His day started peacefully but Carlisle knew that it wouldn't stay that way. After lunch, as he made his usual afternoon stroll through Grand Quenten, the peace shattered. He passed an alcove, was grabbed and thrown against the stone wall, an arm pressing against his throat.

"What did you do?" his assailant demanded, his voice coming out in short spurts through his teeth.

"Did Head Magician Gath not appreciate having a bucket of water dumped on him?" Carlisle asked, grinning. He felt the young man's hand, the closes to his face, begin to heat, and Carlisle glanced out the corner of his eye to watch as crimson Magic danced just above the young man's skin. Not quite a threat . . . yet.

"Besides, it's not like I meant to have you take the blame," Carlisle continued. "You didn't even study under the Magicians. I was thinking either Heir Arnold or Heir Wilcox would be blamed."

The young man holding him shoved back and smacked Carlisle half-heartedly across the face.

"What, not going to slap harder?" Carlisle asked, a smirk playing at his lips. The young man before him narrowed his eyes.

"I don't wish to be in trouble for hurting one of the dukedom heirs," the young man said.

"Oh, Marcus, you're such a kind and considerate man!" Carlisle and Marcus glanced to the front of the alcove where another young man lounged against the wall, arms folded and an amused grin on his face. "Or is it because you just wish to stay on my good side?" Marcus growled.

"Stop teasing the man, Abram," Carlisle drawled. "I'm sure he's just remembering the last beating he got for noticeably hurting someone."

"You got a beating at the same time!" Marcus snapped.

"All right, I've tired of your bickering!" Prince Abram pushed off the wall. "Come along."

"Along where?" Marcus asked.

"I'm not quite sure. Fancy a fly?"

"What else is there to do?" Carlisle questioned. "Are you trying to shirk your princely duties again?"

Prince Abram laughed. "Of course not. I'm just trying to avoid my father. And perhaps Head Astronomer Kaide too." He tossed his arms over Carlisle's and Marcus' shoulders. "They both wish for me to make friends with Kaide's apprentice, a young man by the name of Lok."

"Apprentice Lok is a very fine young man," Marcus said. "He's only a few years older than us."

"Yes . . . ." Prince Abram trailed off, his lip curling. "Well, you can like him double, Marcus. To make up for me. There's something about him that I don't like. He makes my skin crawl."

"You've been into the epics again haven't you?" Carlisle said. Prince Abram laughed and hurried them down a flight of stairs into a different corridor, a short cut between where they were and where they wished to be. They were passing two different sets of double doors leading to two noble families when one of the sets burst opened and a sickening thud of body to floor reached their ears. The young men looked over their shoulders.

"When you've proven yourself to be of use to me you can return!" the three nobles heard as they watched a young man push himself onto his elbows. "Until then you can sleep in the stables like a commoner!" the doors to the apartment slammed shut and the young man scrambled to his feet, lunging at the doors, rattling the handles.

"Father!" he cried. "Father, I'm sorry!" Purple Magic swirled around the boy's hands and moved through the key holes, but the doors did not unlock. He slapped at the door.

"Father!" the young man groaned and rested his forehead against the door. "Father . . . ?"

Carlisle glanced at the prince and Marcus. Marcus immediately turned away, looking bored. Carlisle scowled at him while Prince Abram took a step forward.

"Excuse me." The young man at the door jumped away from the wood, as if it were crawling with termites, and hastily swiped at his face. The skin around his eyes was tinged with red; a bruise was beginning to turn black on his right cheek.

"My lords," the young man murmured. He bowed. "I didn't see you."

"Clearly," Marcus muttered. Carlisle and Prince Abram glared at Marcus.

"It seems we are at a disadvantage," Prince Abram said. "You know who we three are, but we do not know who you are. You look quite familiar, but I can't place you."

"I'm Lord-Heir Patrick of the House of Expare," the young man said. He nodded to the set of doors where his family crest stretched across the center. "I apologize that you had to witness my father's wrath and my disgrace."

"We've all angered our fathers at one time or another," Prince Abram replied. "And it's not as if he'll disown you. You are the only heir to the House of Expare. Am I correct?" Patrick nodded. "Well then. You can stay with us three until your father sees sense and lets you back into the apartment." Patrick glanced at the doors.

"He's never let me back in within a day," he murmured, his cheeks turning red.

"This isn't the first time you've been thrown out?" Carlisle cried. "Marcus, even your father isn't that horrible!" Marcus sneered at Carlisle.

"Where have you slept?" Prince Abram questioned, moving closer to the young heir. "A friend's apartment?"

Patrick's face went redder. "No, my lord. The loft in the pegasi stables is very warm and dry." Marcus guffawed. "I don't . . . I don't have anyone to stay with."

"Who would wish to be friends with the son of the lowest lord in Austrodai?" Marcus asked, still laughing.

"Do be quiet, Marcus," Carlisle said. "You lowering my intelligence."

Prince Abram grabbed Patrick's arm and pulled him forward.

"You must come flying with us," Prince Abram declared. "And you won't spend another night in the stables . . . all though it would be great fun to do so. It could be like camping. We could pretend we are out on patrol and taking refuge from the elements!"

"No one is sleeping in the stables," Marcus said.

"Are you ten or twenty?" Carlisle asked.

"You two are boring," Prince Abram said. He scowled at them before turning a smile to Patrick. "Heir Expare, may I call you Patrick?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent, and you may call me Abram, within the privacy of those present. Come along! Flying is good for the soul and later you shall stay with me in the Royal Apartments."

"My lord!" Patrick cried, his eyes almost bulging.

"Abram, dear Patrick. Abram."

"I thought Abram was supposed to be the elder of us all," Carlisle muttered to Marcus. "He acts like a child."

"I for one don't wish to spend time with the son of a lord," Marcus muttered. "At least, not one as low as Lord Expare."

"Then by all means leave," Carlisle said. "I would certainly appreciate it." Marcus shoved Carlisle into the wall and Carlisle shoved him back. Prince Abram paused at the top of another flight of stairs and glared passed Patrick at the two dukedom heirs.

"Will you two stop bickering for at least one minute?" Prince Abram cried. "Honestly, Patrick, I do believe you and I will become quite close friends since it seems you have a sensible head on your shoulders."

"How often do Heir Dorman and Heir Windham fight?" Patrick asked.

"Not Heir Dorman and Heir Windham," Prince Abram said, dragging Patrick down the stairs. "Carlisle and Marcus. And they never stop."

"Heir Windham!" Marcus corrected, following. He yelled in surprised as the back of his tunic was grabbed and he was thrown backwards, jarring his back against the stone steps. Carlisle walked passed him.

"Don't listen to a word Marcus says, Patrick," Carlisle said. "He just likes being difficult." Carlisle heard Marcus growl and he glanced over his shoulder, grinning at him.

Their arrival at the pegasi stables sent the stable hands scurrying into action. Carlisle watched as an older boy carefully saddled his steed, Bandit. It was a sleek black Pegasus, its hide and feathers glossy and beautiful, it's eyes a piercing blue. Carlisle glanced toward Patrick. Most nobles had their own Pegasus, and he wondered which of the handsome steeds the young heir's was. His eyes widened as Patrick stopped in front of the stall of a gray Pegasus and reached his hand over the stall door. The Pegasus came forward, nudging Patrick's hand.

"That's your Pegasus?" Marcus cried from several stalls down. "That . . . wild thing?"

It was common knowledge that the only gray Pegasus in the stables hadn't been bred in the royal stables, that its owner had tamed it. But Carlisle hadn't known the name of the tamer, until now.

"I found him injured at a foal when I was nine," Patrick said as he rubbed the creature's nose. "He was orphaned. I healed him and tamed him. When father was promoted to lord, we moved from our home in the west to here. I brought him with me." He smiled at his Pegasus. "Storm and I have been through a lot together, haven't we boy? When I have a son, I'll breed Storm so that my son can have as loyal a creature as I do."

Carlisle glanced toward Prince Abram and Marcus, both looked impressed, though Carlisle could tell Marcus was trying to hide it. Wild pegasi were hard to catch, and harder to tame. Most pegasi came from stables, having been raised since birth in domestic quarters. Carlisle tucked this information away in his head. Heir Patrick Expare was much more than he let on.

Moments later the young men kicked their steeds in the flank and the pegasi launched into the sky, their great wings beating against the air, carrying the young nobles high around the tallest towers of Grand Quenten. Carlisle urged Bandit faster, passing Marcus in the air as they climbed higher.

When the tip of the last turret passed under Carlisle, he dropped the reins and spread his arms, feeling his Magic course through his body, rising like the currents of rivers from his soul, swelling up within him before pushing out of his hands and fingertips. Blue Magic crackled and hissed as it flew through the air. Silver sparks burst from the silky waves of Magic, making little popping and hissing sounds. Prince Abram, Marcus, and Patrick dodged the Magic, the latter dividing his attention between steering his Pegasus and staring with awe at Carlisle's Magic.

Carlisle drew in his Magic, gently maneuvering it around his arms like water strands before allowing the Magic to seep back into him.

"You're the one with Wild Magic!" Patrick's astonished cry made Carlisle smile. He picked up the reins and moved Bandit closer to the other three. "There were rumors amongst the barons . . . that was brilliant, my lord!"

"Carlisle," Carlisle corrected. "And thank you. Being up here is the only time I can truly release my Magic. It takes much control to hold it in, and not lash out at people like Marcus." Marcus sneered at him and Carlisle grinned.

"Let's race!" Prince Abram cried. "We'll race to the north watch tower along the city wall and back to this tower, all right? Go!" He took off on his Pegasus and the others spurred their animals forward.

"That's unfair, Abram!" Marcus shouted.

Carlisle leaned over the front of the saddle, urging Bandit faster. He called words of encouragement to his animal and felt the thrill of the chase as he passed Marcus and gained on Prince Abram. He glanced to the side, eyes widening as Patrick flew passed him and easily gained on Prince Abram. Carlisle watched as the young heir flew passed the prince and gained the lead. Carlisle dug his heals into Bandit's flanks and pushed him onward. He could just barely make out the north watch tower as they approached. It stood a mile and a half from Grand Quenten, a relatively short distance compared to the other watch towers.

Patrick reached the watch tower first, Prince Abram a length behind, Carlisle and Marcus neck and neck two lengths behind the prince. Patrick disappeared around the tower and the three followed, almost colliding with Patrick as he pulled Storm to an abrupt stop. The others yanked on their reins and Carlisle pretended to hear carriage wheels screeching against cobblestones in his head.

"What on earth, Patrick?" Prince Abram shouted. "We could have killed you!"

"I don't think he understands what a race is," Marcus jeered.

Carlisle hit Marcus' arm and studied the young man. He was stiff in the saddle, his head turned toward the land outside Quenten City. Carlisle moved to hovering beside the young man and glanced out to what he was looking at. Carlisle squinted.

"Are those . . . people?" he asked.

Storm snorted and flew forward, surprising the three young men.

"Patrick, wait!" Prince Abram called. The three hurried after Patrick and made for the ground, landing the pegasi with enough room to trot toward the three strangers making their way out the forest.

Carlisle leapt off Bandit and hurried after Patrick who was already off Storm and at the side of the strangers. The three were young, not even twenties, two girls and a boy. They were absolutely filthy and their clothing was almost ruined. But through it all, Carlisle could see that one of the girls used to have a beautiful silk dress, the other girl and boy wore plain cotton of the servant class.

"My lords!" the boy cried. The girl with the dirty silk dress stumbled, falling into Patrick's arms. Patrick gently knelt on the ground, cradling the girl to his chest. Carlisle caught the boy as his knees buckled and Prince Abram steadied the other girl.

"What has happened to you?" Prince Abram demanded.

"I am Lilith Fandom," the girl in Patrick's arms murmured. "These are . . . are my . . . ," Patrick shushed her.

"Don't speak, you're exhausted," he said.

"I'm Devin," the boy said. "And this is my sister, Prudy. We've come from the north."

"Yes," Prince Abram murmured. "Fandom . . . that's one of the northern barons yes?"

"Indeed," Lady Lilith murmured. "We . . . only we escaped." She groaned and her head lolled to the side. Prudy screamed and yanked out of Prince Abram's grasp, scrambling to her mistress.

"My lady?" Prudy cried. "My lady!"

"She's merely unconscious," Patrick said, gently pushing Prudy out of the way. "She will be fine once one of the physicians looks at you. You'll all be fine once that happens."

"And while you're looked over you can explain why you're here," Prince Abram said. Patrick gently handed Lady Lilith to Marcus who held her while Patrick mounted Storm, before taking her up with him. Patrick cradled the girl to his chest and the others climbed onto their pegasi. Carlisle pulled Devin up in front of him and nudged Bandit up into the sky, the others following him.

The Head Physician scurried to find the king the moment the four noble men brought in the ragged three. Other physicians hurried to gather supplies and look over the three. A few tried to edge away from Devin and Prudy, realizing they were servants, but after several fierce glares from Carlisle and Patrick, as well as a harsh scolding from Prince Abram, several of the younger physicians moved to help the two servants.

"Can you please explain what happened?" Prince Abram asked, mostly to Devin. The boy leaned forward, his shirt off as he let one of the physicians lather a potion-crème onto his back.

"The Fandom Estate is seven miles from the border of Cheseer," Devin explained. "We were attacked. They 'ad Cheseer uniforms, I've seen a few near the border before, but never in Austrodai. I don't know 'ow many there were, my lord. But they came at night. We didn't stand a chance. Prudy 'ere's Lady Lilith's servant. Baron Fandom told us to bring Lady Lilith 'ere, to Grand Quenten."

"How long ago was this?" Carlisle asked.

"'bout thirteen days, my lord."

"It's only ten days to the northern border," Marcus said. "The Fandom Estate is only ten miles from Fort Marlx. Why didn't you go there?"

Devin looked at his lap. "It was burned. We did go there first, to get a message 'ere before comin'. They'd burned it. No one was left."

Prince Abram frowned and glanced at his friends. Carlisle folded his arms and huffed. This wasn't good. Not at all. If Cheseer knights were crossing the border and raiding villages, that was one thing. Raiding and sacking noble estates and army outposts was another.

The doors to the infirmary burst open and King Leon stalked in, the Grand Duke, Duke Dorman, Head Magician Gath, and Head Astronomer Kaide trailing behind him. They stopped short and glanced at the three on the beds. Prudy and Devin got up, bowing and curtseying. The physicians hurried them back into their beds.

"What's happened?" King Leon demanded. He glanced at Lady Lilith, who had yet to awaken. "Someone wake the girl up!"

"Her servant, Devin, explained what's happened," Prince Abram said. "Cheseer knights attacked the Fandom Estate at night. These three hardly escaped. Also, it seems Cheseer knights destroyed Fort Marlx, which is why we didn't hear about this until now."

"How long ago?"

"Thirteen days, sire."

The king frowned hard and rubbed his chin. Marcus moved toward Prince Abram, wiggled his eyebrows, motioned with his eyes and frowned. Prince Abram nodded and cleared his throat. King Leon and the others looked at him.

"If I may be so bold, Father," Prince Abram said. "Could I and my three friends go and check the damage? It has been a while since we were allowed to go on a patrol." King Leon glanced at Marcus and Carlisle, then Patrick who stood near the bed of Lady Lilith.

"Who are you?" King Leon demanded.

"I am Lord-Heir Patrick Expare, sire," Patrick said, bowing at the waist. "I was out flying with your son when we found the three refugees."

"Son of a lord. Haven't been at Grant Quenten for five years yet." He gave Prince Abram a brief disapproving glance. "I suppose, Abram, if you wish to take these three with you. But surely you'd rather take another son of a duke than the son of a lord."

"Indeed, you'd wish that," Prince Abram replied. "However, I prefer to travel with those I trust." King Leon snorted and waved his hand in dismal, leading his own men out of the infirmary. Prince Abram clapped his hands.

"Excellent!" he cried. "It's been a bit since I've left the shadow of Grand Quenten! Or had a good fight."

"One should never go looking for war," Patrick said.

"Indeed, but one can get bored. And it's not war I'm looking for. Perhaps just to kill a bandit in combat. But let us go and prepare our bags. We'll take our pegasi. We'll cover more ground that way."

"My lord . . . ,"

"Abram, Patrick."

"Abram. My father threw me out of the apartment for the next few days."

"Hush, I'll go with you!"

"We'll all go with you," Carlisle said. Marcus groaned. "Marcus can stay away if he wishes. But he'll miss out on the shocked face of Lord Expare." Marcus frowned before following after the three.

They returned to the corridor where they had met and Patrick led them to the doors of his family's apartments, hesitating slightly before opening one of the doors and walking into the foyer. A passing servant gasped and covered her mouth.

"Master!" she whispered. "You're not supposed to be here—oh, my lords." She curtsied.

"I will be gone in just a few moments," Patrick said. "Don't tell my father."

"Yes, my lord."

Patrick led them through the foyer to a staircase which they all hurried up, pattering down the hallway as quietly as possible, and slipping into Patrick's bedroom.

"Not even a sitting room?" Marcus cried. "Your room is hardly adequate!"

"Not everyone needs a sitting room," Carlisle said. "Beside, the lower the house, the smaller the apartment. Haven't you seen the quarters the magicians and astronomers have? Those are cramped!"

"I like my room," Patrick said. "Though I had a bigger one out in the country at the manor house." He grabbed a traveling bag and grabbed a pair of trousers and two tunics. He grabbed another set of traveling clothes and ducked behind the changing screen. He reappeared moments later, dressed in the sturdy brown and gray clothing. Grabbing a sheathed sword from a holder near the fireplace, he buckled it around his waist before swinging the traveling pack over his shoulder.

"I'm ready."

Carlisle trailed behind Patrick as he led the way out of his room. They had barely reached the stairs when a deep voice shouted up,

"Boy! What the hell are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to stay out?"

Patrick stopped at the top of the stairs and stared down the stairs. Carlisle paused behind the young man, noticing how his shoulders tensed, and how his knuckles went white around the strap of the traveling bag.

"I had to get a few things, Father," Patrick said.

"And I told you stay out! When I get my hands on you—," the man started up the stairs, freezing as Prince Abram and Marcus came into view.

"Good afternoon, Lord Expare!" Prince Abram cried, pushing in front of Patrick. "Patrick will be gone for a few days. We're going to the northern border to check a disturbance. We'll have him back safe and sound in a few days. Thank you for your consideration." He led the way down the stairs, Carlisle pushing Patrick forward, and the four hurried out of the apartment before Lord Expare could say anything else.

"I am going to be in a lot of trouble when I get back," Patrick muttered as Carlisle continued to propel him down the corridor. "Did you see his face?"

"Which one?" Marcus asked. "The "I-am-your-Head-of-House-and-you-will-obey-me" look or the "You're-going-on-patrol-with-the-prince" look?"

"The first," Patrick squeaked.

