'It's… my moon blood, that's all. That must be it."

'Your moon blood? No, that can't be it."

'And how would you know about my blood?" she snapped. She rose to her feet unsteadily, pushing him away, stumbling toward her horse. Her face was colorless. Before she could reach her mount she collapsed to her knees.

'Cassandra!" Lukien rushed forward, putting his arm around her. "God, let me help you."

The princess shook her head. "It will pass. It always does." She took deep, painful breathes, steadying herself. "Please, just let me rest a moment."

'What's wrong with you?" Lukien insisted. "Tell me, please."

Cassandra's expression was poisonous. "There is nothing wrong with me. Just my monthly cycles, that's all. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, do you understand? Don't utter a word of it."

'My lady…"

'Not a word," sputtered Cassandra. She closed her eyes to compose herself. The worst of it seemed to pass as quickly as it had come. Lukien released her, watching her fretfully. Carefully she got to her feet, her head drooping, one hand still pressed against her abdomen. "I must get back to the house," she said. "Help me to my horse." thing I have ever had to a brother," said Lukien. "And I protect him because he is the son of King Balak, whom I adored."

'But he is a mystery to me," said Cassandra. "I know so little about him, and who better to tell me about him than you? Do they really call him 'Akeela the Good' in Lüria?"

'They do," said Lukien, laughing. "And it's a name he deserves, believe me."

'So he is a good man?"

'Oh, yes."

'And will he make me a good husband?"

Lukien looked at her again. Her face had changed, set with worry. He told her, "My lady, Akeela is the dearest man I've even known. It's why I pledged myself to him, and why I followed him here to Reec.

There is no evil within him. He's not capable of harming anyone, least of all you. Are you looking for a gentle husband? A man who will honor and worship you, and ask himself every day how best to make you happy? If you are, then you have found him, my lady."

Their eyes remained locked, and for a moment they shared a thought, wondering exactly who Lukien had just described. Lukien felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. He looked away.

'Akeela will be a good husband, and a good king," he said. "You will be happy with him, my lady."

Cassandra was quiet. The flower in her hand had dropped to her lap. Now she was the one who was staring.

'You are not what I expected," she said softly. "You aren't a villain. I think you are…" She stopped herself, changing direction. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you, Sir Lukien. You must think me a shrew."

'Don't apologize, my lady. If your Uncle Raxor came to Koth, I'd probably treat him the same way."

'No," said Cassandra. "I must apologize." She reached out and touched Lukien's hand. "Since Akeela is so fond of you, then you and I should be friends, too."

The touch of her hand was magical. Slowly Lukien let his eyes drift back to her, and saw in her expression something far worse than friendship.

Unsure what to do, Lukien obeyed, getting the weakened Cassandra into the saddle. He checked her for steadiness, then mounted his own horse. Cassandra found the strength to ride and urged her mount forward, returning the way they'd come. Lukien followed closely, watching her. She was already much better, but her color hadn't returned and her shoulders remained slumped. He had never seen a moon cycle do that to a woman, and he was sure the princess was lying. But he said nothing as they rode, and eventually they arrived back at the lake where the picnic was still going on. They were on the far side of the water, where Cassandra had been painting. As they neared the gathering, Cassandra straightened in her saddle, putting on a counterfeit smile. Jancis saw them at once and came to greet them.

'Did you have a nice ride?" the maid asked, taking the reins of Cassandra's horse.

'Yes, nice," said Cassandra. She frowned at her companion. "But I want to go inside now. I'm tired."

The worry on Jancis' face was plain. "Get down," she ordered, helping Cassandra off the horse.

Lukien dropped down after her, shadowing her as Jancis led her away. It was then he noticed the painting, still sitting undisturbed on its easel.

'Let me get your painting for you," he said, going towards it.

'No!" shrieked Cassandra. She wrenched free of Jancis and dashed forward. Lukien had picked up the painting, its canvas cover still draped over it. He looked at Cassandra in shock.

'What's wrong with you? Just get inside. I'll look after this for you."

With a lunge Cassandra snatched the painting out of his hands, but it slipped from her grip and fell to the ground—just in time for a breeze to blow off its canvas covering. Cassandra went as still as stone.

She glanced down at the exposed painting, then up at Lukien. Lukien's eyes studied the painting, and for a moment he didn't recognize himself in the work. But when he did, he gasped. Slowly he knelt down and picked it up. It was him, sitting by the water in his golden armor.

'Oh, my God," Cassandra gasped. She put her hand to her mouth, mortified. "Jancis…"

Jancis hurried forward and took the painting from Lukien.

The knight and the princess stared at each other. Cassandra's face collapsed with grief.

'I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm…" When she couldn't find her voice, she turned and dashed away.

Jancis lingered a moment longer, offering Lukien an apologetic smile.

'Don't tell anyone, all right?" the girl asked. "Please, she's embarrassed enough."

'I… I won't," Lukien said.

He watched Jancis go after the princess. Across the pond, Trager was looking at him. But Lukien didn't care. Something told him his life had just become a lot more complicated.

down upon the rest of Koth. It would be a symbol to all Lürians, calling them to knowledge and its bond-breaking power. A thrill went through Akeela as he studied the tower's base. For a moment he wondered if his father would have been proud of him, then decided not. His father had been a strong king, but not a visionary. The same blindness that had made peace with Reec impossible had also robbed him of dreams. Akeela's good mood flattened.

'He would have said this was folly."

But it wasn't. Now Akeela would have to prove it, not only to his father's ghost but to the entire world. Even to Cassandra. She had laughed at his plans for his library. It had been an innocent chuckle, but it had hurt Akeela. He worried that his new wife would be like his dead father—pragmatic and short-sighted.

When Cassandra arrived from Hes he would take her here, he reasoned. He would show her the tower being built and the enormous main library, and she would marvel at the number of books it would hold, and realize then that he was building something grand. After years of awkwardness, he was finally becoming an impressive young man. He was sure it was the reason Cassandra had agreed to their marriage so quickly. She had seen the emerging greatness in him.

'You're right, my lord," called a voice from across the plain.

Startled, Akeela turned to see Breck trudging toward him. "Eh? Right about what?"

'It's impressive," said the soldier. "It will be splendid when it's done."

Akeela sighed, letting his eyes drift over the site. So far it really wasn't much, just a gaping wound in the earth with some rocks strewn around, but it was huge and had a good view of the city, and that made it impressive. Already it could stir the heart.

'I wish Lukien were here to see it," said Akeela. "And Cassandra."

Breck looked at him curiously. "When will you be sending for them, my lord? Soon?"

'In a day or so."

'Ah, so you've made ready for your wedding then," said Breck. He gave his king a small smile.

.s the morning sun rose over Koth, Akeela walked alone through a field of bricks and limestone, enchanted by his strange surroundings. A mountain of quarried stone lay to one side of him; to the other, a span of earth cleared of trees and grass. The foundation of a tower had been laid, and the outline of a main building could be seen cut into the dirt, a huge, rectangular footprint that could easily swallow most of the chancelleries. Akeela arranged his cape around his shoulders to stave off the morning chill, his chin held high with satisfaction. Not far away, the constructs of Koth threw shadows onto the work site. He could see Lionkeep on its hill, surrounded by the government halls of Chancellery Square, and knew that he had picked the perfect place for his Cathedral of Knowledge.

'Perfect," he whispered over the breeze. No one heard him. He had come alone, except for Breck, who was on the other side of the site marveling at the mountain of limestone. It was an ambitious project and Breck had voiced his doubts, but upon seeing the work that had been accomplished in the past few weeks, the soldier was becoming a convert. They all were, even the stodgy lords of the House of Dukes, and that pleased Akeela. His enthusiasm for his library was contagious.

He strode through the site toward the foundation of the tower. The first inklings of its construction revealed a round base that would one day rise high above the main building, looking Akeela laughed, understanding the man's meaning. "I have to admit I'm a little nervous. But Graig and the others have been making most of the arrangements, so I haven't been thinking about it. Not about the wedding, anyway. But I have been thinking about Cassandra. I'm going to bring her here as soon as she arrives. I told her about the library when I was in Hes, but I don't think she grasped it. She needs to see it to understand."

'I'm sure she'll be impressed, my lord."

A flash of movement caught Akeela's eye. He turned toward the city and saw two horsemen riding forward, approaching the library site. The lead man was instantly recognizable. Graig, the Head Warden, wore his typical gold and crimson uniform. He waved to Akeela across the distance. An excited smile bloomed on Akeela's face.

'Who's that with Graig?" Breck asked.

'That," said Akeela hopefully, "just might be my new librarian."

Riding a pace behind Graig was a man not much his junior, a fiftyish fellow with dark hair and a brightly-colored cape caked with the dust of the road. He had a thin face with darting, eager eyes. The clothes he wore were foreign to Akeela, full of crimson and silk, bespeaking someplace far away. Akeela had expected him to be dressed as a Marnan, but the man was different than he'd imagined, like a mismatched collection of colorful rags. Atop his head was a threadbare hat, wide-brimmed with a golden band, and his cape was fastened around his neck with a be-jeweled clasp that seemed extravagant against his shabby shirt. But most curious of all was the thing on his shoulder. Perched on his right side, its eyes wide with mischief, was a small, sable-haired monkey. The creature's head bobbed excitedly, taking in the strange surroundings as it chattered in its master's ear. The man took a nutmeat from his pocket to quiet the monkey, which the creature happily devoured.

'That's your librarian?" asked Breck. "My lord is joking, surely."

Akeela cringed. This man was nothing like he'd expected. He had come highly recommended by the Prince of Marn. Supposedly, he was a scholar of great renown. But seeing him made that hard to believe. His trampish clothes and silly grin disappointed Akeela. He raised his hand to Graig, beckoning him closer. At least they weren't late. Graig had promised to bring their guest to the site the moment he'd awoken. When at last the duo reached the waiting king, Graig slid down from his horse and gestured to the stranger.

'My lord," he said simply, "this is Figgis."

'And friend, apparently," said Akeela. "Good day, sir. Thank you for coming so far to see me."

The odd man surveyed the area as he said, "You're welcome, my lord. A pleasure, really. Looks like you've got something big going on here."

Graig cleared his throat. "Fellow, you're addressing the King of Lüria."

Figgis got down from his horse, then offered the king a small bow. "I'm sorry, King Akeela. I'm not accustomed to meeting royalty."

'Indeed?" asked Akeela. "Yet you worked for Prince Jarek?"

'Worked for, yes. Spoke to, almost never. I was his clerk, my lord. That means I spent my days surrounded by books and ledgers. I had very little company. I'm afraid it's made me a bit unpolished."

Breck gave Akeela a sideways glance. Akeela ignored it, trying to smile.

'Well, you're here now," said the king. He looked him up and down. "Your clothes look travel-worn.

Didn't you arrive last night?"

'I did, my lord, and slept like a baby in your home. Thank you."

Akeela's smile waned. Obviously, Figgis didn't think much of bathing or washing his clothes. He decided to look at the monkey instead.

'And your little friend?" he asked. "What's his name?"

'This is Peko," replied Figgis. He put out his hand and let the tiny creature climb on, then watched as it wrapped its long tail around his wrist and fell backwards, dangling like an ornament.

'He's charming," said Akeela, laughing. He came closer,

'If you mean my appearance, my lord, I am not offended. I'm often thought of as odd."

'Odd? Oh, no," said Akeela. Then he thought again. "Well, es " He looked down at the creature in v

his hands. "I mean, after all, a monkey?"

'A friend," Figgis corrected. "Everyone needs a friend, my lord." Figgis put out his hand and whistled, summoning Peko to him. The monkey obeyed at once, leaping between Akeela and its master and scurrying up the librarian's arm. "Go ahead, my lords," said Figgis, addressing them all. "You must have questions. Ask me anything. As I said, I'm very good with numbers."

'Eighteen times twenty-seven," said Breck quickly.

'Ridiculous. A hard one, I mean." Figgis turned to Akeela. "My lord?"

Akeela thought for a moment, then challenged, "Six hundred eighty-four times nine hundred twenty-seven."

'Six hundred thousand sixty-eight," replied Figgis.

The others went blank. Akeela asked Breck, "Is that right?"

'Oh, it's right," answered Figgis. "I assure you, my figures are always accurate."

Akeela laughed and said, "So you're good with numbers. But I need a man of ideas, Figgis. Someone who can fill my library with books. Do you know much about books?"

'Books?" blurted Graig. "You should see the crates of them he arrived with, my lord. Not a stitch of clean clothes, just stacks and stacks of parchments and scrolls."

'My collection," Figgis explained. "I don't go anywhere without my books."

'You seem quite certain that I'll hire you, fellow," Akeela observed. "You came all this way with your things. What makes you think I won't turn you away?"

Figgis gestured to their surroundings. "Look at this place. You're obviously pouring treasure into it.

You want the best person you can find to run your library, King Akeela. That's me."

Graig snickered. "That's a bit cocky."

'Not at all," said Figgis. "I'm accomplished, that's all."

'Tell me," said Akeela.

'My lord, before working for Prince Jarek I was head scholar enchanted by the animal. Figgis noticed his interest and held the monkey out for him.

'Here, give me your hand," Figgis offered. "He'll climb right on."

Akeela drew back. "I don't know. His teeth look pretty sharp."

'Ah, he won't bite you, King Akeela. Go on."

Akeela did as instructed, putting out his hand for the monkey. Without hesitation Peko leapt forward, grabbing hold of Akeela's hand and wrapping his quick tail about his wrist. The sensation of warm fur made Akeela chuckle. Carefully he stroked the monkey's head.

'He's so soft. And look at those eyes."

The little monkey cocked its head, directing Akeela to scratch its ear.

'He's wonderful," said Akeela. Already he was growing to like the strangers. "Now tell me, Figgis.

What do you know of my project here?"

The man snapped up the brim of his hat and glanced around. "Well, it's big. But where's the library going to be?"

'You're standing in it."

'What, all of this?" Figgis looked aghast. "You mean this whole area?"

'That's right," said Akeela. "What do you think?"

'Gods above, it's enormous." Figgis twirled around to study the site. "This'll be the biggest library in the world."

'Many times the biggest, I should think," said Akeela. "It will be filled with books from across the continent, a place where scholars can meet and discuss great ideas. And I need someone to run it, someone with brains and vision." The young king grimaced. "To be honest, I'm not sure you're up to the job."

The man straightened indignantly. "My lord, in Marn I am a renowned scholar and mathematician. I may not look like much…"

'No, forgive me," said Akeela quickly. "That was rude of me. It's just that you're not what I expected.

When Prince Jarek wrote to me about you, he left me with a different impression. I was expecting someone…" He shrugged. "Well, different."

Figgis nodded. "As you say."

He was an arrogant man, certainly, and his eccentricities were obvious, yet Akeela was intrigued.

'Walk with me, Figgis," he said, then strode away from the others. After a moment he heard Figgis'

footsteps on the gravel, following. Akeela didn't turn around to summon Graig or Breck; he wanted to talk to the stranger alone.

'My lord?" asked Figgis. "Where are we going?"

Akeela didn't answer. Instead he led Figgis toward the giant heap of quarried stone, which his workmen had been bringing to the site in cartloads. The pile was now well over the height of a house, and would only grow larger as the project continued. Akeela paused before it, considering its enormity.

'Look at that," he said. "Figgis, I need someone who can help me turn this pile of rocks into a great library."

'I'm not an architect, my lord."

'Don't be obtuse. You know what I mean." Akeela smiled at him. "You seem like a very learned man.

There's a lot of knowledge locked in that head of yours, and I'm sure it would be useful. But this project will require more than just brains."

'What do you mean?"

Akeela thought for a moment. How could he explain a dream?

'This isn't going to be just a library," he said finally. "I call this my Cathedral of Knowledge. It's going to be a beacon, a place that isn't reserved just for scholars and royalty. It's for the people, Figgis. All the people. I want this library to help me change things. For that I need a man of vision."

Figgis gave a wicked grin. "Vision is a dangerous thing, my lord."

'So then I need a brave man, as well. Someone who can take the rough weather of politics and not be scared away. I won't lie to you; there are men in the House of Dukes that will oppose me. But so far they've given me the funding I need, because I've made peace with Reec and they admire me for that. I don't know how long their goodwill will last, though. When it fades, I may have to fight them to keep this project alive. And I'll need someone to stand with me."

