My attention waned as I strolled along a row of cots, most empty, to the last two beds. In one lay Nanny Vilde. The old sister of the Steppes looked her age as the morning sun warmed her pale cheeks. A healer clad in the white and blue of the Melowynn clerics rubbed a bit of balm on her arms.

  “How fares the sister?” Teryn asked, pausing at her bedside as I made my way to the next cot. I could hear them discussing the nanny as I took a seat at the head of the pristinely made cot. Lying on a pillow, wrapped in small white robes, was my friend Tezen. Her wings lay limply out to her sides, frozen in mid-flight, her eyes wide, a snarl locked into place to show her pointed teeth. Her eyes seemed to be frozen in a stare. The healers had covered her with a soft cloth that acted as a blanket. Somehow they had massaged a pale pink lotion into her skin, coating her face and arms, as well as the rest of her, I imagined, even her wings.

  The healer—an older male elf with a roundness to his form—spoke with Teryn behind me as I lifted Tezen’s small hand to let it rest on my finger.

  “The sister is recovering as well as can be expected given her age. The paralytic that was used is a particularly virulent one. An elf in their prime would simply tumble to the ground, muscles clenched, unable to move. An elderly elf might have more serious complications. Her heartbeat was unstable for the first few hours, but Healer P’tash began applying this pink unguent to her flesh, and it seems to be helping. The sister is no longer having difficulty with her breathing, and her heart seems to be responding to the Sandrayan potions and oils.”

  “Good, good. And the pixie?” Teryn enquired softly, his voice moving closer as he stepped up to stand beside me.

  “That is a more difficult situation,” the healer whispered as he moved closer, his robes swishing as the scent of lilac calendula and bog sage smoke entered my nose. “We are sadly lacking in knowledge of how to treat pixies. We have sent a raven to their court to ask for a healer or someone knowledgeable to come to Avolire to tend to the princess. Given that the dosage was intended for a mature elf, we are assuming, obviously, the children would be affected strongly but should come out of their immobilized state within a day or two. Princess Tezen is a thousand or so sizes smaller than an adult elf, so her systems are doubly stricken.”

  I stared down at the formidable little woman lying like a small statue on a goose-down pillow. “You say the Sandrayan lotion seems to be helping?” I asked, gently patting her small but deadly hand. I had seen this tiny woman drop elves and creatures two thousand times her size with those war picks of hers. Bards like to tell of my encounter with the lust-raged yeti, but Tezen was there as well. She had blackened the eye of one of the monstrous brutes and driven her boot so far into the stones of another that I feared the thick-furred beast might never reproduce.

  Why her story was not sung in the alehouses, I suspected, was due to her not being an elf. She was a fierce protector and a dear friend. We had shared many adventures, from helping to fetch our queen to driving out bandits to facing down inflamed yetis. We shared bunks, sleeping rolls, stale tack, and ribald stories around a campfire. We had been sick together, drunk together, and eaten more meals than I could recall together. If she did not recover from this tainting of a nursery drink, there would be no stopping me from striking down those who had done this. Be they mainland or Sandrayan, they would fall to my blade and let the kings and envoys sort out the mess left behind.

  “Aye, yes, Captain, the rictus around their eyes and mouths has improved. The flesh is softening, and we were able to dribble water infused with pressed lemon tea into her, but she is unable to swallow, although we think some may have gotten into her stomach. We know that the pixies are fond of pressed lemon tea with a dabble of lichen sprinkled on top.”

  I had never seen Tezen drink such a thing, but who was I to question a trained healer? “I am glad to hear that the aid given to her by Healer P’tash is helping.”

  The old elf nodded, his lips pressed tightly for a moment before he worked them into a forced smile.

  “The king has sent word to us that we are to step aside and learn as we watch the ambassador’s son tend to the princess. I am sure we will acquire many skills from the Sandrayans as they do from us.”

  “Yes, I am sure that you will,” I replied, patting the small, chilly hand resting on my finger before gently placing it back to her side. “Rest and recuperate, my friend. May Ihdos bless these learned men and women who tend to you. May his light lead you from the darkness that you now linger in back to us.”

