She did not answer.

“I am Xandis Pierce Amberhill of Sacoridia. An aristocrat, thief, and the owner of a fine if unintelligent stallion named Goss that will be the foundation of my breeding farm. I am not this Akarion.”

“I know who you are,” Yolandhe replied. “You wear his ring.”

“A pirate wore this ring before me. Did that make him Akarion reborn, too?”

“No. It rejected him and found you.”

Amberhill struggled between the gratification of learning that he had royal blood, and the need to remain his own man. He gazed at the ring, the facets of the ruby afire, lively in the wavering light. He could claim all this treasure and his birthright, but such possessions, and such status, required a great deal of responsibility.

Without it, Amberhill could remain the master of his own desires, free to go where he wished, do as whim dictated, even scale walls to steal the jewelry of noblewomen. As a king, he could never be so free. He’d be collared by duty.

He noticed Yap had drawn closer to the ship. “What say you, Yap?” he called down. “Am I the sea king reborn?”

“I dunno, sir, but all this treasure is cursed. Keeping it can come to no good.”

“Even if it is mine by birthright?”

“I wouldn’t touch it, sir.” Yap shuddered.

“Those memories I get,” Amberhill said to Yolandhe, “those false memories belong to Akarion, don’t they.”

“They are not false.”

He noted she did not deny to whom they belonged. Amberhill did not like another wielding such influence over him, especially from within, never mind from without. The invasiveness of it irritated him. He could not believe it of himself: to be considering whether to reject all that treasure, he who had purloined the wealth of others for so long to rebuild his estate. But no amount of treasure was worth allowing another to alter his memories or gain control over him in any way.

“Akarion can have his ring back,” Amberhill said, sure this would prove to be the solution. He took one last look at the treasure he was giving up and slipped the dragon ring off his finger. Akarion’s skeletal hands lay across his breast. One finger looked disjointed as though someone had tampered with it, no doubt Yap’s old captain who had stolen the ring. Without another moment’s hesitation, he pushed the ring onto Akarion’s finger, gold clicking against bone.

To his surprise, Yolandhe did not object. Yap, in contrast, looked jubilant.

“Well done, sir! The right thing. I am sure of it!”

Amberhill thought so, too. He felt no different, though, just pleased with himself for making the decision to stay free and unencumbered. Until he realized he was twisting a ring around on his finger, as had been his habit. He glanced at his hand, then Akarion’s. Akarion’s boney finger was bare. Amberhill’s finger of living flesh was not.

“No,” he whispered.

Yap wailed.

“It is your birthright,” Yolandhe said, “and your inheritance. It is a gift of greatness.”

NEWS

As tired as Karigan was, she spent the remainder of the night twisting and turning in bed, speculating about whatever the professor and the opposition had set in motion, and about Cade. Mostly about Cade, as it turned out. What had possessed her to kiss him?

Well, he certainly wasn’t hideous to look at or anything, and they’d been so close, actually in contact on the floor. How could she resist? Was it so wrong for her to crave the touch of another? She had been denied it for so long. The man she loved was unattainable. King Zachary had offered her the opportunity to become his mistress, a practice that was more or less an institution in aristocratic circles, but she had refused him. Soundly and without regret. She thought better of herself than that, than being used by any man. She still loved him, though. Couldn’t help it.

When last she’d seen Alton just before heading into Blackveil, she’d hoped for . . . What? They’d pick up where they’d once left off? Companionship? Love? Something to fill the loneliness gnawing at her? Only to be rejected because he’d found Estral.

I am lonely, she thought, her eyes moist. She pressed her face into her pillow.

She’d been snatched away from family and friends and everything that was familiar. She wasn’t even in her own time. Raven’s presence helped, but it was not the same as that human touch. Lorine was almost a friend, but that barrier between servant and the served could not be breached. Karigan certainly could not confide in her. There was no one else. Not even the professor, who was too caught up in his opposition movement. He had little time to spare for her.

But Cade seemed to accept her company, want it even. He knew her true identity, and she could be herself with him. He had responded to her kiss.

Karigan sighed, and with that, she finally fell asleep, only to be awakened what felt like just seconds later by Lorine.

“Time to get ready for breakfast, miss.”

Karigan peered blearily at her from beneath the covers. “Are you sure?”

“Very. The bell for seven hour rang just a short while ago. Are you ill?”

“No, no.”

Karigan forced herself out of bed, grimacing at the soreness of her ribs, and got on with her morning ablutions. Residual memories of the kiss made her smile, and then, while Lorine brushed her hair out, Karigan thought about whatever it was the professor had said was supposed to have happened at two hour in the morning. He’d said that if the opposition succeeded, they’d hear news and rumors of it in the morning.