The librarian removed his hat and ran his fingertips over the at the College of Science in Norvor.

That's when I began collecting books, and I venture to say I have a bigger collection than you yourself. I have a nose for finding special papers, and I invented my own cataloging system."

'So you're an inventor, too," said Graig dryly.

'Yes. I am also an astronomer and can predict the movements of the heavens." Figgis looked at Akeela. "Science, my lord. Not theology."

'I understand," said Akeela. "Go on."

'Well, he's an expert on monkeys," said Graig.

Breck laughed. Figgis scowled.

'I'm an expert on many things," said the librarian. "I know cultures and I speak four languages, and I'm an authority on Jador, my lord."

'Jador?" Akeela's brow creased. Jador was a mystery to the rest of the continent, a little known territory across the Desert of Tears. In all Akeela's life, he had never met a Jadori, nor anyone who had.

He was immediately intrigued by Figgis' claim. "What do you know about Jador? Have you been there?"

'No, but I have studied it all my life. It's a passion of mine. I have some Jadori texts, the prize of my collection. And I've got some tools from there as well. I even have a Jadori scimitar." Figgis put up a finger for Peko to grab. "Even my little companion here came from Jador. A breeder I knew in Ganjor gave him to me."

'Really?" Akeela was instantly fascinated. As a lover of books himself, he had read many fanciful tales of the Jadori. "Is it true they ride lizards?"

'They're called kreel," said Figgis. "And yes, it's true. Look at this…" He dug under his shirt and fished out a necklace. On it was a serrated tooth, as long as a shark's. "This is a kreel's tooth. I got it from a Jadori trader when I was in my twenties."

Akeela was wide-eyed. He reached out and ran a finger over the tooth's edge, feeling its sharpness.

Pride flickered in Figgis' eyes.

'If I take this position I'd like to continue my study of Jador," he said.

Akeela looked up. "You mean if I give you the position."

keep until sundown. And that was the rule of Mercy Court; that the king would listen to petitions until the sun fell. Those unlucky enough to miss his judgement could return the following week or take their chances with Chancellor Nils and his judges.

This day, as Akeela made his way through the chancellery, a crowd of Lürians pushed toward him with gifts and offerings and petitions written on parchment, begging him to listen to their pleas. As always, Akeela told the crowd that they would each be seen in turn, and would receive his fairest judgment. Not wanting to be corrupted, he politely declined the gifts shoved under his nose, even refusing an apple tart an old woman had baked. At the other end of the hall, Chancellor Nils waited, his old, grim face tight with anxiety. Nils was a good man and a fair judge, and he had served Akeela's father wisely. But like many of Lüria's chancellors, he had trouble with the new king's idealism, and he did not like Mercy Court at all. Nils bowed cordially as Akeela approached, then had his gray-robed assistants open the courtroom doors. Akeela pushed his way through the throngs and greeted Nils with a smile. The old chancellor returned the grin crookedly.

'Another crowd this morning, my lord," said Nils. He stepped aside for Akeela to pass.

'Yes. It's good to see the people coming out, don't you think, Chancellor?"

'It's like bedlam in a broom closet, my lord."

Akeela walked into the courtroom. The chancellor's assistants closed the wooden doors behind him, and suddenly the world went silent. The trial chamber of the Justice Chancellery was a grand, even frightful place. A majestic judge's bench stood at the far end, looming darkly over the petition box, a small, barred area with a single wooden chair. There were rows of benches for the petitioners to use while they waited, and busts of past chancellors lined the rosewood walls, staring down at Akeela with cold detachment. Akeela made his way to the bench and sat down in the leather chair. He suddenly felt imperious, then remembered why he had begun Mercy Court. In Lüria, men like Nils held all the power.

'All right, bring them in," he told the assistants. The men brim, considering Akeela's words. His big bald spot shone in the sunlight. His eyes shifted to his simian companion. Peko seemed to sense his master's dilemma and began to squawk. Figgis nodded at the monkey.

'Don't tell me he's talking to you," said Akeela.

'Let's just say Peko and I understand each other."

'Really? All right, then. What does he tell you to do?"

Before Figgis could answer, Graig appeared over his shoulder. The Head Warden waved to get Akeela's attention.

'Pardon me, my lord, but I think you should be heading back now. It's almost time for Mercy Court."

'I'll be with you presently, Graig," said Akeela. He continued to stare at Figgis. "Well, old fellow?

What's your answer? Are you up to the challenge of my library?"

Figgis put his hat back on and glanced around. "I've been a lot of places, my lord. I've seen a lot of things and had a lot of jobs. I'm old and I'm tired, and I could be dead by the time this project of yours is completed."

Akeela's expression fell.

'Still," Figgis went on, "Sooner or later a man has to settle down and call a place home. Let's build your cathedral, my lord."

IVkeela arrived at the Chancellery of Justice five minutes late for Mercy Court. His small tardiness was punished by a logjam of petitioners.

Mercy Court was one of Akeela's first and best accomplishments, a chance for the people to see and speak to their young king and to seek pardons for crimes both petty and large. Since taking the throne a few months ago, Mercy Court had been a weekly ritual for Akeela. He would arrive at the Chancellery of Justice, take his place in the red leather chair usually reserved for Chancellor Nils, and wait for the petitioners to fill the courtroom. It had been a fairly simple thing when it began, never taking more than a few hours. But word had spread quickly of the new king's benevolence, and now his weekly ritual was an all-day duty. Today, with a huge congregation already gathered outside the chancellery, Akeela knew he wouldn't return to Lion in their charcoal robes opened the courtroom doors again. The petitioners surged forward. They had each been given a wooden tag with a number painted on it, but that didn't stop them from fighting for the front seats. Akeela settled in for a long day.

The first hour was unremarkable. Akeela heard the cases of farmers and housewives, coopers and landowners and merchants, all with similar gripes. They were mostly petty squabbles, but Akeela gave them all his full attention, never letting the dullness of their stories make him irritable. He loved the work of Mercy Court and gave out judgements liberally, making sure that no one guilty ever suffered cruelly, or that an innocent should bear an unfair burden.

But Mercy Court wasn't all about petty squabbles. There were real crimes to be dealt with, particularly thievery. Just before noon, Akeela heard the case of a man named Regial, who had been convicted of stealing sheep two years ago and had since served in Borior, Koth's infamous prison. Regial had gone into prison at the age of twenty-three. Now, only two years later, he easily looked Akeela's senior, with gaunt skin bleached white by prison walls and speckled eyes that searched the courtroom suspiciously. He licked dry lips as he stood before Akeela in the petition box, unable or unwilling to sit down. He had no barrister to defend him, just Assistant Chancellor D'marak, who read all the charges against prisoners and who, presumably from his tone, thought Regial deserving of his steep sentence.

Akeela looked at Regial curiously, wondering how such a young man could waste away in prison. His father's justice had been harsh. He offered him a glass of water.

'Here," said Akeela, holding out his own glass. "Drink."

But Regial was manacled and couldn't come forward, so Akeela gestured to D'marak. "Give this to him," he directed.

The Assistant Chancellor raised his eyebrows for a moment, then reached up to the bench to take the glass from Akeela. He handed it to Regial, who was barely able to bring the glass to his lips for the cuffs around his wrists. Sloppily, he drank the entire contents, then let D'marak take the glass away. The Assistant Chancellor put the glass down with some annoyance before continuing to read the charges in his book.

'As I said, my king, he has served two years of his eight year sentence. He's here because he heard about Mercy Court and wouldn't give his jailors any peace until he spoke to you." D'marak scowled at Regial. "Well, you're here now, thief. Speak your plea."

Regial shuffled forward awkwardly. His jaundiced eyes looked up at the bench. "My king, I don't know what to say. How do I plead for myself?"

Akeela replied, "This is Mercy Court. Tell me why you deserve mercy."

'Because I've served two years in Borior," said Regial. "That should be reason enough to free any man."

'Your sentence is eight years," D'marak reminded him. "Now stop wasting the king's time."

Regial became flustered. He held up his manacled hands. "My king, I am twenty-five years old. I stole some sheep and have regretted it every moment since. But I'm fit and I can work, and I shouldn't be shut away like some leper."

'You stole nineteen sheep, to be precise," said D'marak. "From the Baron Glass' own herd."

'Ah well," said Regial with a grin. "Not the smartest move, no."

The courtroom laughed. So did Akeela.

'If Baron Glass found out you'd been freed, he'd demand payment for his stolen sheep," he said.

'He got his bloody sheep back," said Regial. "When I was caught."

'Still, you've a debt to pay," said Akeela. "You say you're able-bodied, and you look fit enough to me. A little thin maybe, but nothing some food and sunlight couldn't cure."

Regial's face brightened. "I'm free, then?"

'I see no reason for you to waste away in Borior," said Akeela.

Assistant Chancellor D'marak cleared his throat loudly, shooting Akeela a cautioning glance. Akeela looked at him askance.

'Is something wrong, D'marak?"

'My king," said D'marak, "this man is a felon, beyond redemption. He got eight years because he deserves it." He tapped his book. "It's all in the records. He made his livelihood as a thief. If you let him go he'll just steal again."

Akeela thought for a moment, leaning back in the big chair. Mercy Court wasn't supposed to be a mockery, and releasing dangerous men was the last thing he wanted to do. But Regial didn't look dangerous to Akeela. He looked dirty and that was all, the way Lukien had looked as a boy.

'Regial," he said, "Mercy Court means a great deal to me, but it's also important to all these others. If I release someone who then goes out and repeats the same crimes, it would ruin this court. I'd have to stop granting leniency and hearing petitions, and then everyone would lose. Do you take my meaning?"

The young man nodded quickly. "I do, my king."

'So you won't return to thieving?"

Regial crossed his heart. "I promise."

'Promise," sneered D'marak. "King Akeela, please…"

Akeela held up his hand. "It's done. Release him and take him to Lionkeep." He glowered at Regial.

"We're going to put you to work in the castle, fellow. I'm going to keep an eye on you. And I warn you—I know every stick of silverware in my home. If so much as a spoon goes missing, it's back to Borior with you."

Regial smiled, D'marak sighed, and the crowd of petitioners broke into murmurs, surprised by Akeela's trust.

'Thank you, my king," said Regial, bowing. "I won't disappoint you, you'll see."

'See that you don't," said Akeela. He was pleased with himself, pleased with the respect he saw reflected at him from the crowd.

For the rest of the afternoon, the petitioners were ordinary. Two more prisoners were brought in from Borior, but neither of them had stolen from a baron and that made them less appealing to the crowd.

D'marak, still stung by Akeela's refusal of his advice, remained quiet throughout the proceedings, simply reading charges and answering Akeela's inquiries. Akeela could sense D'marak's disquietude.

Finally, near sundown, D'marak called the last number for the day.

'Forty-three."

A man stood up from the crowd, his wooden number tag in hand. He was well dressed and groomed, with shining jet black hair combed carefully to one side and a well tailored jacket around his slim frame.

He stepped forward, bowing first to D'marak then to Akeela. He presented himself with an earnest smile and a whiff of nervousness.

'Thank you for hearing my petition, my king," he said. "My name is Gorlon, from Koth."

'Welcome, Gorlon," said Akeela. It was late in the day now and he was weary, but he was^

determined to give this last case his full attention. "You look afraid. Don't be. This is Mercy Court, after all." He glanced at D'marak. "Assistant Chancellor, what are the particulars?"

D'marak paged through his book until he came to number forty-three. Half-laughing, he said,

"Adultery, my lord."

Akeela's smile waned. "Adultery? Is that true, Gorlon?"

Gorlon swallowed. "I'm sorry to say so, my lord."

In Lüria, adultery wasn't a crime like rape or thievery, but it was a transgression for which a man could expect restitution. He could put his wife away for it, or demand that damages be paid as compensation for his broken home, if not his broken heart. So far in Mercy Court Akeela had dealt with thieves and whores and even a rapist, but this was his first adulterer. For some reason he couldn't explain, he disliked the man.

'I don't think we should waste your time with this, my king," said D'marak. "I'm sure Gorlon here is sorry." He turned to the young man. "My ledger says the offended wants twenty sovereigns for damages.

You can pay half that, yes?"

Gorlon nodded. "Yes, gladly."

D'marak made a mark in his book. "Fine. Then we're done here, I think. My king, if you'd—"

'Stop," said Akeela. He looked at D'marak acidly. "We're not done here, Assistant Chancellor."

D'marak blanched, and Gorlon, who hadn't expected the king's tone, stepped back a pace.

'Explain yourself, Gorlon," Akeela ordered. He leaned Suddenly Akeela didn't know himself. All the mercy blew out of him like a wind. He saw Gorlon standing before him, prideful and handsome, cocksure that he could come to Mercy Court and bargain a better deal, and Akeela remembered how awkward he had been as a youth. In his mind's eye, it was all he could see.

'Right," he said, nodding. "Gorlon, you will pay the husband you wronged forty sovereigns."

'Forty?" Gorlon shrieked. "But my lord, he's only asking for twenty!"

'Forty," Akeela repeated. "And don't raise your voice to me."

Gorlon looked at D'marak for support, but the assistant only stared at the king, his mouth agape.

'You think I'm being cruel, don't you?" Akeela asked the petitioner. "You're lucky I don't toss you into Borior."

'King Akeela, please…"

'Look at you, standing there in your fine clothes with your perfect face. I've seen fellows like you all my life. You think that smile of yours lets you get away with anything."

Stunned, Gorlon said nothing.

'Well, not this time." Akeela rose from the bench. "D'marak, forty sovereigns. Not a penny less."

He left the courtroom, suffering the shocked expressions of the crowd.

forward, gazing down at the man. " I want to hear about your crime."

'My king, there's really nothing to explain," stammered Gor-lon. "I loved a woman who was married.

That's all. It was my foolishness that brought me to this place."

'And your lust," added Akeela.

'Aye, and that," agreed Gorlon. "But I did the lady no harm. She was with me willingly, and has even told her husband so."

'No harm?" said Akeela. "You believe that?"

Gorlon nodded. "Yes, my lord. But I don't have the twenty sovereigns to pay the man I've wronged.

If ten is agreed…"

'It is not agreed, sir," said Akeela. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples against a rising headache. The way this arrogant Gorlon pranced into court…

'My king," said D'marak. "Why not let him pay the ten sovereigns and be done with it? It's late, after all. And it's only adultery."

'Only adultery?" Akeela erupted. He stood up suddenly, forcing a gasp from the courtroom. "Adultery is a crime in Lüria."

D'marak chuckled. "It's hardly the same as murder, King Akeela."

Akeela turned to Gorlon. "What is marriage?"

'My lord?"

'Come on, man, tell me. What is marriage?"

'It's…" Gorlon searched for an answer. "It's a union, my lord."

'What kind of union?" snapped Akeela.

Gorlon was lost. "My lord?"

'It's a legal union! It's two people committing themselves to each other before the Court of Lüria.

Before me. And it isn't something that can be broken just because a man feels an urge or a woman agrees to spread her legs."

'My lord, I never…"

'Quiet." Akeela turned to D'marak. "What is the husband asking for? Twenty sovereigns?"

'Yes," said D'marak. "Quite a bit, actually."

Was it a lot, Akeela wondered? How much was a marriage worth? And how much should this scraper pay to repair one?

Only the wind replied, lashing his face. He suddenly felt alone, and the murkiness unnerved him. Again he thought of his arrogant captain, and his patience snapped.

'God damn it, I'm a lieutenant! Why send me out in this swill?" Then he laughed bitterly, adding,

"Because the captain is a bloody bastard, that's why."

He could turn back, he supposed, but then he would have failed in this simple task, and that would give Lukien pleasure. So he squinted through the rain, surveying the routes carefully. Both directions looked equally eerie; not at all hospitable, especially since they had the princess with them. And Lukien had told him to find the safest route. But Trager wasn't even sure where they were. Somewhere lost in Reec, south of the Novo Valley.

'Left then," he decided. It was more southerly and would probably lead them closer to Koth. He urged his mount forward again, his mind polluted with thoughts of Lukien.