  “We should go and let the healers return to their patients,” Teryn said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, rose, and glanced around the infirmary looking for Teryn’s son.

  “Where is Healer P’tash?” I enquired. The healer pointed at a closed door to the right of the hall.

  “He is in the apothecary right now. Creating more unguents and infusions for the stricken,” the older elf explained.

  “I shall go speak with my son. Pasil, feel free to return to the barracks to rest,” Teryn said, but I shook my head. There would be time for resting and packing once the ambassador was safely back in his chambers.

  “My duty is to protect you. I shall linger here until you are ready to go back to your quarters, Mahouk.”

  Teryn appeared to want to say more, but he merely smiled softly and entered the apothecary with me on his heels. The small room was packed with shelves, which were overflowing with bits of plants, bottles, vials, mortars, pestles, and devices for distilling liquids. Working with P’tash was his sister, I’llra. They stood at one of four long tables, baskets of shimmering flowers, rare herbs, and tiny glowing seeds from the apothecary’s garden on the eastern side of the castle. Small windows high on the walls allowed the sea winds to blow in, rustling the dried stems tied with rough twine that hung from hooks in the ceiling. The smells in the room vied for my attention, from the woody smells of balsam to the spicy aroma of peppercorn to the floral beauty of rosewood and lavender.

  “Father!” both cried out as Teryn moved to embrace them. Once I was sure there was only the lone way into the room, I stepped outside, closing the door to give the family privacy. Their conversation was not mine to overhear. Planting my feet and folding my arms, I rested my back to the doorjamb to wait.

  The Hall of the Sanguine was peaceful, the low chants of healers praying over patients the only sounds to be heard other than the cry of gulls. I let my mind wander as I stood guard, my thoughts scrambled like eggs. Many of the old elves said that Ihdos moved us through our lives in ways that only he could understand. I was not an overly religious man. I was paid to cut down enemies of the crown. So citing scriptures that called for the intelligent to lead the way with peaceful hearts, for only beasts killed when diplomacy and rational discourse could prevail, seemed insincere. Still, I did feel that there was a supreme being—a guiding hand if one wished—that helped us along a life path. I thought to question Ihdos about why he had propelled me into Teryn’s arms last night. Surely that had been a rash decision. Not only had I complicated things by bedding a dignitary—not a crime but ill-advised—but I had then been caught with my cock out in his chambers. Now the king and Le’ral, as well as a dozen guards, including my cousin, knew of my indiscretions. Then the man that I would lay down my life for sends me to a land I have never been before to find his children before the twin moons align. Fourteen passes of the sun. That was the time we had to execute this bait-and-switch or…

  I refused to dwell on what might happen should we fail. The door to the apothecary opened. Teryn stepped out, gazed up at me with watery eyes, and strode off. I fell in behind and to the side of him, wishing I had my sword, as the looks we garnered from the castle workers were far from gracious. They’d been politely cool before, but now that the news of the twins’ kidnapping had spread like wildfire through Avolire, the staff seemed more hostile. Without proper reasoning, in my eyes. The only culprit that we were assured had taken part—Jaska—was not even Sandrayan. Yes, the paralytic seemed to be, but people smuggled things in and out of ports all the time. Even the most protected plants could be slipped into the pocket of a pair of trousers and then sold for an astronomical price. Which was why there needed to be a port system to cut down on the illegal trade taking place along all our shores. A noble idea that had been progressing before the children of the king had been taken.

  “You’re very quiet,” Teryn commented as we passed by a small solarium filled with plants and flowering vines creeping along ornate trellises. I opened my mouth to reply when Umeris Stillcloud appeared at the doorway, long hair wild, eyes wide, his robe covered with peach jam by the looks. He rolled up to us in his wheeled chair. We both stepped back to let him pass, but he grasped my wrist in a death grip and pulled me downward. For a fragile old elf, he possessed incredible strength.

  “It was the only way to save face, Aelir. I’m sorry. She left me no choice. She left me no choice!”

