Child of the Grove

Chapter Fourteen

 

  The crescent moon was barely visible over the tops of the trees, campfires had died to embers and, with the exception of the sentries patrolling the perimeters of the camp and the surgical pavilion, regrettably never quiet, the army of Ardhan slept. No one saw the man-shaped shadow slipping from shelter to shelter. Even the Duke of Belkar's guard failed to see it as it passed almost close enough to touch. What was one more shadow amongst the shadows of the night. Unnoticed, the intruder moved around to the back of Belkar's tent.

  After checking that he remained unobserved, the shadow slipped a knife from his sleeve, the blade carefully blackened to prevent a stray bit of light from giving him away. Slowly, quietly, he slit the canvas wall and then slid through the hole. Only a thin black line showed he had been there at all.

  It was dark, but the shadow deftly threaded his way around the furniture and the scattered pieces of armor. He made his way without incident to the center of the tent where, by the dividing wall, there was a bed.

  The occupant of the bed stirred, rolled over on his back, and began to snore.

  Loudly.

  The shadow moved silently forward. He bent over, but it was too dark to see the features of the sleeper. Not that it mattered, the snoring with its particular cadence and its volume said, "Here lies the Duke of Belkar" as clearly as if it were full daylight.

  Stepping back a pace, the shadow raised his knife and struck. A moist thud cut the snores off abruptly.

  The shadow turned, arms spread wide as if to embrace someone or something.

  Then, struck by a brilliant beam of silver light, Lapus fell to his knees.

  "No, not Kraydak, " Crystal told him sadly. "Nor will it be. He lied when he said there would be a way out. "

  Lapus could barely see the young wizard through eyes squinted shut against the glare, but he sensed she wasn't alone. Behind her, where the light was not so bright stood. . . the Duke of Belkar? He twisted around until he could see the bed. Empty; except for his knife which had cut right through the thin mattress.

  "Illusion, " he said bitterly. "Lies. "

  "Not the first. All Kraydak offered you was more of the same; illusions and lies. "

  "No!" Lapus got to his feet. Two guards stepped forward, but Crystal waved them back. "He showed me. It was real!"

  "What he offered may have been real, but he would never have given it to you.

  I suspect that even had you succeeded tonight he would've ignored you just as he's doing now. "

  "No, " Lapus repeated, burying his head in his hands and collapsing back on the bed. "It couldn't have been a lie. " Then his head lifted and his eyes opened wide, pupils dilated against the light. "He showed me Truth!" Suddenly, he clutched at his knife and dove across the tent.

  He was on them so fast that Crystal had no time to react. Already upset by the confirmation of Lapus as Kraydak's tool, the attack shocked her into immobility. Had she been the Scholar's target, Kraydak would have won in that instant, but Lapus pushed her aside and headed straight for the duke. Where he was met by a guard. And a sword.

  He peered down at the steel that stuck out of his chest and gave a soft sigh as it slid free. The knife dropped from nerveless fingers and with the other hand he touched the blood flowing from the wound-gently, as if afraid to disturb the flow.

  "I wish, " he said tenderly, staring up at Crystal with a hopeless desperation, "we could have. . . " And then he died.

  Crystal knelt beside him, closed his eyes, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Then she stood aside so the guards could remove the body.

  "Why did he do it?" asked Belkar shaking his head as they carried Lapus from the tent. He had liked the Scholar, enjoyed arguing with him, respected his mind. He had hoped that Crystal's suspicions were unfounded. "What could Kraydak have shown him?"

  "Just what Lapus said he did, I expect. Truth. La-pus told me once that Truth was the only master. " Her hands stroked up and down her arms as if afraid to be still. "Kraydak took Lapus to the top of the tallest mountain and offered him all the knowledge of the world. "

  "Eh?" The duke was puzzled. "What mountain? Where?"

  The tent flap had barely closed behind the guards and their burden when it opened to admit Mikhail. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder-he must have passed the body on its way out-raised an eyebrow and asked, "Lapus?"

  Crystal nodded.

  "What about the others?" Belkar demanded.

  "Thanks to Crystal, we got them all. The dukes are safe. "

  "And the Scholars?" Crystal asked, although she knew the answer.