The captain had been very quiet lately. Since leaving Hes, he had hardly spoken at all. He simply rode at the point of the company, occasionally giving orders to the men and checking on Princess Cassandra's carriage, which rolled along in the middle of the company, comfortably housing the young woman and the maid Jancis. Despite the wind and rain, Trager smiled as he thought about Cassandra. She was comely, more than Akeela deserved, and the image in his mind made him hunger. He didn't wonder why Lukien was always looking at her—the answer was obvious. The lust in Lukien's eyes was plain enough for anyone who cared to see it. And Trager didn't blame his captain for coveting Cassandra, either. He was a man, with a man's urges. To Trager, that was forgivable. What wasn't forgivable—what haunted Trager day and night and had for years—was the arrogance with which the captain carried himself. Apparently he thought nothing of craving the king's property, because he was like a brother to the stupid Akeela and the king was blind to everything. When it came to Lukien, Akeela was like a little boy, hero-worshipping an undeserving bag of pus.

'It's time to puncture that bag, I say," muttered Trager.

He would do it with a lance. When the spring tourney came,

,'ieutenant Will Trager shook cold rain from his face, cursing his bad luck. The storms that had surged through the valley the past few days had turned the road to muck and swallowed the sun with clouds, and though he suspected it was very near noon, he could barely see the path past the blinding rain. He drew back the reins of his horse, bringing the beast to a stop. A canopy of sable hung overhead, windswept and miserable. Trager's uniform clung limply to his body, soaked through with rain. Behind him, the muddy road snaked through the forest, back toward his company and the warm fires of camp. Ahead of him lay a fork in the road, both branches leading to darkness. The thick forest weaved a mesh of tangled limbs, warning him away.

Trager shook his head, muttering to himself and hating Lukien for sending him scouting. The captain and the others were back at camp, enjoying food and the cover of pavilions, while he was out in the storm, enduring the cold and filth. For three days they had traveled, heading west toward Koth, and for three days it had rained, slowing them to a crawl. Worse, the swelling river Kryss had flooded the Novo Valley, forcing them to detour down unfamiliar roads. It had taken a lot of scouting to get this far, and Trager was sick of the duty. He was tired of the rain and the endless mud, but mostly he was tired of Lukien and his orders. Beads of rain fell into his eyes as he considered the forking road.

'Bloody hell, this figures. Which way now?"

armys, how they looked like people and preyed on human flesh, nd how they could hypnotize a man with their preternatural eyes. Now, caught in their watery nest, he believed every word. His horse finally caught the scent of the monsters and began to snort wildly. Trager squeezed his thighs against its flanks to quiet it Only one thought occurred to him—escape.

'Now!"

Drawing his sword in one hand, he wrenched his mount around with the other, bringing the stallion snorting to its hinds. The garmy in the road sprang forward; its hideous face filling Trager's vision. He swung his sword wide, catching the creature's neck and slicing the head from its sinewy body. A shriek filled the air, then silence. Trager spun his horse around. The garmys in the trees dropped from the branches. Trager heard them sprinting through the mud. But his horse was already bolting away. He turned to see the creatures scurrying over their fallen brother, slowly dropping back. They were monstrously ugly—like monkeys in the skin of snakes.

'Hurry!" Trager urged his mount, praying his horse wouldn't stumble and break a leg.

he would be ready for it. Finally, he would tarnish the vaunted knight of bronze.

Trager rode on, heartened by the image of Lukien dangling from the tip of his lance. Overhead the tangle of branches thickened, blocking out the worst of the rain. He would ride another mile before turning back, he decided. Ahead of him, the forest road widened slightly. Trager congratulated himself for choosing the right direction. Reecian roads were good, at least as good as those in Lüria, but the rainy season turned them all into slop. This year, the rains had come earlier than expected. A slick of mud blanketed the road, making travel hard for his horse. The stallion's hooves disappeared into the earth with a sucking sound. Trager listened to the noise, wondering if he should stop. Then he heard something else.

A hissing sound, very faint. His eyes seized on something dead ahead. Abruptly he jerked back the reins.

For a moment he saw nothing, then caught a glimpse of something green slipping through the mud.

The darkness of the storm and trees shaded the road. He held his breath, afraid to make the smallest sound, realizing that a garmy was ahead, one of the rarest and most deadly creatures that called the forest home.

The creature lay very still. Trager mimicked its silence, not daring to move. Thankfully, his horse had yet to see the beast. Carefully he scanned the surrounding trees, looking for others, then saw two more pairs of yellow eyes glowing in the thickets. His heart thundering, Trager considered his options. He had to flee, that was plain enough, but garmys could be quick, and might strike if he tried to run. He pretended to ignore the creatures, knowing they would come as close as possible before striking.

Predictably, the one in the road began to slither forward.

It moved like a cat through the mud, its reptilian body barely visible, its spiked tail rising like a dorsal fin above the water. Beneath the filth, two webbed hands pulled it forward. Its head was smooth, covered with scales, and its lidless eyes shone a sickly gold. Each swish of its tail brought its wide mouth closer, while its brothers in the trees watched in silence, ready to spring.

'Mother of Fate," Trager whispered. He knew the tales of the wo hours later, Trager approached the camp. His ride back had been uneventful, and he had neither seen nor heard anything more of the garmys. He was proud of himself for having slain one of the beasts, and was looking forward to boasting about it when he returned. The fear that had seized him earlier was gone now, and all he could think about was Lukien, and how the captain would look when he told him about the garmys.

But not far from the camp, Trager remembered how much he hated Lukien, and how unendurable his life had become in the Bronze Knight's shadow. He remembered also how much Akeela loved Lukien, and how Lukien was a hero in Lüria, something that Trager would never be. And then he remembered how Lukien always took the point when they traveled, careful to protect the king's new bride.

When at last he entered the camp, he reported directly to Lukien. He told the captain how he'd scouted the forward area, and that there was no trouble on the roads save for the muck that had plagued them for days.

He mentioned nothing of the garmys.

'You should be pleased," said Trager. "We're making good progress. And look at that sky. Not a cloud."

Lukien nodded. "Yes. Finally." He looked over at his lieutenant. Trager wore a peculiar grin. He asked, "What are you smiling at?"

'The day, Captain," replied Trager. "That's all. And I'm glad to be getting closer to home."

'Mmm, yes," agreed Lukien. "But the roads are still bad. We won't cross the border till tomorrow at the earliest. There's a fork up ahead, you say?"

Trager looked around, seemingly puzzled. "It was dark in the rain," he mused. "I can't quite recall. But it's around here somewhere."

A few minutes later, they found it. Lukien considered the fork, not liking the looks of either route.

Both were canopied with trees and laden with mud. He brought up a hand, calling the company to a halt.

Trager relayed the order and watched as the horsemen and carriage came to a stop.

'All right, we'll rest here for a spell," said Lukien. He spied the two lanes, unsettled by them both.

"Trager, which way did you take yesterday?"

The lieutenant didn't reply. Lukien turned and saw that he had already dismounted and was leading his horse away.

'Trager," he called. "Which way?"

'Captain?" the lieutenant asked.

'Which way did you go yesterday?"

Trager thought for a moment, then said "Left."

Still atop his horse, Lukien studied the leftward route. It was dim and foreboding, like its twin, and something told him to be cautious. He said, "I'm going to ride ahead and scout it out. Tend to the men and see that they water their horses. Then look after the princess, make sure she's all right."

'Good idea, Captain," said Trager, then quickly turned and walked away.

J_he next morning, Lukien gave the order to break camp and led the company once again toward Koth. It was a clear morning, the first any of them had seen in days, and Lukien took the sunlight as a good omen. Now they might finally start making some real progress. As was his custom, he rode at the head of the company, with Trager and the other Royal Chargers behind him. Cassandra's royal carriage rumbled along in the center. So far, it had been an uncomfortable ride for all of them, and Cassandra's once lovely carriage was now spattered with mud and windblown leaves. The roads were still soaked with rain, which made traveling slow, but as the sun rose higher the day began to warm and the puddles slowly dried, revealing the road beneath. Lukien kept a relaxed pace, careful not to tax their horses. If they were lucky, they would reach the Lürian border in a day or so. From there it was at least another full day's ride to Koth.

To Lukien, it seemed like a lifetime ago that he had been with Cassandra at the picnic. Since then, he had seen precious little of her. She had been shunning him, and he supposed it was embarrassment that kept her silent. He had tried several times to speak to her while in Hes, but always she had feigned tiredness or some pressing business, and she never seemed to require his bodyguard services anymore, the way she had during their first weeks together. Now she was lost to him, and the loss disturbed Lukien. Soon enough, he would turn her over to Akeela. They would marry, and he would be forever cursed to see her with another man. Irritated, Lukien gave an angry sigh. The sound of it summoned an unwanted visitor.

'Captain?" asked Trager. The lieutenant rode up alongside him. "Is something wrong?"

'Nothing's wrong," answered Lukien, struggling to be civil. The last month with Trager had been unbearable. "I was just thinking."

V^assandra sat inside her carriage, absently watching the world through her dingy window. Though Jancis was with her she felt completely alone, just as she had for weeks. The carriage rocked from side to side as it rolled along the muddy roads, slowly pulled forward by a team of horses. The horses had been white when they'd left Hes, splendid looking beasts to herald her arrival in Lüria. Now they were mud covered, like everything else, and they matched Cassandra's mood perfectly. For days now she had been stuck inside the carriage, only taking breaks when her escorts did, or when she needed to relieve herself. The vehicle's claustrophobic walls were driving her mad. Jancis, who constantly occupied herself with knitting, made small talk as they traveled, daydreaming about Koth and King Akeela, and what it would be like for Cassandra to be queen. But Cassandra hardly thought about those things anymore. As it had for weeks now, her mind turned to Lukien.

She had embarrassed herself with the knight, and now could barely face him. She remembered with horrible clarity his expression when he'd seen the painting, and though Jancis had asked him not to tell anyone about it, Cassandra didn't trust him. She fretted that he had bragged to his comrades about the incident. Worse, she wondered what he might tell Akeela. And though she had desperately wanted to talk to Lukien, to apologize and beg his silence, she could not, for being around him stole her voice. She feared him. Worse, she feared she loved him. She kept reminding herself that Akeela was a good man, and how fortunate she was to have been chosen by him. Any of her sisters would have willingly traded places with her. But the love she had hoped to feel for Akeela had yet to take root, constantly stunted by her infatuation with Lukien.

Have I ever loved? she wondered as she watched the trees pass by her window. Do I even know what love is?

She loved her father, but this was different. When she looked at Lukien—or when he looked at her—she felt peculiar, and the feeling was wonderful. None of the boys in Castle Hes had ever stirred such emotion in her, and she knew that was because they were simply boys, while Lukien was a man. He was accomplished and strong, and his skin bore the scars of a life hard-lived. In a matter of weeks he had taken over her mind. That was love, surely.

'I don't know," she whispered.

Jancis looked up from her knitting, eyeing her friend suspiciously. "What's that?"

Cassandra didn't reply. She merely stared out the window. Jancis laid her knitting aside and leaned forward.

'You've been very pensive lately," she remarked. "Are you feeling all right?"

It was the same tired old question. Jancis watched her like a midwife these days.

'Yes," Cassandra lied. "I'm fine."

'No pains?"

'No," said Cassandra. Another lie. "I was just thinking."

'Oh, I'm sure. About what? Should I guess?"

'Don't be a pest, Jancis," said Cassandra. But she sighed theatrically, inviting her friend's attention.

"Oh, Jan. I don't know what to do…"

'There's nothing to be done, so don't fret over it. I told you—he's probably forgotten all about it. And even if he hasn't, I don't think he's going to tell anyone. He's as guilty as you, Cass. Don't forget that."

'He's not," said Cassandra.

'He is. He was the one looking at you, remember. He couldn't take his eyes off you!" Jancis frowned.

"Bloody wretch, that's what he is. Going over his king's wife like that. Maybe Akeela should find out about it, teach him some manners."

'I have to talk to him," Cassandra resolved. She thought for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Yes. If I could speak to him I could explain things, before he says anything to Akeela."

Jancis' face hardened. "Don't talk to him. That's how you got in this mess in the first place."

'I have to," said Cassandra. She gave her maid a sad smile. "I want to, Jan."

Just then the carriage came to a stop. Jancis massaged her neck in relief.

'Thank God," she said, stretching. "I could use a walk." "We're stopping," said Cassandra absently.

The seed of an idea began to bloom. She cranked up her courage. "Yes, all right."

Tomas almost blushed. "I suppose we could ride ahead. He's nly just gone. It shouldn't be a problem catching up to him."

He gestured to one of the horses. "You can ride, my lady, can't 'What?"

Cassandra stood up, stooping, and opened the carriage door.

'Cass, where are you going?"

'To talk to Lukien," said Cassandra quickly. "I have to speak to him before we reach Koth."

'No!"

Cassandra hardly heard lands' plea. She was out of the carriage in a second, her boots splashing into the boggy earth. The entire company had come to a halt, and the men were already dismounting. She strained to see toward the head of the column, searching for Lukien, but he was nowhere to be found.

Puzzled, she glanced around. The men were all stretching and seeing to their horses. Jancis jumped out of the carriage beside Cassandra.

'I don't see him," said Cassandra. "Where'd he go?"

Jancis was relieved. "I don't know and I don't care. Now forget about him, will you please?"

Cassandra had no intention of forgoing her plan. She intended to speak to Lukien now, while she still had the courage.

'Stay here," she ordered, then made her way to the front of the company where a number of Lürian soldiers were caring for their mounts. Noticing her at once, the soldiers stopped working.

'My lady?" asked one of them, a young man named Tomas. "Can I help you?"

Cassandra hesitated. "I'm looking for Lukien," she said. "Do you know where he is?"

The soldiers glanced at each other. Cassandra tried to look confident.

'He's just gone off, my lady," said Tomas, pointing down the road. "He's gone to scout the way ahead."

'Well, I must speak to him," said Cassandra. "It's important."

Tomas smiled. "He'll be back soon, my lady."

'No, that won't do. I have to speak to him now." Cassandra returned Tomas' smile, heaping on the charm. "Could you take me to him, Tomas?"

'Me? Oh, no, my lady. I don't think I should. He'll be back presently."

'But it's urgent, Tomas," said Cassandra. She took a step closer, fluttering her long lashes. " Please?"

you Cassandra wasted no time in mounting the horse.

Irager waited until he had watered and fed his horse before checking on the princess. She was a spoiled brat anyway, so he took his time sauntering to her carriage. When he arrived, he found the princess' handmaid leaning against the vehicle, her face drawn. He took the time to leer at her before she noticed him.

'Handmaid Jancis?" he asked.

The girl jumped at the intrusion.

'Yes?"

'Is your mistress about?" Trager asked. "I'm here to see if she needs anything."

The maiden blanched. "No."

'No, she doesn't need anything, or no, she isn't around?"

Jancis hesitated. "She's… away."

'Away? What exactly does that mean, girl?"

'I'm sorry, Lieutenant," said Jancis, "but she's gone off after Captain Lukien."

'What?" blurted Trager. "Why'd she do that?"

The girl shrugged. "To speak to him. She—

'Fate above, I don't believe this!"

Trager didn't spare a moment. He dashed back to his horse, tossed himself onto its back, then raced like the wind after Lukien and the princess. As he galloped past his bewildered men, he sneered, "You stupid brat. I'm supposed to help protect you!"

T -Len minutes after riding off, Lukien was satisfied the route was safe. He glanced around at the trees, unnerved by their thickness but convinced that they held no dangers. He drew back the reins, bringing his horse to a stop. Ten yards away, the road disappeared under a pool of murky water. Lukien studied it, gauging its The young man said, "Should I ride back to the others?"

'No. Just out of earshot."

Tomas did as Lukien asked, trotting past him and coming to stop several yards away, near the flood in the road. Lukien looked at Cassandra and spoke in a whisper.

'My lady, why have you come out here? It's unseemly for you to come calling after me."

'I'm sorry," Cassandra offered. "It didn't occur to me what others would think."

'Obviously not," said Lukien. He shook his head and sighed. "You're very young, Princess. But not so young as to be so silly. You mustn't ever come after me like this again, do you understand?"