"Relax," Carlisle said. "He's probably about to go and speak with King Leon, who will be rude about you being friends with Prince Abram, but will inform him that Abram requested you come with us. Therefore, when you return, you will be treated like royalty and I assume your father will have a very hard time to find things to beat you over for the next few weeks."

"Doesn't stop your fathers," Prince Abram commented. Carlisle and Marcus glared at him. The tension in Patrick's shoulders disappeared, and Carlisle felt the tightness of the young man's body relax. Carlisle stopped pushing him.

Less than an hour later Carlisle mounted Bandit again, clad in his traveling clothes, his sword buckled tightly around his waist. He waited patiently as the queen moved to all four pegasi, handing each other young man a packet of food. Carlisle nodded and thanked the royal before slipping the pack into his traveling bag. Prince Abram whistled and lifted a hand.

"To me friends!" the prince shouted. His Pegasus rose into the air. Carlisle nudged Bandit and the steed soared upward, following after the prince. Marcus and Patrick appeared on either side of him, and together the four flew away from Grand Quenten.

2: Chapter Two

Carlisle was glad when the second to last day of travel arrived. On foot, it was ten days to the northern border, but as they flew on pegasi, it only took eight days. At the end of the seventh day, the four young men camped in a forest near a small brook, sheltered by towering pines and oaks.

"What's the one thing you miss the most about being a baron's son?" Carlisle asked the four huddled around the fire. Summer nights in the north of Austrodai weren't the warmest. "Or do you prefer to be the son of a lord now?"

Patrick frowned as he bit into a piece of bread. "There's good and bad to being the son of either," he said. "But I do miss being a baron's son. When it was just us out in the district, no need to worry about hierarchy or the rules of the court, life was easier. Father was still horrible and I did sleep out in the stables numerous times during my youth . . . but there was a certain freedom that I don't have at Grand Quenten."

"Freedom?" Marcus questioned.

"Yes. Everyone is watching everyone at Grand Quenten. Out west, back at the manor, the only ones who watched me constantly were Father and Mother. I could roam the land all day if I wanted to, and not be home until dinner. At Grand Quenten, I feel trapped. Like the walls and people of the palace wish to lock me within the gates and never allow me out. I can't just jump onto my Pegasus anymore and fly off. I've got to stay in Grand Quenten and be with father to attend meetings and parties and try and help climb the social scale." Patrick tossed a small piece of wood into the fire.

"I don't know how you three can stand it."

"It's not like we ever had a choice," Prince Abram said. "We were born into the ranks. I'm sure if we were suddenly thrust into the country as barons' sons, we wouldn't know what to do either."

"What does a baron son do?" Marcus questioned. "Hunt all day?"

"Sometimes," Patrick answered. "I would go around to the nearby villages and hear any complaints or see if anything needed fixing, such as village halls and such. Also, at times, I was the liaison between my father, Fort Pert, and the mines. If I had had a sister, I wouldn't have had to go to the villages and find out what the people needed. My mother could have done that, but she's not in the best of health." Patrick paused and smiled at the flames. Carlisle watched the young man's eyes take on a distant look while his lips quirked up into a small smile.

"It's much easier to get away from those you don't like in the country," Patrick continued. "Father and I could go several days without seeing each other. Having rooms on the other side of the manor helped as well."

"It almost sounds like your father being promoted to lord was a bad thing," Marcus said.

"It has its good and bad," Patrick said. "I suppose if he'd never been promoted I'd never had met you three."

"Rhyannon he should have stayed out in the country!" Marcus muttered. Carlisle threw a stick at him and Patrick chuckled.

"I'm very glad that your family was promoted!" Prince Abram declared, slinging an arm around Patrick's shoulders. "It does me good to know that there are smart people within the ranks of nobles besides these two dunderheads."

"Dunderheads?" Carlisle and Marcus cried.

"Marcus, we may have to ally ourselves against these two," Carlisle said.

"When pigs fly, Carlisle."

Carlisle threw more sticks at Marcus.

They arrived at Fort Marlx around noon the next day. They circled the burnt ruins of the fort several times before landing a few yards from the structure. Leaving the pegasi grazing, the four made their way into the ruins, swords drawn, their Magic in reserve, ready and waiting.

Around them, under planks of wood or underneath scavenger birds, they found the corpses of knights and common foot soldiers. The bodies were already decomposing, and some of the bodies, left in the open for the birds, had been picked clean.

"We'll need to burn the bodies," Prince Abram said. "Though a plague spreading into Cheseer would be delightful." They finished their scout of the fort, and found none alive. They moved out of the fort again, sheathing their swords. They stood in a line, several yards apart from each other. Prince Abram spread his feet, steadying himself. Carlisle and the others followed his lead.

"On the count of three," Prince Abram called. "One . . . two . . . three!" They summoned their Magic, and together, green, purple, blue, and crimson Magic hit the ruins of the fort, spreading throughout the remains, and a mighty fire arose, crackling and hissing as it ate the remains and corpses of those left.

"May Rhyannon carry your souls to Paradise," Prince Abram murmured. Carlisle bowed his head once in respect. The four returned to their pegasi and mounted, flying west several miles toward the Fandom Estate.

Carlisle cringed, seeing the remains. The outer structures of the estate had suffered the most damage. At least the manor house still stood, charred and partially destroyed as it was. Together, the four made their way through the debris, spotting corpses under birds and debris.

The inside of the manor seemed more intact than the outside. The four carefully treaded up the main staircase to the second level, checking in every room they dared to enter for living people. They found the bodies of Baron and Baroness Fandom in the Master Bedroom and Patrick spread the sheets from the bed over them.

Shuffle. Bump. The four froze, glancing at each other before looking around the room again.

Shuffle, bump.

Marcus bounded over to the wardrobe, ripping the door from the weakened frame. They all heard a surprised yelp as he reached in, and Marcus yanked a boy from inside, tossing him to the ground before the others. Carlisle and Patrick pointed their swords at him while Prince Abram crouched before the cowering boy.
"Who are you?" Prince Abram demanded. The boy whimpered, trembling. Carlisle poked the boy's shoulder.
"Answer him!" Carlisle ordered. The boy jerked away, exposing his neck. Carlisle hissed and sheathed his sword. Marcus and Patrick swore. Prince Abram frowned at his friends.
"He's a slave," Carlisle explained. He gestured to the thin metal collar around the boy's neck.

"Cheseerian?" the prince asked. The boy's head jerked up and down. Prince Abram growled and shuffled forward. The boy flinched as Prince Abram wrapped his hands around the smaller neck. He didn't fight the prince, only tightened his fists, scratching the wooden floor. Deep green Magic moved from Prince Abram's hands, surrounding the collar. There was a loud click before the collar fell away into Prince Abram's hands. The boy stilled before looking toward the collar. Carlisle noticed the boy's eyes widen, and his mouth dropped, a bit comically.

"My kingdom does not adhere to slavery," Prince Abram said, snapping the collar in half. He tossed the pieces to the ground. "You are free."

The boy touched his neck, glanced at the broken pieces of the collar, before moving forward, crawling to Prince Abram and resting his head against the prince's legs. Prince Abram tensed; Carlisle and the others sucked in air.

"Sickening," Marcus muttered. Prince Abram knelt, took the boy by the shoulders, and forced the child to look him in the eye.

"You are free," the prince said. "You don't have to pleasure me or my friends. We don't own you. No one owns you." The boy hid his face with his hands, his body beginning to shake with silent sobs. Prince Abram gathered the boy in his arms, stroking the boy's hair. The boy tensed and trembled before relaxing into Prince Abram's arms. The boy peaked up at the prince, who smiled down at him. The boy grinned shyly and glanced at the others.

Patrick stepped closer and crouched. The boy leaned closer to Prince Abram. Patrick smiled.

"If you wish," Patrick murmured, "we can get you something to eat." The boy's stomach rumbled and his face turned red. The boy's trembling returned.

Prince Abram chuckled and stood, lifting the boy. The child squeaked and threw his arms around Prince Abram's neck, hiding his face. He muttered something low, making Prince Abram frown.

"What was that?" the prince asked.

"P-please . . . ." the boy pleaded, lifting his head. "Don't drop me."

Prince Abram tightened his grip. "Never." The boy frowned and the four friends hurried from the manor back to the pegasi. There the prince placed the boy on his feet and dug through his pack for food. He handed some bread and cheese to the boy who grabbed the food and chomped onto it.

The nobles gathered close to each other.

"We should have a look at the border," Prince Abram said. "We've got an hour or two of daylight left."

"What about him?" Marcus asked, nodding to the boy.

"He'll come with us," Prince Abram said. They glanced at the boy who froze in the middle of licking crumbs off his fingers. Prince Abram motioned him forward before bending to look him in the eye.

"I am Prince Abram," he said. The boy's eyes widened. "These are my friends, Duke Heirs Marcus and Carlisle, and Lord Heir Patrick. What's your name?"

The boy gulped. "Master calls me Boy."

Prince Abram frowned. "That's not a very good name."

"S-sometimes . . . Master calls me Slut. But only when we're alone."

Carlisle clenched his fists. What sort of existence had this boy led? How had he found the courage to run?

"Did you have a name before you were a slave?" Patrick asked.

"Don't know. I only ever been a slave."

"Well that won't do!" Prince Abram declared. "Let's see . . . how do you like the name Rae?"

The boy mouthed the word before a tiny smile played at his lips. He nodded, making all but Marcus grin.

"How old are you, Rae?" Prince Abram asked.

"Twelve!" Rae declared. His eyes lit up and his smile widened. "Adelaide said that my Birth Day is the first day of Yule, and every year she makes me my favorite bread."

"Is Adelaide a regular servant?"

Rae nodded. "She's . . . she's not afraid to be nice to me . . . even though Master's forbidden the others to like me."

"She sounds like a very nice woman, Rae."

"She is." Rae's face went red as he realized how much he was saying. He slapped a hand to his mouth and looked at his feet.

"How would you like to be a servant like Adelaide?"

Rae's eyes widened to the point where Carlisle thought the prince would have to catch them if they fell out.

"Like, a paid servant?" Rae whispered. "Like a real person?"

"You are a real person," Prince Abram replied. "Don't let anyone tell you differently."

Rae shuffled his feet, nodding rapidly. "I would like that, sire."

"Good. We will discuss it more when we have finished the problem of rogue Cheseerian knights."

Rae frowned. "Master and his brother came to the border to see about those knights."

Prince Abram straightened. "So your old master is a noble?"

"He's Prince Keallack."

"Sweet Rhyannon!" Marcus cried. "We're going to have to deal with the royals?"

"This should be interesting," Prince Abram replied. "Rae, who else was with them?"

"I . . . I think twenty, sire. I'm not the best counter."

"Hopefully they brought that many to detain the rogues," Carlisle said. "If they too are trying to avoid war with us, they'll do anything to keep the rogue knights at bay." Prince Abram mounted his Pegasus.

"We'll find out should we meet them," he said. He pulled Rae up behind him. "Let's go."

They travelled high, eyes sweeping over the country side as they flew toward the border. The Forest of Gore served as the border between Austrodai and Cheseer at this particular section of country, and as they flew over toward the east, they noticed a commotion ahead. Prince Abram motioned for them to continue forward and circle.

Below them, a skirmish finished. The nobles landed, their swords drawn. People shouted and froze, pointing their swords toward them. The four rode forward. Around them, fallen Cheseerian knights lay, their cloaks ripped, armor bent and mangled.

"You're in Austrodai," Prince Abram said, his voice carrying across the clearing.

"We know," a young man, several years older than the four, replied, sheathing his sword. He stepped forward. "But we had no choice. These rogue men would have continued to plunder and pillage Austrodain forts and estates."

"Who are you?" Prince Abram demanded.

"Prince Aric."

"The Crown Prince." Prince Abram alighted from his Pegasus. "I am Prince Abram." The Cheseerian prince tilted his head, resting a hand against his heart for a second.

"I apologize for intruding on your lands. I apologize more profusely that former knights of my realm have caused such damage."

Prince Abram twirled his sword. "I suppose I should accept you apology. But the fact remains that your men—former or not—destroyed one of the Austrodain forts and all but destroyed a noble family. Retribution must be paid."

Prince Aric frowned. "I agree. But we are not in the position to hand anything over. We have only the bare necessities with us."

Carlisle, Marcus, and Patrick dismounted, moving around the bodies of dead Cheseerians, making sure they were dead. Carlisle noticed that the rogue knights had a tattoo on the back of their left hand.

"What does this emblem mean?" Carlisle called over to the princes. Prince Aric glanced over.

"That's the mark of the Odium Order. They are former knights of the realm who have left the Code of Knights and have waged war against all enemies of the Crown without cause. Austrodai, while not a full-fledged ally of Cheseer, has a tentative peace with us. To cross the border under our banner and attack forts and noble estates is an act of war. And the Crown does not condone this act."

"Indeed," Prince Abram said. "My report will determine the course of action my father decides to take against you and your kingdom."

Carlisle, hearing a low moan, turned from the conversation. He moved toward the sound, jumping in surprise when a corpse moved. He fell to his knees and turned the rogue knight over, exposing an older boy clutching at a shoulder wound. Carlisle rested a hand against the boy's forehead, making him open pain-glazed eyes. Carlisle ran his eyes down the boy's body and found another wound on his leg. He looked back at the boy's face, only to realize that a thin metal collar surrounded the boy's neck. He growled low in his throat.

"'M sorry, milord," the boy whispered. "I . . . I didn't mean to."

"Being injured is not your fault," Carlisle said. He placed a hand over the leg wound, bringing his Magic forward. Blue Magic flowed from his finger tips like silk ribbons, travelling around the boy's legs until disappearing back into Carlisle's hand. Carlisle lifted his hand slowly until it hovered over the wound and the blue Magic gathered in a mass over it, hissing pleasantly.

"Bæta." The boy yelped as his body healed slightly. Carlisle repeated the spell, making the boy cry out again. At his first cry, Prince Aric abandoned his conversation with Prince Abram and rushed to Carlisle, his hand on his sword until he saw what Carlisle was doing.

"I'm not a healer," Carlisle said as he moved to look at the shoulder wound. "He'll need to see a proper one. Until then, he'll just need some bandages and perhaps some healing ointment."

"M-Master," the boy murmured, seeing Prince Aric. "I didn't mean . . . to get hurt."

"Of course not," Prince Aric replied. "No one tries to get hurt in a battle." The boy yelped as the healing Magic worked a little on his shoulder.

A scream overpowered the yelp, making everyone turn toward the pegasi. Rae screamed again as he was dragged several feet from Prince Abram's Pegasus by a young man about Prince Abram's age.

"What did you think you were doing, Boy?" the young man shouted, bringing a hand across Rae's face, even as he held the boy by the hair with his other hand. "Did you think I'd never find you? Did you?"

Patrick was there before anyone else, punching the young man in the mouth, sending him flying. Rae screamed as Prince Keallack jumped up, brown Magic running around his fists. Patrick lifted up his fists, purple Magic crackling dangerously.

Prince Aric slammed into Patrick, knocking him to the ground, an arm over his neck. Prince Abram ran into Prince Aric, tipping the three until they lay on the ground in an awkward heap with Prince Abram stretched over both the prince and Patrick.

"Right now, my brother is very, very upset," Prince Aric whispered. Prince Abram glanced at the younger prince, who stood just out of hearing range. "Right now he thinks I'm having very harsh words with you for hitting one of the princes of Cheseer."

"Are you?" Patrick asked.

"No."

"So what are you doing?" Prince Abram said as he and Prince Aric briefly pushed against each other.

"Thanking you." Prince Aric grinned. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time. Keallack just happens to be Father's favorite."

Patrick snorted.

"Now, take my signet ring off," Prince Aric told Prince Abram. Prince Abram slipped the ring off. "Give that to Amicus. He'll understand." He shoved off Patrick and standing, pointed a finger at him.

"Don't touch another prince of the realm in such a way again!" Prince Aric snapped. "Keep your subordinates under better control, Prince Abram." He turned and stalked toward his brother.

"Keallack, you know that slavery is forbidden in Austrodai. It is obvious that you've lost your bed partner." Prince Keallack glared, his fists still clenched and surrounded by Magic. Prince Aric turned to Carlisle.

"As it stands, it'll be too much trouble to take my slave back home," he said. "Take him. Do what you will with him. He's not much in bed, but he does sing very well."

Carlisle growled, but grabbed the metal collar, unlocked it and snapped it in half. The boy looked saddened, and he turned toward Carlisle, his shoulders slumping.

"Shall we write?" Prince Aric asked Prince Abram as he and Patrick stood. "To arrange a meeting between our kingdoms?"

"Father, should he agree, will insist on the meeting being at Grand Quenten."

"Completely understandable. It is us asking for forgiveness." Prince Aric nodded his head and touched his right hand to his heart. "Until then, Prince Abram. My men and I will gather the bodies and burn them."

"We will stay and help," Prince Abram said. "You two!" he motioned to Rae and Amicus. "Go over to the pegasi. Rae, help Amicus." Rae scurried to help the older boy up and together they limped to Prince Abram's Pegasus.

After the bodies became ash the Cheseerian party disappeared back over the border, Prince Keallack sending glares over his shoulder until he and his brother were out of sight. Prince Abram leaned heavily against Carlisle, and Carlisle shoved the prince off.

"That was interesting," Prince Abram muttered. "Carlisle, I want to rest, stop pushing me!"

"Get off me then," Carlisle replied. "We're not setting up camp here."

"It smells like flesh," Marcus said.

"Well we did just burn bodies," Patrick answered. Prince Abram groaned dramatically. He moved to his Pegasus, ruffled Rae's hair, and placed a hand on Amicus's shoulder.

"I am Prince Abram," he said. "You are free. Prince Aric asked me to give this to you." He held up the Crown Prince's signet ring. Amicus took it, his face going red, and his lips turning to a frown.

"Why would he give you his signet ring?" Marcus asked.

Amicus slipped the ring onto his left middle finger. Prince Abram tilted the boy's head up.

"He said you'd know," Prince Abram said. "Why'd he give you the ring?"

"Because that's how he is," Amicus replied. He rubbed his finger against the stone crest. Carlisle looked the boy up and down. His body language didn't agree with his words. However, Prince Abram seemed willing to let Amicus's lying go.

"If we go back, we can set up camp near the manor," Patrick said. "Or even in the manor. Perhaps there are some healing supplies that haven't been too badly destroyed." Carlisle swung up onto Bandit, pulled Amicus up behind him, waiting until Prince Abram was settled in the saddle with Rae in front of him

They found shelter in one of the private parlors in the manor. Rae and Amicus tried to do everything, stoke the fire and make dinner, but Carlisle forced Amicus to sit and rest his injuries, while Patrick helped Rae make dinner. Prince Abram and Marcus disappeared for fifteen minutes, returning with a few healing supplies they were able to find. Carlisle grabbed a bottle of ointment and a roll of bandages. Amicus tensed as Carlisle tried to remove his shirt.