  "Child, " said Mikhail gently, enclosing her shoulder in a massive hand, "they were out to do murder for a man who wants to put the entire country to the sword. " He moved his finger under her chin and lifted her head so she was forced to look at him. Her face was very pale and her eyes were dim. "You said yourself that once Kraydak held a mind the only sure release was death. They had to die. We had no choice. "

  Crystal scuffed her foot by the damp, red stain stain on Belkar's carpet. This was another choice that Kraydak had taken from them. She felt as though iron bands had been riveted about her chest. "He was my friend. "

  "And mine, " said Belkar.

  "We've all lost friends, " Mikhail reminded her and then realized that, until this moment, Crystal had not. Lapus and young Bryon were the only two friends she had. Her power, her rank, and her beauty had kept other friendships from developing. He opened his arms and offered a father's comfort if the wizard cared to take it.

  The wizard cared to, very much. With a strangled sob, Crystal hid in his embrace, and cried for Lapus, for all the others, and, just a little, for herself.

  "What of our lads?" asked Belkar.

  "Only one of them was hit, but he's pretty bad. The knife went up under his ribs. I doubt he'll make it. "

  Crystal pushed herself away from Mikhail's chest, wiping her cheeks dry with the flat of her hand. This was how she could erase the memory of Lapus lying dead at her feet. "I can save him, " she said, giving one final sniff, and starting for the door.

  "No. " Mikhail swung around and blocked her way. "Kraydak must know his plan failed and may try something else tonight. You have to be ready. Remember what happened last time. "

  She rubbed her nose across her sleeve, looking absurdly young as she did so, and remembered.

  After the first meeting between the Melac and the Ardhan armies-in which Kraydak had sent out an innocuous probe and Crystal had smashed it back at him with a strength that surprised them both-Crystal had gone to the surgical pavilion to help. The area was already protected from infections by a long and complicated weaving of power, but she wanted to do more. The surgeons directed her to a young man with a deep sword slash across the belly. His cut and torn guts were bulging from the wound, masking the rest of the internal damages. The surgeons wondered why he was still alive and they doubted he could hold on much longer.

  Feeling slightly sick at the sight and the smell, Crystal placed her hands lightly on the soldier's body and began to hum. A green flame grew in her eyes, spilled over and ran down her arms into the boy on the stretcher. Before the astonished eyes of the surgeons and those patients near enough to see, the edges of the wound began to glow and close. The bulging mass of intestine, now miraculously clean and whole, tucked itself back where it belonged. Muscle fibers reached across the gap left by the sword and quickly wove the muscle back into one piece. The edges of the skin flowed smoothly together, leaving no scar or any other sign there had ever been a wound.

  But the young man, now seemingly whole and hale, still lay near death.

  Crystal's song changed slightly, becoming less somber, less instructive. Those listening felt a surge of energy, minor aches and pains disappeared and several small wounds closed. Color flooded back into the young man's face as the life force he had lost was replaced. His eyes flickered, then opened. He looke
d around, wondered peevishly why everyone was staring at him, and demanded a beer.

  Crystal smiled, then the light pouring from her went out, and she collapsed to the floor. Although healing the wound had drained her, it had not caused her to faint. She had replaced the lost life force with her own.

  The soldier was no worse for his experience-except for a vague but disturbing memory of hunting horns and baying dogs-but Crystal lay unconscious for three days. During that time Kraydak did what he pleased, but it was observed that, although he created plenty of impressive loud noises and bright lights, his attacks caused confusion and fear rather than destruction. He was obviously biding his time until Crystal recovered.

  Crystal woke to a demoralized army and a mother frantic with worry. The army was much easier to reassure. When Crystal explained what had happened, Tayer ordered her to leave healing to the surgeons. Realizing that in this both queen and mother were in full accord, Crystal reluctantly agreed and then blamed herself for every death which followed. If she didn't send her people to Lord Death, neither did she try to stay his hand.