Cassandra stiffened. "I'm not a child, Captain," she retorted. "I'm a princess, and soon to be your queen. I will go where I wish, when I wish. And I won't be ordered about by you. Do you understand?"

Lukien tried to stay calm. "My lady, why are you here?"

'To speak with you alone," replied Cassandra icily.

'Then speak and let's be done with it." Lukien leaned forward and lowered his voice again."And please, go back to being that lady you were during our ride. I much prefer her to the harpy you're being now."

The sharpness vanished from Cassandra's face. "All right," she said. "I wanted to come to apologize.

I've been dreadful to you the past few weeks, ever since you saw my painting…"

'Shhh," Lukien cautioned. He looked over his shoulder at Tomas. Satisfied the man couldn't hear them, he said, "Keep your voice down, my lady. I haven't told anyone about your painting, and I don't want the world finding out now."

Cassandra smiled in relief. "I was worried you might have told your men," she confessed. "Thank you for honoring my privacy."

To Lukien's great annoyance he felt himself smiling. "To be honest, I was flattered. Surprised, but flattered."

'It was wrong of me," said Cassandra. " I shouldn't have painted you, with or without your permission.

But I don't want depth, and was sure it was passable. Suddenly nothing could spoil his good mood. Lüria was close now, far closer than it had been for weeks, and he was anxious to make up lost time. He spun his mount around to return to the company—and saw Tomas riding toward him. To Lukien's shock, the soldier wasn't alone. Riding a pace behind him was Cassandra, her faced fixed with a peculiar grimace.

'What the…?" Lukien trotted toward them. "Tomas, what's going on?"

Tomas held up his hands. "Don't be angry, Lukien," he said. "I'm only following orders."

'Orders? Whose orders?"

'Mine," said Cassandra. She brought her horse up before Tomas'. "It's not his fault, Captain. I made him take me to you. I have to talk to you."

The princess was resolute. Her forwardness annoyed Lukien.

'My lady, you're very foolish," he said sharply. "Coming out alone like this is dangerous." Then he turned to Tomas, saying, "And what business have you taking her here, away from the others? What's wrong with you?"

'I'm sorry, Captain," stammered Tomas. "But she insisted…"

'She doesn't give you orders, soldier. I do!"

The man lowered his eyes in disgrace. He was one of the youngest in the troop, about Cassandra's age, and he had obviously been influenced by the princess. Though Cassandra's pretty face was no excuse for stupidity, Lukien understood its power, and so tried to soften his tone.

'All right, no harm done," he said. "Now turn around, both of you. We're heading back."

'What? No…" Cassandra protested. "Lukien, I must speak to you privately."

'We'll talk back at camp."

The princess' expression became earnest. "Now," she urged. "Please."

Just as he knew it had beguiled Tomas, Cassandra's soft voice made Lukien relent. Regrettably, he found her plea irresistible. "All right," he nodded. "Tomas, give us some privacy, will you?"

him, heard the gnashing of teeth again his armor, but he was suddenly blind and realized he was underwater, his face buried in the mud. A cold appendage snaked around his neck; the garmy's tail.

Lukien panicked, found a strength born of terror, and exploded upward with a shout.

'No!"

The garmy fell backward, its tail still coiled around Lukien's throat. The appendage pulled, dragging Lukien after it. He dug desperately into his belt, finding his dagger. As he fell forward he plunged the weapon down. The blow stunned the monster. Lukien drove the blade with all his weight, puncturing the scaly hide and releasing a spray of stinking blood. He was suddenly a savage, a berserker, and the beast bellowed as he thrust the dagger again and again, stabbing it repeatedly. In the distance he heard Cassandra's voice, calling to him. He heard Tomas gurgling nearby, screaming for help. And then he heard another voice, familiar yet surprising.

'Tomas! Hold on!"

A black stallion splashed into the flooded road, madly flailing its hooves. Atop the steed was Trager.

The lieutenant's face was furious. His blade sprang from its scabbard as he searched the foaming water, Lukien saw it as if in a dream. His own fight was almost over. The garmy's tail slipped slowly from his neck. Now it was the garmy that was desperate to flee. It twisted its wounded body and began crawling away, slashing its spiked tail at Lukien's face. Lukien grabbed hold of the tail and jerked the creature backward.

'Come here, you bitch!" he spat.

The monster's face turned and snapped at him. He punched his dagger forward, sending it through the garmy's open mouth. The creature cried in agony, tumbled backward into the mud, then lay there twitching and dying. As Lukien turned to help Tomas, he watched Trager dive from his horse, falling against the last garmy. The creature had risen against its new adversary, bringing up its head and arms even as Tomas dangled from its tail. The young man's face was purple. He wasn't moving. Trager's sword slashed, slicing the garmy's shoulder. The creature's arms flew at him, raking his armor with its powerful nails.

King Akeela finding out about it, you see. You won't tell him, will you?"

She was dancing around the subject. They both were. Lukien desperately wanted to speak the truth.

'Tell him what, my lady?" he asked. "That I've been staring at you across lakes and meadows? That you've painted secret portraits of me?" He let his horse take one step closer to her. "Is that what we should keep from him, Princess?"

Cassandra nodded. Her eyes were wide with understanding. "Yes," she whispered. "And more."

'What more?" asked Lukien. "What else is there to admit?"

She watched him, unwilling or unable to speak. Yet Lukien could sense the unspoken words. There was affection in her eyes, plain and true. He wanted to hear its confession. Cassandra opened her mouth to speak…

"Aüüeeee!"

The sound was Tomas, screaming. Lukien saw Cassandra's eyes widen in terror, then turned as a slimy body rose from the flooded road. Already the creature had one arm twisted around Tomas' leg, dragging him from his horse. The stallion whinnied, bucking and tossing Tomas from its back, sending him crashing into the water.

'God!" cried Lukien. He drew his sword and bolted forward. "Cassandra, stay back!"

The garmy wrapped its arms around its prey. Tomas writhed in its grasp, struggling to lift his mouth from the filthy water. A gurgling scream tore from his throat.

'Lukien…!"

Lukien rushed toward him, bolting past his frightened horse, desperate to find the garmy in the water.

All he could see was parts of Tomas wrapped in reptilian flesh, tossing and splashing as he fought to get free. Beneath him, Lukien's horse shuddered, refusing to go into the water. Lukien leapt from its back and waded in—then saw the other garmy fall from the trees.

It was on him too quickly, knocking the breath from his lungs and the sword from his hand. For a moment he saw its inhuman face, hissing, then tumbled backward into the muck, the creature's arms flailing after him. He felt the powerful limbs seize Exhausted, Lukien stumbled forward, his dagger still in hand. The garmy noticed him and let down its guard—a fatal mistake against the skilled Trager. The lieutenant saw the opening and lunged, burying his sword in the monster's chest. The garmy's shrill scream tore through the forest. Its arms flailed, its tail slackened, and its yellow eyes dimmed as it collapsed. As he fell from the creature's grasp, Tomas collapsed beside it. "Tomas!" Lukien cried.

Trager was already over the man, lifting him from the mud. It was plain that Tomas was dead. His head lolled back in Trager's arms, lifeless. Lukien stopped mid-step, dropped his dagger, and let out an anguished moan.

'Oh, no," he sighed. "Don't tell me he's gone." Cassandra brought her horse to the edge of the water.

She looked at the corpse in Trager's arms. Her face contorted with sorrow.

'It's my fault," she whispered. "Fate forgive me." "No." Lukien looked squarely at Trager. "It's not your fault, my lady. It's the fault of this incompetent fool!"

'What?" Trager blurted. "Captain, I tried to save you!" "Fool!" Lukien said again. "You said this road was safe!" "It was safe!" Trager roared. He still had Tomas in his arms. "I didn't see the garmys yesterday. It was raining. It was dark!" "Dark?" Lukien laughed horribly. "You were on scout duty, you ass. What does it matter that it was dark?" He pointed at Tomas. " You killed him, Trager. Not those garmys."

'You arrogant bastard," Trager sneered. He turned and walked off, holding Tomas in a dismal embrace. He passed Cassandra without regard, put Tomas onto the back of the dead man's horse, then took the stallion's reins. When he had gathered up his own horse, he led them both away. Lukien watched him go.

'Lukien?" asked Cassandra. "Are you all right?" Lukien stood in the mud amidst the dead garmys. He closed his eyes, fearing he might weep. "Let's get back to camp."

_o Cassandra, who had never seen a city larger than her home of Hes, the Lürian capital was a marvel. It was everything Akeela had promised, everything Lukien had bragged about, and it humbled the princess with its beauty. Koth was a hub of activity, a meeting place of businessmen and scholars, its streets filled with carts and carriages, its buildings tall and gilded. Cassandra fell in love with it immediately. After her dreary ride from Hes she was ready for the luxuries of a city again, and so spent her days in the castle with Akeela, preparing for their wedding. Even after a week had passed, there was still more of Lionkeep to explore, still dozens of servants whose names she hadn't learned. And there were ministers, too, scores of them. They constantly came to the castle to vie for Akeela's attention, most of them old, somber-faced men with trains of civil servants, their hands nervously scribbling in ledgers. In those first days of her arrival, it seemed to Cassandra that the chancellors of Koth could do nothing without Akeela, for they monopolized him day and night, and even when he was away from them, he was exhausted.

But Cassandra took it all in stride. She adored the freedom of her new home, and Akeela's busy schedule gave her time to investigate Lionkeep and to think about what had happened on the road to Koth. She had not seen much of Lukien since their arrival, yet she still thought of him often. True to his word, the Bronze Knight had mentioned nothing of their encounters to Akeela, and for that Cassandra was grateful. Despite the tragedy of Tomas' death, Akeela had greeted her with a smothering smile, and she knew that he suspected no infidelity of her, not even of the daydreaming kind she had committed.

Before her arrival, Akeela had ordered the city gates trimmed with ribbons and flowers and the streets lined with white horses. The chancellors had come out to greet her, filling Chancellery Square and showering her with praise. There had been music, too, with honey-voiced minstrels and a choir of children arranged for her by the one-armed Baron Glass, head of the House of Dukes. Koth had turned out in force to welcome its new queen, and Cassandra had melted at the outpouring of emotion. At that moment, she knew she had made the right choice in accepting Akeela's proposal.

Mostly.

For though she seldom saw Lukien, he was never far away. Akeela had named Lukien her champion.

Sweetly, her soon-to-be husband seemed not to notice the way Lukien's eyes flashed when he was near her. The young king was too preoccupied in exhibiting the sights of Koth. When they had arrived at Lion-keep, he had shown her their apartments, a vast collection of chambers occupying an entire wing of the castle. It was more than anyone should have, even a queen, but Cassandra loved the excess.

Afterwards, he had taken her to a ledge of the castle, very high up on the north side, Koth spread out like a blanket beneath their private perch.

'On the tenth day of spring we will be married," he had told her. His voice had been as soft as down.

"It will be a special day, the kind of wedding you deserve."

She had looked at him and smiled, and in the moonlight he seemed a little boy, starstruck. He was lovesick for her, in a way that Cassandra feared she could never return.

With the tenth day of spring only a week away, Cassandra finally settled into a routine. Because she was not yet married, she had a room of her own in Lionkeep, away from the cavernous wing she would soon share with Akeela; Jancis had a room nearby. The sickness that had plagued her for months continued to trouble her, but she ignored it, confessing nothing of it to Jancis. The handmaid was giddy with the attention the Lürians showed her. She accompanied Cassandra everywhere, relishing the newness of her surroundings even more than her princess.

On a perfect morning bright with spring sunshine, Cassandra and Jancis toured the avenues of Koth, conveyed by an opulent carriage and guarded by a host of Royal Chargers. Lukien chaperoned them, pointing out attractions along the boulevards and directing them to the best shops. Because he was away from the castle his mood had improved. He no longer avoided Cassandra's eyes. Cassandra and Jancis relaxed in the coach, whispering like two conspirators.

'He loves you, I think," said Jancis.

Cassandra nodded. The carriage moved through a crowded street. She could see Lukien atop his horse, proudly ferrying them through the traffic.

'It doesn't matter," she said sadly. "In a week I will have a husband, and it will not be Lukien."

'Then forget him, Cassandra," said Jancis. "Think of Akeela."

'I will," said Cassandra.

But she knew it was a lie. She would never be able to forget Lukien. He was too close, and he had done something to her. Now when she thought of her impending marriage, she did so joylessly.

,'Vs promised, the wedding took place on the tenth day of spring.

Neither Cassandra nor Akeela could have asked for a more splendid day. The sun was warm but not oppressive, the sky bright without being glaring. A gentle breeze moved through the city and the lilacs around Lionkeep bloomed. Cassandra wore a dress of white and emerald, was veiled with silk and followed by a long, elaborate train. The dress had been made for her by Akeela's royal tailor, who had promised the young bride she would look stunning in his creation. As she walked down the aisle of Lionkeep's throne room, she knew the tailor hadn't lied. The faces of those gathered reflected her loveliness. At the throne stood Akeela, resplendent in an outfit of black and crimson. Atop his head was his golden crown, still looking out of place upon his I ) UHN MARCO young brow. He wore a ceremonial sidearm and a nervous smile. Even from across the chamber, Cassandra had seen him perspiring. Next to him was Lukien. The knight wore his bronze armor, outshining all of them, even Cassandra. She had let her eyes linger on him for a moment.

After the ceremony, the new bride and groom had gone off to the yard for the tourney. The courtyard of Lionkeep was decorated with flags and colorful pavilions. Hundreds of people, mostly Lürian nobles, milled through the yard with goblets in their hands, nosing around the tables laden with food and wine.

Musicians and jesters entertained the guests while the knights readied themselves for the tournament.

Akeela had explained to Cassandra that Lüria had such a tournament each spring, and that it was one of the best times in the city, a sort of holiday for the countless civil servants and their noble masters. All the chancellors had come, bringing their wives and children with them, and had taken seats either near or within the royal gallery, where Akeela and Cassandra sat in the first row, flanked by Lukien and Warden Graig. Cassandra had removed her train and veil and took a seat next to her new husband, eyeing the crowds as they nodded and smiled at her. Before the gallery was the tournament ground, busy with the activity of knights and squires as they prepared their weapons and horses for the show. It was a test of skill, Akeela had told her. The lances and swords were blunted. He had also told her that Lukien was the champion of the tourney, and had been for the past three years. He would be defending the title later in the day, partaking in the jousts against his rival, Trager. Cassandra stole a glance at Lukien. He sat beside Akeela with a goblet in his hand, laughing as a jester told jokes. To Cassandra, he looked remarkably calm. She leaned back and let a servant fill her glass. Next to her, Jancis gave her a nudge.

'Well?" her friend whispered. "How do you feel, my queen?"

Cassandra frowned. "Queen." The word felt strange to her. "It's all too much, isn't it?"

'I don't think so," chirped Jancis. She took a sip of wine, happily studying the platters of food. "I think it's wonderful. Look how many people there are!"

But the new queen was unable to brighten, because they were 11 strangers. None of her own family had come, for King Karis a private man, and despite the new peace between Reec and ria he still felt s

unwelcome in the land of his old adversary. Surprisingly, Cassandra missed him. As eager as she'd been to be gone from him, she wished he had seen her married.

'Look how fat they all are," she whispered. "These ministers; they are all the same everywhere."

'Shhh," cautioned Jancis. "What's wrong with you, Cass? You should be happy. This is what you wanted." Her brow furrowed. "Are you feeling all right?"

'Fine," said Cassandra. She didn't tell her friend about the fire in her bowels. It was making her feel out of sorts. Before she could change the subject, Akeela took her hand.

'Cassandra?" He gave her a great smile. "What are you two chatting about?"

The others in the front of the gallery turned to hear her answer. Even the old man named Figgis seemed intrigued, dropping his mutton joint to listen. Cassandra mustered up a beautiful smile.

'Forgive me, my lord," she said. "We were merely talking about all the people that have come. It's quite a crowd of ministers you have. My father didn't have nearly so many advisors."

'No," agreed Akeela sourly. "Nor all the problems they bring, I'd wager."

Cassandra tried to lighten the conversation. "Forget your troubles with the chancellors, my lord.

Remember the spirit of the day."