"Amicus, it'll be easier to help you if I remove your shirt," Carlisle said. Amicus shook his head. Carlisle frowned.

"Now, Amicus." Carlisle ordered. Amicus cringed, and Carlisle saw Patrick glare at him. His own stomach tumbled in a revolting manner, but he had to get the boy to remove his shirt. It was the only way to properly heal him. Amicus pulled the shirt over his head, getting stuck when his wounded shoulder wouldn't go as high as the other. Carlisle helped, lifting the shirt up and off, displacing the boy's dark hair. He frowned and brushed Amicus's hair back again. Amicus gasped and shrank back, curling into a ball against the wall, covering his ears.

"What's wrong?" Prince Abram asked.

"He's an elf."

"And elf?" Marcus pulled his sword. Prince Abram grabbed Marcus's wrist.

"Put your sword away, Marcus. He's hurt and he's been a slave. He's not going to go on a human killing spree."

Carlisle gripped Amicus's wrists and pulled them down. He bent his head, trying to catch Amicus's eyes. The elf looked away.

"Amicus, we're not going to hurt you," Carlisle whispered. "I need to look at your shoulder and leg. Can I please look at your injuries?"

Amicus's eyed flickered toward Marcus, Prince Abram, Patrick, and finally back to Carlisle. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Carlisle felt the elf tremble as he worked, pouring ointment over the shoulder wound and muttering another healing spell. He wrapped a roll of bandages around the wound and tied it off.

"Let me help you put your shirt on," Carlisle said. "Then we can work on your leg."

Amicus cooperated with Carlisle, allowing him to maneuver arms and shoulders to get the shirt on. Rae came over with food, setting it down nearby for when Carlisle was done. Carlisle moved to help Amicus out of his trousers. The elf jerked back, slapping Carlisle's hands away.

Rae gasped, Marcus moved forward, Patrick shoved Marcus back to his seat, and Amicus pulled his knees to his chest.

"I'm sorry!" Amicus cried. "I . . . I didn't mean . . . mean to . . . ."

Carlisle shushed him. "It's fine. You're obviously scared. But I need you to remove your trousers. Can you do it yourself?" Amicus nodded and Carlisle scooted back, giving the elf enough room to remove the clothing. Patrick tossed a blanket to Amicus, allowing him to cover all but his wound. Carlisle moved forward again and rapidly went through the same process, using another roll of bandages for the leg. Once done Carlisle moved away, standing. Amicus hurried to put his trousers back on.

"I can't believe you let him get away with hitting you," Marcus whispered, his voice like a hiss. Carlisle gestured rudely at him in reply, making Marcus's eyes widen, Patrick laugh, and Prince Abram groaned.

3: Chapter Three

Kirkwood was the one place Carlisle remembered learning very little about. He had shared a tutor with Prince Abram and Marcus, and the tutor hadn't been willing to elaborate on the place besides where it was located, how large it was, and that the elves lived deep within its borders.

They arrived several days after their encounter with the princes of Cheseer, circled around the trees along the south side of the forest before landing. The Me Dain towered over to the east and west of the forest, with the largest mountain, Mt. Me, towering over everything while settled snugly against Kirkwood's northern border. Magic seemed to seep from the forest, a deep Magic that seemed light, but was heavy and almost strangling.

"Are you sure about this, Abram?" Carlisle asked, dismounting from Bandit and helping Amicus down. He shuddered at the feeling of the forest, even Amicus seemed tense.

"I thought Amicus would feel more at peace here," Patrick whispered. "Isn't this Elfin Magic?"

"I don't know," Carlisle whispered back.

"We're not actually going to go into Kirkwood are we, Abram?" Marcus asked.

"Of course!" Prince Abram cried, gripping his pegasus's reins in one hand, and his sword hilt in the other. The sword staid in its sheath, however, but Carlisle could see that the prince's knuckles were white.

"You're mad!" Marcus cried.

"And you've only just realized?" Prince Abram asked. "Rae, stay by me." Rae jumped closer to the young man. Carlisle pulled Amicus closer.

"You take the reins," Carlisle said, handing the leather over to the elf. "I'll keep my sword ready." Amicus took the reins and Carlisle stepped in front of him. Together the group moved into the forest, the deep Magic encircling them fully. Amicus gasped and dropped Bandit's reins, covering his ears.

"Amicus, what's wrong?" Carlisle asked, grabbing the elf. He looked him over for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"They're so loud," Amicus muttered.

"Who's so loud?"

"The trees. They're shouting."

Carlisle glanced around. The trees were blowing as if a strong wind whipped through the forest, but no wind was there. He placed his hand onto one of the trees, closed his eyes, and focused on his Magic, extending the large reservoir of blue Magic out toward the spirit of the tree. He could feel the heaviness of the natural Magic, and realized that Kirkwood was a dwelling place for Magic, the Magic of the trees and animals and mountains. The heaviness of the place finally became clear to him. It was pure Magic.

He touched upon the spirit.

"It has been a long time since I felt human Magic such as yours," the spirit said. "Wild Magic . . . you have great control."

"Thank you, Spirit," Carlisle replied. "My young friend has not heard trees for a long time. He believes you to be shouting."

"We were," the spirit replied. "We always welcome a new soul into the forest. I shall request that the others whisper."

Carlisle opened his eyes, watched as the trees stopped blowing and settled to gentle swaying. Amicus uncovered his ears and sagged against Bandit.

"Thank you, my lord," he whispered.

"It was no trouble," Carlisle replied. He took in several deep breaths. His legs shook, and Patrick grabbed his arm, keeping him up.

"Get up on Bandit," Patrick said. "I don't know what you did, but you're pale. Get up." He helped Carlisle into the saddle and sent Amicus to lead Storm while he took up Bandit's reins.

They continued deeper into the forest with the trees dipping to meet Amicus every few minutes. Marcus threw glares over his shoulder at Amicus, especially after he ran into a tree branch that had come too low too soon, and Carlisle almost sent a hex at him, except that speaking with the spirit had taken a toll on his Magic.

The rays of sun coming through the trees changed their position and the birds and trees fell silent and still. The stoppage of movement immediately became evident, as were the notched and ready arrows that the elfin warriors had as they appeared surrounding the group.

Marcus swore and pulled his sword. Carlisle gripped the saddle horn and drew his sword. Patrick dropped Bandit's reins and moved closer to Prince Abram, though neither drew their swords. Amicus hid his face in Storm's mane.

"It is a strange day indeed when humans grace us with their presence this deep into our forest," an elf stated stepping forward. His bow hung over his shoulder and he presented himself with an air of importance and disdain to the group. "Why have you to come here?"

"We seek to return one of your children," Prince Abram replied.

"We have lost no children," the elf replied.

"We rescued him from the Cheseerians."

The elf frowned, narrowed his eyes at the prince for a moment before looking at the others in the group. Carlisle sheathed his sword, dismounted, and gently pulled Amicus away from Storm. Amicus ducked his head, tensing under Carlisle's grip. The elves tightened their grips on their bows and the leader stepped forward, meeting Carlisle and Amicus midway. He pushed some of Amicus's hair back, making the elfling tense and flinch. Satisfied, the elf grabbed Amicus and pulled him from Carlisle, taking him back to the elves.

"We thank you for your generosity," the elf said to them. Carlisle detected a hint of disdain in his voice. "You will have safe passage out of Kirkwood. I guarantee no safety should you try and return."

"I understand," Prince Abram said. "Please, may we have your name?"

"Lord Laoch," the elf replied. "And you are the Crown Prince of Austrodai. What you have done today is a true kindness to our people, but we owe you no favors."

Carlisle watched Prince Abram nod. He bowed slightly to Lord Laoch.

"Very well," Prince Abram said. "We will take out leave now. Good-bye, Amicus. May Rhyannon bless you." Amicus bowed back and Carlisle wished he had something to give the elf. He glanced toward Bandit, grinned, and unbuckled his dagger from where it nestled next to his sword. He turned fully to Amicus and Lord Laoch and stepped forward.

"I would like to gift this to you," Carlisle said, holding the dagger out. Amicus stepped closer, Carlisle placed the dagger in Amicus's hands, and the elfling drew the dagger from its sheath. The sturdy, but thin blade glistened in the sunrays, as did the small sapphire at the end of the hilt.

"My lord?" Amicus whispered.

"You will see that there's an inscription on the blade, carved on both sides."

"I . . . ." Amicus's face went red. "I don't remember how to read."

"Peidiwch byth Rhoi Up," Carlisle told him. "It's the Ancient Tongue of Austrodai. It means, Never Give Up." He bent down and caught Amicus's gaze. "And it is far more precious than that sapphire. You're free now, Amicus. Don't ever forget that. No one can hold you back, or beat you down. You've survived. Don't give up now."

Amicus sheathed the dagger and held it flat against his chest. "I won't forget, my lord. Nor will I forget you. I swear, sir, that I and my descendants will help you should you ever need it."

Carlisle placed a hand on Amicus's head. The elfling tensed a little. "May Rhyannon bless you."

"And you, my lord."

Carlisle straightened, grabbed Bandit's reins, and hurried to where the others had stopped, several yards away.

"Your father gave you that dagger," Marcus stated. "For your Coming of Age. It has a sapphire in it!"

"He needed the dagger more than I."

"He's just an elf."

"Do be quiet, Marcus. You're stupidity is tiresome."

"Your father will be angry."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. "When isn't he?"

They saw the king and his advisers immediately upon return.

"Crown Prince Aric was already there with his brother and men, killing the knights," Prince Abram explained. "These rogue knights were part of the Odium Order, those who were expelled and stripped of their knighthoods for breaking the Cheseerian Code of Chivalry. I spoke with the Crown Prince and we believe that a meeting between the two kingdoms here at Grand Quenten would be beneficial. He seemed cordial and almost friendly. His brother, on the other hand, seems to have taken after King Thradic."

King Leon rubbed his chin. "This could be an opportunity to bring stronger peace between us. Since you parted on good terms with the crown prince, I'll allow you to contact him and make the arrangements. See if they'll come during the harvest. They could stay for our Harvest Feast."

"I shall make the arrangements," Prince Abram promised, bowing.

"Who is the young boy?" the Grand Duke asked. Prince Abram motioned Rae to step forward.

"We found Rae in the ruins of the manor," Prince Abram replied. "He was an escaped slave. Of Prince Keallack's. The prince didn't appreciate that his slave was immediately free crossing onto Austrodain land. Prince Aric . . . well . . . he didn't seem too perturbed by his brother's anger. In fact, he greatly appreciated how we handled the situation."

"Why is it that when you say those words we all get shivers up our spines?" King Leon asked, pinching his nose. "What did you do, Abram?"

"Patrick punched Prince Keallack."

Patrick turned bright red as the king and advisors stared at him. He stared at his shoes, looked at the nobles, then back at his shoes.

"It was rather brilliant," Marcus admitted.

"Prince Aric didn't seem to mind, though we tousled to make it look like he did," Prince Abram added.

"Well then I can't be too upset," King Leon said. "Unless King Thradic refuses to meet on grounds of Heir Expare punching his youngest."

"Of course, Father."

"What do you plan to do with this . . . boy?" Duke Dorman asked, motioning back to Rae.

"He will be my manservant," Prince Abram declared. "He'll learn what it means to be a free man."

"Fine, fine." King Leon waved his hand. "Go. And don't forget that you're attending Lady Nicole's Birth Day party in three days. I'm sure you'll pick an appropriate betrothal gift."

Prince Abram grinned, a lopsided silly grin that made Carlisle want to roll his eyes.

"But of course, Father! The best for my lady." He strolled from the room and the others quickly followed.

"You're all coming with me with Lady Nicole's party," Prince Abram said.

"I didn't get an invite," Patrick pointed out.

"But you'll be with me. That's enough of an invitation. And Nicole has made it clear that my friends will be her friends. Don't worry about a thing, Patrick. But perhaps if you got her a few silk ribbons. Carlisle and Marcus have given her many in the past."

"And what pray tell is your betrothal gift to her?" Carlisle asked.

"A jewel worth a thousand gold coins," Prince Abram declared, "but far less than the price of my fair lady's heart."

"Don't let him fool you, Patrick," Marcus said. "Abram and Lady Nicole have practically been engaged since birth. She turns seventeen in three days. Her father didn't want to risk her health in child-bearing by allowing her to marry earlier."

"Heir Wilcox tried to gain her hand," Prince Abram said, narrowing his eyes. "I had Father declare that she was mine." He tossed an arm around Carlisle's shoulder. "She was most grateful."

"If all the letters were anything to go by," Carlisle muttered. "And the bad poetry you wrote her."

"Poetry sets love on fire!"

"Not your poetry," Marcus said. "Your poetry kills it." Prince Abram glared at him and Carlisle laughed, shoving the prince off of him.

"For once I agree with Marcus," Carlisle said. "If you had tried to woo me with your poetry, I'd have run off to marry a blacksmith."

"Stop it!" Prince Abram cried. "I order you to never make fun of my poetry again. At least while in a public corridor. Rae, follow me, please. I will do the honors of leading you around and dropping you off in the good hands of my father's manservant, George. Carlisle, Marcus, Patrick, farewell! I shall see you all tomorrow."

4: Chapter Four

Carlisle rolled his eyes as he watched Prince Abram preen in front of his full length mirror. The mirror had been a gift from a visiting dignitary from Messar, and was the only full length one in the kingdom.

"You look fine," Marcus drawled from the bed. "Lady Nicole wouldn't care if you came in all muddy."

"Her parents and my parents would, and I think the furniture would care," Prince Abram said. He hurried to turn to Rae who held open an oak box, lifted out a circlet, silver, with slim designs of triskeles and ivy, no jewels and no tines. It was a simple round thing, worn by all of the princes who'd been fortunate enough to hold the title of Crown Prince.

Prince Abram placed it on his head with careful precision, the silver standing in stark contrast with his dark brown hair. Carlisle watched with amusement as the prince fussed with his hair for several moments after that. Rae picked up a brush and dusted off the prince's shoulders.

"Enough!" Marcus cried. "We're going to be late."

"But Patrick isn't even here yet," Prince Abram protested.

"We'll probably meet him on the way," Carlisle replied, he and Marcus moving forward and grabbing Prince Abram's arms. "Come along now, pretty boy."

"Wait! My present!"

"Can't have you forgetting that now can we?" Marcus teased, grabbing the wrapped box from the bed and handing it to the prince, still keeping one hand gripping the young man's arm. "Wouldn't want you to officially propose and not have a betrothal gift now would we?"

"I don't understand why I even have to propose in front of people," Prince Abram whined as he was dragged from his chambers. They almost bowled over Patrick.

"Why are we dragging the prince?" Patrick asked.

"He doesn't want to make a public proposal in front of people," Carlisle said.

"I don't see why I have to," Prince Abram butted in, his voice started to get high and fast. "It's not as if we aren't betrothed at all. Even if I didn't make a public proposal we'd still be betrothed . . . our fathers signed the contracts and everything. It's already official."

"But as Crown Prince you must make yourself known in ways that we poor nobles don't have to," Carlisle reminded him.

"What if I stumble over my words? Lady Nicole is the only woman I've ever loved—but I've never actually said it to her."

"There's a first time for everything," Patrick said.

"First time for me to make a fool of myself," the prince muttered. They arrived at the doors of the royal chambers and Prince Abram yanked his arms from Marcus and Carlisle. He straightened his tunic and squared his shoulders.

"If I die of embarrassment tonight," he said. "You're all dying with me."

"Of course not," Marcus replied. "Who'd be here to protect Lady Nicole from uncouth nobles after you're gone?"

"Yes. If you die tonight, you die alone," Carlisle added. "Now if you were going off to a battle, that'd be different."

"This is a battle," Prince Abram muttered, grabbing the door handle. "Just you all wait."

They arrived at the party on time, and Carlisle put his small present on the mound of presents already stacked on a table in the parlor. Marcus and Patrick added theirs next to his. Prince Abram tucked his present into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, wiping his hands.

"You've face criminals and Prince Aric," Marcus said, "and you're frightened of a little question?"

"Pretend it's like another speech," Carlisle suggested.

"But it's not," Prince Abram said. "This will be the talk of the palace for the next year, and it'll only be replaced by my marriage!"

"I'm sure the talks with the Cheseerians will have happened before then, so that'll take the pressure off you for a month of two," Patrick said. "Don't faint, Abram. You've gone pale!"

"I feel pale. Maybe if I do faint . . . ."

"Too late," Marcus muttered. A young lady, just turned seventeen, glided over to them. She gripped a handkerchief in her hands and she curtsied to Prince Abram, who nodded.

"Prince Abram, Heirs Windham and Dorman," the young lady murmured. She glanced at Patrick.

"Heir Expare, my lady," Patrick said, bowing slightly.

"You're looking very well today, Nicole," Prince Abram murmured, glancing around. "Or should I say Lady Nicole since there are so many around us?"

"Unfortunately tonight I think Lady Nicole will have to do," the young lady replied. "Father and Mother are hoping that you'll propose soon so that they can talk about it the rest of the party."

Prince Abram laughed and held his arm out to Lady Nicole.

"Then let us not keep your parents, nor mine, waiting." Prince Abram led Lady Nicole off through the crowd and Carlisle followed, Marcus and Patrick at his heels until they stopped several feet from the parlor's balcony doors where Prince Abram and Lady Nicole had stationed themselves. Prince Abram lifted a hand and green Magic sprang out, bursting into little fireworks, making the crowd hush in wonder and anticipation.

"Bet you a sovereign that he stutters," Carlisle whispered to Marcus. Marcus flashed a gold coin at him in agreement.

Prince Abram looked every inch a royal of Austrodai. His silk tunic shimmered an emerald green while his circlet glimmered with polished radiance. His shoulders were squared and his jaw was set. The crowd seemed to hold their breath as he moved, pulling a brown paper package from his pocket, tied close with a pink ribbon.

"Lady Nicole of the House of Kirk, it is with great pleasure that I present to you this gift." Prince Abram held the package out. Lady Nicole took the package, hardly bigger than her hand, and carefully unwrapped it, allowing Prince Abram to take the pink ribbon and drape it across her shoulders. She pulled the brown paper off and flipped the clasp to the box. She pushed the cover up, a red blush passed across her face, and a large grin graced her features.

Prince Abram dropped onto one knee and held her hands, with the box, in his.

"Will you, Lady Nicole, do me the honor of accepting my hand in m-marriage?"

Marcus rolled his eyes as he handed Carlisle the gold coin, even though he grinned seconds later and joined everyone in clapping. Carlisle laughed and nudged him non-too-gently in the ribs before tucking the sovereign into a pocket.

Prince Abram grinned and stood as Lady Nicole nodded over and over again, smiling and crying slightly. He took hold of the jewelry in the box and lifted it out, securing it around the young woman's neck. The amethyst teardrop glistened in the torchlight, and the diamonds surrounding its border seemed to almost laugh as they sparkled.