  Crystal knew Mikhail was right to stop her. Her responsibilities made it as impossible to save the guard as it had been to save any of the others who had fallen. In addition, she was tired from the day's fighting and the small but constant drain of keeping the protection over the surgical tent. The power she'd used to trap the Scholars had tapped out almost all of her reserves.

  None of this made the almost certain death of the guard any easier to bear.

  Finally she nodded and Mikhail stepped out of her way. The wizard was back and wizards don't mourn what they can't change.

  "Can I walk you to your tent?" asked Mikhail, who was not as convinced as Crystal seemed to be that the wizard and his daughter were two separate people. She nodded again and he turned to Belkar.

  "Go on then, " said the duke. "There's nothing you can do here. I'll just have someone change the carpet. And the mattress, " he added thoughtfully. "Can't say as I fancy sleeping on that knife hole. "

  The camp was certainly busier than it had been one short hour before when Kraydak's Scholars had slipped through the shadows to do murder. Bodies had to be disposed of, troops reassured, and a life saved if possible. Mikhail and Crystal walked alone through the darkness. Mikhail insisted that Tayer always be accompanied by soldiers from the newly reconstituted Palace Guards but refused them for himself, putting his trust instead in his great black sword.

  Crystal, the princess, was assigned Guards as well but Crystal, the wizard, threatened to turn them into newts so they went elsewhere.

  "I'd like to know how you knew, " Mikhail said as they threaded their way through all the activity. Crystal had refused to explain her suspicions in case she'd been wrong. Considering Lapus'

  involvement, Mikhail now understood whom she'd been protecting.

  "I could see myself in his eyes. "

  "In Lapus' eyes?"

  "Yes. "

  "Is that unusual? I suppose I'd have seen myself reflected in his eyes had I cared to look. "

  "When I look in someone's eyes, " Crystal explained, remembering how shocked she'd been to first catch sight of herself in the Scholar's gaze so many weeks before in Belkar's library, "I look into their hearts. There could be only two reasons for me to see myself; his love for me was so strong I was the only thing in his heart, or he had been blocked by a wizard. There is only one other wizard. " Her smile didn't quite hide the pain of Lapus' betrayal. "I tried to convince myself that Lapus had indeed lost his heart and almost succeeded until I met Hale's Scholar. Maybe one man could fall in love with me at first sight, two I couldn't believe, even though the centaurs had warned me how men would be. Then I met Cei's Scholar, and Aliston's, and Lorn's, and I stared out of the eyes of all of them. Once I knew Kraydak was involved, the plot became easy to discover. "

  Too easy, it seemed to Mikhail and it worried him. Kraydak, no doubt, had his own reasons for doing sloppy work. Using planted Scholars to attack the dukes, seemed too much of a diversionary tactic; helpful if it succeeded but no great loss if it failed so long as it masked the more important maneuver. He only wished he knew what it masked and feared it would be an attack, not at the army, but at his daughter, who had been hit once already tonight. And although he would never tell her, for the news would only add to her burden of pain, Mikhail had reason to believe that Lapus did indeed care greatly for the princess. Mikhail was very familiar with the many faces of devotion; he had worn them himself for years.

  They arrived at Crystal's tent and the soldier guarding the door, the young man she'd lifted from the grip of Lord Death, snapped to attention. When told what she'd done, he'd pledged his life to the protection of his savior. His lord, the Duke of Cei, had a strong streak of romance running beneath his shrewd and pragmatic exterior and happily released the man from his service.

  And so Crystal acquired a personal guard she had no wish for but couldn't get rid of. The relationship developing between her guard and her maid was the only thing that made the situation bearable. She hoped she might soon lose them both to one another.

  Mikhail leaned forward and planted a kiss between the silver brows. "You did what you had to, " he said softly.

  I wish we could have. . . You did what you had to. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and slipped into the tent.

  Although she crawled into bed exhausted, Crystal couldn't fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Lapus charging across the room, knife raised, his face twisted with hatred. She hadn't always liked what he'd said, how he'd stressed the conflict between wizard and princess, but she'd come to care for him and had thought he cared for her. That his friendship was an act, engineered by Kraydak, made her feel slightly sick and very lonely. This, the centaurs had not warned her of.