'Of course," said Akeela. Yet his eyes lingered on the second row, where Baron Thorin Glass was seated. The Chancellor of the House of Dukes sat nearby, as his station demanded. With him was his wife, a woman much younger than he, and a gaggle of unruly children. The Baron was a big man, barrel-chested and ruddy, with unkempt red hair and an oiled goatee combed to a sharp point.

Cassandra guessed his age to be in the mid-forties. Like all the nobles, he had dressed for the occasion in expensive clothes and jewelry that twinkled in the sunlight. But most remarkable of all was his left arm, which wasn't there at all. In its place hung an empty sleeve, pinned up at the shoulder. Glass poured himself more wine, and when he noticed Akeela looking at him he smiled and raised his goblet in tribute.

Akeela returned the gesture, drinking with the Baron, but Cassandra caught the glare of contempt in his eyes. The emotion looked misplaced in Akeela.

'My lord," she said softly, "you could do a better job of hiding your feelings for the baron."

Sure that Glass couldn't hear him, Akeela replied, "The baron knows my feelings, my lady. There's no reason to hide them."

'For the sake of your kingship, then," Cassandra suggested. "You will need the baron's goodwill for your many projects."

'He opposes me, Cassandra. He makes it plain in the House of Dukes." Akeela lowered his goblet, his eyes shifting angrily. "Mark me. Before this day is over, he will spoil it with politics and bad news."

Cassandra had never seen Akeela so agitated. His mood surprised her. "Akeela," she said mildly,

"this is our wedding day. It's time to celebrate, not brood." She passed him a bowl of grapes. "Forget your duties for one day. Enjoy yourself."

He chose a grape and popped it into his mouth. Before them, a group of knights and young pages were readying for the first bout. Akeela seemed not to notice them.

'He is a bitter old fool," he whispered. "He's jealous of me because I'm young. Tell her, Lukien."

Lukien looked up. "My lord, please don't make me speak against Glass. You know how I feel about him."

'How, Lukien?" asked Cassandra. "Do you know him well?"

'Yes, my lady," said Lukien, keeping his voice low. Next to him, Figgis strained to hear. "He is a hero in Lüria. Once he was a great soldier."

'A long time ago," Akeela reminded him.

'Still, I honor him. As do most of the Chargers. He fought in the war against Norvor, and against Marn. That's where he was wounded."

Cassandra snuck a peek at Glass again, and at the peculiar way his empty sleeve dangled at his shoulder. "Remarkable."

'He is remarkable," said Lukien. "As I said, he is a hero."

'Hero," scoffed Akeela. "You are twice the hero Glass ever was, Lukien."

Lukien shook his head. "No."

'Yes," Akeela insisted. "Twice and more."

'The king is kind."

'I know something of Baron Glass," said Figgis suddenly. The old man shifted eagerly forward. "I learned about him when I was in Marn, during the war. Sir Lukien is right, my lord; he was a great soldier. And if I'm not mistaken, he served your father well."

Akeela rolled his eyes. "You are an expert on too many things, friend Figgis."

'Good," said Cassandra brightly. "Then let us change the subject. Figgis, my husband tells me you are a learned man, a great scholar."

The old librarian puffed up at the compliment. "The king does me proud to say so, my queen. But yes, I would agree with his description. I have studied many subjects all my life. Languages, the patterns of the stars, poetry." He thought for a moment. "To be true, it is hard to think of a subject that bores me."

Cassandra laughed. He was a peculiar man, but she liked the twinkle in his eyes. "And Jador," she added. "The king says you are an expert on that land."

'Ah, now you have touched on my greatest passion, my queen." Figgis' face lit up. "If anyone can be called an expert on Jador, than I suppose it is I. Since I was a boy the Jadori have fascinated me. When I—"

'Figgis, stop," said Akeela, smiling. "Really, the queen was just being polite."

The old man looked hurt, but soon found solace again in the food and entertainment. The knights who had taken the field were ready for the first bout. Lukien shoved his plate of pheasant away, sitting up to watch the joust. Behind him, Baron Glass told his children to take their seats as he, too, relished the coming combat.

T Ihe tournament stretched into the afternoon, as knight after knight took to the field for the honor of the king and queen and 'Lukien tells me Trager's been practicing," Akeela remarked.

'We shall see."

'Lukien will win, won't he?" asked Cassandra. "I mean, he won't be hurt, will he?"

Akeela looked at her askance, and for a moment she regretted her question.

'No," said Akeela. His eyes narrowed. "But your concern is refreshing."

Out on the field, Lukien put on his helmet. The officer of the tournament, a plump, middle-aged man, came to stand in front of the gallery and summoned the jousters. Both Lukien and Trager trotted forward, bringing their mounts to stand beside the officer, then removing their helmets as they faced the king and queen. For a moment, Lukien's eyes met Cassandra's. He seemed to wink at her reassuringly. Trager's face was furious, his jaw clamped tight.

The officer proclaimed, "My King and Queen, these two gentlemen have come into your presence, recommended by your good grace humbly, beseeching you to find the best jouster. To him, a diamond will be the prize. To the second, a ruby."

Akeela held out both hands. In the right was a brilliant diamond. In the left, a blood red ruby. He said,

"To the best shall go the diamond, and to the second the ruby. And when the tournament is done, we shall retire to the banquet rooms of Lionkeep, and dance and drink." He handed both gems over to Cassandra. "Who will win the diamond from the fair hand of the queen?"

Lukien said, "I think we know the answer to that, my lord."

The gallery laughed, as did the rest of the crowd. Cassandra saw Trager's face twitch, and for a moment she pitied him.

'Sir Trager, good fortune to you," she said. Then she looked at Lukien. "And to you, my champion."

'I will make you proud, my queen," said Lukien.

'Then to your stations," ordered the officer. He watched as both men bowed to the gallery, replaced their helms, and rode back to their positions on the opposite ends of the field. Lukien's page offered him a lance, which the Bronze Knight tested for balance before tucking beneath his arm. Across the field, Trager did the same. The pages fell away. The combatant's horses the ladies in the audience. There were jousts and archery exhibitions, feats of swordplay and horsemanship, and Cassandra watched it all with disinterest, feeling queasy and exhausted. Then, finally, it was time for Lukien to fight.

The Bronze Knight had left the gallery an hour earlier, to prepare for his bout. Now he was at one end of the parade ground, sitting atop his charger with his helmet in the crook of his arm. He was splendid in his bronze armor. The horse he rode shared the same bronze outfitting, protected with layers of metal along its breast and flanks and bearing an ominously forged headpiece. A page stood beside him, lance in hand. Akeela had explained that the lance was dulled and tipped with a protective head—a coronal, he'd called it. Lukien reached for the lance and inspected it, then looked over the other weapons arrayed nearby. A mace awaited its use, as did a broadsword. Another page held Lukien's shield, emblazoned with the crest of Lüria. Lukien nodded to the boys, then looked across the field at his opponent. There sat Trager, his head hidden beneath his dark helmet, the reins of his stallion held tightly in gray gauntlets. Unlike Lukien, Trager wore the traditional silver armor of the Royal Chargers. His helmet bore the likeness of a ram's head, replete with curling horns.

'I think neither of them cares for the other," said Cassandra absently. She remembered Lukien's rage when Tomas had died, and how he had called Trager a fool. The lieutenant's face had twisted horribly at the insult. Cassandra was sure he wore the same expression now under his dark mask. Her heart raced with worry. Akeela took her hand, surprised to find it trembling.

'My lady, you're shivering," he said.

Cassandra frowned. "It is a barbaric sport, and I hate it," she said. "Look at them, one just as eager to kill the other. I can't watch this."

Akeela laughed. "Ah, but it is sport, as you say. And it's what these people have come to see—a spectacle. Look, see how they watch?"

The hush over the crowd was remarkable. Everyone waited for the outcome of the duel, which Trager had boasted he would win.

burying his lance in Trager's shield. Trager rose off his horse and tumbled backward, crashing into the ground. The crowd cheered. Without thinking, Cassandra jumped from her seat and joined them.

Lukien quickly brought his horse around and hovered over Trager. The lieutenant rose unsteadily to his feet.

'Well?" Lukien asked. "Are you injured?"

'Sword!" Trager cried, answering the knight's question. A page hurried onto the field and tossed Trager his broadsword. Lukien laughed.

'Yield, Trager," he said. He raised his lance toward Trager's chest. "You've already lost."

'No!" Trager swiped at the lance with his sword. "Come down and fight me!"

Lukien brought his horse forward, pushing the lance into Trager and knocking him over. Again the crowd crowed. Trager scurried backward in the dirt, trying get up, but each time he did Lukien's horse took another step forward, pushing him back down.

'It is done!" cried the officer of arms. "Lukien has won."

Still on her feet, Cassandra applauded loudly. Akeela joined her, as did the others in the gallery.

Lukien dropped down from his horse and stood over Trager, then offered out his hand.

'Are you all right?"

'Get away from me!" spat Trager. His pages rushed out, helping him to his feet. When he finally righted himself, he snapped up the visor of his helm and glared at Lukien. All around them the crowds were clapping, but not for Trager.

'Both of you, come here," called Akeela. He turned to Cassandra. "My lady, I think you have something for our knights."

The officer came forward, escorting Lukien and the disgraced Trager to the gallery, both of whom bowed before the king and queen. Cassandra noticed how Trager kept his helmet on, a breach of etiquette, surely. He couldn't even look at her, so strong was his shame, so she let the lapse pass.

Said the officer, "Sir Trager has jousted well, but Sir Lukien has jousted better. So to him goes the diamond."

'Sirs," said Akeela, "These gentle folk thank you for your snorted. The officer of the joust stepped off the field, heading to the side of the gallery to stand with Breck and some other Royal Chargers. And Cassandra, sick with anxiety, clutched the gem-stones in her fists until her knuckles turned white.

Lukien and Trager lowered themselves into riding stances. Akeela raised his hand, held it aloft for a moment, then let it fall. Lukien's charger bolted forward. Trager raced toward him, his lance aimed. The air filled with clods of dirt and the noise of hammering hooves. The two jousters devoured the distance between them, each pointing a lance at the shielded heart of his opponent. The air sounded with the report of cracking wood. Lukien's lance drove into Trager's shield and Trager's into his, and Cassandra saw her champion's weapon buckle, sending up shards of wood. The jousters roared past each other, neither unhorsed. The crowd cheered wildly.

'Another lance!" Lukien cried. He whirled his horse around, anxiously waiting for his pages to bring him a fresh weapon and clear the debris from the ground. From the opposite end of the field, Trager waved at him 'Ha!" the lieutenant crowed. "You are clumsy this year, Captain!"

The folk in the gallery loved the banter. They shouted at the jousters, urging the combat to continue.

Lukien fixed his new lance beneath his arm and spurred his horse forward with a cry. Trager matched his moves, bolting forward. This time the clash sent Trager's lance skidding off Lukien's shield. Again, neither man went down. Their horses came to skidding stops.

'Well done, Trager," called Akeela. He favored the soldier with a smile. "This year you are truly worthy. Will the diamond be yours at last?"

'It is as good as won, my lord," replied the knight. He turned to his bronze opponent. "What say you, Captain? Again?"

'Again," replied Lukien. He raised a guantleted hand, waving Trager forward. "Now, come and get your lesson."

Incensed, Trager crouched and drove his boots into the flanks of his mount, spurring the charger onward. Lukien joined him, racing forward. Again their lances closed, again the crowd was wide-eyed.

And this time the Bronze Knight found his mark,

great labor. Trager, since you are second best, you get this ruby." He glanced at Cassandra, nudging her to bring out the gem. Cassandra complied, holding out the ruby for Trager, who took it reluctantly.

'Thank you, my lord and lady," he said.

Akeela continued, "And Lukien, once again you have jousted best of all. Once again, the diamond is yours, my friend."

Cassandra needed no encouragement this time. She held out the diamond for Lukien, placing it in his outstretched hand. But before he released her, he bent and gave her hand a kiss.

'For the honor of my queen," he said.

nd drank down its contents furiously, then wiped his hand across his brow.

a

'Whew! That girl can dance!"

Of course, thought Akeela blackly. AH the girls want to dance with Lukien.

'Sit, Lukien," he offered. "You look about to collapse."

'Indeed I am," said the captain. He came around the table and fell into a chair beside Akeela. He had doffed his armor once again and now wore a crimson tunic. When a servant brought over a full pitcher of beer, Lukien took it and drank without a glass. He was in fine spirits after his victory in the joust, and wore the diamond around his neck to prove it. Trager, on the other hand, was conspicuously missing from the banquet. His lieutenant's absence only buoyed Lukien's mood.

'So?" asked the knight. "Why aren't the happy couple dancing, eh?"

'The queen is tired," Akeela explained. "The excitement of the day."

'Tired?" Lukien looked at Cassandra. "Is that all, my lady?"

Cassandra grimaced. "Yes," she said. Yet her eyes seemed to say more.

'Well, then," said Lukien awkwardly. "You should rest."

'She is resting, Lukien."

Akeela and Lukien looked at each other. Lukien's smile sagged. He nodded and returned his attention to the pitcher of beer, filling Akeela's goblet again.

'Good beer," he said. "Let's drink a toast to the two of you."

'Yes," agreed a new voice. "Let's drink to the young lovers!"

Akeela looked up and saw Baron Glass approaching the table. He had a goblet in his only hand and a smarmy smile on his bearded face. He had left behind his pretty young wife and undisciplined children, and he bowed slightly to Cassandra as he came forward. Cassandra forced a pleasant countenance.

'Baron Glass," she said, "you are welcome to drink with us. Come, sit yourself down."

'The queen is gracious," said the baron. He looked around for a chair, then found the one that Figgis had vacated. Coming around the table, he pulled the chair close to Akeela, but before hat evening, the celebration continued inside the halls of Lion-keep. The ladies danced and the minstrels strummed their instruments, and children played beneath the tables with the dogs, enjoying the atmosphere fostered by the king. Festoons of flowers hung from the walls, scenting the air with lilac. Akeela sat with his new wife at a gigantic ebony table covered with platters of game birds and flagons of wine and beer. Out on the floor, Lukien was dancing with the daughter of Chancellor Nils. Cassandra watched them, frowning slightly. Akeela noticed the expression and wondered.

'You do not eat, my lady," he said, offering her some food from his own plate. Cassandra turned her nose away.

'I've already eaten enough for a week."

'Is the music too loud for you? You look uncomfortable."

'I'm fine," replied Cassandra. Then she smiled apologetically, adding, "It has been an exciting day, that's all. I'm just tired."

'Yes, exciting," Akeela agreed. "But you don't look well, Cassandra; your color." He studied her, wondering why she was so white. "Perhaps you should excuse yourself, get some rest."

She shook her head. "It's our wedding night."

'Cassandra," he whispered, "I'm not going to force myself on a sick woman. If you're not feeling well…"

'I'm fine." She smiled weakly. "Really."

Before Akeela could reply, Lukien hurried over from the dance floor. Perspiration covered his face.

He took up Akeela's goblet like you and I, King Akeela. Knowledge is for people who can handle it."

He gestured around the chamber. "Look about this room. What do you see here but nobles? These are the elite of Lüria, my lord. They already know how to read and write. They don't need your library."

'Precisely," argued Akeela. "The library is for all those people who aren't here; the people left out to celebrate my wedding in the streets." He smiled slyly at the Baron. "I'm building the library for your servants, Baron Glass, so that maybe they can do something better than swill your pigs and shear your sheep."

Glass' face reddened. "King Akeela, not everyone can be noble. Fate chose my birthright."

'Nonsense," said Akeela.

'It's not nonsense," said Glass. "And the same power that made me noble put you on the throne. Do you think my servants tend my herds because I keep them from something better? No. They tend my herds because they can do no better. It is Fate's will."

The notion incensed Akeela. Like many in Lüria, Glass was Fateist, part of a cult that believed the world controlled by an unseen force, neither god nor devil. It was just one of many faiths accommodated by Lüria, but it was influential in the country, and Glass believed its myths devoutly.

'Baron," said Akeela carefully, "this is my wedding day. I don't want it spoiled by politics and religion, and I don't want to argue with you."