Carlisle, Marcus, and Patrick were the first to the two, they shook Prince Abram's hand vigorously, slapped his shoulders, and teased his stuttering before taking up residence behind him and Lady Nicole, keeping watch on the well-wishers just in case. Carlisle glared at Heir Wilcox who simply muttered a "Congratulations" to the couple and slipped back through the crowd. He could see Duke and Duchess Kirk holding court with the king and queen, his and Marcus's parents.

"I do suppose you and I will be next," Marcus commented.

"I do suppose," Carlisle replied. "I've already told Father who I wish to marry. She is of a fine family, good manners and excellent money. I don't see what father could possibly have against her."

Marcus raised a brow. "Who, Carlisle? Tell me."

"Why? So you can steal her away?

Marcus scowled at him. "I'm not that despicable, Carl."

Carlisle grinned. "No, Marc. You're not." He glanced over the crowd then nudged Marcus.

"Heir Wilcox keeps glaring at the happy couple," he commented. Marcus rubbed his hands together and a grin spread across his face.

"Shall we distract him, Carlisle?"

"Oh yes. Let's."

After scaring Heir Wilcox from looking at Lady Nicole, Carlisle and Marcus returned to Patrick's side and dragged him to the drink table where a large bowl of frothy, steaming punch tempted them. On the other side of the punch bowl, two girls stood whispering with each other. When the young men arrived they giggled.

"Lady Geraldine, Lady Myradith," Marcus greeted.

"Heir Windham, Heir Dorman," Lady Geraldine, a thin girl with dark red hair, replied.

"Ladies, may I introduce a friend of Marcus and me," Carlisle said. "This is Heir Patrick Expare."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Lady Myradith said, curtsying. Lady Geraldine dipped a short curtsy, but eyed Patrick with disdain, obviously knowing that he was the son of a lowly lord.

"Are you two enjoying the party?" Patrick asked.

"Oh yes!" Lady Myradith cried. "Very much. It's always exciting when someone becomes betrothed. Very romantic."

"Calm down, Myradith," Lady Geraldine snapped. "Honestly, there's nothing romantic about marriage at all. It's a social structure to promote power and repopulate the earth. Honestly, didn't you pay attention at lessons?"

"Indeed that is what marriage partially is," Carlisle agreed. "Though the Goddess does state in Her Holy Words that marriage should also be an act of love."

"You two should be betrothed," Lady Geraldine replied. "Romantic. Honestly. Do get your heads out of the clouds." She picked up her goblet of steaming punch and grabbed Lady Myradith's wrist. "Come along, Myradith." She dragged the other girl away. Lady Myradith waved good-bye before disappearing into the crowd.

"Who were they?" Patrick asked as the three ladled goblets full of punch.

"Lady Geraldine and Lady Myradith Donovan," Marcus replied. "Cousins. Both have to marry well. They're the only children of the Donovan brothers. Duke Donovan and his brother both had sons but they both died last winter due to illness. The line will die out and either the Sovs of the Vonitters will move up to replace the family. Meaning your family will move up at least one standing."

"It's Myradith," Carlisle said.

"Pardon?" Patrick asked.

"Really?" Marcus frowned. "Carlisle, she's skeletal! Sickly. She wouldn't be able to bare you children."

"Then we would find other ways to have an heir," Carlisle replied. "Patrick, I have asked my father to secure a betrothal between Lady Myradith and I."

"Will he?" Patrick asked.

"I hope so."

"Your father's never listened to you before," Marcus pointed out.

"Well I've got to take a chance on some things! If only the bastard had died last winter when he got the fever then I wouldn't have to worry about getting his permission." Patrick snorted into his goblet.

"People always seem to have strong constitutions whenever it inconveniences others," Marcus commented.

"If he betroths me to someone else, he'll probably die on my wedding day during the wedding feast."

"A good wedding present then," Patrick said.

"Given too late."

Carlisle's manservant Seth woke him early.

"Why are you waking me at this goddess forsaken hour?" Carlisle demanded, pulling the quilt over his head. Seth pushed the curtains open, opened the doors to the balcony, and came to the bed, ripping the covers away from Carlisle.

"Your father wants to see you."

"At this hour? Are we being besieged?"

"No."

"Then tell him to come get me himself if he really wants to talk to me."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "My lord. I do not wish to go to the stocks today. Nor do I wish to see you beaten." Carlisle sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Fine. Just get me a pair of trousers and a normal tunic. Nothing fancy. I plan to return to bed when my father releases me." Carlisle yawned. "How on earth is he able to get up this early? We were at the Kirk's until after midnight!"

Seth draped the trousers and tunic and a pair of socks over the dressing screen and then poured water from a picture into a bowl. Carlisle dragged himself over to the washing stand and vigorously washed his face before drying it and going being the screen and changing. Once clothed Carlisle padded out of his room, across his small private sitting room, and out into the family apartment.

"Sir, your shoes!" Seth called after him.

"I'm not going anywhere important!" Carlisle called over his shoulder. He slid down the banister, too tired to walk down the stairs, and down the small corridor to his father's private study. He knocked.

"Enter."

Carlisle slipped through the door and closed the door behind him. Duke Dorman sat behind his large oak desk, dressed neatly and looking wide awake. Carlisle stifled a yawn behind his hand.

"Father."

"Ah, Carlisle. Come closer. Did I wake you?"

"It's only six, Father. I was hoping for a lie in today. I was out late."

"So was I and you don't see me lazing about. A real man works, Carlisle."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, I called you hear today because last night during the party I finalized your betrothal. I even got the contracts signed last night. Took less than an hour and we were hardly missed from the party!"

Carlisle bit the inside of his cheeks to warn himself not to look too interested.

"Tonight we'll be dining with the family, here, so you best be sure you're on your best behavior. You'll also present the girl with an emerald ring. It's the traditional betrothal gift for all women marrying into the family."

"Of course, Father," Carlisle said. "M-may I ask . . . whom I am marrying?" He crossed his fingers behind his back.

"I have arranged you to Lady Patricia Sov. Her side of the family will die out after she marries you, and she is not particularly close to the Head of House and his family, which is good. We get her family's small fortune, and can spite her great-uncle."

His heart pounded painfully against his chest.

"Lady P-Patricia Sov?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes. Good lord, Carlisle! Did you actually think I'd betroth you to Lady Myradith? She's a sickly girl and wouldn't be able to bare you strong heirs and this family has had a horrible tradition of lacking sustenance!"

"Mother tried her best," Carlisle replied. "I didn't mind having a sister."

"The House of Dorman has never been shamed with daughters in one hundred years and I was not going to allow that to be broken," Duke Dorman snapped. "I do not have to explain my actions to you, boy. Besides, she died of a fever. Dismissed."

Carlisle bowed and walked from the study. He closed the door and leaned against it.

"Of a summer fever," he muttered. "She died of a summer fever." He shook his head and made his way back to his room. Seth stood up from where he had taken a seat in front of the sitting room fire.

"My lord?" Seth said. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to take a message to Lady Myradith's handmaiden," Carlisle murmured, going into his bedroom and crossing to the writing desk. He penned a short note, sealed it, and handed it to Seth. "Then wake me in time for lunch." He stripped out of his clothes and didn't bother to put his bedclothes back on before burying himself under the bedcovers and hiding his face in his pillows. He could feel tears burning his eyes behind his eyelids, yet he didn't raise his face or open his eyes for several moments. He'd known requesting a particular girl to his father was a long shot, he'd told himself not to get his hopes up, but the disappointment was still bitter and his stomach felt heavy and hollow at the same time.

He didn't care that Lady Myradith was sickly and weak and probably would die baring a child. He wouldn't have risked that anyway. Adoption wasn't unheard of. Some noble families even offered up their own children (the spares of course) up for adoption to higher ranked families in attempts to gain more money and more recognition. Even adopting out of orphanages wasn't that uncommon if adoption was an option.

He liked Lady Myradith, possibly even loved her. Though the love was something questionable. He'd read about it in books, heard it described in tales and in passing conversation, and believed that he'd never experienced it. At least not in his family. His father was cruel and short tempered, his mother was dead five years, and he had no living siblings. Only Prince Abram, and Marcus had been comforting entities in his life, even if he and Marcus got along every other week. And now Patrick was in the group too. The boy young man was different from any other noble son he knew, which was refreshing and frightening at the same time. Carlisle knew that eventually he'd get an earful about being friends with such a lowly stationed nobleman's son.

Lady Myradith he'd met when he was thirteen and she eleven. She'd fallen out of a tree in one of the quieter corners of the palace gardens and had broken her ankle and arm. He rescued her (very valiantly if he did say so himself) and carried her all the way to the palace infirmary where she was fixed and scolded about going outside after being so sick. Lady Myradith was always weak or sick, he'd found, but it was always a delight to be around her, especially when it was just her, and her cousin Geraldine was nowhere to be found. Lady Myradith had an intelligence that Carlisle found invigorating, even if he knew his father would never approve of such intellect in a woman. It was like playing with fire, being with Lady Myradith. Oh, she never said or did anything that flippantly went against the rules, but there was something about how she carried herself and spoke about certain things when they found time to be alone that told Carlisle that there was something hidden deep within her soul, something passionate that longed to be released.

But it'd still been a gamble. Duke Dorman had never done anything Carlisle had asked him to do, so why should he start now?

Though of all the young eligible ladies that Carlisle knew, why did it have to be Lady Patricia? The one time they had met Carlisle had found her dull. Though that was over three years ago, she'd be sixteen now. It wasn't that large of an age difference, compared to some marriages. He was only four years her elder. Lady Myradith, however, was only two years younger than he. He would have preferred someone closer to his age.

Lady Myradith had told him not to get his hopes up. He'd tried not to, he'd really tried.

Seth shaking him awake was the next thing Carlisle knew. He splashed water on his face and redressed, pulling on boots and leaving his chambers for the dining room. His father sat at the head of the table, drinking leisurely from a goblet.

"Where were you?" Duke Dorman asked.

"I was tired. I went back to bed."

"Laziness never got anyone anywhere."

"I know." Carlisle helped himself to some food while Seth poured him wine, but he wasn't feeling hungry. He ate a little and cut up the rest, spreading it around his plate.

"I'm finished," he muttered, shoving his chair back and standing. He left the dining room before his father could call him back. He grabbed one of his cloaks from a hall stand in the apartment's foyer and left, throwing it over his shoulders and fastening it as he walked the corridors of Grand Quenten.

He made his way to the gardens. It was turning into late summer and the late roses were in bloom. He weaved down the garden paths to a quiet corner, to a stone bench under a tree that a girl had fallen out of once. Underneath, on the stone bench, the girl sat. Though she was hardly a girl anymore. She was eighteen as of two weeks ago. She's been of age for a year now.

"Carlisle!" Lady Myradith jumped up from the stone bench and wrapped her arms around Carlisle's waist. "It's been so long."

"Only since last night," Carlisle replied, a smile tugging at his lips. He kissed her forehead and they sat on the bench.

"What did you want to see me about?" Lady Myradith asked. "Has your father betrothed you?"

Carlisle looked away. "Yes."

Lady Myradith frowned. "It's not me, is it?" she asked. "I'd expect you to be twirling me through the air if it were."

Carlisle shook his head. "No. No, it's not you." Lady Myradith grasped his hand and squeezed it.

"Then who?"

"Lady Patricia Sov."

"I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with her."

"Well I know who she is. I don't know her," Carlisle replied. "I knew this was the most probable outcome. I mean, marriages are always arranged and lots of other sons and daughters have no say in their partnership so why should I have thought that my father would have taken my wants into consideration? It was a foolish hope. It's only led to bitter disappointment."

"I wouldn't say that, Carlisle," Lady Myradith said, tilting her head, gazing at Carlisle with a scrutinizing stare. "Hope's never a foolish thing. It means you believe in something better. And what's life without disappointment? It just makes the victory more glorious doesn't it?"

"What books have you been reading?"

"Vyn's Philosophical Works," Lady Myradith replied. "But that's not the point. Carlisle, we knew before this began that our love might never come to pass. Now we remain good friends and hope and pray for the best. For both of us."

"I know," Carlisle whispered. "It just hurts. Father wants to spite Duke Sov and that's why he's contracted me and Lady Patricia. He told me that he didn't even consider you because you're sickly and wouldn't be able to bare children."

"I could too!" Lady Myradith cried, her face turning a little red and her pale blue eyes narrowing. "He should try giving birth!"

Carlisle snorted before bursting out laughing. Lady Myradith's lips twitched several times before she too laughed. The two laughed long and hard, and when the laughs died away, they had aches in their sides and Lady Myradith had tears running down her cheeks. She rested her head on Carlisle's shoulder.

"We could elope," Carlisle said.

"Don't be absurd," Lady Myradith answered. "We wouldn't make it five miles."

"We could run into Messer or Cheseer," Carlisle said.

"We'd stand out in Messer," Lady Myradith replied. "We're too pale. Besides, eloping is wrong. It's dishonorable. And how on earth do you think you can make any difference in the kingdom if you're not here? Or if we did get caught, disgraced? Prince Abram and Heir Windham wouldn't be your friends anymore. At least not while your fathers are alive, and even afterwards, Heir Windham wouldn't give you the time of day."

"That would be fine with me."

"Posh, Carlisle. You and he are good friends. Yes, you have your differences and yes, both of you grate each other to heaven and back, but you two trust each other with what's important. That's what matters."

Carlisle glanced at her. "Maybe I can talk to him about trying for your hand."

"His father would use the same excuse your father did," Lady Myradith said. "No, don't worry about me, Carlisle. Marry Lady Patricia. Be good to her. Be faithful to her. I wouldn't, and I couldn't, ask you to damn your soul and dignity for me. If all else fails there are always convents or governess positions. I'll be fine." Lady Myradith kissed Carlisle's cheek. "But don't forget me, please."

Carlisle wrapped her in his arms.

"Forget you? I'd have to die first before I forgot you."

Dinner came too soon for Carlisle. After seeing Lady Myradith, he'd been unable to tell his news to his friends. King Leon had finally captured Prince Abram and was forcing him to do his princely duties; Marcus was off with Head Astronomer Kaide's apprentice, Lok, Carlisle would elope before willingly spend time with the young man; and Patrick had been with his own father all day.

Therefore, when dinner came, Carlisle felt sick. Seth brushed his shoulders with a brush and handed Carlisle a box.

"I can't do this," Carlisle said.

"Yes, you can," Seth replied. "You 'ave to. You're father'll kill you if you don't."

"Excellent point." Carlisle sighed, closed his eyes, offered a quick prayer to Rhyannon, and made his way from his chambers down to the parlor where his father was already entertaining Lord Henry, Lady Helena, and Lady Patricia.

"My lord, my ladies," Carlisle said, bowing to them. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance." He kissed the knuckles of Lady Helena and Lady Patricia. Lady Patricia blushed pink and Duke Dorman instructed them to sit.

Duke Dorman and Lord Henry began to talk. Carlisle shifted next to Lady Patricia. He turned the wooden box over in his hands several times before turning to the young lady and holding it out.

"It is an honor to present you this gift," Carlisle said. "As a sign of our betrothal." Lady Patricia smiled and took the box. Carlisle watched her pale hands unlatch the clasp and lift the top. Her smile widened as she lifted out the silver ring, a large emerald cut squarely, set in the middle of a border of diamonds.

"It is beautiful," Lady Patricia said, slipping the ring onto her left hand's fourth finger. "I thank you, Heir Dorman." She closed the box and set it aside.

"She'll make you a fine wife," Lord Henry said. Carlisle glanced at the man, taking in the gaudy silk clothing and the three rings on the man's right hand. "She's the prettiest in the family."

"Indeed, good looks cannot be overlooked," Duke Dorman said. "Lord Henry has assured me that Lady Patricia is strong enough to bare you several children. Isn't that wonderful, Carlisle? Perhaps this family can finally have some decent spares."

"Yes, Father. That would be wonderful." Carlisle turned back to Lady Patricia. "My lady, tell me your interests."

"She is a wonderful embroider," Lord Henry said. "Or so my wife tells me. And her tutors have given her nothing but praise when it comes to etiquette and household duties."

"It's always a bonus when a woman knows what she's doing," Duke Dorman commented. "Isn't it, Carlisle?"

"Yes, Father. I quite agree with you. Nothing's better than a smoothly run household."

Carlisle let out a quite sigh of relief when the dinner bell rang. He stood, helped Lady Patricia to her feet, and escorted her into the dining room after her parents and his father.

5: Chapter Five

"I'm so sorry, Carlisle!" Prince Abram cried the next day. The four friends were hiding from Head Magician Gath in an alcove on the north side of Grand Quenten, far from the Magician quarters and laboratories.

"But at least Lady Patricia knows how to run a household," Marcus commented. "Lady Myradith wouldn't have had the best tutors."

"I could care less about tutors and who can embroider a handkerchief the prettiest!" Carlisle snapped. He slumped his shoulders. "Sorry, Marcus. I'm just disappointed."

"As you should be!" Prince Abram said. "To think, we at the top get the pick of the lot. As long as our father's approve."

"I've never had a problem with parents arranging marriages before," Carlisle said. "I knew it would happen. It's not a surprise. I'd just hoped . . . just this once; Father would have listened to me."

"Don't you worry," Patrick said. "One of us will take care of Lady Myradith."

Carlisle gave Patrick a thoughtful look. "We seem to have won your loyalty very quickly, Patrick."

"You seem trustworthy," Patrick replied. "Except perhaps Marcus. That's debatable." He ducked a swipe from Marcus though Carlisle chuckled.

"Worth it," Patrick said as Marcus finally hit him across the head. "I got you to laugh."

"You can still look after Lady Myradith," Prince Abram said. "Introduce Lady Patricia and Lady Myradith to each other. They'll become fast friends and then you can see Lady Myradith all you want. Nothing but innocent friendship."

"That's like playing with fire, Abram," Carlisle replied. "What if I betray Lady Patricia?"

"You wouldn't be the first to take on a mistress," Marcus answered. "Lots of people do it. My father has one."

"Yes, but she's not a noble, she's your former serving maid!" Carlisle cried. "Don't you remember the stories we were told as children? About noble men who had taken noble women as their mistresses and got caught?"

"Yes," Prince Abram replied.

"I will not allow that to happen to Lady Myradith. Not unless I was allowed to be whipped and cast out along with her." Carlisle ran a hand through his hair. "I'll just have to back away from her. Remember her only in my heart and mind."

"It's hard being young isn't it?" Patrick asked.

"When I have children I won't arrange their marriage without their say," Prince Abram declared. "They'll come to me and tell me who they wish to be married to and then I shall arrange a contract. But only if both parties are willing."

"What if you have girls?" Marcus asked. "They won't be approaching you to contract them. That'd be families with boys."

"I would still listen to them," Prince Abram replied. "I can see now that I am more than lucky to be betrothed to a girl that I love. Even if, originally, our marriage was created for sake of money and power. I'm glad that I love her as a betrothed, and will not have to learn to love her as a wife, like you, Carlisle." He gripped Carlisle's shoulder and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle. I really am."