  Eventually, the exertions of the day overcame her grief and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  Gradually, Crystal became aware of green. A soft springtime green, very peaceful, very nice, very soothing. She could move around and there seemed to be a solid surface beneath her feet but the green never changed. She knew she was asleep and somewhere deep within her own subconscious. The centaurs had promised to teach her ways of manipulating the dreamworld but there hadn't, in the end, been time.

  "Not a very interesting place for a dream, " she sighed, spinning about so that the white gown she wore flared about her ankles. She liked the way the silky fabric clung, the way it whispered across her skin, although she wondered why she'd dreamed so little material above the waist. And then she saw the man approaching and knew she wasn't dreaming; not quite. She tried to raise a wall of power between them and found she had no power to spare.

  His hair shone red-gold, like sunlight on fire, and clustered about his face in loose curls. His eyes were the clear, merciless blue of a hot summer day.

  Above tight sapphire breeches and high black boots, he wore no shirt and the muscles of his chest and arms rolled smoothly beneath golden skin as he closed the distance between them.

  Grace and power, Crystal realized. And something more.

  His hand, when it took hers, was cool and dry. His lips, touched to the skin of her wrist, soft and warm. "At last, " he murmured. "Face to face. "

  Crystal snatched free her hand, more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. That he could reach this far into her mind without even waking her. . .

  "Get out of my mind!" She kept her voice below a scream but only barely.

  Kraydak smiled. "I had hoped that we might be friends. "

  Gathering up her courage, and holding dignity before her like a shield, she managed a tight smile in return and retreated a step. "I hardly think so. "

  "No? You wound me. " He lay long fingers against his bare chest. "We have so much in common. "

  "We have nothing in common! You're a. . . a. . . " She searched for a word that would sum up the disgust and loathing she felt as anger rose to tak
e the place of fear. ". . . an abomination. You destroy anything you touch. " She turned her back on him and found he still stood in front of her. And still smiled.

  One red-gold eyebrow arched. "Abomination? Child, you are hardly one to point an accusatory finger. "

  "I am not like you. "

  "No, " Kraydak agreed smoothly, his smile twisting strangely, "you aren't. "

  "You use people. "

  "Yes, " he agreed again, "I do. I assume you specifically refer to the late, lamented Lapus? A useful tool; your grief at his betrayal gave me access to your mind. I needed a surety to enter through, you see, so I built my own. "

  She remembered the red spreading into the pattern of the rug and felt sick.

  "You set him up, you set all of them up, just to get at me?"

  He reached out and pinched her chin. "And she's clever, too. Yes, child, I did it all for you. " A couch, the couch from Crystal's tent, appeared behind him and he sat, gracefully crossing one booted leg over the other. He shook his head in mock sympathy. "Oh, my poor child, if you insist on caring for creatures so far beneath you, you can only expect to be hurt. Humankind should be your plaything, not your partner. " His voice became caressing and held a possessive note that ran like soft fingers down Crystal's back. "We are the last two of our kind. The last two. No mere mortal could ever hope to understand us. " The blue of his eyes deepened. "Come to me, Crystal. "

  To Crystal's horror she took a step toward him, under no compulsion save that of his voice and his presence. Red with shame, she stopped, determined at least to move no closer, no matter what he said.

  He said nothing. He laughed low in his throat and held out his hand; his gaze fierce and compelling.

  Well aware of the dangers of a wizard's eyes, Crystal dropped her own to avoid being trapped by his gaze. Red-gold hair curled in an inverted triangle on his chest, the lowest point trailing down the ridges of his stomach until it dipped beneath the blue of his breeches.

  Her shins hit the edge of the couch.

  "You needn't even try, " Kraydak told her gently as she struggled to move away. "This may be your mind, but you'll find I'm in total control. Oh, and one more thing. " He reached out and took her hand, pulling her down beside him. "These bodies are illusions, but they react like flesh. "

  He drew a ringer down her cheek and her eyes widened at the responses such a simple touch caused. He manipulated reactions she didn't know she possessed and, not knowing, she had no way to defend herself. She dug her hands into the cushions of the couch, fighting the urge to touch him in return. Independent movement was possible it seemed, as long as it was not away from him.