'You should listen to me," Glass warned. "I am not alone in these thoughts. There are others who are concerned with your ideas, my lord. They think they are dangerous, and so do I."

'The people support me," said Akeela.

'The people do not run the chancelleries," Glass countered. "You and I are of noble birth; we know how to govern. At least that's what your father believed."

'I am not my father!"

The music suddenly stopped. Akeela shrank back in his chair as the eyes of the celebrants fell upon him. Baron Glass smiled, amused, and rose from his seat.

'No," he said, "you're not." he sat he lifted his glass. "To you both," he said. "May Fate grant you a long and happy marriage."

'Here, here," toasted Lukien, still drinking from the pitcher.

'Thank you, Baron," said Akeela. He took a sip of beer, watching Glass as he did so. If the baron hadn't been so near, he would have reminded Cassandra of what he'd said earlier—before the day was over, Glass would ruin it with politics.

'So," said Akeela cordially, "how did you like the tournament this year, Baron?"

'Well played, as always," replied Glass. This time he raised his goblet to Lukien. "Good jousting, Sir Lukien. You are as skilled as I ever was, maybe more so."

'Thank you, my lord," said Lukien. "You honor me."

'And the banquet… so lavish!" Glass looked around the chamber. "To be honest, I had expected a smaller affair."

'Oh?" asked Cassandra. "Why is that?"

Akeela braced himself. Here it comes…

'The expense, my lady," replied Glass. "With all the projects your husband has been championing, I didn't think the treasury had enough in its coffers for such luxury."

Akeela stiffened. "Baron Glass…"

'It's a special day," interrupted Lukien. "And I think it's worth the expense, don't you, Baron?"

'Of course." Glass grinned. "Tell me, Queen Cassandra, have you seen your husband's library yet? It's quite impressive."

Cassandra began to answer, but Akeela said quickly, "I've taken her there, yes."

'Did you think it was very grand?" asked Glass.

'I think it will be marvelous when it's done," said Cassandra. To Akeela's surprise, she took his hand.

"And I think it's worth any expense to bring light to the world, Baron."

'Hmm, Chancellor Sark may not agree with you, my lady. He doesn't like watching the coffers of his treasury bled dry."

'It's not his treasury," snapped Akeela. "And it's not yours or mine, either, Baron. It belongs to the people of Lüria. They want the library. They know it will bring them knowledge."

Baron Glass looked down into his goblet, considering his words carefully. "Knowledge," he sighed.

"Knowledge is for men realized suddenly he was shaking. Lukien hurried a goblet into his hands.

'How'd I do?" he asked.

'Drink," advised Lukien.

'Akeela?" Cassandra asked. "Are you really going away on this… tour?"

'I'm sorry, Cassandra, I should have told you," said Akeela. He took a few gulps of beer, steadying himself. Blessedly, the minstrels had started playing again. "But Glass got me so angry I forgot myself. I had to say something to change the subject."

'Well, that certainly did it!" joked Lukien.

'So you're going?" asked Cassandra crossly. "Just like that?"

'I must. I'm king." Akeela took her hand. "Please try to understand. It's as I told you in Hes—I'm trying to accomplish something. And it won't be so bad; I won't be gone that long. You can get things ready for us here in Lionkeep. And Lukien will look after you."

Cassandra's face clenched. Lukien put down his beer.

'Me?" he blurted. "But… shouldn't I go with you, Akeela? I mean, who'll protect you?"

'Come now, Lukien, you're not the only Royal Charger in Lüria. And you're Cassandra's champion now. Your first duty is to the queen."

Cassandra pulled back her hand. The expression on her face was dreadful. "I'm not feeling well, Akeela," she said. Yet as she spoke, she looked at Lukien."! think I need to be alone."

Before he could go, Akeela got to his feet. "Wait."

Glass stopped and turned around, looking at him questioning-ly. Angry, Akeela decided the time had come to make his statement.

'Everybody, please listen to me." He already had the crowd's attention. "I want to make an announcement."

'Announcement?" asked Lukien.

'Akeela?" probed Cassandra.

'I'm going away for a while," Akeela told them. "I'm going on a journey, a goodwill tour, you might say. I want to introduce myself to our neighboring nations. I want them to see me, and know that they have an ally in Lüria."

'What?" erupted Glass. "My lord, you've only just returned. The ink on the Reecian treaty hasn't dried yet!"

'Even so," Akeela continued, "I'm going. Countries like Marn and Norvor need to know they still have an ally in Lüria. This is going to be the start of a new relationship between our nation and the rest of the continent."

The crowd began to murmur. As Akeela expected, the chancellors in the audience shook their heads.

'My lord," said Glass, "don't you think you're going too quickly? Don't be reckless. Let us send emissaries first."

'Reckless?" asked Akeela. "Like I was in Reec, you mean? Or do you think I was merely lucky on that mission, Baron? More of your Fate nonsense?"

Glass sighed miserably. "I'm only thinking of your safety, my lord. And the good of Lüria."

'Fine. Then we're agreed that the good of Lüria matters. Therefore, I am going on this tour. It's important."

'King Akeela—"

'It's important," Akeela repeated. He glared at Glass. "Now, make your fellow lords understand that, Baron."

Baron Glass was flabbergasted by Akeela's tone. They stared at one another in challenge, Akeela determined not to blink. Then, the baron smiled.

'Well," he said, "perhaps there is more of your father in you than I thought, King Akeela. Excuse me, please."

Akeela watched him turn and go, then sat back down. He J-he celebration went on for hours more, though Cassandra had retired early to her private chamber, feigning a headache that had become remarkably real. Her private chamber was a very grand room, with silk window dressings and velvet chairs and her own bed for those nights when Akeela didn't require her. She stared at the bed from one of the plush chairs, listening to the ebbing revelry in the banquet room far below and wondering what it would be like to share her sheets with Akeela. Despite her illnesses—real and imagined—she had promised him his wedding night, and as king he had a right to expect her compliance. She hadn't thought she would dread the experience, but as the night wore on and the celebration ended, she began to fear the inevitable knock at her door. If she had gone to her window, she would have seen the exhausted nobles streaming out of Lionkeep, their enormous appetites slaked by Akeela's kitchens and wine cellars.

She could hear them faintly though the glass, bidding farewell to friends and enemies they wouldn't see again for ages, and she knew that her virginity would soon be at an end.

He's a good man, she reminded herself. I should be proud to give myself to him.

But she wasn't proud at all. Cassandra's feelings bounced between dread and guilt, because she feared Akeela's clumsy touch and longed for Lukien's experienced hands instead. She had hardly been able to look away from the Bronze Knight all day. He was compelling, like the sun, and watching him warmed her soul.

And she was cross with Akeela, because she thought his plans were stupid and she resented him for leaving so soon. He was a man but he acted like a boy sometimes, and despite the hours she had spent brooding alone in her chamber, she could not understand his desire to tour the nearby nations.

Or did she simply fear being alone with Lukien?

Yes.

The answer cut through her mind, crystal clear. Without her husband close, Cassandra knew Lukien would tempt her. Akeela wasn't the only child in Lionkeep. She too was like a youngster, accustomed to getting what she desired.

On the table beside her chair stood a flagon of blood red wine. Cassandra picked it up and poured herself another glass. She had been careful with the wine throughout the night, sipping just enough to ease the pain in her stomach while still keeping her senses clear. There was a point of drunkenness she hoped to reach, though, a point where it would be easy to go naked into Akeela's arms and feel his hard body atop her. She knew what it would be like; her maids in Hes had warned her all about it.

Then, at last, the knock came. With it came the voice of one of Akeela's many stewards.

'My lady? Are you awake?"

Cassandra put down her wine glass slowly. "I am."

'How does my lady tonight?" came the question through the door.

Well enough to bed the king. That was the answer the steward sought.

'I am well," replied Cassandra dully. "Where is the king?"

'King Akeela requests your presence, my lady. I am to bring you to him if you are well and willing."

Cassandra couldn't help but smile. Too many men wouldn't have given her the choice. "Come in, then," she said and stood up to greet the steward. He was a little man with perfect clothes and a gentle twinkle in his eyes. He smiled at Cassandra, as if to soothe her fears. Cassandra felt at ease with him and returned the smile. She looked down at her dress, which she hadn't changed, and suddenly hoped she looked all right. But she could tell by the steward's approving nod that she still was beautiful. Without a word the steward stepped aside, revealing the torchlit hallway beyond her chamber. There was no one in the hall at all, just the soft glow of light bidding her forward.

There was nothing to be done, Cassandra told herself. And she had so wanted this marriage, and to be away from Hes. It would be well to be Akeela's lover. He would not hurt her, at least. So she let the steward guide her from the chamber, and not a single word passed between them as they walked the glowing hall. At the opposite end was another chamber, also very grand, with two ornate, rounded-top doors and a pair of brass braziers standing beside them like sentries. Cassandra felt herself flush from the heat of their fires and her growing apprehension. The wine worked on her brain, making it swim. Akeela was beyond those fabulous doors, waiting for her. And she knew that she would not emerge intact, and that a piece of her would be left behind, never to be reclaimed. When the steward paused outside the doors, he noticed Cassandra's troubled expression and offered her a little nod, the way her father might have done.

Then he opened the doors. With two hands he pulled both doors open slowly, revealing a chamber awash with candlelight. Much larger than Cassandra's own private chamber, this one For a moment Cassandra hovered there, watching him watching her, adoring and loathing him at the same time. It was supposed to have been so different. She had always dreamed of a lover with skills. All of Akeela's talents were in his head, though, and she knew his hands couldn't bring her joy.

But there was nothing to be done for it. She was his now.

She smiled, struggling to love him, and reached back to undo her dress. When she was done and it fell in a pile at her feet, Akeela's hands reached out again and pulled her onto the bed.

disappeared deep into the keep, with hallways and doors of its own spoking out from the central hub.

A gigantic window let starlight into the room, revealing the dark silhouette of a man gazing out over the city, his hands clasped behind his back, the fingers twitching nervously.

'My lord," said the steward softly, "the queen."

Akeela nodded but did not turn around. Instead he waited for the steward to leave the room, closing the doors again behind him. It seemed to Cassandra that Akeela was preparing himself. She watched his shoulders rise with a deep breath. When at least he turned he had a smile on his face, and she could tell he was afraid. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she resented his fear.

'I'm glad you've come," he said. He drifted across the carpeted floor, going to her carefully. "How are you feeling now?"

'Better now," Cassandra lied. She glanced around the chamber but saw no bed, then supposed it was in another of the rooms. She had already learned that Koth was a place of excess, and Akeela's chambers were no exception. But he looked splendid in his royal garb, and it was hard to be angry against his earnest expression. He came and stood before her, and looked into her eyes for a long moment. The longing in his face was frightening. The deepest, angst-filled love burned in him. His eager lips came down to kiss her.

Cassandra closed her eyes. Like a brave soldier she stood her ground as his mouth glided down her cheeks to taste her neck and his hands came around to encircle her waist and pull her greedily forward.

She felt herself stiffen at his clumsiness, begging herself to relax and not offend him, yet he seemed unaware of her dread, so lost was he in his own needs. He took her hand and squeezed it tight, his embrace cool and trembling. Breaking off his kisses, he led her toward one of the archways into another chamber of orange candlelight where a huge bed awaited them, already turned down, piled with colorful pillows and immaculate sheets. One by one Akeela blew out the candles as he forged toward the bed, until only a single light burned by the bedside. Then he sat himself down at the edge of the bed, looking up at Cassandra expectantly.

ith deliberate slowness when they were alone, never anxious for their solitude to end, and she seldom spoke of Akeela, himself : ay and unable to watch her. There were dozens of hints that betrayed aw

Cassandra's love for Lukien, and the Bronze Knight cataloged them all each night, lying awake in his bed.

But their love for each other remained unspoken.

And it maddened Lukien.

Five weeks after Akeela's departure, Lukien had made a decision. He was desperate to be with Cassandra, to spend at least one hour alone with her. That afternoon he was absent from the training grounds, feigning illness. He remained in his chamber in Lionkeep the entire day, hunched over a tiny table with a quill in his hand. Balls of crumpled paper littered the floor, the half-written remains of a dozen terrible love poems. Somehow, he had to reach Cassandra. He had to convince her to see him, and that his love for her was real. But he could find no words, and his stunted poetry frustrated him. He sighed and leaned back, staring out the window. The days were longer now, growing warm. Eventually Akeela would return. Lukien closed his eyes, summoning words that would not come. He was an artist with a sword, but with a pen he was a buffoon, and he feared that any poem, no matter its sincerity, would make a fool of him.

'How do I say it?" he whispered. "How…?"

Unlike Akeela, he had never been a man of letters. He realized suddenly that if he were ever to express his love for Cassandra, it would need to be face to face. So he took up one last sheet of paper and wrote a note instead. And when he was done he folded it carefully, sealing it with wax and placing it in the pocket of his shirt. Then, determined not to waver, he left his rooms in search of Jancis.

'ith the absence of King Akeela, Lüria moved quietly into late spring. The king had gone on his goodwill tour weeks earlier, leaving the work of government to his chancellors and the task of protecting his queen to Lukien. To most men, chaperoning Cassandra seemed an enviable task. But for Lukien, whose passion for the young queen had grown insatiable, the duty was hellish. In the days, then weeks, of Akeela's absence, he spent increasing amounts of time with Cassandra, seeing to her needs and escorting her to courtly functions, all under the guise of the impeccable champion. They were seldom alone, but that didn't keep the tension from rising between them. Lukien loved Cassandra and now he knew it. She kept him awake at night, intoxicated by the faint smell of her perfume on his clothes, and she was his first thought in the morning. An awful guilt accompanied him everywhere. His love was a betrayal, a corruption of his loyalty to Akeela, yet he could not control it. It wasn't lust that drove him on—he knew that because he had tried to satisfy it with Kothan prostitutes. There was more than just a manly yearning goading him toward Cassandra. To him, she was perfect. And the fact that she was unattainable only drove him harder.

Cassandra, too, was burdened by their love. Lukien knew it when he looked at her. Despite a room full of people, she always had a glint in her eyes that belonged only to him. She walked V—assandra was in her bathtub when she got Lukien's note.

It had been a long day for the queen, spent listening to the prattle of civil servants and the complaints of kitchen staff. With Akeela gone, she was surprised at how many of his responsibilities had fallen on her shoulders. There were always countless questions to answer and decisions to make, and endless invitations to tea at the chancelleries, where the ministers interrogated her for insight into her husband.

Nervous about his costly library and his revisionist views, they were always eager to speak to Cassandra, hoping for some gaffe or juicy bit of gossip to pass her lips. They were always disappointed. Despite her youth and inexperience, Cassandra knew she was loyal to Akeela. At least politically.

She sunk down into the iron tub, burying her chin beneath the warm water, soap bubbles clinging to her breasts and hair. The room was blessedly quiet, for the wing Akeela had prepared for them in Lionkeep was gigantic, and only certain servants were allowed in its halls. If she listened very closely, Cassandra could hear their footfalls in the distance, tapping on the marble floors. It was a very grand home she had now, and she adored it. But mostly, on days like today, she enjoyed the silence. Too tired to dance the way she had in Hes, she spent a good deal of time in her prized bathtub, letting the perfumed oils draw the knots from her muscles. So when she heard lands' insistent call, she groaned.

'Cass? Where are you?"

Cassandra considered not answering, but it was too late. Jan-cis rounded the corner, peeking her head inside the chamber. A peculiar excitement lit her face.

'I'm tired, Jancis," said Cassandra listlessly.

'Oh, you won't be after this," said the girl. She held up a piece of folded paper.

'What's that?"

'A note," said Jancis. "From Lukien."

Cassandra jerked upright, splashing water over the edge. "What?"

'He just gave it to me." Jancis hurried over and knelt down next to the tub. "While I was in the kitchen, helping Beith. He called me aside and handed it to me."

'Just like that? Did anyone see?"

'No," Jancis assured her.

She gave the note to Cassandra, who took it warily. Cassandra's wet hands saturated the paper. She looked at it blankly.

'Open it," pressed Jancis.

'I'm afraid," said Cassandra. "What do you think it says?"

'How should I know? Find out for yourself!"

