“Silence,” King Colm ordered.

  He glared back and forth between the two of them until he was certain they wouldn’t interrupt.

  “Eppida, return to our rooms. I’ll deal with this.”

  Queen Eppida looked very much like she wanted to argue, but finally flared her nostrils in a harsh sigh, and nodded abruptly.

  She turned and stalked out of the room.

  Aefric had no doubt their majesties would have a harsh conversation later.

  “Now, Maev,” King Colm said, then held up a hand to stop her from objecting. “I know. I know what’s between the two of you, and I know that tonight has been a long time coming.”

  “Father,” Maev said, “she has no right to order me away from Aefric’s bed. And no right to ask him to deny me.”

  “Ordinarily, you would be right,” King Colm said. “But this is an unusual situation.”

  “But this is our way,” Maev objected. “And has been for—”

  “Let me talk,” King Colm said.

  Maev shut her mouth tight, and nodded.

  “Believe me,” King Colm said. “Nothing would make me happier than to see the two of you together. For a night, at the least, for longer, if possible. As a father, I think you’re perfect for one another.”

  King Colm shook his head. “But as king, I have Armyr to think of. I know this is our way. But Varondam knows that as well. And they don’t like it. Which is why they sent along their king’s own mother to keep an eye on you.”

  “I hardly need a chaperon,” Maev grumbled.

  “I have a dozen of the best knights in the world who would disagree,” King Colm said with a smile. “None of them know how you got past them, and they’d like to know. Very much.”

  Maev smiled and fluttered her eyelashes.

  “An alliance with Varondam is important to Armyr. They expect that to mean marriage. And they expect that their king’s prospective bride won’t be found in the bed of another man.”

  Maev opened her mouth for another objection. King Colm stilled her with a raised hand.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s not fair. And I know. It’s possible that we’ll have this alliance without a marriage. Eppida doesn’t believe that, but Dalius himself admitted it, before I ever sent you to him.”

  “Then where is the problem?” Maev asked.

  “The problem is that, right now, the marriage is expected. By the people of Varondam, and by their king. Which means your behavior must fit their customs, not just ours. So, no, my beloved child. I cannot let you share Aefric’s bed tonight.”

  Maev made a sound of longing. Aefric might well have as well.

  King Colm chuckled.

  “Think of it as incentive, my dear,” King Colm said with a smile. “I want this alliance. Marry Dalius if you must, to make it happen. But if you can arrange that alliance without marriage. Well.”

  He looked Aefric over, then back at Maev.

  “I’d say that opens a world of possibilities for you.”

  “Truly, Father?” Maev asked, excited now.

  “Truly,” he said. “But. Not until I have my alliance.”

  “And have it you shall,” Maev said, turning to Aefric.

  King Colm placed a hand between them.

  “Until then, alas, you must forebear.”

  “But—”

  “No, Maev.” King Colm took her by her reluctant shoulders and turned her away from Aefric. “For now, I’m going to escort you to your rooms. And see to it you’re kept out of mischief.” He turned to Aefric. “Good night, your grace.”

  “Good night, your majesty,” Aefric said with a small bow.

  “Good night, my dearest Aefric,” Maev said, and might’ve said more, but the king covered her mouth.

  The king raised a warning eyebrow at Aefric.

  “Good night … Maev,” Aefric said, and watched in frustration as they left.

  Still. There was hope.

  Sleep came in fits for Aefric that night. He tossed and turned, alone in that immense ducal bed.

  That business with Zoleen. Wrenching. It left him hoping he’d done the right thing, yet hating the obvious pain he’d caused her.

  Still. What could he have done differently?

  She truly didn’t seem to understand how what she’d done was wrong. Hadn’t even considered the possibility that it was wrong, until Aefric had reminded her about King Colm’s visit and that she hadn’t just been keeping away “a dangerous distraction,” but two of his most avid and vocal supporters.

  Either way, Aefric didn’t trust her. Couldn’t trust her. Not after that.