"Let's just forget about it for now," Carlisle said. "We have more important things to worry about. Such as communication with Prince Aric."

"Ah yes!" Prince Abram cried, his hand dropping. "I have sent an invitation for him and his family to attend our Harvest Feast. If they accept they'll stay from the Autumn Equinox to the first phase of the Cold Moon. Father has much to discuss with King Thradic."

"Can he leave his kingdom that long?" Patrick asked.

"He'll leave his kingdom in the hands of his most trusted advisors," Prince Abram explained. "There will probably be constant updates from them via messenger hawk or something similar. If the rumors are true, King Thradic is very paranoid."

"And very cruel," Carlisle added.

"We can handle cruel," Marcus said. "We do it every day."

"Our fathers will get along well then," Prince Abram commented. "And there shall finally be true peace between us!"

"My lady!"

The call cut away any response to the prince's statement. The four peered out of the alcove, around one of its corners, into the corridor. A figure was stomping in their direction, following by a harassed looking maidservant. The four pulled back into the alcove and pressed themselves against the wall.

"My lady, slow down! You've only just gotten out o' the infirmary!"

"I don't understand what I was doing there for so long," snapped Lady Lilith as she stopped just around the corner from the alcove. "I am perfectly well."

"Surely they only kept you there 'cause you 'ad no place else to go," Prudy replied.

"I can take care of myself!"

"My lady . . . ."

"No, Prudy! This is outrageous! I don't even know the man. How on earth am I supposed to live in peace and safety with a man I don't know?"

"'e must feel sorry for you. Family gone, nowhere to go."

"He wants what little money I have left," Lady Lilith said. "Which isn't much. If I sold the land where the estate is I could make a pretty penny, but of course, I can't sell it. It's no longer mine. It's his! Bloody, arrogant Lord Expare's!"

Carlisle swiveled his head around towards Patrick's. Patrick's blue eyes widened and his mouth dropped low. Patrick pushed off the wall and stepped out into the corridor. Carlisle, Prince Abram, and Marcus hurried after him. Prudy screeched with surprise, Lady Lilith whirled around, and her face went pink.

"My lords," Lady Lilith said. "I didn't realize you were there."

"Obviously," Patrick replied. "You swore."

"Lots of people swear."

"Not ladies of the court."

"I won't tell if you don't," Lady Lilith snapped, a sneer crossing her face. "And I've never been a lady of the court so I wouldn't know what they do and don't do."

"You have some gall, girl!" Marcus snapped back. "Speaking to your superiors in such a manner." Lady Lilith leveled Marcus with a glare that made Carlisle jealous. He could never glare at Marcus like that.

"My apologies, my lord," Lady Lilith said. "But I don't know who any of you are. You're all vaguely familiar, but I cannot place you. You could be servants who happened to have stolen your master's clothing for all I know."

"My lady," Prudy whispered, dropping a deep curtsy and brushing her skirts. "These are the men who came to our rescue outside the city."

Lady Lilith tilted her chin up. "I see. Very well. Proper introductions then, since you're so concerned about etiquette. I am Lady Lilith Fandom." She curtsied.

"Prince Abram," Prince Abram replied, stepping forward. "My friends: Heir Marcus Windham, Heir Carlisle Dorman, and Heir Patrick Expare. Heir Patrick's father is Lord Expare."

"Then we shall be living together," Lady Lilith said. "He has been given permission by the king to be my guardian as I have no next of kin."

"That is wonderful news," Patrick said. "I hope we can be friends and get along."

Lady Lilith sighed and nodded. "Indeed. I hope so too."

"You did not sound very happy to be the ward of Lord Expare," Carlisle commented. Lady Lilith's face went pink again.

"I'm sorry you had to hear such an outburst," Lady Lilith told them. "I came here because I heard that the north side of the palace isn't often used."

"It must be fate," Prince Abram replied. "And one is allowed to be frustrated and angry sometimes."

"I don't know Lord Expare," Lady Lilith said. "I don't know him or anything about the family. I have met him briefly, when he came to the infirmary to inform me that he was now my guardian. I think him an odious man."

Marcus narrowed his eyes.

"Don't talk about your guardian in such a way, girl! You have nerve."

"Stop," Patrick ordered. "Lady Lilith can have her own opinions. That's not against the law yet. However, Lady Lilith, if you are to live peacefully here at Grand Quenten, heed my advice. Be careful when and where you voice your opinions and who to. The world is dangerous here. The game is different and if you're not careful, my father will not hesitate to remind you who's the Head of House."

Lady Lilith looked apprehensive.

"Father always let me voice my opinions," she said, her voice quiet.

"Country folk," Marcus muttered.

"Why don't you and I get more acquainted?" Patrick suggested, stepping forward. He extended his arm to Lady Lilith. "We can take a walk through the gardens. They're very beautiful. The late roses are blooming."

Lady Lilith bit her lip as she slipped her arm around Patrick's. She nodded and Patrick nodded to his friends before leading Lady Lilith away, Prudy trailing behind them.

"What has Lord Expare gotten himself into?" Prince Abram asked once they were alone.

"She is the most improper lady I have ever met!" Marcus declared.

"I think life would be more interesting if more women were like her," Carlisle said. "Though she'll have to be careful. Lord Expare isn't the only noble who'd take offence of her opinions. I wonder what life was like for her up north."

"Highly uncivilized," Marcus said. "That's my guess."

"But far more fun," Prince Abram added.

The echoes of his footsteps sent chills up Carlisle's spine as he passed through the doors leading into the chapel. He never saw anyone on his trips here. Most people, it seemed, only cared about paying their respects to Goddess Rhyannon during the holy feasts or when they were in desperate trouble. Even Pater Elek seemed to never be around.

At the front of the chapel stood a raised altar of granite, on top a large flame burned day and night. The Everlasting Flame gave light to the very front of the chapel while torches hung in brackets along the walls, illuminating the rest of the room. Carlisle made his way down the center aisle, passed the wooden benches, and to a side table several feet from the altar. His gaze flickered over the different incenses before picking up a sprig of lavender. He moved to the front of the altar. Gazing through the flames he caught sight of the stone carving of the Goddess, leaning out from the wall, arms wide and palms up in a manner of familiar greeting. Her hair flowed behind her and a smile perched with pride across her face.

Carlisle tossed the lavender into the flames. The scent of the flower sprang into the air, surrounding Carlisle with memories. His mother kissing his forehead . . . his mother smiling . . . his mother laughing . . . .

She'd always smelt of lavender.

He could only remember her smiling and laughing once. Both times had been when Evelyn had done something adorable. But then Evelyn had died, and Duchess Dorman soon after.

"I'm getting married, Mother," Carlisle said, his gaze flicking down to the base of the Everlasting Flame. "To Lady Patricia Sov. Not the girl I asked Father for, but I was taking a chance asking him. Lady Patricia seems sweet, but she barely talked at dinner. Her father did most of the talking. I think Father only betrothed us because he dislikes Duke Sov and even if Lady Patricia is only his great-niece, we still get a decent piece of his fortune.

"I and my friends went up north last week. Lady Lilith Fandom and two of her servants arrived at Grand Quenten, talking about Cheseerian knights burning the Fandom Estate and Fort Marlx. It was true. So we went up north to look over things and we met the princes of Cheseer and their men disposing of the knights. Prince Aric, that's the Crown Prince, and Prince Abram are in contact with each other and if all goes well, King Thradic and his sons will come to Austrodai in mid-September and leave early December."

Carlisle picked up another sprig of lavender and tossed it into the flame.

"I do have a new friend. His name's Heir Patrick Expare. That's the Fiftieth Lordship of Austrodai, if you were wondering. I don't think Father will be too pleased about the friendship, once he remembers it. I don't think King Leon approves either, but Prince Abram has a habit of doing things he's not supposed to. But Patrick's nice. He only came to Grand Quenten five years ago. I think around the time you passed, but I'm not sure. The Expares have become the guardians of Lady Lilith until she's of age."

Carlisle looked around the chapel then back at the image of the Goddess.

"That's all, Mother. The days continue. Not much happens. I do miss you. And I do miss Evelyn. But it's probably better than Evelyn never got to grow up. Not with Father the way he is. May the Goddess guide you in the afterlife." He bowed towards the altar, spun on his heel, and walked out, colliding with a girl.

"I am terribly sorry, my lady," Carlisle cried, bending and grasping the girl's arm. "My apologies."

"It's all right," the girl replied. She straightened and looked up. "Heir Dorman!"

"Lady Patricia!" Carlisle cried. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to pray to the Goddess," Lady Patricia replied. "I always go at least once a week." She pulled her arm form Carlisle's hold and brushed her dress off. "Was that what you were doing?"

"No," Carlisle replied. "I was speaking with my mother."

"Ah. That's very dedicated of you, Heir Dorman. Most people wouldn't go to speak with a departed one except at Samhain."

"I believe that the dead can hear us, at any time," Carlisle said. "It's the living hearing the dead that's only done on Samhain."

Lady Patricia tilted her head and pursed her lips together.

"I can understand that," she said. "It was good seeing you, Heir Dorman." She curtsied and passed him, slipping through the doors. Carlisle closed the door behind her and stared at the ringed iron handles for a moment.

Lady Patricia was committed to the Goddess. A strange and beautiful thing in this day and age. Carlisle walked away from the chapel. If Lady Patricia came once a week to pray to the Goddess without her father or uncles, then surely there must be more to the girl than what her father had told him. Perhaps, like Lady Myradith, there was some sort of hidden depth to her, just longing to come out.

Perhaps he would be able to help her in discovering that hidden depth. Just because he couldn't help Lady Myradith anymore, didn't mean Lady Patricia couldn't be helped.

And if done correctly his father would never know until he reached the afterlife. That would make him furious and roll in his grave.

Carlisle strolled through the gardens, wandering random paths. Lady Myradith. Who would she become betrothed to? Would she become a governess to a family, or maybe she'd enter into a convent, dedicate her life to the Goddess? No, she didn't have anything to do with the Goddess or any of the spirits except at holy feasts and festivals. She'd probably become a governess. At least then she could sustain herself instead of having to depend heavily on her family.

He came to the tree where he had first met Lady Myradith.

The tree branches were shaking and they weren't supposed to do that. There wasn't any wind. Carlisle crept closer to the randomly moving branches, blue Magic rolling around his hands, hissing and sparking.

Someone screamed and a body fell from the tree, landing with a sickening thud and another cry, this time of pain. Carlisle's Magic disappeared back inside him as he stared at the figure on the ground. It was a girl! What was a girl doing climbing a tree?

"My lady!" Carlisle cried, hurrying to her side. He could make out her face now. She was younger than him, the skirt of her dress was torn, and her right arm and leg looked disfigured.

"H-help!" the girl gasped, tears streaming down her face. "They hurt! They hurt!"

"It's going to be all right," Carlisle said. He knelt by her. "Erm . . . hold your arm to your chest. I don't think you should move it that much. You can keep it in place better that way." He helped her move her arm, making her hiss and more tears stream down her face.

"I'm going to have to carry you, my lady," Carlisle said. "It will hurt your leg."

"J-just do it," the girl said, whimpering. She yelled as Carlisle hefted her into his arms. He hurried to Grand Quenten, doing his best not to jostle her, but it was a struggle. They were almost to the infirmary when they met Head Magician Gath.

"Sir!" Carlisle cried. "Please help!"

The Head Magician took the girl from Carlisle's arms and made Carlisle run ahead to call the physicians.

When Head Magician Gath arrived, the physicians were ready. One gave the girl a very stern look.

"Lady Myradith," the physician said. "You shouldn't have been playing outside. You're already weak enough."

Lady Myradith . . . so that was her name . . . .

"What a surprise it is, finding you here."

Carlisle came out of the memory at Lady Myradith's voice. She stood beside him, an amused smile playing at her lips. He smiled too, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close.

"What are you doing here, my lady?" he teased.

"Probably the same as you," Lady Myradith said with a giggle. "Coming to reminisce. Why? Not happy to see me?"

"That would be ridiculous," Carlisle said. "I will always be happy to see you." He bent his head and kissed her forehead. Pulling back the two studied each other for a moment before Lady Myradith stood on her toes and kissed Carlisle on the mouth.

Carlisle smiled through the kiss, tightening his grip around her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, opened her mouth, and invited him in.

The two staggered to the stone bench under the tree. Carlisle maneuvered them until Lady Myradith lay on her back, and broke the kiss. They stared at each other, breathless and content before both blinked and the spell broke. Carlisle shoved off of Lady Myradith and stood long enough to allow her to swing her legs over the edge of the bench and sit up. He dropped onto the space beside her.

Lady Myradith smoothed her hair, her face red. Carlisle felt his face go warm too.

A bird chirped in the tree behind them.

"We can't keep doing this," Lady Myradith said.

"I know," Carlisle answered.

"We're temptations to each other. You're betrothed!"

"I know." Carlisle turned his face away, squeezed his eyes shut.

"We shouldn't see each other anymore," Lady Myradith said. "I can't . . . we can't . . . you're getting married. It'd be . . . wrong. Wrong on your betrothed."

"I don't want to marry her," Carlisle whispered.

"I don't want you to marry either."

"Let's elope."

"We wouldn't . . . wouldn't make it five miles." Lady Myradith sobbed. Carlisle turned back around and grabbed her, pulling her close. They clung to each other, he kissed her head, played with her hair, breathed in her scent of primrose and sugar.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too," she whispered back. "Me too."

He left her on the stone bench under the tree. They held hands for as long as possible, she on the bench and he turned towards the palace. But, eventually, he dropped her hand.

"Good-bye, Myradith," he whispered.

He left.

6: Chapter Six

Carlisle double-checked the buckle of his sheath. He couldn't have his sword falling off of him in the middle of greeting the royal entourage from Cheseer, and embarrass the kingdom. Beside him Marcus and Patrick were doing the same thing. Prince Abram watched them with a cool gaze, though Carlisle detected the signs of the prince's nerves: he blinked more rapidly and puckered his lips ever so slightly.

"Are you prepared?" King Leon snapped. He and his chosen men: Marcus' father the Grand Duke, Duke Dorman, and Duke Wilcox, stood further down the corridor.

"Coming!" Prince Abram called. He gripped the handle of his sword until his knuckles turned white, and motioned with his other hand for Carlisle, Marcus, and Patrick to fall into step behind him.

All of Grand Quenten and its residents had been prepared for this moment. The Autumn Equinox, a day spent celebrating the beginning of the harvest season, was usually celebrated in semi-elegance. With the arrival of the Cheseerian nobles, it seemed as if everyone had prepared for Yule but with a different color and decoration scheme. For the past four weeks servants had rushed about hanging garlands of bright leaves and flowers, accented by wax figurines of fruit.

The main courtyard had not escaped the redecorations either. Austrodain banners hung from the two courtside windows that guarded either side of the palace steps. Around the edge of the courtyard, against the walls, knights stood at attention, holding large flags with the Austrodain colors. The nobles and their wives, those who would not stand with the king and the prince on then steps, gathered on either side of the courtyard, leaving plenty of room for the royal entourage to come into the courtyard.

On the steps Carlisle glanced around, taking in weak spots, but he and his friends had done too good a job at making sure the security was perfected for this day. True peace with Cheseer was too important to be lax on security.

Or regal, Carlisle added. He, like the rest of Grand Quenten, was scrubbed clean and dressed in his finest clothes. Seth had fussed over him as he'd dressed in his House Colors, blue and silver.

On the steps of Grand Quenten, King Leon stood in the center of the very bottom step. Behind him on the step above, flanking him was the Grand Duke and Duke Dorman. On the step above them Duke Wilcox stood directly behind the king. Prince Abram took up his spot in the center of the second to last step before the landing. Carlisle and Marcus mimicked their father's positions on the last step, and Patrick mimicked Duke Wilcox's on the landing. Together they could look down and over the whole courtyard and had a perfect view of the gate. Along the left edge of the steps stood the first twelve Lords, the High Lord leading them on the second step. Along the right edge were the first twelve Dukes after Duke Wilcox.

Carlisle wondered what they looked like from the gate. Did they really look as intimidating as they were trying to be?

From the gatehouse over the gate a horn sounded. The gates swung open and King Thradic entered into the courtyard on a powerful steed, flanked by his sons. They too seemed to be dressed in their best clothes.

Behind them a train of people appeared. Two carriages were directly behind the king and his sons, most likely carrying the twelve advisors Prince Aric had written would come. Behind them were two dozen Knights of Cheseer, their cloaks the deep amaranthine of Cheseer. Finally, finishing out the entourage, were several wagons carrying the supplies and luggage of the Cheseerian knights, and nobles. Walking alongside these wagons were about a dozen servants.

"Why so few servants?" Marcus whispered to Prince Abram.

"Father said that they could use ours," Prince Abram replied. "The Overseer hired some extra help just for this occasion."

"What about Rae?" Patrick asked.

"Believe me, there will be consequences if he's harmed," Prince Abram whispered.

"Are these servants or slaves?" Carlisle asked.

"Stupid, they're servants," Marcus answered. "The slaves would be free the moment they stepped onto Austrodain soil."

"Let's hope that doesn't come up in the peace talks," Patrick muttered.

King Thradic halted his horse several yards in front of King Leon. He dismounted, and his sons followed suit. The king held his head high, his shoulders squared, and his mouth set. His hair and goatee was peppered with gray, and his golden crown shimmered in the early-afternoon sun. Prince Aric and Prince Keallack wore gold circlets, though Prince Aric's was grander than Prince Keallack's.

"King Thradic," King Leon said, his voice carrying over the silent courtyard. "Welcome to Grand Quenten. May your stay here in Austrodai prove fruitful and welcoming." He extended his hand.

"I thank you," King Thradic replied, grasping King Leon's arm to the elbow. "I hope my time here shall not be in vain." The kings pulled their arms back.

"May I introduce my sons?" King Thradic asked. "This is my heir, Prince Aric. And my second heir, Prince Keallack." Both princes bowed to King Leon. The king nodded to each.

"And my son," King Leon said. He motioned up the stairs. "My heir, Prince Abram. I am sorry that my wife could not be here. She has taken ill for the moment. She will hopefully join us for the Equinox Feast."

"I believe my sons are already acquainted with yours and his . . . cohorts," King Thradic said.

"Yes, I believe they are." King Leon turned and gave the four young men a small glare.

"That's his 'behave-or-else' look," Prince Abram whispered.

"There are servants waiting to escort you and your entourage to their chambers," King Leon said. "You must be tired after your journey. You may rest for the remainder of the day. Tonight, we celebrate the beginning of what we hope to be beautiful friendship, along with the beginning of the harvest."

King Thradic deep his head in agreement and servants appeared from where they had been hiding against the walls of Grand Quenten. Three young men stepped forward and bowed low to the Cheseerian nobles before showing them up the steps and into Grand Quenten.