Jancis hovered over her friend eagerly, waiting for her to read the note. Cassandra slid her nail under the wax seal, breaking it, then unfolded the paper. On it was Lukien's penmanship, broad and rambling.

'What's it say?" Jancis asked.

Cassandra read in silence.

My Queen,

When the dawn is new, look for me at the southern gate.

It was signed simply, Your Adoring Servant.

Confused, Cassandra stared at the paper, biting her lip. "He wants to see me," she said. "In the morning. He wants me to meet him at the southern gate at dawn." Cassandra let the note drop from her hand and fall to the floor. "Jancis, what am I to do?"

'I don't know," said Jancis blankly. "Cassandra, you're…"

'Married. I know."

It was a miserable prospect, and it made Cassandra sag until her chin was once again in the water.

She stared at her knees poking above the bubbles. What was she to do? Lukien had made his move. In a hundred daydreams she had hoped for this moment, and now that it was here she was speechless.

Dawn, she thought blackly. When no one can see us.

'What a grand conspiracy I make," she whispered. "What a terrible queen I am."

I, ionkeep slept. A gentle fog hung about the keep, shrouding the bricks and grassy fields. Up in the sky, starlight struggled through the haze. Sounds of wildlife heralded the coming morning, the buzz of insects and the songs of birds. Off in the distance, a sentry called all clear.

Lukien rounded the corner of the granary house, quietly approaching the gate. The hooves of his horse, Ghost, clopped on the cobblestones. He wore no armor, just a gray doublet and trousers, and he carried no sword at his belt, for he did not wish to look suspicious or arouse a sentry to alarm. As always, the southern gate was unmanned. A winding avenue led to the main houses, up a hill and out of sight in the fog. Past the gate, the avenue fanned out into a green and rolling field, which also disappeared in the mist. Lukien paused just past the granary, staying to the shadows. It was very near dawn, yet he could hear no one else, just his own nervous breathing. He peered toward the gate and the avenue, waiting for Cassandra to appear. Surely she had received his note. But that didn't mean she would answer his odd request, and her absence worried Lukien. He had taken a dangerous chance in sending his note. The die was cast.

'Come on," he whispered. "Please…"

The first rays of sunlight crawled over the keep. Lukien was grateful for the fog. The morning was warm, perfect for spiriting away. But he didn't intend to ride alone. If Cassandra didn't show…

He heard footfalls up the avenue, very faint. He cocked his head to listen. Someone was approaching.

Carefully he backed Ghost against the wall, enough to still glimpse the gate. Down the hill a figure approached. Small and slight, it moved with grace through the fog, head hidden beneath a shawl.

Lukien's heart leapt. It was Cassandra. She looked around furtively, clasping the shawl around her face, her body dressed in a colorless frock. When she reached the open gate, she paused. Her eyes darted nervously about the avenue. Lukien urged his horse out of the shadows. Cassandra noticed him immediately.

'Shhh," he cautioned, putting a finger to his lips. He did not speak again until he was just before her.

"My lady, you've come," Unable to control his smile, he beamed. "Thank you."

'Lukien," she sighed. "This is…" She shrugged. "Wrong."

'I know, but I had to speak to you. I swear, my lady, I couldn't bear another moment of silence." He glanced around. "This is no place to talk. Here, take my hand."

'No," Cassandra refused. "I can't go with you. Say what you must, but say it here."

'Cassandra…"

'I am the queen, Lukien. I am Akeela's wife." Cassandra's eyes betrayed her misery. "Will you make a whore of me?"

The words cut Lukien. He sat up straight, summoning his remaining dignity. "I love you," he declared.

"I loved you when I w you in Hes, and I love you now more than ever. And you love . I can see it in sa

me

you."

Cassandra shook her head. "No…"

'Yes. It is too plain to hide, my lady. For both of us. Well, I will not hide it from you any longer. I confess it gladly." Lukien looked at her, waiting for a reaction. All he got was an anguished groan.

'Don't make me do this…"

Lukien thrust out his hand. "Take it."

'I cannot!"

'I know you've tried to love Akeela."

'I do love him," said Cassandra bitterly.

'Like a brother," said Lukien. "Yes, I know what that's like. That's not what I mean."

She looked up at him, her expression shattered. "If we do this it will kill him. It will, and we will be to blame."

Lukien kept his hand outstretched. He had already considered the pain it would cause his king. "He'll never know," he said softly. "I would die before letting him find out. Come now, before the light comes."

Still Cassandra wouldn't take his hand.

'If you don't come with me, then you'll be saying you don't care about me," said Lukien. "I will tell myself that what I saw in your eyes was an illusion, and I will not come to you again."

A terrible expression overcame Cassandra. She took another look around the grounds, studying the fog for unwanted faces. When she was convinced that no one was about—that not a soul could witness her adulterous act—she took Lukien's hand and let him sweep her onto the back of his stallion.

T -hey rode. Heedless of the mist, they fled the keep and plunged into the gardens of Akeela's estate, leaving the avenue for the rolling hills. Cassandra kept her arms wrapped around Lukien, and she did not speak or utter the smallest sound. She could feel the heat coming off his body, the strength of his shoulders as He didn't have to speak a word. Cassandra could read it all in his expression.

'You love me," she said.

He nodded.

'And I you, I fear."

Lukien stroked her face. His touch was warm, like the coming sun. Cassandra felt the stirrings in her body, dreading them yet following their lead. She lowered her head in offering.

'What are we doing?" she asked. "We will be damned for this."

'No." Lukien leaned in closer. "No one will ever know. Not ever."

'Just this once, then."

He didn't answer. She was glad he didn't. Once, she knew, could never be enough.

he pushed his steed further into the green fields. Morning was coming, slowly breaking the haze.

Cassandra listened to the sound of horse hooves, bearing her away. Lionkeep and Chancellery Square fell off in the distance, replaced by wildflowers and fruit trees. She felt weightless, bodiless, and as Lukien rode she laid her head against his back, smiling. Ahead of them lay an apple orchard, inviting them into its private folds. Lukien hurried toward it. For Cassandra, the rest of the world dissolved away.

What she was doing was a crime. She knew it and hated herself for it. Now she thought of Akeela, sweetly ignorant and blindly trusting her with Lukien. But he appeared to her as a distant memory, something easily forgotten in Lukien's embrace. More, she wanted to forget him. Just today; just for this morning. A giddiness overtook her, and she laughed with delight. The breeze struck her face and suddenly the sun appeared, warm and yellow. In the embrace of the apple trees they were alone. For a moment at least, she could be with Lukien.

'It's so beautiful here," she said in his ear. "Let's stop."

Lukien did as his queen requested, bringing his horse to a halt within the orchard. The cessation of riding heightened the silence of the place. Cassandra heard birds in the trees. She took a breath of the sweet air. It smelled of springtime.

'It's lovely," she said. She slid down from the horse, looking around, and all she could see were green fields lined with apple trees, like soldiers stretching out into the morning. Not another soul stirred amid the orchard.

'No one will see us here," said Lukien as he got down from the horse. He stood before Cassandra.

"Don't be afraid, my lady."

'I'm not," said Cassandra. She had never been less afraid in her life. She reached out and took Lukien's hand. "Come," she told him. "We will… talk."

Without a word she led him beneath a great apple tree bursting with pink flowers. There she sat herself down on the dewy earth, dragging him down beside her. He yielded to her easily. She saw pain in his eyes.

'Cassandra…" His voice was a whisper. "I don't know what to say."

Will Trager rode through the field, plagued as always by a black mood. The sweetness of the apple orchard did nothing to soften his expression, for he was possessed this morning of a familiar hatred, one that had dogged him relentlessly since the tournament. He was tired of coming to the orchard in the morning, waking at the crack of dawn to practice in secret. And he was tired of not getting any better, and of losing every joust to his captain. But mostly he was tired of the laughter, still ringing in his ears these many weeks later. The endless chorus of catcalls drove him deeper into the orchard.

He was alone, as he always was when practicing, but had two horses with him: one, the black charger he always rode, the other a smaller beast of burden, laden with the equipment he would need for practicing. The smaller beast held his lance and jousting armor, and the quintain he would ride against.

The quintain had a red target painted on a swing arm; when the target was struck, the arm would whip around, catching him in the back if he weren't swift enough. Trager was very swift now, and was almost never tagged by the arm. But he wasn't swift enough. Before the summer ended there would be more tourneys, more chances to best the Bronze Knight. He was determined to be ready.

burned itself into Trager's brain. He shook his head in disbelief, but when he looked again the couple was the same.

As fast as he could Trager turned and went to his horse, mounting the beast and dragging its little sibling after them. He rode quickly but quietly, not wanting to be seen or heard. He had a great prize now and didn't want it discovered, not until the perfect moment.

'Oh, Captain," he chirped gleefully. "You've really gotten your hands dirty this time!"

The sun was barely above the horizon when he came to his usual practice place, a long strip of flat ground between the sen-trylike apple trees. He stopped his little caravan, dismounted, then took a look around, confident that no one could see him. He was about to unload his equipment when he heard something echoing through the orchard. Trager froze, sure that he'd been discovered. His first suspicion was Lukien.

'Son of a bitch," he spat. The captain would just love to see him practicing. The jokes would go on forever.

Trager tried to locate the sound. For a moment it disappeared, but then it returned, stronger, more urgent. It didn't sound like a human precisely, more like an animal. A low groan. Trager decided on its direction and took a wary step forward. Sound carried far in the orchard, and the silent morning played tricks on it, making it louder. He stalked through the trees, examining each one, but saw nothing. The sound was louder now, definitely human. Trager recognized the noises of lovemaking. A mischievous grin swam on his face. Very quietly he picked his way toward the unknown lovers, careful to be quiet. He rounded a stand of trees, hid himself behind a stout trunk, and peered with one eye into the distance.

There he saw them, beneath a tree. Two lovers, more naked than clothed, their arms tangled around each other. The man was on top, his face hidden. Beneath him the woman squirmed, letting out the calls that had summoned their unwanted visitor. Trager snickered, putting a hand over his mouth. He didn't recognize the man, but he was sure he was from Lionkeep. A Royal Charger, most likely. He thought about interrupting the couple and disciplining the man right there, but then he reconsidered. What harm was there in getting a leg over a kitchen girl?

He was about to leave when the man tossed his head back. A handsome head, unmistakably blond.

A voice pealed from his throat, crying in lust, as recognizable as his pretty face.

'Fate above…"

Trager staggered back. It was Lukien, and it was no kitchen girl beneath him. His eyes bulged at the sight of Queen Cassandra, chest thrust out, mouth open in passion. The vision would be honored in any eventual deal. But Akeela had been too anxious for peace with Reec, and had barely considered Norvor in his plans.

And now they threaten war, he thought miserably. What a fool I am.

He opened his eyes to look at the city. In the distance he saw the foundation of his library, slowly rising from its hillside. Akeela sighed, wondering if his cathedral would ever be built. Seeing its foundation reminded him of himself—incomplete, even rash. It was a trait he was only now starting to recognize, but he was sure Baron Glass would remind him of it. He dreaded seeing Glass, almost as much as he savored seeing Cassandra. Weeks of traveling had withered Akeela's good mood, making him hungry for companionship. He imagined the smell of Cassandra's dark hair. Tonight, after his council, he would take her to bed.

She makes a man of me, he thought.

w.

en Akeela arrived home, it wasn't in triumph. There were no musicians to greet him, no fanfare of any kind. As always, the streets of Koth were busy with commerce, but were almost oblivious to the return of the king. His royal carriage, flanked by honor guards, rolled into the capital without announcement, having sent only one herald ahead to Lionkeep. Akeela himself reclined in his carriage, alone. It had been an exhausting trip and he was glad to be home. To his great surprise, his goodwill tour had been disastrous. He'd been greeted warmly in Marn and Ganjor, but in Norvor he had been shunned, a reaction that had shocked him. Because he hadn't sent emissaries to Norvor before his arrival, he hadn't known of King Mor's anger over the Ree-cian treaty, and had borne the brunt of the old ruler's ire. Now, instead of returning to Lüria in celebration, Akeela stole into Koth like a criminal, ashamed to show his face. Tonight he would have to deal with the consequences of his trip. He would have to summon a meeting of his chancellors and explain what King Mor had told him—that there might be war between their countries.

'Stupid," he chided himself, closing his eyes against a burgeoning headache. "Too fast…"

He had done everything too fast, and his eagerness had made an unwanted enemy. Norvor had always sided with Lüria in the arguments with Reec, sure that their own claim to the river Kryss lhat evening, Akeela supped with Cassandra alone, telling her what had happened during his tour. She listened distractedly, hardly touching her food. Akeela commented on her lack of appetite, but the queen laughed off his concern. Still, she seemed preoccupied, and was unconvincing when she simply told Akeela she was glad to see him. Akeela didn't mind her awkwardness. He was with her again and he was glad, and he used the quiet supper to prepare himself for his meeting with the chancellors, who were presently gathering in the council chamber. According to Warden Graig, Baron Glass had already arrived, and was anxiously awaiting Akeela's presence. But Akeela didn't rush his meal. He explained almost everything to Cassandra, including the dangers of a war with Norvor. His new queen merely nodded.

'You will deal with it," she assured him. Her face was hidden behind her wine glass. The room was very quiet.

'You are my good luck charm, Cassandra," Akeela told her, reaching across the chamber to take her hand.

'No," said Cassandra. "You don't need me."

so much on his shoulders. Yet she had betrayed him easily, and continued to do so almost every night, stealing ecstatic moments with Lukien without the slightest regard for her husband. What kind of monster had Akeela married? She had no answer to that question, and she cursed herself. She had always thought of herself as clever.

But it's dreadful to be clever, she thought. It was like a revelation suddenly, as clear as any of the moonbeams. To be clever was to be a bitch, or a betrayer like Lukien. Akeela wasn't clever. He was moral, and moral men were never clever. It was why they were better than everyone else, and why Akeela was a better man then Lukien. Even Lukien knew it, and the truth of it tormented him.

Yet despite the torment they hadn't stopped. Now Cassandra feared nothing could ever stop them, or save her soul from her own crimes.

It took long minutes for Jancis to arrive. When she did she found Cassandra staring pensively into the stained glass, out toward the muted city beyond. A tear was rolling down Cassandra's face, but she didn't bother wiping it away. She wanted Jancis to see how truly bad she felt.

'I'm not a monster, Jan," she whispered without turning around. "I'm just… trapped."

Jancis came closer and placed a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. To Cassandra's great relief there were no chiding words this time, only mildness. Cassandra thought she would sob.

'You should have seen him," she went on. "He has so much to deal with, maybe even war, yet he brightens like a firefly when he sees me."

'He's a good man," said Jancis.

'Better than I deserve."

Unable to face her friend, Cassandra waited for the counsel she knew would come. Jancis kept her hand on the young queen's shoulder, until the gentleness of the touch grew firm.

'You have to stop, you and Lukien both," she said. "Akeela's home now. It's time to give yourself to him, and no one else."

Cassandra shook her head. "I can't."

'Cassandra, you must." Jancis went around the chair to face 'If you were with me in Norvor you would have charmed that arrogant ass, Mor. No man can resist you, Cassandra."

Cassandra's eyes widened. "What?"

'You're a jewel, that's all," said Akeela. He got up from the table. "But now I must go. I can't keep Glass and the others waiting too long. I'm sure they're anxious to crucify me." He bent down and kissed his wife's forehead. There was a chill on her skin. "Good night, my love. Don't wait up for me. This meeting will take some time."

He made to leave, but Cassandra stopped him.

'Akeela…"

'Yes?"

She hesitated, then said, "I'm glad you're home."

To Akeela, the words were like music. "We've been apart too long, I know," he replied. "But now I'm back, and I won't be going away again."

A peculiar expression flashed in Cassandra's eyes. "No," she whispered. "Well, off with you. And don't be afraid of Glass."

'Afraid?" said Akeela. "Cassandra, I'm not afraid of him."

'All right," said Cassandra. "Good luck, then."

When Akeela had gone Cassandra waited in their chambers for a very long time. The servants cleared away the remnants of their meal as she watched them, politely questioning her about her uneaten food, a very fine pheasant one of the keep's huntsmen had snared. Cassandra did not answer the question, instead smiling and asking the woman to find Jancis.