  Keeping her around would only cause problems.

  And yet…

  She seemed so sincere in her regret. Maybe it was a one-time mistake? Maybe she would learn from it? Maybe even find a way to make up for what she’d done?

  No. There was no way for Aefric to know that. Not for certain. And having her around right now would be the wrong kind of distraction.

  And not just for himself. If he kept Zoleen here, Ser Yrsa would have to pay attention to her. Keep eyes on her. Resources that could be watching for other threats.

  And after that business with Calder and Gwawl. Aefric needed to worry about real threats to himself and his duchy. Not just political threats.

  That thought was enough to make him scoff. Even alone in his bed, he could hear every one of his advisers taking him to task for that phrasing.

  After all, political threats were just as real and could be just as deadly as physical threats.

  Then there was Maev’s arrival.

  What a roller coaster that had been. And Qorunn didn’t even have roller coasters. They didn’t have anything here in this world that brought the kinds of highs and lows that the roller coasters of Earth did. Not in such rapid succession.

  That perfect moment of her arrival. When her eyes met his, across that crowded hall, and the whole world seemed to vanish.

  That was a moment that set his heart to pounding for the right reasons.

  And then to have her just show up on his balcony. That was so Maev. Doing what no one else could possibly expect her to do, and making it work.

  Doubtless that was why King Colm allowed for the possibility of Maev managing to forge that alliance without marrying Varondam’s king.

  It sounded impossible. But Maev liked to do impossible things.

  Oh. The two of them had been so close. If only they’d gone another dozen steps before the queen’s arrival.

  Aefric found himself running his hands over his soft sheets. Imagining for a moment that Maev was there with him. He could almost smell her honeysuckle…

  But no. Queen Eppida ruined all that.

  Had she known Maev would be here? With Aefric?

  No. He didn’t think so. It seemed more likely she’d come to complain about Aefric’s dismissal of Zoleen.

  So the timing was only bad luck?

  But then, how much worse would the timing have been had the queen not been there?

  King Colm had not come to Aefric’s apartments to talk about Zoleen. He’d come looking for Maev.

  If the queen hadn’t interfered, Aefric and Maev would already have been upstairs.

  They’d likely already have been naked.

  But they wouldn’t have…

  Well, likely they would still have been kissing and exploring each other. Still heating things up, as it were, rather than already reaching a boil.

  How much worse would that have been? To have the king come charging in when Aefric and Maev were naked in bed together, but before they’d had a chance to really begin the evening’s activities?

  Oh, the frustration then would have been so intense that Aefric might not have been able to walk.

  But those kisses. Oh, those kisses.

  It was lying there, thinking about those kisses he’d shared with Maev that night that finally settled Aefric enough to sleep.

  Though if he dreamed that night, he didn’t remember.

  12

  Aefric bathed early that next morning, and dressed in a quilted tunic of soft gray, over navy blue hose. A black leather belt, with the wand Garram in its sheath, and calf-high boots to match.

  He was just heading out to his balcony, Brightstaff in hand, to breakfast alone with the dawn, when a page came rushing up the stairs, with Ocheda on his heels.

  “Your grace,” the page called urgently, waving a scroll.

  As Aefric took the scroll from the sweating young man, Ocheda gave the page water, which he guzzled gratefully.

  The scroll was a terse message from Ser Yrsa.

  Silverlake into the Dragonscar overnight. Fighting underway.

  Aefric turned to the page, who coughed gently and forced himself to stand at attention.

  “Where is my general?”

  “Your grace, she awaits you near the docks. She instructed me to tell you that she has sent a runner to their majesties, and to Duke Wylyn as well.”

  “Perfect,” Aefric said to the page. “Well done.” He turned to Ocheda. “Cancel my breakfast, and tell my guards I’ve gone down to the courtyard.”

  He stepped out onto the balcony and zipped up into the brisk morning air.