  Cautiously she began to slide her essence, the core of her that was Crystal, deeper within this representation of her physical body.

  Kraydak, one arm clasped lightly around her waist, pushed her back against the cushions. He felt her essence retreat and he let it go. She could not escape him, after all, and if she thought this warm bundle of flesh he held would resist his assault for long. . .

  When he kissed her, she leaned into it and she heard herself cry out in disappointment when he stopped. Her thoughts and her feelings almost seemed as if they belonged to two separate people. And the sensations of her body, under Kraydak's skilled caresses, were rapidly overwhelming her mind.

  "Patience, " the older wizard chided, slipping the gown off her shoulders, "we have plenty of time. "

  He ran his fingers lightly over her breasts and she barely managed to hold her essence in place as her body arched under his touch. She became very much afraid that she would soon give into the sensations now setting her body alight, and then she would be lost, his creature entirely.

  "Someone has certainly prepared the way, " he murmured into the soft skin of her throat. "I hope I get the chance to thank him. "

  Bryon. Crystal grabbed that thought and held on tightly. She closed her eyes and built his image on the inside of the lids. She remembered every time he'd ever touched her, the feel and the scent of him, and built of it a barricade between her skin and Kraydak's hands.

  It wasn't quite enough.

  Kraydak's hands dropped lower and began to tug at the silky cloth that draped her hips, twisting her about so that he straddled her. His mouth moved to her breasts.

  When she remembered to breathe at all, it was in great shuddering gasps over which she seemed to have no control. With the small part of her mind still her own she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. The fires that Kraydak had lit would consume all she was.

  Bryon, she cried, feeling the heat licking at her refuge, help me! And from the time before the centaurs, rose one more memory. A very young Bryon rolled in the dirt of the training yard, hands clasped between his legs; a very young Crystal stared in puzzlement at the quarterstaff in her hands while their fathers almost split themselves laughing. Child, this wizard called her; she would use a child's blow. She bit down on her tongue, hard. As the pain jolted her free from the pleasure, she gathered the remnants of her strength and slammed her knee up between Kraydak's legs.

  The illusion did indeed react like flesh and Crystal possessed the strength of the tree. It was fortunate for Kraydak that he had already depleted most of it.

  Kraydak's eyes widened, he made an incoherent noise, and sank slowly to the ground. The surrounding green turned yellow, then orange, then red, then black and Crystal woke up in her own bed, her heart beating so fast she was afraid it would escape.

  She lay staring at the ceiling, hands clenched at her sides, and forced herself to consider what had almost happened. His touch still lingered on her body and she flushed with embarrassment when she realized that the fires he'd lit still burned. Not with the same intensity as they had in the dream world, but a definite heat radiated out from the places he had. . . She shuddered. Kraydak had defeated himself when he reminded her of Bryon; she wouldn't be that lucky another time. And Kraydak's power frightened her less than her own lack of resistance.

  "The trouble is, " she mused, chewing on her lower lip in a most unwizardlike way, "I can't fight what I don't understand. "

  What if he came again? There was one rather obvious solution and the enemy himself had given it to her. She unclenched her fingers, wiped her sweaty palms on the sheets, and noticed with some surprise that she was still breathing heavily. . . .

  Bryon woke up to the peculiar sensation of being in a different bed than the one he'd gone to sleep in. It was softer, slightly larger, and it smelled good. He was still in a tent and, from the sounds filtering through the canvas, still in the center of the Ardhan army, but where. . . and then he became aware of a warm body in the bed beside him, and he recognized the scent. . . .

  "Bryon, " said Crystal earnestly, "I need your help. "

  "Is this a dream?" Bryon asked of no one in particular.

  "Don't be ridiculous. " Crystal poked at him and wondered if he was going to be difficult. "You can't be dreaming, you're awake. "

  "I am?"

  "Yes, and I want you to make love to me. "

  "I'm dreaming, " he said with conviction. "I've had this dream before. "

  "Bryon!" Her voice was sharp, this wasn't how she'd imagined things at all.