  His shouts rolled down the hall as his long nails dug into my flesh. A harried-looking healer appeared behind him, his robing coated in the same stains that Umeris wore on his robes.

  “Forgive him,” the healer said, peeling the old man’s fingers from my wrist. “He is having a bad day today. The restive tea is not working well this morning. Forgive us.”

  Umeris spat on the floor as the healer took control of the poor old man. Teryn and I stood quietly as the wheeled chair creaked down the hall, the grand advisor shouting about sailing ships before falling into a wet coughing spell. Sadness upon sadness. This morn was a shroud of melancholy even though the sun shone brightly.

  We walked in stiff silence. I entered the ambassador’s room. The cleaning staff had come through to tidy things. The bed was neat, the pillows back where they belonged, and any clothes strewn about were folded or had been taken to the laundry. A cold plate of boiled eggs, cheese, rough dark bread, and butter sat on the table by the newly fed fire, a pot of simmering red tea awaiting the envoy from the Black Sands. Pehdra had returned sometime and had been let in, the cat leaping from the bed to greet her master with purrs and leg rubs. Teryn picked her up, rubbed his face into her fur, and then moved toward the teapot.

  I barred him with an arm. “Let me taste of them first,” I said flatly. Teryn sighed and waved at the food and tea. I tasted them all. When I remained standing with no frothing of the mouth, I assumed the repast to be safe. “It seems to be clear of poisons.”

  “Will you join me? I know you have not eaten yet.” I stiffened slightly. “Or not if you would rather eat at the barracks.”

  “It is not that I wish to eat the barracks food. I simply feel…” The correct words were tangled like yarn on my tongue. “Perhaps we should not be seen in such an intimate setting.”

  That brought a weary smile to his handsome face. “Pasil, I rather think that the guards finding us naked in bed and coated with seed was far more intimate than us breaking bread.” I felt the heat rising to my face. “Still, I understand that you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Not uncomfortable, Teryn, not wholly. I am worried for you. For the king. For the children. For Tezen. This kidnapping could press our people into a darker place if it is discovered that any Sandrayans were responsible.”

  “The odds are high that there are some,” he replied on a tired exhalation. “The odds are high that there are factions at play from all the tribes of Melowynn. But I do grasp the cause of your worry and will not press you to eat with me. Perhaps it is best if we keep cool heads while we are on this mission. My need for you seems to overpower most of my common sense.”

  “Mine as well.” Honesty seemed the best route. “I shall return to the barracks. Sleep, eat, and work out my duties as best I can. Shall we meet at the sea cave at midnight?”

  “Yes, midnight is fine.” He stood by the table with the simmering teapot, his face tight. “Last night was like a dream. If things had not gone as they had, I would have invited you to my chamber again tonight. I like to think that you may have accepted.”

  “I would have. Until midnight,” I replied and eased out of the room, his gaze locked with mine. I took a moment to gather my wits—what was left of them—and nodded dully at the two royal guards who now stood on either side of Teryn’s door. “Keep him safe. If harm falls to him on your watch, I shall personally divest you of your innards.”

  I strode off before they could form a reasonable reply to my heated orders. If I walked fast enough, perhaps I would be able to race away from the reasons why I had threatened my own people with disemboweling if a hair on Teryn’s head were maltreated.

  THE SEA WAS MOONLIT WHEN TERYN and I stepped onto the dock, droplets of salty water falling from the stalactites hanging overhead.

  Porgo, the Sandrayan captain of the Simin Draya, awaited us, his thick arms crossed and resting on his round gut.

  “What does Simin Draya mean?” I asked in a hushed whisper while Porgo stepped up to take the bags that Teryn and I had packed.

  I’d not known what to pack aside from armor, weaponry, and some undergarments. A package wrapped in dark coarse cloth had been delivered to my room in the barracks after a late midday meal. A meal in which I had to lie to the men about my whereabouts for the upcoming fortnight. I’d fabricated some meager tale about taking personal time to tend to a sick aunt. It was doubtful many at my table had believed me, but they were too well trained to question. My cousin would be juggling his duties as well as mine, something that should be no issue for Rolim. The king had named him temporary guard captain, so the mantle was his until we returned with the twins. Any other outcome was unacceptable. We would succeed or die trying.

