That could be you.”

  “Baron Calder,” he said, with a small smile, then shook his head. “His majesty will never allow it. Not unless a ler is already in that post, proving that it needs more than a ler’s hand.”

  “How long would that take?”

  “Last one I heard of needed a decade.” Ser Calder shook his head. “Too long, for a man my age. Besides. My children are gone, so your grace would need to find a new baron after I passed anyway.”

  “It was worth a thought.”

  “It was a kind thought,” Ser Calder said. He bowed. “With your grace’s permission, I shall retire for the evening, to think.”

  “By all means,” Aefric said. “I’d like to retire soon myself.”

  Just before leaving the balcony, Ser Calder turned. “Oh, your grace?”

  “Yes?” Aefric asked, not three steps behind him.

  “No matter which way I decide, I still want that duel.”

  Aefric sighed. “And you will have it. After their majesties leave.”

  “Very well, your grace.”

  And speaking of their majesties, Aefric had to find out what Queen Eppida wanted.

  Despite what Aefric had been told, Queen Eppida was not waiting in the sitting room when he ascended the stairs to the private floor of his ducal apartments.

  A chill crept up the back of his neck. She hadn’t left. So where had she gone?

  He checked the door of his magic laboratory. Still sealed. No one had been in there since he last was, himself.

  Relief puffed out of him. All this talk about the many plots of the Fyrenn family—

  “In here, your grace,” Queen Eppida said, and her voice came from his bedroom.

  Because of course it did.

  So much for reading Byrhta’s letter and turning in early…

  Aefric entered his bedroom, to see her majesty standing at the enchanted glass windows that overlooked Lake Deepwater.

  She was distractingly naked. Her golden curls trailing down her back, and not so much as her golden torc to cover a fingerspan of her smooth, supple skin.

  Aefric’s pulse quickened at the sight of her. He suddenly realized he wasn’t nearly as tired as he’d thought he was…

  “Ah,” she said, turning to him with a smile, completing his delightful view. “This time I know I caused that reaction.”

  Aefric swallowed. “You did indeed, your majesty.”

  The queen arched an eyebrow at him.

  “Aefric,” she said. “I’m standing before you, naked as the day I was born. Tell me, is this a situation where you expect me to stand on formality?”

  “I’m sorry,” Aefric said. “I’m just—”

  “Surprised?” Eppida laughed softly, and started walking towards him with a sway that seemed to heat the room more than a fire in the hearth could’ve.

  “You shouldn’t be,” she continued. “I told you. Exacting tastes. And watching you take down that assassin. Your spells. Your manner. Saving Colm’s life. Possibly saving mine as well…” Her pale skin ripened with heat from the chest up. “I knew I had to have you again at the first opportunity.”

  She made a show of glancing over at Aefric’s immense, soft, ducal bed. She turned her eyes back to Aefric, and his breath caught.

  “I like that outfit on you,” she said softly. “But if you’re still dressed by the time I reach you, I’m tearing off your clothes.”

  Aefric smiled. Set the Brightstaff aside. Cast the spell that had disrobed Zoleen, to strip himself this time.

  Eppida’s eyes widened in approval as she took in the sight of him, naked and ready, and her breaths came faster.

  “Yes,” she said, wetting her lips. “Can you pick me up with magic?”

  Aefric nodded, and did so.

  Suspended in the air before him, she shuddered.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, Aefric. Now. Pin me to the bed with your spells...”

  Later, as they rested, perspiring and breathless and cuddled together on disheveled sheets, Eppida was gnawing gently on Aefric’s shoulder when she spoke.

  “May I offer you a word of advice?”

  “Oh,” Aefric said, embarrassment flooding his face. “If I did something wrong—”

  “Not about that,” Eppida said, laughing softly. She kissed his shoulder, and licked across a small scar left years ago by the glance of a thrown dagger. “No, if you needed advice in that area, I would never have come back for more.”