  She should have been in his arms by now. He should have been swept away by passion the moment he found himself in bed with her. Wasn't that the way it worked? "Kraydak attacked me tonight and you're the only one who can stop it from happening again. "

  "What!" He sat up in the bed, reaching for the sword that wasn't there.

  "Kraydak came here?"

  "Not exactly, he was in my mind and he. . . uh. . . " To her astonishment, Crystal felt herself blushing. "He, uh, stimulated me. "

  Bryon sat back against the pillows, the corners of his mouth twitching. He appeared to have his passion well under control. "He stimulated you? Perhaps you'd better tell me just what happened and what you think I can do about it. "

  Slowly,
and with long pauses while she struggled to put the experience into words, Crystal told Bryon of Kraydak's attack. She left out nothing, not the fear, not the. . . other. She finished with her plan to build a defense with Bryon's help.

  "After all, as Mikhail says, the best defense is a strong offense. "

  Bryon considered what Mikhail's reaction would be if he knew his beloved daughter was sitting naked in bed with a man he'd been heard to refer to as

  "having more gonads than sense, " but all he said was: "I don't think this was the kind of situation he had in mind. "

  "Never mind him, " Crystal dismissed her stepfather with a wave of her hand.

  "Will you help me or not?"

  Bryon took a long, appreciative look and said, "No. "

  "No?" It had never occurred to her he would refuse. Wasn't this what he'd been leading up to all along?

  It came as a bit of a shock to Bryon as well and with an altruism he hadn't known he possessed, he tried to explain.

  "If this was truly your idea, I'd be honored to make love to you. But it isn't. Kraydak took advantage of your innocence to try to gain control over you and I won't finish the job. "

  "But it isn't like that!"

  "Isn't it?" Bryon's voice was gentle but his eyes were hard. "As much as you care for me, would I be here if Kraydak hadn't attacked you?"

  "No, but. . . "

  "No buts. When we make love, " he picked up her hand and planted a kiss in her palm, "and we will, it won't be as an act of war. "

  Crystal wrapped her fingers protectively around the kiss and looked at him with glowing eyes, eyes that had nothing to do with being a wizard. "Bryon, " she began.

  "No, not tonight. " His voice was beginning to sound strained. "Now you'd better send me back to my own tent. "

  She studied him for a moment and then smiled. She was still smiling seconds later as she watched the indentation of his body smooth out of the mattress.

  "Were you concerned because it wasn't my idea, " she asked it, "or because it wasn't yours?"

  "Well, one thing's for sure, " she said to the darkness as she blew out the lamp and settled down for sleep, "he won't get a chance like that again. " But whether she referred to Kraydak or Bryon was not entirely clear.

  Hanna stood on the battlements and looked out over the valley kingdom of Halda. She shivered and pulled the heavy traveling cloak tighter around her although it wasn't the night wind that caused the chill. She'd lived in Halda for seventeen years now, ruled over it as queen for ten; its fall, its death, tore open a wound she would always carry.

  "Majesty?"

  She turned and the young guard, dark circles visible beneath his eyes even in the uncertain torchlight, bowed.

  "They are ready?"

  "Yes, Majesty. "

  He stepped aside to let her pass, every movement a fight against exhaustion.

  It had been three days since anyone in Halda had really rested. It had been three days since the defenders at the pass had fallen and the army of the Melacian Empire had swarmed into the valley. Three days of slaughter. Men, women, and children put to the sword; and worse, if the hysterical accounts of the few fleeing survivors could be believed.

  Hanna moved sure-footedly through the castle's dark halls, the guard following silently behind. Next to the great Palace of Ardhan, the dwelling of Halda's royal family was a paltry thing, but it had been a home to her, which was infinitely more than the other ever had. She stopped on the threshold of the throne room to let her eyes adjust to the sudden light.

  Against the long wall opposite her, wooden platforms were rising, stages to lift the archers to the arrow slits high in the granite walls, hammers and saws providing a background to every other noise in the hall. Some of the wood, Hanna saw, had been cannibalized from the castle furnishings. Stretching away to either side of her, weary men and women sat holding their weapons, waiting. Behind them, rich tapestries still hid the stone. Through the heavy oak doors at the room's end, a steady stream of people, servants and nobles alike, carried food and water and weapons. In the center of the room, healers moved among the wounded and blood pooled on the gold inlay mosaic of the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and sawdust and steel and fear.

