Zachary pretended to be unaffected by Spane’s inherent threat. Everyone wanted something from him, everyone except Karigan.

Yet, even his own wish, a simple one at heart, was denied him. She rode free like the wind, while he remained hopelessly encaged.

BLACKVEIL

The sentience prowled back and forth across its domain, upturning rocks and tunneling beneath the ground. It pushed through underbrush like an unnatural whirlwind. Creatures scurried up trees or otherwise fled its approach, aware of its fury.

Mirdhwell had been destroyed. Varadgrim had failed in his mission of securing the one of Hadriax’s blood. Neither Lichant nor Terrandon responded to its calls.

And there was more that agitated the sentience. Had its plan with the Deyer been a colossal mistake? Would the influence it had entrenched within the man’s mind help bring down the wall? Or had it failed?

The waiting frustrated the sentience and it wanted results now, but there was nothing it could do except wait. It was impossible to know what the Deyer was up to inside the tower, for it could not penetrate the wall. Only time would reveal the success or failure of its efforts.

The sentience slumped to a rest, settling into a muddy pool to stew over its situation. It found itself recalling memories of Hadriax. Hadriax hunting wild boar in the imperial forest. Handsome Hadriax whom all the ladies admired. They had shared many good times together, running and darting about the court square as boys, and wading in the fountains . . .

I miss him. Oh, Hadriax, I wish you were here. I loved you well.

ARMOR

After Karigan’s ride, Bluebird looked better than she had seen him in a long time. He even took to his feed with exuberance afterwards. The ride had done all three of them good.

As she untacked Condor and brushed him down, she expected soldiers to arrive at any moment to take her before General Harborough for judgment on her act of insubordination. When none came, she returned to her quarters in the east wing of the castle to wait.

She swung her legs over the edge of her high canopied bed. The suite was huge, with an attached private bathing room. She had spent many blissful hours soaking in the deep tub.

Hangings draped the walls, and the furnishings were of the highest quality. The merchant in her prompted her to inspect the makers’ marks on several of the pieces, and she was impressed to find them made by some of the best mastercraftsmen the kingdom had to offer. She was afraid the Riders, herself included, would be so spoiled by the luxury that they’d refuse to move to the new Rider wing, with its comparatively spartan chambers.

She waited for hours, and still no one came to arrest her. Even Cummings hadn’t sent his usual schedule of meetings for her to attend. She laid back on the cushy feather mattress with her hands clasped behind her head, and stared at the flowery pattern of the canopy above.

Her mind wandered back to Bluebird and how he had declined after the captain’s collapse. She knew animals got depressed when missing their masters. Her very own cat, Dragon, had always sensed when she was sick or unhappy, and would curl up beside her, purring his heart out to comfort her.

Yet, the messenger horses went beyond that, or so it seemed to her. If he were an ordinary horse, Bluebird would have eventually gotten over the captain’s absence, but he hadn’t. This thought led her to Crane, who had guarded Ereal’s body. Even Condor had found her after her traveling at Watch Hill. No ordinary horse would have done that.

And now, Night Hawk would not leave the breach in the D’Yer Wall, as if on a vigil, hopelessly waiting for Alton’s return.

She closed her eyes against the pain the thoughts brought back to her, but she only saw images of Night Hawk at the wall, pining away as he waited for something that would never happen. She remembered how Alton had looked in the Mirror of the Moon. He had been sick, yes, but not dead. He had been near the wall.

She drifted into sleep thinking maybe Night Hawk had the right of it, that maybe there was a reason to wait.

In a dream, she played about the fountains of a court square with a boy, much to the vexation of the adults around them, but they were indulgent enough not to reprimand them. Even the soldiers on guard tolerated the children running about their legs. Of course, the soldiers had no choice, for they must stand at attention no matter what, until their commander ordered otherwise.

And, most certainly, no one would interfere with the emperor’s favored one.

She—Alessandros—and Hadriax played with toy sailing boats in the fountains, getting sopping wet in the process. Their nurse scolded them, but she had little success in diminishing their boyish exuberance.

Alessandros pushed his sailboat into the fountain. It was a marvel of detail down to the rigging and the mermaid figurehead, the winter’s work of the finest ship-wright in all the empire.

“I’m going to sail around the whole world,” he declared.

“Me, too,” said Hadriax.

“ ’Course you are. We shall rule the whole world.”

Hadriax beamed at him, his best friend. In fact, the only friend he was allowed to play with. A foundling he was, but tolerated because Alessandros had taken a fancy to him. The emperor humored his heir, but regarded Hadriax as little more than a “pet,” a playmate for a lonely little boy surrounded by adults. Hadriax had been taken into the household, and was fed, clothed, and tutored, all for the service he provided in keeping Alessandros company.

Alessandros’ sailboat, caught in a gust, surged toward the powerful spray of the fountain. Fearing it would be swamped and ruined, he stepped into the fountain after it. The bottom of the fountain was slippery, and he lost his footing. Down he went, cracking his head on the fountain’s edge, surging beneath the water, unable to see or breathe, thrashing; the dark, the dark . . .