  “Oh,” Aefric said, settling down and stroking her side with the light touch she seemed to approve of. At least, that she approved of between times. “Good. About what then?”

  “Maev.”

  Nerves prickled along the back of Aefric’s neck.

  “What about her?” Aefric asked cautiously.

  “Believe me,” Eppida said, running her fingers across Aefric’s chest. “I understand your interest in her. Not only is she quite pretty, and a princess, but her personality seems well suited to a retired adventurer such as yourself.”

  “I see,” Aefric said, still as tentative as he might be if he expected her to announce his death sentence.

  “And she certainly adores you. I couldn’t name the last person she allowed to call her Maev for a full aett. And she’s let you do it for more than a season now.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Very good,” she said, and flicked her tongue across his nipple. She looked up at him, sympathy in those sapphire blue eyes. So like Zoleen’s and Ashling’s it was a little creepy.

  “She must marry King Dalius,” Eppida said softly. “You must accept this. She must accept this. That marriage is what’s best for Armyr. And to help you both accept this, I strongly urge you to deny her, if — or rather when — she comes to you for the noble privilege.”

  Strongly urge? Oh. Of course. She couldn’t order him to refuse. That would be a violation of the whole noble privilege system.

  “That will be difficult,” Aefric said.

  “I know,” Eppida said, patting Aefric’s hip sympathetically. “You want her. She wants you. It seems like the kind of circumstance the noble privilege exists for.”

  “It’s exactly the kind of circumstance the noble privilege exists for,” Aefric said. “The opportunity to slake desire without letting it interfere with politics.”

  “Normally I would agree,” she said, and shook him gently. “But it won’t be just the bliss moment. There’s too much feeling between the two of you.”

  She sat up. Leaned against several pillows. Pulled his head onto her lap.

  “Consider us,” she said. “I find you immensely desirable. I’d like to think you feel the same way about me.”

  Aefric leaned up and licked a bead of perspiration from her nipple, making her shiver.

  “Good,” she said. “Now, if we didn’t have the noble privilege, our mutual desire might grow and twist into something dangerous to Armyr. Might even lead to an illicit affair, of the sort Armyr hasn’t seen in centuries. The sort that causes rifts.”

  “And if Maev goes away to marry King Dalius? Without us ever satisfying our desires?”

  “She’ll be off in Varondam,” Eppida said. “You’ll be here at Water’s End. Distance alone will be enough to keep anything … untoward from happening.” She shook her head. “That’s not my point anyway. You two … what you have might not be love. Not yet. But it’s certainly more than simple desire. And so, if the two of you come together for the bliss moment, what you’ll share will be more than bliss. And that will only make what follows harder on you both.”

  “And what remedy do you suggest?” Aefric asked.

  “Zoleen, of course,” Eppida said. “She’s nearly as pretty as I am, and she’s filled out quite well.” She chuckled. “And if Zoleen isn’t enough to satisfy you, Sighild Ol’Masarkor will arrive in a few days, and I know she’d be thrilled to share your bed.”

  “You could as easily be suggesting any of the noblewomen of my court. Why do I think you’re talking about more than the bliss moment?”

  “Am I?” Eppida said, smiling. “Well, then by all means. Let us return our attention to the bliss moment at once!”

  She pounced on Aefric, and pursuit of the bliss moment kept them busy for quite some time.

  Later, as they rested again, sharing glasses of a sweet, minty sharabi, Eppida said, “You’re right, of course.”

  “About what?” Aefric asked.

  Eppida snuggled in, pillowing her head on his shoulder. She sipped a little more sharabi before speaking.

  “Of course I’m concerned about more than whom you share the bliss moment with.” She shook her head, and her hair felt soft against his skin. “I am the queen, after all. I worry about the future of all my vassals.”

  “So you are talking about marriage.”

  “Of course,” Eppida said, patting his thigh, then squeezing the muscles there. “Colm and I can’t have you dying childless, as Arinda did. We must find a bride for you.”