  The package had contained a note in the bold hand of the ambassador, informing me that my bronze armor—despite how fetching I looked in it—was wholly wrong for the hot, arid conditions of the Black Sands. In its stead, he had sent along armor crafted from the coil root tree. His note went on to explain that the sandy brown bark was incredibly strong when fashioned into shields and light armor. The lighter coloration reflected the sun’s rays, and as an added bonus, the coil root branches dug into the sand to find underground water. The roots, even when severed, continued to draw moisture from the sands, which cooled the wearer. Along with the coil root armor were robes of pale white flecked with silver threads as well as slacks, a shirt, and a short cape in soft, satiny black.

  I’d never heard of such a tree but was grateful not to have to lumber about in plate mail during the trip. This journey was not a direct assault. It was stealth and shadow, which immediately had me at a disadvantage as I was neither shadowy nor stealthy. But I would do my best not to stand out like a sore dick, as Tezen would say. I desperately wanted to leave word to notify me about the pixie princess’s recovery, but a raven messenger might draw attention as the Sandrayans preferred to use peach-faced cactus parrots. I would have to wait until we returned to discover her fate. I would whisper prayers to Ihdos to bless her stalwart heart with a full recovery. Whether he would hear my requests, it would remain to be seen.

  “It means silver sea,” Teryn explained as we boarded the ship. My boots had barely touched down on the deck when a lurch in my stomach that matched that of the waves appeared. A discomfort that I ignored, following Teryn to a small area under a tarp with several thick rugs and pillows. He dropped down to sit, folding his legs into a lotus. I glanced out of the cave to find the rolling tides painted white. A creeping sensation of unease tightened my shoulders. “Come, have a seat. We will discuss our plans and sip some chilled tea.”

  I knelt on the rug, then sat, my legs unable to bend into knotted bread as Teryn’s did. I rested my back against one of the stout poles holding up the canvas. The creaking of the ship seemed louder than it had a few moments ago. The rope tethering us to the dock was freed by the captain using a long hook. The ship thudded against the slimy dock repeatedly. A fine sheen of sweat appeared on my brow.

  From the stern, Porgo began chanting in Sandrayan. The boat rose up slightly, the glyphs on his skin glowing in a pulsing tandem with the sigils engraved on the ship. The first lurch from the dock made me feel slightly dizzy. With his arms raised, Porgo then called upon the winds. A gust of air blew into the cave, pulling us with speed from the dock. My mouth filled with saliva.

  “…considering moving along the eastern shores. It will take us through international waters, which will open us up to marauders, but I think that if we travel by night to allow Porgo to rest during the day, that should minimize our contact with sea raiders.”

  I nodded, unsure of what he was proposing. I felt off-balance, hot, and unable to focus.

  The ship eased out of the cave in reverse, turning once we had cleared the lip of the cavern. My stomach tightened at the swift spinning. Teryn rambled on, pouring us tea as if we were having a lady’s lunch in the garden with the queen and Lady Merrilyn.

  “Yes, of course, that is fine,” I replied, easing from one buttock to the other to try to lessen the acidic burn in my stomach. Eating so much salted fish and soft goat milk cheese at dinner had been a mistake. I should have eaten lightly, but I’d been unsure of when I would get food that was not coated in spice and peppercorns, so I had overindulged. A very foolish thing to do.

  “Mainlander!” Porgo roared, his inkwork illuminating his face as he turned to look back at me. “Free the sails!” The winds tugged on his bright blue skirt.

  “He does know that I have a name, does he not?” I asked, sweat dampening my sleek black shirt, as I pushed to my feet.

  “Oh yes he does. He just wishes to tease. It’s all in good sport.”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled. The ship crested a wave. My head spun slightly, sending my vision into an odd place where I could not locate the horizon. I staggered to the mainmast, found a rope that I assumed was for the sails, and tugged on it with all my might.