  At her back, the young guard cleared his throat, as much of a prod as he could give his queen. She took another moment to banish hopelessness from her expression, then, lifting her chin, she stepped out into the room, heading for the small knot of people by the great gilded thrones. She walked as quickly as she could but took the time to acknowledge those she recognized with a smile or a softly spoken word.

  Behind her, although she couldn't see it, shoulders squared and furrowed lines of tension eased.

  "Mama!" As she reached the dais that held the thrones, a towheaded boy of eight threw himself at her legs. "Mama, Papa says he's not coming with us!"

  She reached down and stroked his hair. "He can't, Jeffrey. "

  "Why not?" Jeffrey's voice rose. He was too tired and too frightened to be reasonable.

  "Because he's the king. And the king has to stay with his people. "

  "But I want him to stay with us!"

  Hanna's heart twisted and for an instant she closed her eyes in pain. Oh, so do I, my darling. So do I. When she opened them again, her husband was there.

  Gregor, King of Halda, was not a physically imposing man. He stood a head shorter than his wife, and the square, solid body of his youth had become inclined to fat. His sandy-brown hair was graying and laugh lines bracketed his eyes. He shifted the girl-child in his arms and smiled.

  He had the sweetest smile Hanna had ever seen and, as she had since that first day when he'd smiled up at her, she couldn't help but return it. They'd said their good-byes that evening, when he'd finally convinced her that the children stood a better chance if she went with them. His scent clung to her still. She couldn't decide if it would be a comfort or a torture in the hours to come.

  Jeffrey twisted against her leg and glared up at his father. "I want you to stay with us, " he repeated, lower lip beginning to tremble.

  "I can't. "

  Something in that quiet voice got through and Jeffrey sighed. "Can I stay with you, then?" he asked.

  "Who will take care of your mama and your sister if you stay with me?"

  Jeffrey sighed again. "I'll take care of mama. " His small hand slipped into her larger one. "But do I hafta take care of Ellen, too?

  Safe from reprisals in her father's arms, three-year-old Ellen removed her thumb from her mouth long enough to stick out her tongue.

  "Ellen, too, " Gregor told him. "I'm counting on you. "

  "She's a slug, " Jeffrey muttered. "But okay. "

  Gregor turned the beauty of his smile on his son. "Thank you. "

  "Majesties. " The Captain of the Royal Guard stepped forward, at his side a young woman clad in homespun and leathers.

  Although he was dark and her hair flamed a brilliant red, the whipcord leanness of their builds and the sharp wildness of their gazes bespoke a relationship. "Trin says you must go now if you hope to reach the caves by dawn. "

  Now.

  Hanna looked at the captain's companion, who nodded.

  Now.

  "I will carry the child. " Trin held out her arms.

  Gregor bent his head and placed his lips for a long moment against his daughter's brow. Ellen squirmed as his hold tightened and she made a muffled protest around her thumb. His eyes were very bright as he handed the child over to Trin.

  "Jeffrey. " He went on one knee before the boy and took the small shoulders in his hands. "You are King in Halda after me. While you live, Halda lives. "

  Jeffrey, impressed by the tone in his father's voice, nodded solemnly. Hanna knew he didn't understand, not really, but he'd remember. Father and son embraced and Gregor's cheeks were wet when he stood.

  A thick finger traced the line of Hanna's jaw. "So beautif
ul, " the king murmured and then she was in his arms.

  And then she was walking away, down the long length of the throne room. She paused at the great oak doors, taking one last look back.

  I never thought I'd love him. She remembered the long ride from Ardhan so many years before. Her surprise-their mutual surprise-at how well they got along, at how many important things they agreed on. How friendship had grown to something more precious. Pain and the tiny lifeless body of their first child who had never taken a breath in this world. The joy of Jeffrey and Ellen. I wanted to never leave him.

  Over an impossible distance, their eyes met.

  Then she walked from the room, saving the only thing in Halda that could be saved. The future.