  The sun was only just beginning to dawn in the east. White fluffy clouds yet lingered over Lake Deepwater, and weren’t giving any sign that they intended to move.

  Down below, Aefric could see soldiers. Lots of soldiers. Some in formation. Others moving about. Runners as well. And in the eye of that storm, Ser Yrsa in her full plate, giving orders.

  Aefric dove like a striking raptor to stand beside her.

  “Your grace,” Ser Yrsa said, apparently unsurprised at Aefric’s sudden appearance.

  He realized then that Sers Leppina, Temat and Vria were also right there, apparently expecting their duke to arrive just as he did.

  It seemed his knights were getting used to their duke’s reactions.

  “Status,” Aefric said.

  “Sometime during the night, Silverlake forces moved down into the Dragonscar. This was discovered just over an hour ago. Per my standing orders, that means our forces have moved to intercept. We must assume fighting is underway.”

  “How did we get word so quickly all the way down here?”

  “The waystations, of course,” Ser Yrsa said. “When our scouts spotted Silverlake’s invasion, they fired off a flaming signal arrow. Every waystation between here and there did the same, as soon as they saw the next station’s arrow.”

  “Good work,” Aefric said, but Ser Yrsa dismissed the compliment.

  “Almost as old as warfare,” she said.

  “What are your plans?”

  “Get more forces out past Lachedran as soon as possible. Get myself moving toward the Dragonscar as soon as my ship is ready. Take control of the situation when I get there.”

  “You realize I’m coming,” Aefric said.

  “With their majesties here at your castle?” Ser Yrsa shook her head. “I advise against it, your grace. Let me handle this.”

  “Beornric inbound, with the Duke of Silverlake,” Ser Temat said.

  Aefric looked up to see Ser Beornric running with admirable speed, for a man wearing full plate. Beside him, loping along with long strides, was Duke Wylyn. Who looked about as happy about all this as Aefric felt.

  They were trailed by a dozen soldiers in Silverlake tabards.

  “He may have to come along,” Ser Yrsa said, with a sigh. “Though if it weren’t a justiciar declaring his innocence in this, I’d want him arrested.”

  “I heard the justiciar’s report myself,” Aefric said. “There can be no doubt of Wylyn’s innocence.”

  Wylyn and Ser Beornric arrived then, both streaming sweat and panting for breath.

  “I’m … going…” Wylyn said to Aefric. “Don’t … leave … without me.”

  “Our ship’s almost ready,” Aefric said, including Ser Yrsa in a look that left no doubt he was coming.

  Wylyn sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Got his wind back.

  “You’re not taking a flying chariot thing? Sifwyn would, in a situation like this.”

  “Don’t know the spell to call a magari,” Aefric said.

  “Neither does she,” Wylyn said with a snort. “Always fingers one of her crystals when she casts that one.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Aefric said. “Bring him up to speed.”

  Aefric took to the air again. Soared back to the private balcony of his apartments.

  Swift steps took him inside, and into his magic laboratory, where the items that had been Sifwyn’s sat waiting on the big, heavy desk in one corner, where he did his spell research.

  Five crystals of different shapes and colors. A bronze bracer. An opal ring. That greenwood staff.

  Aefric scooped up the crystals. Two were white like quartz, though one was triangular in shape, and the other almost cubic, but longer than it was wide or deep. One was red and round. Another was blue and faceted like an insect’s eye. The last was amber in color, and shaped like an “S.”

  No clues from the color or shape then. They all felt like magic, but only a moment’s study wasn’t enough to determine what type of magic went with each, to say nothing of which specific effects they could produce.

  Aefric sighed. Normally, he would have taken each of them into the right meditative state. Projected his awareness through the magical atmosphere of Qorunn and into each crystal in turn. There, he could learn all their secrets.

  But that would take time he didn’t have.

  He needed to know what these crystals did, and he needed to know now.

  The adventurer’s solution then.

  He stood the Brightstaff beside him.