Prince Keallack glared at the friends as he passed them.

"I don't think he's forgiven you," Carlisle told Patrick.

"You four will be on your best behavior," King Leon warned as he came up the steps.

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, sire."

The four friends looked at each other and grinned.

The Festum blazed with warm light when the Harvest Feast began. Gold, red, orange, and yellow were strewn around the hall in different forms, mostly in the banners and festive decorations that adorned the walls and edges of tables. The two iron chandeliers had been fitted with fat white candles, the wicks of which were large and just as fat, making the candle lights look like blobs of orange and yellow. Torches aligned the walls, creating more light.

The several dozen tables were laden with food. Some tables seemed to groan under the weight of the dishes. Pheasant, chicken, geese, and duck were four of the common fowl dishes served in Austrodai; venison, rabbit, and boar were three of the favorite meat dishes in Austrodai, though boar was always a delicacy because of the amount of time it took to hunt it. Carlisle and his friends had felt quite victorious at getting one boar along with the rabbits and deer they'd hunted over a period of a few days leading up to the equinox. They'd even gotten the boar with barely any injury, though Marcus still glared at Patrick whenever the mention of that particular hunt came up in conversation.

Alongside the fowl and meat were cauldrons of soup: spinach, potato stew, or lamb and cabbage stew. Beside them the thick crusty bread was warm, while the desserts ranged from lefse (a delicacy usually made at Yule), apple pudding, and Carlisle's favorite, the sweet cake Fyrstekake.

Carlisle sat between his father and Lady Patricia at the second head table. Behind them on a raised dais was the Head Table where the two royal families were dining. Carlisle and Marcus' family sat at the second head table.

"Thank you for inviting me to sit with you," Lady Patricia murmured to Carlisle she took some duck from the platter he held for her.

"It was nothing," Carlisle replied. "The table would have been off balanced if I hadn't." He served himself some duck and tried to ignore the sad look on Lady Patricia's face. Why was she sad? He was talking to her wasn't he? He put the platter down and ladled some lamb and cabbage stew into his soup bowl while spearing some butter and garlic asparagus onto his plate.

Looking over the crowd of nobles as he ate, his eyes searched out Lady Myradith. She was sitting almost in the center of the hall, talking with her cousin. He sighed and attacked his bowl of stew.

"She is very beautiful."

Carlisle's head snapped toward Lady Patricia.

"Lady Myradith," the girl said, forking some asparagus onto her plate. "She is very beautiful."

"Is she?" Carlisle asked. "Most would call her plain."

"And weak," Lady Patricia added. "But beauty isn't just found on the outside is it, Heir Dorman?"

Carlisle poked at his asparagus. "No. I don't believe it is. Though most would disagree with you."

"Yes. They would." Lady Patricia turned to him. "Do you think I'm beautiful then?"

Carlisle cleared his throat and almost dropped his fork.

"Er . . . ah . . . ."

Lady Patricia laughed and spooned spinach soup into her soup bowl. "You're face is red."

"Is it?" Carlisle felt his face. It did seem warmer. Must be the torchlight. He tore apart his duck and stuffed some in his mouth.

"As to your question," Carlisle said a few moments later, after he'd swallowed the duck. "I don't think I know you enough to know if you're beautiful. But I can say that you are not ugly."

Lady Patricia smiled into her napkin.

Two hours passed before music floated through the air from the dance hall. Carlisle, feeling like he'd eaten a whole boar, stood and bowed, extending a hand to Lady Patricia.

"Shall we dance?" he asked.

"But of course," Lady Patricia replied, taking his hand. "Lead the way."

They weren't the only ones moving into the dance hall. Carlisle could see numerous couples heading into the direction and peered back at the head tables. Prince Abram was now getting up with Lady Nicole. Carlisle grinned at them, turned his attention back to Lady Patricia, and paved the way into the dance hall.

The dance hall was filled with torchlight and paper lanterns of different colors. One of the astronomers had visited a country far in the east to learn from the Eastern Astronomers and had returned with the knowledge of, not just the stars, but many other things. Decorating included.

In the soft glow of blue and orange the musicians on the balcony above the west end of the hall began a semi-fast piece. Carlisle turned until he was facing the opposite way of Lady Patricia and they lifted their hand closes to the other, grabbed hands, and held them high. Carlisle allowed his feet to move while his mind focused on Lady Patricia. The dance was nothing new, a traditional dance, the first dance most noble children learn.

Lady Patricia grinned at him as they swirled, her blue dress spun delightfully around her ankles. The torchlight caught her hair net, which was silver and set with pearls, creating the effect of little diamonds across her light brown hair. Her face flushed with excitement and her eyes seemed wider than he had first thought, though not in a bad way.

The set ended and the musicians immediately began a faster song. Carlisle wrapped an arm around Lady Patricia's waist and spun her farther onto the dance floor. She gasped and laughed at the same time.

"This is my favorite," Carlisle said.

"I should have guessed," Lady Patricia said. She followed his lead into the intricate patterns of the steps, her hair bouncing on her back as she and he went backwards, forwards, then around each other. He noticed a necklace around her neck, a silver chain with a hawk made of gold hanging from the front. He spun her under his arm before hopping around her, finishing the dance with a flourish. He bowed, she curtsied, and he led her off the dance floor. They stood against the wall, watching the dancers twirl to a slower dance.

"Where'd you get your necklace?" Carlisle asked. Lady Patricia looked at it, and lifted the hawk in the palm of her hand.

"I got it off a street merchant in the city," she said. "He was a traveling merchant from the south. He said that with his people, the hawk is one of the many animals that symbolize courage, but that it always symbolizes creativity, wisdom, and primal life force. He said the hawk watches over brave women for they are what make the world turn. He sold it to me for half what it's worth because he said he could see a deep courageous spirit within me."

She looked across the dance floor, a sad smile crossing her face. "It was the nicest thing any man has ever said to me."

Carlisle looked over the dance floor too. Surely someone had said something better to her. Surely someone had complimented her dress sense or her physical beauty. Lady Patricia was beautiful. The Sovs were a family known for their respect for others, someone in her family must have complimented her.

"Where did you learn to dance so well?" Lady Patricia asked.

"Long hours practicing with Prince Abram and Heir Windham," Carlisle replied.

Lady Patricia's smile turned humorous. "And who danced as the girl?"

"Heir Windham of course!" They both laughed and Carlisle looked through the crowd. He spotted Prince Abram and Lady Nicole dancing in the center of the floor, while Marcus danced with Lady Myradith. Carlisle frowned as Prince Keallack cut in on Marcus, whirling Lady Myradith away.

"What do you think of the Cheseerian nobles?" Carlisle asked. Lady Patricia turned wide eyes at him.

"Me?" she asked.

"Yes, you. Is there anyone else around?"

Lady Patricia looked back at the dance floor, watched Prince Keallack dance with Lady Myradith, and then over to the archway leading back into the Festum where the Head Table was just in sight. Prince Aric and King Thradic were in deep conversation with King Leon and Queen Francine.

"I don't believe I have seen enough of them to make an honest opinion," Lady Patricia said. "We have not met formally."

"But from just seeing them, what do you think of them?"

"I-I don't know. Prince Aric seems friendly. Every time I looked at the Head Table he was always engaged in a conversation."

"And Prince Keallack?"

Lady Patricia's gaze lingered on him and Lady Myradith. "Slimy."

Carlisle laughed. "Slimy? Are you an educated woman or not?"

"I caught his gaze once during dinner. I got chills up my spine."

Carlisle frowned and watched the dancing couple. Patrick shoved his way between the two and turned Lady Myradith towards the center of the dance floor, towards Prince Abram and Lady Nicole. He saw Prince Abram and Patrick exchange a look. The musicians began another tune.

"Come on." Carlisle grabbed Lady Patricia's hand. They weaved through the dancers to the center of the floor where Carlisle's friends were. They formed a triangle and waited for the next upbeat before beginning the set dance. The rhythm was slow and lethargic. Around the dance floor murmuring began as couples in their sets began to talk quietly with each other.

"Prince Keallack seems very unhappy at you're cutting it," Prince Abram commented. Carlisle and Patrick put their right hands out and the three created a pile with them while they hop-skipped in a circle several times.

"Prince Keallack was hoarding one of the prettiest ladies," Patrick replied. They turned back to their partners and bowed them into the triangle and the girls repeated the man's triangle hop-skip steps.

"I hope they play a ceilidh soon so Marcus can join," Prince Abram said. Carlisle glanced over his shoulder as he walked around Lady Patricia. Marcus was dancing with Lady Lilith with Heir Arnold and Heir Vonitter three sets down.

"I would much prefer a céilí or even a sean-nós," Patrick said as he, Carlisle, and Prince Abram grabbed hands and cross-stepped in a circle. "They're much more fun. Though at least with ceilidhs you can talk."

"I'm afraid céilí are seen as too country for us at Grand Quenten," Prince Abram replied. "If we dance them, it's just in dance classes. As for sean-nóses, well, normally at weddings."

"I've been here five years and still this way of life continues to confuse me," Patrick stated, though a smile spread across his face. "I shall expect both at your weddings."

The last notes of the song rang and the couples bowed to the middle of the triangle. Marcus and Lady Lilith appeared in time for the ceilidh to begin. Carlisle found himself across from Marcus. The young ladies skipped across diagonally to switch partners, then the men followed, they all bowed or curtsied to the partner on their open side before reaching hands out towards that person and dancing a half-skip in a circle one way, back the other, and then turning in a full circle, allowing their arms to rise and fall as they crossed beneath their joined hands.

"Prince Keallack seems overly interested in Lady Myradith," Marcus muttered to Carlisle as they passed each other. Carlisle swiveled his head and found Prince Keallack staring at their group.

"We'll need to be with her and the others as much as possible," Carlisle commented as they passed each other again. He and Marcus passed this onto Patrick and Prince Abram.

"If we're to keep close," Prince Abram said, "Marcus should look after Lady Myradith and Patrick after Lady Lilith, since Lord Expare is her guardian."

"I'll slap him silly if he comes anywhere near us in an inappropriate manner!" Lady Lilith declared, startling the young men.

"We could hear you," Lady Nicole said. "We're not deaf." The four friends blushed.

"He gives me the shivers," Lady Myradith murmured as she and Marcus clasped hands and skipped sideways. "I don't like him."

"None of us like him," Patrick said. "We just have to tolerate him and be careful."

7: Chapter Seven

Carlisle tried not to look too relieved when Seth filled his goblet with more wine. The peace talks were beginning to feel like excruciating wounds left too long. He wasn't worried about getting drunk, however, even though Seth had given him a stern look as he'd poured the wine. He could hold himself quite well.

Though he had noticed that the longer the peace talks went, the more wine he drank at each meeting. Perhaps he should stop before he became like his father.

Carlisle looked at the goblet with longing before pushing it to the side. Marcus pulled it closer and took a sip from it, eyeing Carlisle. Carlisle pretended to ignore him.

"Yes, and speaking about trading," King Thradic said, "I wish to discuss the issue about our slaves being automatically freed crossing Austrodain borders."

Carlisle turned his head, heard his neck crack, and attempted not to glare at the other king. All the Austrodain present paused. Even his father and the Grand Duke seemed on edge about the subject. King Thradic continued as if he didn't notice the sudden tension.

"Many merchants in Cheseer have slaves who travel with them. It would be a shame for them to lose their laborers because they happen to become "free" coming into another country."

King Leon rubbed his chin.

"This is a matter that is quite controversial," he commented. Carlisle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was the largest understatement he had ever heard.

"Wouldn't we be sending warped messages to people," Prince Abram said. "But saying that all slaves were free the moment they were in Austrodai except for slaves coming in with their masters? We have to keep a standard. Austrodai doesn't adhere to slavery. It hasn't for the last two hundred years."

"That may deter potential merchants from coming to Austrodai," Prince Keallack said.

"If their only labor is made up of slaves, I pity the merchant," Marcus replied. "For he has no concept of humanity, nor does he realize the loss he creates for himself should he attempt to find trade in different kingdoms with different laws."

"I don't think there's need to be so harsh on one's humanity," the Grand Duke told his son. Marcus drank from Carlisle's goblet again. Prince Keallack glared at him. Carlisle wondered if they could call for Patrick to wipe the glare off the prince's face.

"This is something my men and I will have to think about," King Leon said. "Both of our kingdoms are sensitive to this issue."

"It's a good thing we didn't bring Freya, Father," Prince Aric joked. "She'd be siding with King Leon!"

"Freya?" Duke Dorman questioned.

"Our sister," Prince Aric explained. "She just turned sixteen this past April. Responsible enough to be left behind to look after the kingdom."

Marcus choked on the wine in Carlisle's goblet. The handful of present Austrodain nobles muttered and attempted to resituate themselves in their chairs. Carlisle's eyebrows shot up. He glanced down the table at Prince Abram. His friend's gaze was calculating.

"You left a girl in charge of your kingdom?" the Grand Duke cried.

"We may seem archaic to you in some respects," King Thradic answered. "But in other respects, you seem just as archaic. You don't allow slavery. Yet your women barely have more rights than our most trusted slaves."

"Yes, and thankfully talks about women's rights will not crop up in the peace talks," King Leon replied. Carlisle couldn't remember ever seeing the king looking so hard and unforgiving. "For while we are willing to think about changing laws about slavery, we will not think about changing laws about women."

King Thradic lifted his hands in surrender.

"I think that will adjourn the meeting for the day," King Leon added. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other later tonight, am I right, Duke Dorman?"

"Yes!" the duke agreed. "Carlisle can't wait."

"Yes, can't wait," Carlisle agreed. To Marcus he muttered, "Father enjoys the parties more than I do, and it's not even his Birth Day!"

"Fathers are strange like that," Marcus muttered back. "I expect we'll be just like them someday."

"If that's your goal," Carlisle said, watching as the nobles from Austrodai and Cheseer left ahead of them. "I, for one, hope to Rhyannon that I am never like my father."

"You'll be a little old softy," Marcus jeered. Carlisle swiped at him.

"Careful, Carlisle. I won't give you your Birth Day present."

"Shut up, Marcus."

"Vulgarity should not be used in place of wit."

"Oh mighty seer!" Prince Abram cried, flinging an arm around Carlisle and Marcus' shoulders. "Spouting proverbs, Marcus? Is your new life ambition to be a priest?"

Marcus waited until they couldn't see their fathers anymore before swiping Prince Abram across the head. Prince Abram laughed and ducked around to Carlisle's other side.

"Boys, it's my Birth Day. Can you wait to kill each other until after my party?"

Marcus and Prince Abram did arrive to his party unscathed, dressed in some of their finest clothing. Carlisle, also dressed in his finest, held court in the parlor before the mantel, his eyes roving over the guests present. The party was significantly smaller than usual, to Carlisle's pleasure, but the Cheseerian royals and advisors were present. He'd have preferred if only Prince Aric had come but he hadn't had any say in the list. For the most part.

The Kirks, Windhams, Wilcoxs, and Expares were all present. The Expares had been his own addition. He'd had Seth send them the invitation personally, circumnavigating his father's messenger.

Prince Abram, Patrick, and Marcus gathered around him while their ladies chatted to each other nearby. True to his word, Marcus had begun to take Lady Myradith under his wing.

"Father hasn't noticed who yet," Marcus had whispered when he'd first arrived. "But he has mentioned that I seem distracted."

"Thank you," Carlisle had said.

Patrick sighed, pulling Carlisle from his thoughts.

"This party is dull," Patrick stated. "Surely someone can play music? The poor forte is over in the corner looking very lonely."

"There isn't any room here," Marcus said. "Besides, it's too much of a ruckus for such a gathering."

"It's a Birth Day party, not a funeral," Carlisle said. "And there's plenty of room if we move the furniture. I'm sure if one of our accomplished young ladies would be willing to play we could have some dancing."

"And you're dancing too," Prince Abram told Marcus, grabbing his arm. "Even if I have to be your partner." Patrick laughed at Marcus as Carlisle stepped over to the four girls nearby.

"Who's up for dancing?" he asked.

"I'll play the forte," Lady Myradith said. "I don't think I could handle much dancing tonight."

"Are you ill?" Carlisle looked her up and down. She did seem a bit paler.

"Just a little under the weather," Lady Myradith replied. "Nothing to worry about." She moved to the forte and opened it, sat lightly on the seat and began to play.

"Come on, lazy!" Carlisle cried at Heir Wilcox who was sitting by his mother on a settee. "Let's dance!" The guests laughed and moved so that the furniture could be rearranged against the walls, creating a very good dance floor for at least five couples at a time.

Carlisle danced the first set with Lady Patricia before switching partners with Prince Aric who had been dancing with Lady Amethyst Wilcox, Heir Wilcox's younger sister. She was a cute girl of fifteen, not married, but sought after by many. Carlisle remembered listening to Duke Wilcox bemoaning about having to choose between so many fine young men. He noticed Marcus slip out after the second set (Carlisle started the third with Lady Nicole), and move to stand by the forte, chasing away Prince Keallack who'd been standing there for the past two.

After the fourth set Carlisle left the dancing and moved to the forte. Lady Patricia followed.

"Go and dance after this set," Patricia told Lady Myradith. "I'll play something slow." She gave Marcus a pointed look. "You dance too, Heir Windham."

"Well I never!" Marcus declared. "Taking orders from a girl." But after Lady Myradith finished the song, he took her hand and escorted her to the impromptu dance floor while Lady Patricia took her place at the forte and began to play a melancholy song.

"Are the peace talks going well?" Lady Patricia asked.

"As well as they can be," Carlisle replied, glancing across the room. Prince Aric was dancing with Lady Lilith. King Thradic, King Leon, Prince Abram, the Grand Duke, and his father were deep in conversation in another corner of the room, waving their goblets around trying to prove a point. His eyes searched the rest of the room. Where was Prince Keallack?

Movement caught his eye and he watched Lady Nicole reenter the parlor. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. She seemed to be shaking. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and crossed to Prince Abram. The prince excused himself from the conversation and moved with the young lady away from prying ears.

They whispered for several seconds and then Prince Abram started for the doorway Lady Nicole had come through. He caught Carlisle's eye and motioned him to follow. Carlisle glanced at the partiers, no one else seemed interested in where they were going, and followed the prince. And they moved deep into the apartment, passing the stairwell that led down to the kitchens and servants' quarters to the chamber room.

Were they going to interrupt someone going? Carlisle stopped short and began to ask but Prince Abram wrenched the door open.

"Prince Abram!" Prince Keallack cried. Carlisle hurried closer and joined the prince in the doorway. Prince Keallack laced up his trousers and smoothed his tunic. Rae fell back on his heels, pressing against the wall. He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A soft sob escaped him.

"Get out," Prince Abram snapped. Green Magic began to dance around his fist, glowing a warning. Prince Keallack glanced at the hand, then back at Prince Abram.