  “Which is why you want me to forget about Maev.”

  “Maev is not an option for you. She must marry King Dalius. Our alliance with Varondam depends on it.”

  “And if she secures the alliance without marriage?”

  Eppida sighed. “A fool’s notion. And you are not a fool.”

  “I take it your choice for me would be to marry Zoleen?”

  Eppida’s eyes sparkled. She took Aefric’s glass from him, and set both on the nightstand. She spun, facing him on her knees. She looked feral, the way her hair hung forward, covering much of her face.

  Aefric thought of Maev’s forest lynx, Sylkanis.

  “Of course Zoleen would be my first choice for you,” Eppida said softly. “Mine is the oldest noble family in all of Armyr. Marrying a Fyrenn would raise your standing in the eyes of not just every titled noble, but every ler and knight as well. And not only in Armyr, but in all the surrounding kingdoms.”

  Aefric sat up. Tried to distract her by making a show of gazing slowly over her glistening flesh. But she wasn’t to be distracted. Not then.

  “And if Zoleen displeases you,” she said softly, “consider Sighild.”

  “The daughter of one of my countess’ barons?” Aefric said. “She isn’t even directly my vassal. She’s the vassal of a vassal.”

  He reached out to move Eppida’s hair so he could see her eyes more clearly.

  She grabbed his hand. Nibbled on his wrist, and oh, she was good at that.

  “She’s a cousin,” Eppida said. “And I’m fond of her. And she’s positively smitten with you. I’d rather you married Zoleen. But if you prefer Sighild, I’ll see her well dowered.”

  She moved to pounce. Aefric intercepted her. Spun them so she came down on bottom, with him holding her to the mattress by her shoulders.

  “Yes,” she said softly, but then focus came back into her eyes. “I’ll even give Sighild a better title of her own than baroness, if you need me to.”

  The way Eppida moved her body against his demanded attention. For him to move events on to the next natural step.

  But he made her wait.

  Aefric smiled down at Eppida. “Suppose I prefer Byrhta Ol’Caran to both of them?”

  “A beauty for the ages to be sure,” she said. She tried for a kiss, but couldn’t reach. Licked her lips instead. “But no title. No impressive pedigree. Not even a dowry to speak of.”

  She reached for another kiss, but Aefric held his lips just out of reach.

  Eppida growled softly. “She’s no fit bride for a powerful duke.”

  “So you wouldn’t give her a title, to see me move on from Maev?”

  “Byrhta Ol’Caran is no kin of mine.”

  Eppida cheated their game then. Brought her hands together, stroking him someplace he couldn’t ignore.

  The time for conversation had passed again.

  Aefric kissed her hard, and she whimpered into his mouth. He moved one hand down from her shoulder—

  Someone knocked urgently on the door to his bedroom.

  Dajen’s knock?

  Dajen’s voice, muffled by the door.

  Dajen’s words were unclear, but Aefric’s ears picked out one very dangerous word…

  Eppida, her expression much more serious, said, “Did your man just say someone escaped?”

  Aefric nodded, stomach sinking. “I trust you’ll excuse me—”

  “Go,” she said.

  Aefric dismounted the queen and leapt off the bed, calling both a dressing gown and the Brightstaff to his hands, by magic.

  He ripped open the door as he yanked on the gown.

  Dajen stood there, perspiring for the first time that Aefric had ever seen.

  “Forgive me, your grace,” he said with a slight bow. “I would not interrupt—”

  “What’s this about an escape? Those Malimfari knights?”

  “No, your grace,” Dajen said. “It’s the wizard Gwawl. He’s gone.”

  A short time later, Aefric was dressed in his black silks again, and flying around the outside of his castle, on the hunt for a missing wizard.

  Water’s End was entirely lit up. Aefric could see guards and soldiers rushing around the grounds. No doubt searching for signs of the missing prisoner.

  Aefric made a sweep of the docks and looked out over the lake. Trying to spot any sign of an escaping ship or boat.