  With a gesture, Aefric called forth what he needed from a reagent drawer in the desk.

  A flawless pearl. Very expensive.

  It had to be a pearl, because pearls were forged by a process as long, painstaking, and involving as that of crafting an enchanted item.

  It had to be flawless, because the slightest flaw in the crafting process could ruin an item’s enchantment.

  The cost, well, that was incidental to the kind of reagent needed.

  Aefric spread the crystals on one scarred corner of his desk.

  He cupped the pearl in his hands.

  Through a single breath, he drew power from both within himself, and from the world around him.

  Through the next breath, he focused that power down…

  Down…

  Between his hands…

  Into the pearl…

  Into the heart of the pearl…

  Deeper still, into the truth of the pearl within its heart.

  When he felt his power touch that truth, he spoke a word so harsh it seared his throat.

  The truth within the pearl evaporated its physical form, leaving only a colorless cloud of truth.

  Aefric inhaled that cloud.

  It smelled of two things that didn’t fit together, yet somehow did.

  It smelled of the summertime beach in Oregon, on Earth. Warm and salty and sweaty and slightly of decay. Like the air that day in Lincoln City, when Keifer and Andi went looking for those glass globes hidden by local artists.

  But it also smelled of the streets of Sartis, from Aefric’s youth. That spring day, when the skies looked endless. When he was running and laughing with his friends through the marketplace. A thousand smells of perfumes and cooked meats and more. But the smell that stuck out most in young Aefric’s nose was sugared flake bread.

  Aefric had almost forgotten sugared flake bread. A fried confection he hadn’t had in years. He’d loved it so, as a boy, though he rarely got to taste it.

  All these smells came together, and Aefric found himself smiling without even thinking about why.

  He picked up the first crystal his fingers found.

  The amber one, shaped like an S. It held a shape-changing magic. The power to make the bearer shift into the form of a rika bird, or back into that of a human.

  His fingers next found the oblong squared-off white crystal…

  This. This held the secret of the magari. Calling it. Dismissing it. As many as three times each between risings of the sun.

  The other items tempted him. While he still felt the haze of that pearl’s truth, Aefric could learn the secrets of all the items he’d gotten from Sifwyn.

  Not their deeper mysteries, true, but the basics. They were all there, for the asking.

  But he didn’t have time.

  With a loud exhalation, he blew out that last of that truth, so it couldn’t distract him from what he needed to do next.

  Aefric dug a pouch out of one of the many drawers in that desk. Slipped the shape-changing crystal and the magari crystal into the pouch, and tied the pouch to his belt.

  He took the Brightstaff in hand once more and flew swiftly back down to the coral docks, where activity seemed to be settling down. Soldiers and knights were boarding ships, though a small crowd still surrounded his knight-advisers and his visiting duke.

  “Your grace,” Ser Yrsa said as soon as he landed. “Mistress Okelai took a horse this morning and left before dawn.”

  “I know,” Aefric said. “She had my permission.” He addressed his next words to Ser Beornric and Wylyn as well. “Ready to go?”

  “Your grace…” Ser Yrsa started, but trailed off when Aefric shook his head.

  “Clear a space,” Aefric called out, gesturing for the various knights and soldiers around him to move.

  Once he had enough room, Aefric slipped one finger into his pouch. Touched the oblong crystal and called forth its power.

  A flaming chariot sprang into being, pulled by two magaunts — magical horses. These were flame red, from mane to hoof.

  Aefric boarded the chariot, followed by Wylyn and Sers Beornric and Yrsa. More knights of his own guard, and a few of Wylyn’s soldiers, looked as though they wanted to follow as well.

  “I think we’re full up,” Aefric said, and before his Knights of the Lake could object, added, “and I think Ser Beornric and General Yrsa can keep me out of trouble.”

  “I’m not sure anyone can keep you out of trouble,” Ser Yrsa said.

  Aefric smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at her, then launched the magari into the air.