"I understand," he said. "You want to keep him all to yourself. I was the same when he was with me, and I just couldn't help myse—,"

Prince Abram slammed the other prince against the wall.

"He is my servant and you have no right to touch him."

"I didn't think that little girl would squeal," Prince Keallack sneered.

"That little girl happens to be my betrothed," Prince Abram said, his voice almost a hiss. "Touch her and you die, and damn the peace talks!" He shoved off Prince Keallack and grabbed Rae by the arm, hauled him to his feet, and pulled him from the chamber room. Carlisle slammed the door on the other prince and went after Prince Abram and Rae. Prince Abram disappeared down the stairwell leading to the kitchens. Carlisle followed.

He'd only been down to the kitchen several times, mostly when he was younger and hungry. At the bottom of the stairwell there was a corridor leading to the rooms of the few live-in servants, a bell rack attaching the different bells to the different rooms of the apartment, and a doorway to the right leading to the kitchens.

The bustle of the kitchen stopped as Prince Abram and Carlisle appeared. Everyone bowed or curtsied.

"I need someone to escort Rae back to his room," Prince Abram said. "Someone who knows Magic preferably and isn't afraid to use it."

"I'll do it," Seth said, standing from where he'd been eating at a table. "That is, my lord, if you'll let me?" He glanced at Carlisle.

"It's perfectly all right," Carlisle replied. "You won't be gone long and if you are, I can undress myself." Seth nodded.

"My lord," the cook said. She smiled kindly at Rae. "The boy is upset. Let him have something to eat first. Nothing will harm him down here." Prince Abram nodded and the cook came forward, wrapped an arm around Rae's shoulders, and ushered him to a stool next to Seth. She then hurried to make up a plate for him while Seth spoke gently with him.

"I want to rip Keallack apart," Prince Abram whispered to Carlisle.

"I know. But no one will harm anyone here. This is their territory and believe me. They protect it."

The two went back upstairs. Prince Keallack was standing by the forte again. Carlisle came over and glared at the prince before sitting beside Lady Patricia.

"How about a duet peace?" he asked.

"You play?"

"Of course I do! My mother taught me. She believed all young men should be able to play the forte, and play it well."

Prince Keallack moved away. Prince Abram grabbed two goblets from a passing servant and brought one to Lady Nicole who had tucked herself away with Marcus and Lady Myradith on a settee.

"Where did you go?" Lady Patricia asked, finishing the song.

"It doesn't concern you." Carlisle said, beginning the duet.

"You are tense and upset. I can tell. So it Prince Abram. And Prince Keallack seemed very smug."

"There was simply an incident with Prince Keallack and Prince Abram's manservant," Carlisle said. "I will not give you the details. They are not for the ears of young ladies."

"Was Prince Keallack hurting him?"

"Yes."

"Did you get a good whack at the prince?"

"No."

"Pity." Lady Patricia glanced over at the prince. "He deserves it."

"That he does," Carlisle muttered. "I'll have to get Patrick to do it. Keep up the tradition and all."

8: Chapter Eight

Samhain preparations began soon after his Birth Day. Being one of the eight holy festivals of the year, it was well celebrated with black draperies and displays of seven candles all over Grand Quenten. The candles were lit every night at sundown beginning seven days before Samhain, and blown out as the first rays of sunrise began to show. Every candle was created to last the seven days before finally dying on their own as the sun rose on November 1.

As usual during the time, activities at Grand Quenten quieted in honor of the dead. The peace talks were ended from the day the candles were first lit to the day after Samhain. Two days before Samhain Carlisle, his friends, Prince Aric, his and Prince Aric's manservants went on a hunting trip. They left just as the sun was rising, riding through Quenten City and out into the open fields surrounding the area. By nine o'clock they rode into the Forest of Modige, made camp far into the forest, and left their horses with Seth and Peder who began to set up the camp for the night.

They caught a few rabbits, eventually making their way back to camp, Seth and Peder skinned and roasted the rabbits for dinner.

"Will you be glad to go home?" Patrick asked Prince Aric. "When the Cold Moon comes?"

"I will," Prince Aric replied. "I've missed home. Austrodai is beautiful, but it's nothing compared to my home. Vakre Hjem is not as large at Grand Quenten, but many of our nobles live at their own estates out in the country. The only nobles who live at Vakre Hjem are the advisors. And even they have their own country estates. When I choose my own advisors, some will stay, some will move out." Prince Aric stared into the crackling flames. "The citadel is made of blue stone and marble. The setting sun hits the western tower just right on winter days and bathes the whole western side of the city in a pool of fire. In the summer, the stones keep the citadel cool and when I have the time, I spend the day lounging by the garden pool with Freya. If we're lucky, Keallack won't join us."

Carlisle and his friends laughed.

"And in winter?" Prince Abram asked. "When you get home?"

"I shall spend after dinner writing reports in Freya's sitting room as she reads and studies. Sometimes, during the day, I'll dual her. She's a fighter, Freya. One of the fiercest knights in the realm she is. Almost as good as me. Much better than Keallack, but he'd never admit it."

"Women can be knights?" Marcus asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Only the princess," Prince Aric replied. "If something happened and she inherited the throne, she'd have to lead the army into battle—heaven forbid. Many girls of noble houses learn with the princess but they never get knighted. Women are not meant for combat, but if the worst should happen, then they'll be prepared."

"Your people are so strange," Marcus murmured.

"I think Austrodai is very strange," Prince Aric said. "If a princess inherited the throne, would she know how to fight? Would she know how to lead?"

"We've only had three queens in the history of Austrodai," Carlisle said. "And they were queens long before the laws restricting women were passed. They're known as the Wild Queens. Only two generations separated each other them and they fought the Black Elves of the Me Dain. Queens Moira, Tara, and Erin."

"I don't understand why women can't learn Magic," Prince Aric said. "Magic is a part of all living things. It's denying ladies a part of their soul."

"Women cannot control Magic the way men can," Marcus replied, pompous. "Because women are so emotional, their Magic becomes harder to control. Their emotional nature leaves them vulnerable to attack by evil spirits. Therefore, women are not allowed to learn Magic because should an evil spirit possess them, they cannot destroy anything."

"An evil spirit will destroy whether or not a woman knows Magic for spirits have a Magic even we mortals cannot fathom," Prince Aric said.

"Why do you have slaves?" Patrick asked. "You find us horrible for denying women Magic and yet you allow people to own others."

"Don't the men of your families own the women?" Prince Aric shot back. "Can a woman do anything significant without a man's permission? Can they take credit for their accomplishments? No. To me, that is a kind of slavery. So you see, Patrick, Austrodai and Cheseer are not so different after all."

When he put it that way. Carlisle frowned, stoked the fire, and glanced at Prince Abram. The prince came out of his deep thoughts, met Carlisle's gaze, and looked away just as quickly. Carlisle continued to poke the fire harder than needed.

It was true that at times he thought the laws could be a little less harsh, but he understood them. That is, until Prince Aric pointed out the flaws in comparison to the Cheseerian laws that the Austrodains disagreed with.

Carlisle knew that he treated women better than most men, but he would never treat a woman like a slave. Would he? His father certainly had. He wasn't as bad as his father, but what if to Prince Aric, there was no difference between Carlisle and his father? What if there was no difference? What if Carlisle had been fooling himself his whole life? He looked at Patrick and Marcus. Patrick seemed thoughtful while Marcus looked stubborn. As usual.

Carlisle looked over his shoulder at Seth and Peder. The two were settled with their share of rabbit on their bedrolls, several feet away from their masters.

"Seth," Carlisle called. "Do you think we Austrodains treat women like slaves?"

Seth glanced over with a bone in his mouth. He looked surprised at being addressed, hurried to remove the bone, and swallowed the food in his mouth.

"I don't know what you mean," he said.

"I'd like your opinion," Carlisle said. "Do we Austrodains treat women like slaves? Prince Aric thinks we do."

"Who am I to disagree with a prince?" Seth replied. Prince Aric laughed.

"Spoken like a diplomat," Prince Aric said. "You've been serving at the meetings too long, Seth."

Seth went back to his rabbit.

A series of crashes grabbed the young men from their discussion. They jumped from their seats, drew their swords, and turned in the direction of the noise, dropping into defensive stances. Seth and Peder scurried behind them, Seth's apricot colored Magic swirling around his fists.

Two figures fell from the foliage, tripping over their skirts which were dirty and ripped.

"Lilith!" Patrick cried.

"Myradith!" Carlisle and Marcus cried. The four friends hurried to the young ladies' sides and helped them over to the fire. Myradith was the only one wearing a cloak, but it had the crest of the Fandom Estate on its left breast, showing it to be Lady Lilith's cloak. Both girls collapsed on the log Prince Aric had been using as a seat.

"Praise Rhyannon we found you!" Lady Lilith cried, gasping for breath. "Rae had said you were going here, but Modige is so large, I was afraid we wouldn't find you."

"What are you doing here?" Carlisle demanded. Seth and Peder handed the two girls water skins. "It's dangerous for young ladies such as yourselves to be travelling on your own!"

"We had to come," Lady Lilith insisted. "Myradith's family threw her from Grand Quenten."

"What?" Marcus was on his knees in front of Lady Myradith instantly. "Why did they throw you from Grand Quenten?"

"Th-they c-caught me . . . ." Lady Myradith began to cry. She hid her face in the hood of the borrowed cloak.

"Prince Keallack forced her," Lady Lilith said. "Her father caught her."

"Didn't you explain that it was my brother's fault?" Prince Aric demanded.

"You believe her?" Prince Abram asked.

"Of course I do, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Prince Abram snapped. "But he's your brother."

"Exactly why I believe her. Why didn't your parents believe you?"

"It's always the woman's fault," Marcus explained. Lady Myradith sobbed into her hands.

"You don't believe me," she cried. Lady Lilith glared at Marcus.

"I didn't say that," Marcus said. "I was simply answering Prince Aric's question. I do believe you. Honestly, if anyone is going to be more wanton it's Prince Keallack." Marcus spat the prince's name.

"Why did you come?" Patrick asked.

"I . . . I thought that perhaps one of you would fight for Lady Myradith's honor," Lady Lilith explained. "I had to sneak away through the city, but that was simple. Then I had to find Myradith, but that was easy too because she was making her way out of the city."

"I thought it best to be out of reach in case Prince Keallack came looking for me," Lady Myradith said, wiping her eyes. "And if I were to die, I'd rather die alone in the forest than in the slums of Quenten City."

"I'll fight for your honor," Marcus declared after several moments of silence. He rose to his feet and turned to his friends. "Patrick. Will you be my second?"

"Me?"

"You're the only one unattached. And it'll be humiliating for Prince Keallack should something happen to me and you defeat him."

Patrick grinned. "It would be an honor, Heir Windham, to be your second." He bowed and Marcus bowed back.

"We'll ride at first light," Prince Abram said. "The girls can finish the rest of the rabbit. One of you can have my pallet."

"No," Patrick said. "I and Marcus will give up our pallets. We are the ones fighting for Lady Myradith, and Lady Lilith happens to be as good as a sister."

"Very well." Prince Abram put his sword back in its sheath. "Eat the rabbit, girls. Then get some sleep."

They left the Forest of Modige just as the first rays of sun peeked over the eastern horizon. The ride was swift, they wanted to reach Grand Quenten, duel Prince Keallack, and restore Lady Myradith to her rightful place at the palace as soon as possible.

"What happens in an honor duel in Austrodai?" Prince Aric asked. They slowed their horses to a trot as the walls of Quenten City came into view across several fields.

"Since it's over a lady, should I win, I will have to marry her," Marcus said. "Almost immediately. The one year engagement doesn't apply in this situation. The duel is to restore Lady Myradith's honor. That will not be complete until she is respectably married."

"And if my brother wins?"

"Then Lady Myradith returns to the streets," Patrick answered. "So Marcus and I won't be losing."

"I don't know how to thank you," Lady Myradith said as they passed through the main gate of the city walls.

"Give me at least one healthy son," Marcus replied. "We can have as many children as you want, but please at least one son."

"I will do my best," Lady Myradith murmured.

"Don't put all that pressure on her," Prince Abram called over. "You've got to do half the work, Marcus."

"Ladies present!" Carlisle admonished. He reached over, slapped the prince upside the head, and sent an apologizing glance at Lady Lilith and Lady Myradith.

"If you lived in the country, you'd be use to anything," Lady Lilith said. "One of the stable hands who use to work at my estate was one of the worse perverts you could ever imagine. It was rumored that he slept with—,"

"Lilith!" Patrick snapped.

"What? Honestly, Patrick, your estate couldn't have been much better."

Patrick straightened in his saddle and lifted his chin. "My family's country estate was the picture of propriety and excellence."

"Liar." Lady Lilith muttered. She giggled into Patrick's shoulder and squeezed his waist.

They guided their horses up through the lower city, pass the middle circle, across the merchant's quarters and up the cobbled path to the main gate of Grand Quenten. They could hear the faint calls of the sentries, calling their return to the palace.

"They've probably already spotted Lady Lilith and Lady Myradith," Prince Aric commented.

"How will your father react?" Carlisle asked Marcus.

"I can guess," Marcus said. "He won't be pleased."

"He's never pleased," Carlisle said.

"Neither is your father. Haven't we had this conversation before?" Carlisle glanced over at Marcus. The young man's face had paled and he gripped his horse's reins too tightly.

Already people had begun to come out of Grand Quenten. The sentries had done their jobs well, having not own announced the arrival of the two princes and their noble friends, but also of the two young ladies, one who was missing, one who was thrown out.

"Myradith!" a lady broke from the growing crowd and ran towards Marcus' horse. Marcus dismounted and helped Lady Myradith down. The lady grabbed Lady Myradith, pulled her into a tight embrace, and began to cry. Lady Myradith began to cry too as she returned her mother's hug. Marcus gripped his sword and glared at the crowd, as if daring anyone of them to come forward and attempt to be rid of Lady Myradith.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Expare demanded as he pushed through the crowd. "You, young lady," he pointed at Lady Lilith, "are going to be in for the beating of your life!"

Patrick pulled his horse around, blocking his father from coming closer to him and Lady Lilith. Neither dismounted.

"Calm yourself, Expare," Prince Abram ordered as he and the rest dismounted. "I will not have you touching your ward in public." Lord Expare's face became red, but he didn't touch Patrick or Lady Lilith as they dismounted. Carlisle blocked the crowd from Lady Lilith as Patrick moved to Marcus, Lady Myradith, and Lady Donovan.

The group was almost up the front steps when Lord Donovan, and his brother, Duke Donovan, appeared at the top of the entrance of Grand Quenten along with the Grand Duke.

"What are you doing back here, whore?" Lord Donovan snapped. "Jacquelyn, get away from the bitch." Lady Donovan gripped her daughter's hand until her knuckles turned white. Duke Donovan frowned at his brother.

"Your wife has had a terrible shock," the duke admonished. "Allow her to at least say her good-byes."

"Lady Myradith will not be saying good-bye," Marcus declared as he led Lady Myradith and her mother passed the men. "I am prepared to challenge Prince Keallack to a duel for the honor of the lady."

"Marcus!" the Grand Duke shouted after him. Carlisle hurried Lady Lilith forward. Prince Abram and Prince Aric took up the back of the group. The men hurried after them.

"Marcus, you can't be serious!" the Grand Duke continued to shout. "Think about this. You'll have to marry the bitch. She's damaged. Unclean."

"I have had all night to think about it," Marcus called over his shoulder. "My mind is made up. You cannot stop me, Father."

They found Prince Keallack dining in the dining hall with King Thradic, King Leon, and Queen Francine. A smirk crossed the prince's face as he noticed Lady Myradith. Marcus broke from the group, pulled off his riding gloves, and threw one glove to the floor at Prince Keallack's feet.

"Heir Windham!" King Leon cried. The two kings jumped to their feet. Prince Keallack glared up at the young man.

"I, Duke Heir Marcus of the House of Windham, First House of Austrodai, The Grand Dukedom of the Kingdom, over the Royal Region, challenge you, Second Prince Keallack of the Royal Cheseerian House of Kral, to a duel for the honor of Lady Myradith of the House of Donovan, Tenth House of Austrodai, Ninth Dukedom of the Kingdom, over the Grathe Region. Do you accept?"

Prince Keallack bent over, picked up the glove, and stood. Marcus was barely taller than he.

"I, Second Prince Keallack Kral accept your challenge," the prince said, a sneer crossing his face. "And what is the prize?"

"I win and the honor of Lady Myradith will be restored," Marcus replied. "You will also leave the castle at first light the day after Samhain."

"Agreed. And should I win, the little whore goes back to the streets."

Marcus nodded.

"And when shall this duel take place?" Prince Keallack asked.

"Ten minutes. Dueling Chamber." Marcus turned on his heal, went to Lady Myradith, and guided her from the room. Carlisle, Prince Abram, and Patrick trailed after him. Prince Aric and the rest of the nobles stayed in the dining hall. Their raised voices could be heard in protest to the duel as the friends walked down the corridor.

"I cannot thank you enough, Heir Windham," Lady Donovan said, crying more. "This means everything to me!"

"It is the least that I can do for an innocent," Marcus replied.

"But how could you do such a thing, Myradith?" Lady Donovan asked. "You know that intercourse before marriage is wrong."

"I didn't want it, mother," Lady Myradith explained, her voice a whisper. "I swear I didn't! I tried to push him off. I hit him. I tried to scratch at him. But he knocked . . . knocked me to the bed and then Father came in."

"We will set this to rights," Prince Abram assured her.

"And if Marcus and Patrick don't defeat the prince I'll take care of him," Lady Lilith declared. She grabbed her friend's hand that wasn't occupied by her mother's. "In a palace this large, the infirmary, the Royal Magicians, or the Royal Astronomers should have some hemlock. Or aconite. Foxglove has many good medical purposes, but prepared correctly can be quite fatal."

"Lilith!" Patrick cried. Lady Lilith laughed.

"Poison is a woman's weapon," she said.

Prince Abram pushed ahead, threw the doors to the Dueling Chamber open, and jogged to the Royal Box where he planted himself to the right of the king's seat. Marcus climbed onto one end of the long dueling stage. Patrick took up the space behind him. Carlisle and the ladies settled into the seats behind the stage's end. They waited.

The Dueling Chamber filled faster than Carlisle anticipated. This was the ultimate show of how fast gossip and news raced through Grand Quenten. Prince Keallack appeared with his father, brother, and one of the Cheseerian knights. King Leon and Queen Francine were not far behind. They joined Prince Abram in the Royal Box. King Leon sat while Queen Francine stood by him at his left.