'Have her come to my reading room," said Cassandra, then drifted out of the chamber.

In the reading room was a large window cut into the turret, ornately fabricated with panes of stained glass that painted patterns on the opposite wall when the sun was strong. Tonight, however, moonlight put on the show. Cassandra sank down into a plush velvet chair and watched the pale beams as she waited for Jancis. Seeing Akeela again had increased her guilt a thousandfold, and she could barely lift her head or even think of herself without the deepest self-loathing. Such a good man, with her. "Enough, now. The two of you have enjoyed yourself, but it has to end, right now. Tonight."

There was no way for Cassandra to explain it, so she didn't try. How could one explain love?

Everything Jancis said was true, but love like this didn't yield to logic. It was beyond the sensible. It was like lunacy.

'I don't want to end it, Jancis," said Cassandra. "I'm not strong enough."

And as she spoke, the tear trailing down her face fell at last into her lap.

Trager's eyes seemed to laugh. "Improper, hmm…" He thought for a moment. "No, I think I'd better tell you this directly, my lord."

'Very well," Akeela relented. "After the meeting, then. Now, do you mind?" He shooed Trager out of his way. "Is Lukien already there?"

'Yes," replied Trager, following after him. "So is Baron Glass and Chancellor Hogon."

'And Nils? I sent for him as well."

'He's there with D'marak," said Trager.

Akeela nodded, bracing himself. Nils was a reasonable man, and he would need his goodwill against Glass and Hogon. Hogon was also a reasonable man, but he had a temper and was an old ally of Baron Glass. The two had soldiered together, and almost always took the same side in arguments. As Chancellor of War, it was Hogon's responsibility to oversee the Lürian military, including the Royal Chargers. Akeela was suddenly glad he'd invited Lukien to the meeting. They would listen to Lukien, he knew. It was valuable just having the Bronze Kinght by his side.

Trager followed Akeela like a dutiful dog, pulling ahead of him only when the reached the council chamber. The door to the chamber was already open. Akeela could smell Glass' pipe. Muted voices issued over the threshold. Trager entered first, announcing the king.

'King Akeela," he said simply.

The men all rose from around the oval table, all except for Baron Glass, who was already standing, pacing around the room. The baron stopped and turned to Akeela, neither a smile nor a scowl on his face. Determined not to be intimidated, Akeela hardened his expression. The chancellors and their underlings all bowed in greeting, welcoming him home. Akeela shook outstretched hands as he made his way to the opposite end of the chamber, where a chair awaited him, slightly larger than the rest. The air was already stale from overcrowding and the obnoxious smoke from Baron Glass' pipe filling the room.

Glass was the last to greet Akeela. He did not put out his hand as the others had, but merely nodded deferentially. Lukien, however, greeted his king with a warm embrace.

here was a strange quiet to the castle as Akeela made his way through the halls. His council chamber was on the other end of the keep, near the main gate and easily accessible to travelers. Unlike his father, who always held council in his throne room, Akeela shunned the throne as just another trapping of authority. He preferred to deal with his chancellors as equals, even if they really weren't. He was king by blood-right, had authority over all the ministers in Chancellery Square, but that didn't mean he would abuse his station—not even against men like Glass.

Akeela was halfway to the council chamber when he saw Trager. The lieutenant was leaning against a wall, alone, his arms folded over his chest. The torchlight revealed an odd expression on his sharp face.

Akeela slowed but Trager noticed him, coming quickly to attention.

'My lord," he said with a slight bow. "Welcome home."

'Thank you. Shouldn't you be in the council chamber with the others?"

'Yes, my lord, but actually I wanted to speak to you first." Trager looked around, his voice dipping to a whisper. "It's important."

'I have business with the chancellors, Will. I really can't dally."

'I know, my lord, but this will interest you," Trager insisted. He continued blocking Akeela's path. "I have news for you."

'Can't it wait? Really, you should be going through Lukien with news. This is improper."

table. "King Akeela, didn't I tell you? Didn't I warn you not to go so quickly?"

'I'm not a little boy," hissed Akeela. "Yes, you did warn me. And I'm not a damn bit sorry about the Reecian peace. Are you?"

Smouldering, Glass looked down at his wine goblet, refusing to answer.

'Now listen," said Akeela, "I don't want to argue. I called this meeting because you have to know of Mor's threat. He told me that he won't let our peace bargain with Reec stand, that he plans on taking the Kryss back from Reec, with or without our help."

'Did he threaten Lüria?" Hogon asked.

Akeela hesitated. So far, he hadn't told this part to anyone, not even Cassandra. "Yes," he admitted.

"He said that he'd be stationing troops on the Norvor side of the river, and that if we tried to cross or help the Reecians maintain the river, he would attack us."

'That snake," sneered Hogon. "How dare he speak to you like that. You're the King of Lüria!"

'And he's the King of Norvor," Akeela countered. "To be honest, I don't think my title impressed him.

I expected to be greeted like a friend, not like a ruler. Instead I got a cold, stiff breeze." The memory hardened Akeela. "Well, it won't stand. We can't let Norvor move against Reec, and we can't have our treaty threatened, or our rights to use the Kryss."

Baron Glass shook his head, muttering, "I told you."

'We have to plan, Baron Glass," Akeela insisted.

Glass looked up at him. "You are willful, King Akeela."

The insult stunned Akeela. Lukien rose to Akeela's defense.

'Baron Glass, forgive me, but you're out of order," he said. "Remember—you're talking to your king."

'No, Lukien," said Akeela. "Let him speak his mind. Go on, Baron. Get the poison out of your blood."

'Very well." Glass sat up straight. "I warned you against the Reecian peace, King Akeela. I told you that you were going too quickly, and that you should at least tell King Mor of your plans. But you didn't listen to me. Then I warned you against going on this goodwill tour, and again you refused my counsel."

He tried 'Akeela," he said, kissing both his cheeks. "It's good to see you. Welcome home."

Akeela smiled, loving the attention. "Lukien, I missed you." He patted the man's back then whispered,

"Thank you for coming."

As always, the Bronze Knight had a chair at Akeela's right side. He dropped into it just as Akeela sat down. The chancellors and ministers did the same. And just as he was first to stand, Baron Glass was last to take his seat, doing so noisily only when all the others were seated. As expected, Glass sat next to Hogon. The War Chancellor's expression was anxious, as if he'd already heard Akeela's news. Nils and D'Marak sat at the far end of the table, both dressed in their usual drab robes, while Chancellor Sark sat apart from the others, surrounded by three silent ministers of the Treasury. Trager, along with Breck and Lukien, sat near Akeela. The closeness of the chamber made the young king queasy. Servants had set the table with pitchers and goblets. Akeela took a long drink before beginning.

'Thank you for the welcome," he said finally. "I know it was short notice, and I appreciate you coming to see me. I have news of my trip, you see, and I thought you should all hear it at once."

'Bad news, no doubt," said Baron Glass. "Or you would have waited until tomorrow."

Akeela stiffened. "I'm afraid you're right. My news is dire. My goodwill tour wasn't all that I'd hoped it would be. It caused some… trouble."

Chancellor Hogon leaned forward. "What kind of trouble, my lord?" His watery eyes filled with concern.

'Norvor," said Akeela. "King Mor took some offense at my peace initiative with Reec. He thinks the Kryss belongs to Norvor as well as Reec, and he wasn't happy about us giving control of our side to the Reecians."

'Wasn't happy?" said Glass. "You mean he was angry, don't you?"

Akeela nodded. "That's right."

'How angry?" asked Hogon.

'Angry enough to threaten war," replied Akeela.

'I knew it!" erupted Glass. He slammed a fist down on the 'The library?" Akeela was aghast. "Oh, no.

That's out of the question."

'Please, King Akeela," Glass implored. "War may be coming. Don't continue with this folly—"

'It isn't folly!" sneered Akeela. He felt Lukien's hidden hand on his leg, coaxing him down, but he stood up anyway. "I won't let you use this trouble with Norvor as an excuse to stop the library. The monies have already been allocated. Isn't that right, Sark?"

Chancellor Sark, who had been listening with varied interest, now froze under the king's glare. "My lord?"

'The money for the library, man," said Akeela. "It's all been allocated, right?"

Sark grimaced. "Well, yes and no."

'What does that mean?"

'Akeela, be easy," whispered Lukien. Akeela ignored him.

'Chancellor, does the Treasury have the money or not?"

'Not if war comes, my lord, no," said Sark. "I'm sorry, but your library is very expensive."

Glass smiled. "And so is paying for a war. King Akeela, I beg you to listen to reason."

But Akeela couldn't listen. All around him were enemies.

'We will build the library," he declared. "And we will not provoke a war with Mor. I didn't make peace with Reec just so we can battle Norvor."

'So?" pressed Glass. "What's your plan, then?"

'We wait," said Akeela. "Mor may be bluffing, and I don't want bloodshed if it can be avoided."

Baron Glass sighed with disgust. "You're just protecting your library."

'No," Akeela shot back. "I'm trying to protect lives. Apparently that means nothing to war-mongers like you, Baron."

Rising from his seat, Glass said, "That is a terrible thing to say to me, King Akeela."

'If you're standing for an apology you'll have a long wait," said Akeela. "Sit down, Baron. You're making a fool of yourself."

Glass' eyes shifted around the room, now engulfed in charged silence. Chancellor Hogon reached out and grabbed Glass' sleeve, to smile, but it came out crooked. "You think of me as a bitter old man. You think I resent you for having the throne at so young an age…"

'I don't," Akeela protested.

'You do. But I don't resent you, my lord. You're my king, and I serve you the best I can. But you won't listen to any of us. You always do what you want, and I think that serves you poorly." Baron Glass looked around at the other councilors. "We are not bitter old men, my lord. We are experienced, and we should be heeded. Your father listened to us."

Akeela sat back in his chair, feeling insufferably small. The invocation of his father shattered the defensive wall he'd erected, and he suddenly felt naked, exposed and weakened by these men who pledged to serve him. He did not appreciate the baron's honesty.

'All right," sighed Akeela. "You've had your say, Baron. Now, give me your counsel. We have to deal with King Mor. What do you suggest?"

'It's obvious," said Glass. "He's planning to mass troops across the Kryss? Then we must do the same. We must match his force, show him we cannot be intimidated."

Akeela's expression soured. He glanced at Lukien, but the knight's face was unreadable.

'Chancellor Hogon?" he asked. "Do you agree with Baron Glass?"

The old man frowned. "If what you say is true, my lord, then Mor is not to be trusted. Given cause, he will move against the river. Will you give him cause?"

'He wants the treaty with Reec rescinded," said Akeela bleakly. "And that's something I will never do."

'Then he will have his cause," said Hogon. "I agree with Baron Glass. We must act."

'But I don't want to provoke a war," said Akeela.

'You already have," said Glass sharply. "Face it, King Akeela. And if I may say so, I think it's time to halt construction of your library. It's too expensive. We can't afford to bleed our treasury with war on the cusp."

been gone from Lionkeep so long, he decided to visit with Beith and see how her new baby was faring. Little Gilwyn was now almost three months old, and Akeela had heard from Gwena that he was growing well, showing no signs of the mind damage they all had feared. His hand and foot were still clubbed, but according to Gwena he was a happy child, and that pleased Akeela.

Beith's room was in the servants' area, so Akeela left Graig after breakfast and headed for her chambers. But he hadn't gone far before he saw Trager, patiently waiting for him at the end of the hall.

Suddenly he remembered his promise to the lieutenant, one that he'd forgotten in yesterday's rage. Trager smiled at him from across the hall. Like yesterday, the hall was empty. Akeela realized with discomfort that Trager had planned it that way.

'Will, I'm sorry," he offered. "I forgot you wanted to speak to me."

'No matter, my lord, it could keep until today." Trager glanced around. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

'Private?" asked Akeela. "Is it so important?"

'Oh, it is," Trager assured him. "I'm sorry to say so, but I think it will trouble you."

'Why am I not surprised? Very well; we can talk in my study."

Akeela led Trager in the opposite direction of Beith's rooms, promising himself he'd check on her and the baby later. Trager's expression was earnest enough to worry Akeela. The lieutenant said nothing as they walked through the halls, but he scanned every face they passed, apparently worried about being seen. Finally, when they reached Akeela's small study, Trager spoke.

'Thank you for seeing me, Akeela," he said as he entered the room.

Akeela bristled the way he always did when Trager addressed him in the familiar. They went back a long way, but they had never really been friends. Akeela wondered if Trager considered him one now.

Or was he trying to become a friend?

'It's all right," he said. He directed Trager to a well-worn leather chair. "Sit down."

'Thank you." Trager took the chair and sighed. He shook his head as if not knowing where to begin.

Akeela sat down on the gently drawing him back into his chair. It was not going at all as Akeela had hoped, but suddenly he didn't care any more. He was king, and he demanded respect.

'Now listen to me, all of you," he said. "We're not going to match Mor's troop movements, and we're not going to break the treaty with Reec." His eyes widened dramatically. "And we're absolutely not going to stop building my library. Do you understand?"

The chancellors and their underlings gave non-committal nods—all except for Glass.

'And what of Norvor?" asked the baron. "Will you just ignore them?"

'I will deal with Norvor if and when the time comes." Akeela pushed back his chair and started out of the council chamber. "That is all."

Out in the fresh air of the hall, Akeela caught his breath. His hands were shaking and his mouth was dry and he could hear the disparate voices of the chancellors still in the chamber. Akeela licked his lips, suffocated with panic. He stalked off without thinking, not waiting for Lukien or the others. Lukien caught up to him within a few strides.

'Akeela," he called. "Are you all right?"

Akeela paused, his head swimming. "They oppose me, Lukien. Everything I do, they question!"

'They're just concerned," Lukien said. He smiled warmly. "We all are."

Akeela returned his comrade's grin. Good Lukien, the only one Akeela knew he could trust. He put a hand on the knight's shoulder. "It's wonderful to see you," he said. "The only friendly face in this whole damn city."

J3y the next morning, Akeela's temper had quieted. He had spent the night with Cassandra and had breakfasted with Graig, going over small matters that required his attention. Since they were easily dealt with, Akeela felt accomplished after the meal. He was refreshed from a good night's sleep and his anger at Baron Glass had subsided, at least temporarily. Because he had edge of his desk, facing Trager. There was something insincere about the man's expression.

'You're troubled?" Akeela asked.

Trager nodded. "My news is heavy."

'Tell me," Akeela insisted.

'It's about… the queen."

'Cassandra?" Akeela stood up. "What about her?"

'My lord, it pains me to tell you this…"

'Tell me!"

'She has been…" Trager grimaced. "… unfaithful to you."

It was as if Akeela hadn't heard the word. It hung in the air, out of reach and understanding.

'What?"

Trager looked heartbroken. "I'm sorry, Akeela, but it's true. While you were gone she was with another man. I saw them."

'That's impossible!" Akeela cried. "She wouldn't dare betray me like that. Tell me what you saw!"

'It was in the apple orchard, not even a week ago," said Trager. "It was very early and I was in the orchard, practicing my jousting. That's when I saw her." He looked away. "With her paramour."

'What paramour?" asked Akeela. "Did you see him?"

'Yes," said Trager. "Akeela, it was Lukien."

The name fell on Akeela like a hammer. He staggered back against his desk, strangled with disbelief.

'No," he said desperately. "No, I don't believe it. You lie!"

'I saw them, Akeela. They were making love right before my eyes."

Akeela shot forward and grabbed Trager's lapels, pulling him from the chair. "How dare you speak of Lukien like that. And the queen!"

'It's the truth!" Trager spat. "Akeela, I swear it…"

'Do not address me in the familiar, you rat! I am your king!"

'Forgive me," cried Trager. He took Akeela's hands, prying them from his clothes. "But you had to know the truth."

Akeela shook his head wildly. "It's not the truth. You've always hated Lukien. You'd do anything to ruin him!" He released Trager, shoving him backward. Trager fell over his chair and nrawled onto the floor. Akeela stalked after him. "I won't beij ve your lies. And don't you ever speak them again. If you e

do,

I'll kill you."

Trager's eyes were wide. "It's the truth," he insisted. "I swear, I aw them!"