  Of course, any boat or ship escaping by night would be unlit…

  Aefric pulled the wand Garram from its sheath. He whipped up a spell that created a chain of fires across the night sky that spread into a broad net of fires, widening over Lake Deepwater. Fires that could scarcely have singed a swallow, but shed more than enough light to turn the dark night into a semblance of dusk for leagues around Water’s End.

  But he saw no sign of any waterborne escape taking place.

  “Nothing over the water, Aefric,” Karbin’s voice, shouted.

  Aefric turned to see his ducal wizard soaring through the air toward him. Aefric let the fire net dissipate as Karbin approached.

  “He didn’t escape by water,” Karbin said. “I’ve already checked.”

  “Have you checked the roads?”

  “There’s little point in that,” Karbin said. “Is there?”

  Aefric sighed. Was it his imagination, or was the night air cooler than it had been for some aetts now?

  “Only if he’s escaping by magaunt, which he won’t. Too easily spotted.”

  “And too easily detected,” Karbin said. “He’s not just a wizard, remember. He’s a criminal. He’s used to thinking like one. Which means he’s likely used illusion to disguise himself several different ways by now.”

  “Then he might be hiding nearby. Somewhere in the city.”

  “If so,” Karbin said, “we must assume he already has scry wards in place, to keep us from tracking him. I certainly would.”

  “As would I.” Aefric shook his head. “Let’s check the reports.”

  Together they descended to the ground before the great double doors of the castle. More than forty feet wide and sixty feet tall, those doors stood open now as soldiers and messengers ran about.

  In the middle of the chaos stood General Yrsa, giving orders and listening to reports. Ser Beornric stood beside her, apparently in an advisory role.

  “He’s coming down!” someone called. Ser Micham? Yes. All six of Aefric’s Knights of the Lake were gathered. Glaring up as though…

  Oh. Yes. Aefric had taken off “without regard for his safety” again, hadn’t he?

  The bustle of soldiers, knights and pages parted as Aefric landed. He immediately held up a calming hand.

  “I know what you’re going to say, Ser Beornric. But I had to join the search personally, the way I best could.”

  “Of course you did, your grace,” Ser Beornric said. “Which was why I suggested that your ducal wizard keep an eye out for you. My thanks, Karbin.”

  “Anytime, Beornric,” Karbin said, landing beside Aefric.

  So many torches and lamps in the courtyard that it looked almost like midday down here. And even though this part of the courtyard was tiled, the knights and soldiers had kicked up plenty of dust in their haste.

  “Ser Yrsa,” Aefric said. “What’s the status of our search?”

  “Your grace,” she said, “I have teams going through the castle right now, and more searching into the city. I’ve sent word ahead to guard posts to keep eyes peeled, though I doubt that will help.”

  “And if he’s hiding by magic?”

  “The Soulfists left us a supply of potions that allow even the dullest to sense the presence of magic and illusions. We’ve broken into that store for the search.”

  “Good,” Aefric said.

  “I don’t believe Gwawl would remain in the castle,” Ser Yrsa continued, “but we’ll know for certain by dawn.”

  “Karbin and I have determined that he hasn’t escaped by water.”

  “Nor is he among the ships in port or out in the harbor,” Karbin said. “First place I checked.”

  Making matters worse, the king approached. He too had redonned his black silks. Ser Beatritz and ten of the Knights of the Crown accompanied him.

  “What is our status, your grace?” King Colm asked, on arrival.

  Aefric had Ser Yrsa catch him up.

  “How did he escape?” King Colm then asked.

  “Just what I was wondering,” Aefric said, looking at Ser Yrsa.

  “I don’t understand it, your grace,” Ser Yrsa said. “The locks were intact.”

  “And the spells untampered with,” Karbin added. “I checked.”

  “And yet,” Ser Yrsa said, “when the midnight shift change came, the guards immediately reported the missing prisoner.”