Sebourne’s brows shot up towards his hairline. He had accepted every slight with grace, but this was too much. His ire spewed out before he could check it. “Search me? What in the gods name for, boy? Do you think I have a sword stuffed up my ass? I am a Great Lord of Celieria! I was asked to surrender my weapons, and I have done so. You have my word I carry no other weapon on my person. That should be more than sufficient for you!”

The lieutenant would not be swayed or intimidated. He remained instead, polite but firm. “Please, my lord. I must insist. King’s orders.”

Dervas huffed and snorted and glared—and muttered in a dark voice about the end of the civilized world—but in the end he submitted to the abominable indignity of a search. He knew exactly why he was being subjected to it. Dorian meant to humiliate him, to put him in his place, to remind him there was no right or power even Great Lord Sebourne enjoyed except by the consent of the king.

What of the king, master? When we were in Celieria City, Master Nour said that when we reached Kreppes, I was to kill Dorian.

That was the original plan, but now that the Feyreisen and his mate have come, the plans have changed. Your new mission is to assist in the capture of the Tairen Soul’s mate.

Yes, master, of course… but Dorian… please, I would still like the honor of killing him… now more than ever. For my son.

And so you shall, but locating the Feyreisa is your first priority. And it is to that aim that you will devote all your efforts. Once you have provided me the information I require and put that stone in place, your reward will be the honor of killing Celieria’s king.

After a thorough pat down, the lieutenant led Sebourne through the door and down the connecting hallway. They passed five doors, three on the left, two on the right, before the hallway made a thirty-degree turn to the right. Two more of the King’s Guard stood at attention beside the fourth door on the right. The door led to a small, windowless interior sitting room, fairly bare by court standards, though the two couches and chairs that occupied the room were of obvious quality. There was a closed second door at the back of the room, flanked by more guards.

“Make yourself comfortable, my lord. I will let His Majesty know you are here.” The lieutenant bowed deeply a final time, went to rap softly on the back door, then slipped inside.

Dervas cooled his heels in the small sitting room for the better part of a bell. Though several people came and went through that guarded back door, no one came to summon him. No one came to look after his needs or offer him refreshment. No doubt the waiting and the deliberate lack of polite comforts were more small punishments.

And now, my umagi, I am going to erase all memory of this conversation until it is time for you to fulfill your task. This is for your sake as well as ours. With your memories gone, even a shei’dalin as powerful as the Tairen Soul’s mate could Truthspeak you but still learn nothing of value.

At last, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened again. King Dorian’s valet, Marten, stepped into the sitting room. “Great Lord Sebourne? His Majesty will see you now.”

“That dimskull Dorian has reinstated Sebourne.”

Ellysetta looked up at Rain in shock as he shed his golden war steel and prepared for bed. “What?”

“Aiyah. Told me so himself half a bell ago.” Rain dragged a hand through his hair in a distracted gesture and sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t call Dorian a dimskull. We’re desperate for troops. I can understand why he did it.” He met her gaze. “But I have a bad feeling about this, Ellysetta. I don’t trust Sebourne.”

“You think he will betray us?”

Rain shrugged. “I don’t know. I told Dorian he should at least let Gaelen check Sebourne and his men for Marks, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Sebourne is still a powerful, well-connected Great Lord with many supporters. He fears that alienating Sebourne—especially after what happened with Colum—would spark a civil war.”

“He may be right.”

“I know.” Rain slid under the covers and pulled Ellysetta into his arms. “But I still have a bad feeling about this.”

Rain’s bad feeling left Ellysetta just as unsettled as he was. It took her a while to get to sleep, and when she finally did, she dreamed. Images flickered across her mind. Charred and broken stone, shattered glass, the ruins of a building. A dark hole ripped into a wall. Stairs leading down into a windowless room. A sconce lit, revealing a very large, dark oval mirror perched on a column of stone.

As Ellysetta watched, the dark oval of the mirror began to glow with silvery-blue light, just like the phosphorescent mirror pool at the heart of Grandfather Sentinel in Elvia. The surface seemed to ripple, and a face rose from the glowing depths. A Fey face, strong and stern, with paleblond hair and eyes like deep green wells.

A strange tug of recognition pulled at her. The Fey in the mirror was a stranger… but something about him struck a deep chord, as if she should know him—or once had. She reached out a hand, but before her fingers could brush the mirror’s surface, the mirror dissolved. The dreamview became a white blur.

When it focused again, she was walking in a grim, denuded landscape. The glare of a harsh white sun blazed down on a world leached of all color, alien and yet somehow still familiar. A river flowed in the distance, its surface still and black—the Heras. The tumbled ruins of a stone fortress lay scattered before it. From the shape of the hills and the destroyed fortress, she recognized the ruins as Kreppes.