There will be time to worry about that only if we succeed in solving the present crisis! Through habit, Darkhorse reared, intending to summon a portal for his journey to the north. Only when nothing materialized did he remember the extent of his plight.
Cabe was the first to understand what was wrong. “You don’t have the strength or the will to summon a gate, do you?”
“I fear not.”
The warlock thought about it, then, with some hesitation, said, “Neither of us have been in that region for years; most of our portals would depend upon blind luck, except…”
“Except?”
Cabe looked at Gwen. “I think there’s one place I could never forget. Azran’s citadel.”
“There is little more than wreckage there. The spell protecting it from the violence of the Hell Plains and the ravages of time has long fled from it.”
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes.” Darkhorse decided it was better not to go into his encounter with the emissary from the Lords of the Dead.
“Still, I think I remember well enough to get you there safely. What do you say?”
“Since I have little to fear even if you should land me in molten earth or during some great tremor, I suppose so.”
Cabe gave him a sour grin. “Thanks for your confidence.”
The gate was there even as Cabe finished speaking, a sign of how accustomed he had become to his abilities since they had last met. Darkhorse inspected it briefly, more because of his own recent lack of success than because he did not trust the warlock’s skill. When he was satisfied, he turned to bid the two farewell.
“Thank you for your aid, Cabe Bedlam-and yours, too, Lady of the Amber.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“My apologies! I was warned and I forgot.”
She slowly shook her head. “I apologize. This is not the time for trivialities.”
“Good luck, Darkhorse.” Cabe waved a hand. “We’ll leave on our journey as soon as possible.”
“Do that. Things may be calm, but best not to take chances, eh?” The ebony stallion reared. “Beware, dear friends! Shade may strike at any time and in any way! Be vigilant!”
He heard Cabe call, “We will!” and then the world shifted as he crossed through the portal. Ahead of him, the fury of the Hell Plains exploded in a mocking salute to his return. The gate vanished as the shadow steed emerged. Darkhorse, wasting no time, immediately reached out through the link itself and noted that his quarry was somewhere south of him.
Darkhorse prayed that he would have some idea of how to convince the sorcerer to break the link before the two of them came face-to-face again. He was uncomfortably aware that he stood a good chance of becoming, for the third time, Drayfitt’s prisoner.
The last thought might have been humorous… if not for the fact that he knew there would be no escape this time. Drayfitt would surely see to that.
IN THE GARDEN of the Manor, Cabe stood with one arm around his wife. The two of them stood staring at the spot where, moments before, the portal that Darkhorse had used had stood.
Cabe blinked and smiled. “We should do this more often.”
“I keep telling you that. Why do you think that I bring the children out here? There’s something about a walk around this place that puts one at ease.”
The two walked slowly to one of the benches. The Lady Bedlam sat down, looking briefly confused.
“What’s wrong?” Cabe asked, sitting down beside her.
“I keep thinking that Aurim was out here-but that’s silly. He’s not.”
“You sent Aurim, Kyl, and Grath to their rooms, remember? We wanted privacy.”
“Privacy.” She kissed him. “We don’t get enough of that, do we?”
“No. Still, we can’t complain. Things have been pretty peaceful over the last few years. Even Talak’s been quiet for months.”
Gwen settled into his arms. “Let’s hope it stays that way. I’d hate for something to ruin as lovely a day as this.”
They kissed and then sat quietly on the bench, listening to the birds and enjoying the day. Neither of them spoke of the return of Darkhorse, Talak’s army marching, or Shade’s plot. What point was there in talking about such things?
None of them had happened.
XIII
A day had passed since the departure of the column, and it had been a day of change. It was not something that Erini found she could put her finger on at first. A glance from one of the palace guards, the curt words of one servant to another, and the politeness of Counselor Quorin. The last worried her most, for if the advisor had reason to be polite to her, it probably meant trouble.
Melicard’s manner seemed to be the only positive result of yesterday’s events. He was actually jubilant.
One final change confused more than worried her. After insisting that she allow him to protect her better, Iston had found reason after reason to summon his men away. From Galea, she had been told that the captain was out somewhere, honing his troops to battle-fitness as every good commander should; while from Magda, she received only an amused smile, a response to Galea’s simplistic explanation. Erini suspected that neither of them really knew what Iston was actually doing.
Breakfast with Melicard went swimmingly, as her father would have put it. The princess was astounded at how pleasant he could be. More and more, his talk turned to peaceful times, times without the Dragon Kings and what he would then hope to accomplish. He even began talking about bridging the chasm that he had set up between himself and his neighbors, especially Penacles and Irillian. It would have been an idyllic world, the one he built up over the course of the meal, if it had not had one major flaw.
There was no mention of the drake race in his new world. From the way the king spoke, Erini knew that there would be no room for the drakes. It marred an otherwise wonderful morning. Finally, she put the thought aside, assuring herself that she would press him on it once they were married.
For the first time, Melicard broached the subject of marriage.
The two of them had walked outside onto one of the marble terraces that seemed to have been a preoccupation with one of the palace’s designers. Two sentries stood stiffly at attention as the royal couple glided by. At home, Erini would have expected to see at least a dozen guards nearby-just for her protection. Melicard, however, seemed confident of his own safety. Erini was not so certain.
“You’ve made a change here, my princess. You know that, do you not?”
“What could I have done? I’ve only been here a short time.”
The king closed his one eye (though the light made it seem as if both eyes closed) and appeared to make a rapid calculation. He opened his eye and smiled with the good half of his mouth.
“It has been only a short time, hasn’t it? I’ve begun to feel as if you have been here always. Quorin says the same thing.”
With a very different meaning behind it, the princess thought in grim satisfaction. “This is my home. I feel that way, too.”
Melicard turned his gaze away from her, embarrassed. This was not the sort of thing he understood well. Battles and vengeance were his forte. “I told you something to the effect that love at first sight exists only in tales. I think I was wrong.”
“You were. I know from personal experience.”
Without thinking, he brought up the elfwood arm and took her hand. The arm was pleasantly cool to the touch, smooth without feeling lifeless. Erini noticed how its feel seemed to be dependent upon her betrothed’s mood.