Prince Aric and King Thradic joined the Austrodain royals after whispering briefly with Prince Keallack and the knight. Prince Aric stood by Prince Abram while Queen Francine made room closer to the chair for the king. Prince Keallack and the knight climbed onto the opposite end of the dueling stage. King Leon waited another five minutes to allow more people to enter the chamber before he motioned for two guards who'd appeared at the doors to close them. The doors fell shut with reverberating thuds, the crowd fell silent, and King Leon stood. He went to the railing of the royal box, glanced from Marcus to Prince Keallack, then said,

"For the honor of Lady Myradith Donovan, Heir Marcus Windham of Austrodai and Second Prince Keallack Kral will duel with Magic. Heir Patrick Windham and Sir Ronald Eccleston of Cheseer are their seconds. Should Heir Windham loose, Lady Myradith will return to her destitute state outside Grand Quenten. Should Prince Keallack loose, the honor of the young lady shall be restored, and come the first of November, he will leave for Cheseer. Are you in agreement, gentlemen?"

Marcus bowed to the king. Prince Keallack nodded. King Leon raised a hand. Marcus and the prince fell into defensive stances. Patrick and Sir Ronald braced themselves for the worst. The crowd went silent. King Leon looked from Marcus to Prince Keallack.

"Begin!" the king shouted, dropping his hand.

Prince Keallack reacted almost before King Leon's hand was completely dropped. Mauve colored Magic burst from the prince's fist and he punched forward. The Magic snapped and crackled as it zoomed towards Marcus. Marcus didn't move until the very last minute, moving out of his defensive stance, straightening and planting his feet wide apart. He lifted his arms, elbows together. Crimson Magic shot up, seemingly from the ground, shielding Marcus. The crimson Magic roared as the mauve hit it, dissipating. Marcus jumped forward the moment the mauve was gone, punching both of his fists out. His crimson Magic flew across the stage. Prince Keallack raised his own shield, just in time.

Cheers went up from the crowds, some for Marcus, a few from the Cheseerians. Carlisle glanced at the royal box and caught Prince Abram's eye. The prince's face was a little pale, as if he were afraid.

Carlisle understood the feeling.

Prince Keallack somersaulted to avoid a blast from Marcus, shooting short, quick bolts of Magic at Marcus from his kneeling position. Marcus danced back and forth to avoid them. He mistook a step, one of the blast grazed his hip. He stumbled, falling back. Patrick caught him, shoved him forward. Marcus took the momentum, somersaulted forward, straightened his legs before he came all the way around. Magic shot from the bottoms of his shoes, an arch of crimson that hissed and spat silver sparks. It crashed down on Prince Keallack. The prince fell on his back, even as he erected a shield.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Lady Lilith cried.

"It is a difficult feat," Carlisle acknowledged.

"Can't you do it?" Lady Myradith asked, tightening her grip on Lady Lilith's hand.

"I may have Wild Magic, Lady Myradith, but it certainly doesn't come out of every inch of my body."

Prince Keallack struggled to his feet. He glared across the stage at Marcus, who rose with ease. Prince Keallack cracked his knuckles, then his neck, and fell back into a defensive stance. Marcus conjured a ball of Magic and hovered it over his hand. The crowd hushed again. Marcus and Prince Keallack stared each other down. Carlisle bunched the hem of his tunic, using it as a shield against his nails piercing his skin.

Prince Keallack attacked with a shout, throwing with all his strength a large swirling ball of Magic. Marcus threw his own crimson ball and the two collided in the air. Roaring like that of a waterfall filled the room, forcing everyone to cover their ears. Women screamed in fear. The blinding explosion of Magic sent everyone to the ground. Carlisle threw himself over the three ladies with him. He watched as the Magic faded, the roaring stopped, and he peeked over at the stage.

Marcus had an arm slung over Patrick's shoulder. Patrick struggled to keep Marcus upright. Prince Keallack lay half off the edge of the stage while Sir Ronald attempted to pick himself up from the floor of the dueling chamber, failing.

King Leon stood. He stared at the dueling stage. Neither Prince Keallack or Sir Ronald got to their feet.

"Heir Marcus Windham of Austrodai wins!" King Leon declared.

The Austrodain crowd began to cheer. Lady Donovan and Lady Myradith began to cry again. Lady Myradith kissed Carlisle on the cheek, squeezed his hand, and made her way onto the dueling stage where Marcus pulled her into a one arm embrace. Carlisle joined them and let Marcus sling his other arm over his shoulders.

"That was a brilliant fight, Marcus," Patrick cried as they helped him off the stage. Marcus grinned.

"That felt brilliant," he said. "Haven't had that good of a fight since Carlisle and I went at each other last spring." He sighed. "Tired. Let's get out of here."

"The infirmary or your chambers?" Carlisle asked.

"His chambers of course," Prince Abram declared, appearing in front of them. "I have sent for Healer Trent to meet us there."

A young man appeared next to Prince Abram, walking backwards as he began to talk.

"That was utter brilliance, Marcus!" the young man cried. "Your control of your Magic and emotions was genius!"

"Thank you, Lok," Marcus murmured, grinning at him. "I don't think you really know my friends. Carlisle Dorman, Patrick Expare."

"Expare?"

"Prince Abram forced us together."

"I will drop my half of you," Patrick warned. Marcus laughed. It was breathy, tired.

"Apprentice Lok, why don't you run ahead to the Windham apartment and tell the physician there that we're on our way." Apprentice Lok nodded and hurried away, rounded the corner ahead, and disappeared.

9: Chapter Nine

The Everlasting Flame broke the silence in the chapel, crackling every few seconds. Carlisle stared at it, almost unseeing. The last wafts of lavender faded.

"I thought I'd find you here, Heir Dorman."

Carlisle started a bit, looking up at Lady Patricia as she smiled at him.

"May I sit?"

"Of course." Lady Patricia sat beside him. She too stared at the Everlasting Flame for several minutes.

"I'm sorry that I'm not Lady Myradith," Lady Patricia said. "I know you'd have preferred her."

"I got my hopes up," Carlisle replied. "I made the mistake of attempting to marry myself to someone. It's been the father's job to betroth his children, I shouldn't have tried to interfere."

"So you'll betroth your children without any say from them?" Lady Patricia questioned. "You'd treat my children like pawns in a chess game?"

"They'd be my children."

"And mine!" Carlisle noticed Lady Patricia's face turn a little red.

"I understand that there are traditions and laws in place for a reason," she said. "I understand the importance of keeping traditions alive. However, I do not see the harm in allowing a little change to mix with the traditions every now and again."

"I won't be like my father," Carlisle assured her. "But I'm not sure what that means."

"Still. I'm not the girl you wanted to have children with."

"No, you're not. That doesn't mean that someday you won't be. You have been completely unattached until your betrothal to me. I, however, did become attached to someone. I will need some time to get over her."

"She's marrying one of your best friends."

"Yes. He promised to care for her in my stead. Marcus has the ability to get his own way."

"I wish I had friends like that."

"Perhaps you will. You will spend a lot of time with Lady Nicole, Lady Lilith, and Lady Myradith."

Lady Patricia stood. "Come. The feast is about to start."

Carlisle rose, extended his arm to her, and allowed her to wrap her arm through his before he led her out of chapel and back into Grand Quenten. They walked in silence to the Festum, entered amongst excited chatters and servants laden with trays of food.

"Do you wish to sit with your parents or with me?" Carlisle asked. Lady Patricia's faced reddened.

"With me it is." Carlisle escorted her over to the second head table. They sat in the same seats they'd sat at the Autumn Equinox. Place settings and trays of food packed the table. A servant appeared at their side and poured wine into their goblets. Carlisle looked around the Festum, peered over his shoulder at the Head Table, spotted Rae pouring Prince Abram more wine, watched Prince Abram glare at Prince Keallack, and watched the second prince of Cheseer stab his food with a sulk on his face.

"Prince Keallack doesn't look too happy," Carlisle commented to Lady Patricia.

"King Thradic doesn't look too happy," Marcus said, startling Carlisle on his other side. "Father says he's attempted to coerce King Leon into allowing Keallack to stay. But King Leon isn't willing to go against the Old Ways, even if it endangers the talks."

"How is your father?" Carlisle asked.

"He'll forgive me. Maybe. Eventually." Marcus piled venison onto his plate. "I, personally, am all right with him not speaking to me." He looked over his shoulder to his father.

"So when are you marrying?" Lady Patricia asked.

Lady Myradith peered around Marcus.

"In a week," she replied. "Mother wished for me to have a new dress to marry in."

"A proper wedding dress?" Lady Patricia asked.

"No, there's not enough time to make a proper one. But it will be white that's for sure."

Carlisle pictured Lady Myradith in a wedding dress, her hair fixed up with snowdrops and pearls. She would look like a goddess. Jealousy bubbled up inside him, but he squashed it. Marcus would treat Lady Myradith well and she would be happy. That's what mattered. He motioned for a servant to top up his goblet. He drained half of it.

"Did you just come from the chapel?" Marcus asked.

Carlisle nodded.

"Let's get some air."

"You've hardly eaten!" Lady Patricia cried.

"We'll be back," Carlisle replied. He and Marcus shoved their chairs back, weaved between the nobles and servants, exited the Festum, and made their way to the front steps of Grand Quenten. They sat on the top step, stared out over the courtyard, lit with torches that bathed the cobblestones in warm light.

"I'd like you to stand up as my second," Marcus said. Carlisle raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Not Abram? Or Patrick?"

"Patrick was my second in the duel only because Prince Keallack hates him. Abram . . . yes he should be the first choice but tradition states that the second man at one's wedding is the man whom the groom finds most important in his life. I have no brothers, it'll be a miracle if my father shows up at the ceremony, and I've already talked to Abram. He's fine with you being my second."

"Marcus, I have no illusion that I am your favorite person."

"No, you're not my favorite. But you're my best friend, and that counts for something. Or at least it should."

Marcus rubbed his palms against his trousers.

"Thing it, Carlisle . . . I finally have something you want. Most of my life I have desired yours. Now that I have the woman you love, you'd think that I'd feel elated, smug. But I don't."

"What do you mean you've desired my life? My father cares for nothing but his money and title, my mother is dead, and my sister died under mysterious circumstances. You still have your mother. Your father doesn't have as heavy a fist as mine. You never had a sibling you swore to protect die on your watch! Why in the Goddess's name would you want my life?"

"My mother sits in the corner and embroiders," Marcus said. "Or she creates the menu for the week. Your mother got on the floor and played with you until your father forced her into the corner. Your mother snuck you sweets and food when your father punished you. You sister adored and worshipped you. No one has ever looked to me like that. Anyone under me fears me."

"You made it that way."

"Did I? Or did my father? Who made you the way you are, Carlisle? You're not your father. Am I mine?"

Carlisle scooted closer.

"No," he said. "You're not your father. Your father cares just as much for his money and title as mine does. The only difference between you and me are our mothers."

Marcus laughed. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes. And if you decide to actually listen to me for once in your life, then you'll listen to that."

Marcus rubbed his palms against his trousers again.

"I thought it'd be great, Carlisle," Marcus said. "Beating you at something. But it's not. Sometime's winning's no fun at all."

Carlisle nodded.

"I'll take good care of Myradith. I promise."

Carlisle grinned, though he was sure Marcus could see it didn't reach his eyes.

"I know you will, Marc." He placed a hand on Marcus' shoulder. "I . . . I know you will." He ducked his head, felt tears burn his eyes, and he hastened to scrub them away. Marcus snorted and handed Carlisle a handkerchief.

"Honestly, are you a gentleman or not?"

Carlisle laughed. It came out short and airy. He took the handkerchief and wiped the few remaining tears away. He gave the handkerchief back, watched as Marcus tucked it back into a pocket, and patted Marcus's shoulder.

"Shall we go back inside?" Carlisle asked, standing. "Abram and Patrick are probably wondering where we've gotten to."

"They're probably already looking for us," Marcus replied. He slid down a step and leaned back on his elbows. "Abram's probably regaling Pat on the last time we disappeared together and he had to come looking for us—,"

"Don't! There's no need to remind me about that," Carlisle replied. He grabbed Marcus under an arm and yanked him up. "And that's all the more reason why we should return before Abram finishes the story."

They started inside. A scream came down the corridor. More screams started. An explosion sounded. The front corridor shook, knocking Carlisle and Marcus from their feet.

"Goddess!" Marcus cried.

Shouting followed more screams. The corridor shook again. Tapestries and paintings crashed to the ground. Carlisle struggled to his feet.

"Damn the tradition of not carrying weapons on Samhain!" he muttered, helping Marcus to his feet.

"You don't need a weapon," Marcus answered. They ran up the corridor towards the Festum. A stampede of women met them halfway.

"What's happened?" Marcus demanded, grabbing the first one who passed him.

"Prince Keallack!" the woman shouted, her face pale, her eyes wide with fright. "He stabbed his brother and then the Cheseerian knights began to attack!"

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" Carlisle shouted. He and Marcus began to shove their way through the crowd, fighting against the flow. They came to the doors of the Festum. Magic of all colors flew around the hall. Purple, green, crimson, blue. Orange, yellow, gold, mauve.

"There's the king!" Marcus shouted. He and Carlisle stood back to back and joined the fray. Like the other Austrodains, they could only rely on their Magic, for tradition dictated they didn't carry weapons on Samhain, putting them at a disadvantage against the Cheseerians who had both weapons and Magic.

Carlisle shot down a Cheseerian knight. The Cheseerians had brought over five scores of knights and they seemed they were all intent on helping Prince Keallack.

"Cover me!" Marcus shouted. Carlisle turned and shot out one hand over Marcus as he dived for a fallen Cheseerian. He grabbed the knight's dagger and sword, tossed the dagger to Carlisle, and returned to his post against Carlisle's back.

They fought their way towards King Leon. Twenty feet away, Carlisle saw Prince Keallack jump from a table.

"Atal!" Carlisle shouted.

"Ymatal!" Marcus yelled. Their Magic flew towards the prince, but the young man dropped from the air and their Magic zoomed over his head, barely ruffling his hair. The prince brought his sword down on King Leon.

"No!" Carlisle screamed. He closed his eyes, felt for his Magic at the center of his soul, grabbed hold of the blocks he kept to ensure his Magic staid within him, and tore them down. He felt the familiar and usually comforting rush of his Wild Magic burst from his soul and through his body. But today it felt raw, hurt, and angry. It tore through his body, through his blood and around his muscles, bursting from every inch of his body with the roar of a mountain wind. He screamed as he allowed his Magic to take over. All control was gone. Never had he'd allowed his Magic such power, such control. Now, it was the only thing he could think of doing.

Around him Carlisle could hear people screaming. He could hear his Magic soar around the Festum, colliding with those who meant harm to him and his people. Through his screams and through his Magic, he heard someone calling to him, shouting to him.

The Magic began to drain. He could feel his stores finally reaching their end. He couldn't say how long he stood there, allowing his Magic to do what it wished, but suddenly he felt it begin to weaken, growing weaker. He found his center and began to reconstruct the walls that kept his Wild Magic at bay.

As the walls went up, Carlisle could finally hear Marcus screaming at him. White pain shot through Carlisle's body. He gasped, fell forward, and grabbed his left shoulder. He could feel the arrow protruding from the back of his shoulder blade.

Marcus fell to his knees beside Carlisle.

"Carlisle!" Marcus cried. "The king is dead, we must find Abram! He's our duty!"

Carlisle nodded and allowed Marcus to help him to his feet. Around them people lay; dead, wounded. Most men. Carlisle could see one or two females lying amongst the bodies.

"The fighting has moved outward," Marcus said. "Prince Keallack took one look at your Magic after killing the king and took off, his men following."

"Which way?" Carlisle asked. He felt sweat trickle down his face. His knees knocked against each other as he struggled to stay upright, even with Marcus' help.

"Towards the front," Marcus said. "Not very bright of the prince, but we already knew that."

"Who shot me?" Carlisle asked as they left the Festum.

"A Cheseerian knight. He won't be getting up."

"Thank you, Marc."

"Just remind me to never get on your bad side, Carl." Marcus slipped another dagger into Carlisle's hand. Carlisle nodded.

The corridor remained quiet as they struggled towards the front of the palace. The fighting must have moved outside.

"Carlisle?" Marcus said. He stopped.

"What is—,"

Carlisle and Marcus were knocked off their feet by Magic from behind. Carlisle glanced up in time to see mauve Magic disappear.

"Keallack!" Marcus sneered. The prince and a group of knights towered over the two.

"He's brighter than we thought," Carlisle said.

"Remind us never to underestimate you again," Marcus said. "Trying to take over two kingdoms at one time? Ambitious."

Prince Keallack poked Marcus' neck with his sword. Marcus glared at the prince from his position on his elbows. A knight grabbed the arrow in Carlisle's shoulder, and yanked it out. Carlisle screamed, felt blood soak his shoulder, and curled his hands into fists around the corridor's carpet.

"Shall we take both, my lord?" another knight asked.

Prince Keallack shook his head.

"No," he answered. "We'll just be taking Windham."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Marcus declared. Crimson Magic built up around his fists, hissing. "I can give you another defeat if that's what you want."

The knight that had pulled the arrow out, Carlisle now recognized him as Prince Keallack's second, Sir Ronald, dropped a knee onto Carlisle's wound, grabbed the dagger that had fallen from Carlisle's hand, fisted Carlisle by the hair and pulled until his throat was exposed. Carlisle screamed again.

"Don't!" Marcus shouted.

"Put your Magic away!" Prince Keallack ordered. The crimson Magic began to fade.

"Don't," Carlisle said. He whimpered as Sir Ronald yanked his head back more. He was sure his neck would snap. "Marcus, don't."

"Your two other friends are probably dead by now," Prince Keallack said. "But at least you can save one of them." Marcus set his jaw.

"Marc," Carlisle whispered. "R-remember how jealous you are of me. Remember h-how much you—ah—want to beat me. To have what I have, to get what I want."

He'd always known, deep in his soul, that Marcus was jealous of him. He could never, until tonight, figure out why. Now he needed Marcus to be his normal selfish self and then maybe, they could both get out of this.

Marcus met Carlisle's gaze. They stared at each other for long seconds before Marcus looked away and bowed his head. A knight bent down and clipped Prohibitors around Marcus' wrists, securing his Magic within him.

"No," Carlisle muttered. "No, Marcus, don't do this."

"Shut up!" Sir Ronald hissed. He stabbed Carlisle's other shoulder blade. Marcus lunged around Prince Keallack's sword, knocked Sir Ronald over, and wrestled him. The Cheseerian knights grabbed Marcus and yanked him off. Carlisle felt more blood seep into his tunic. His head rung and wondered when someone had started tolling the warning bells. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, tried to ignore the pain shooting from his shoulder blades, and collapsed. He summoned what remained from his Magic stores, but it was barely enough to produce a small sizzle.

Prince Keallack sneered down at him.

"M-Marcus," Carlisle slurred. Black started tinting at the corners of his vision. Marcus glanced down at him, his face pale. The knights kept a firm hold on him and the group began to flee in the opposite direction.

"Marcus!" Carlisle croaked. He tried to get back up, to crawl to his friend. The group disappeared around the corner as Carlisle fell to the floor and black swallowed his vision.