when Quorin had recovered somewhat from the princess’s assault and started ranting how they would all pay when his lord and master crushed the city beneath his paw. The guards, still weak themselves from their own ordeal, had been taking turns napping, trying to build up their strength. Once in a while, the one awake would look through the barred window in the door of Quorin’s cell and make certain that the prisoner had not slipped through the cracks in the cell walls or some such impossibility. Each time, Quorin had still been there. The ten-minute ritual quickly became something of a joke-until one of the sentries stood up, stretching his worn legs, and glanced inside.
The chains hung loosely. Of the traitor, there was not the slightest sign. The cell had no other openings… unless the prisoner had slithered through the cracks.
Though the panicked guard and his soon-to-be-panicked companion could not have known it, Mal Quorin had vanished from his place of confinement just about the time Darkhorse had opened the lid of the box. Even had they known and been able to make the connection, there still remained one more question, one that greatly outweighed the question of how he had escaped.
That question was, of course, where was he?
Melicard paced the room, trying to explain again to his headstrong bride-to-be what he wanted of her and why.
“Erini, I want you to stay back here-”
“Where it’s safe?” The princess shook her head vehemently. “This will one day be my kingdom, too-unless you’ve changed your mind about me-”
“Never!”
“Then let me defend it with you, Melicard.” Erini took a deep breath and stepped away from the king. She was more nervous than she wanted to admit. Does it ever become easier? Darkhorse seemed to take the entire thing in stride, as if combatting immortal warlocks and sinister Dragon Kings was an everyday matter-and perhaps it was with him. The princess, on the other hand, while ready to give her life for the protection of her people, still contained within her a very human desire to be safe and secure from the troubles around her.
“Without Mal Quorin to lead them, the traitors have no one to turn to. It will be over in an hour, maybe less. We have a fair idea now who belonged to him, thanks to some of our prisoners. At worst, we shall round up everyone, replace the gate complement with men loyal to me, and sort out the innocent and guilty here in the palace. Crude but effective. Hardly something requiring your talents-which I will need when the drakes arrive.”
“The drakes…” Erini shook her head, not because she disagreed with Melicard’s summation but because the lack of sleep was finally taking its toll upon her. She stumbled momentarily.
Melicard succeeded in grabbing her arms, preventing her from causing herself any harm by slipping. “This is the reason I especially do not wish your aid in this matter. I want to protect you; I will not argue that point. I know, however, that your abilities make you invaluable to the safety of my-our-people. That is why I want you to take the time you have to sleep. Rest. You have not fought the battles I have. You have not had to go without sleep for days. What happens when the Dragon King arrives and you don’t have the concentration to make use of your abilities? What happens then?”
What, indeed? Erini knew he was correct. Knew it, but did not like it. She wanted to be there at his side for every moment that became available to them, even in the middle of a battle if circumstances warranted it. Yet, if she truly wanted a future here, the princess knew that she would be best able to guarantee that by being fit and ready when the drake host arrived. Melicard admitted he had many tricks of his own, long-term preparations for just such a day, but the aid of a spellcaster of any sort would only strengthen their chances. They were hardly assured of victory. The Silver Dragon had been preparing for this day as well-with better success so far.
“You will face danger enough,” her betrothed continued. His grip had changed from a spontaneous one designed to keep her from falling to one that threatened to never release her from his side. Erini would have been happy enough to suffer such a fate. “The Dragon King will note fairly quickly that there is a sorceress aiding in the defenses. You may be personally assaulted.”
The princess shivered. She felt herself brave, but…
“I have something for you.” One hand released its hold reluctantly, vanished, then returned, this time bearing a familiar-looking object.
“This is Quorin’s talisman.” Erini tried to push it away, wanting nothing to remind her of the insidious man.
“Not his, but one similar. Stronger. It was once mine. I’ve not worn it for some time, not since after the… you’ll need it more.”
She accepted it reluctantly, knowing this was one point it would be useless to argue over with him. As he placed it around her neck, a sudden, insane fear crept over her. “Melicard. Do you think we have any chance?”
“Talak has stood before. We also have Darkhorse. He’s promised us the aid of the Bedlams, and I know from past experience that they are up to the task.”
“Where are they? Why haven’t they arrived yet?”
“Who can predict what these spellcasters will do?” He leaned closer and whispered, “I have enough trouble with just one. The one who so readily saved my soul after I twisted it into something of a mockery.”
“It wasn’t that difficult. You’d had nearly twenty years of free life. I only reminded you of what that life had offered once.”
Melicard broke away from her. “Which reminds me also of the tasks at hand.” He snapped his fingers, summoning four men he had borrowed from Iston’s complement. “Escort her majesty to her quarters and remain there. See to it she gets some rest.”
Both of them knew that the princess could easily bypass her watchers with the aid of her abilities, but Melicard also knew that Erini felt guilty about the trouble that her accidental departure had caused them during the coup. The princess knew he was counting on that.
Before allowing herself to be escorted away, Erini stepped over to Melicard for one final time, reached up, and kissed him in full view of the others. She was going to get a reputation for being brazen at this rate, she knew, but there was always the chance that something terrible might happen while they were separated. Reluctantly separating herself from the stunned king, Erini rejoined her escort and gave them permission to depart. For her own sake, she dared not look back until she knew for a fact that Melicard was no longer in sight.
In the halls, it seemed impossible that there was still a great threat to the safety of this city-her city. The palace was nearly silent. Only if she listened closely could she hear men running or marching in the distance. One last patrol was searching through this massive edifice in the remote possibility that some of Mal Quorin’s men were still in hiding.
Captain Iston, on his way back to the king, stopped her in the hall. His face was worn, but he looked willing to take on the entire horde if that would keep his mistress safe. His mistress and one other, based on the first words that escaped his lips. “Galea! Your majesty! I–I beg your pardon! I wanted to ask-”
“-if I could see how Galea was doing?” Though they had failed to spirit her away, Iston and his men had succeeded in rescuing her two ladies. Unfortunately, Iston had never had any time to actually speak with Galea. Knowing how difficult it had been for her to leave Melicard, Erini smiled and added, “Of course, I will. You have my promise.”
“My deepest gratitude, your majesty.” The officer bowed and hurried on his way.
The walk to her personal chambers was uneventful, with the exception of the notion, which rose twice in her thoughts, that Shade was so very nearby. Once, she stared at one of the walls, thinking he was there. The second time, Erini had the oddest feeling that she had just walked over an area where the warlock should have been standing. It puzzled her once she realized that he was in neither of those two places. Why would she imagine such a thing? Had recent events finally taken its toll on her? Was Erini losing all sense of reality?
Sleep began to look very wonderful, very precious. Melicard was correct; if the princess did not sleep, she would be useless to him when the siege began.
Before dismissing her escort, she peeked into the rooms belonging to Magda and Galea. Magda, ever in control even after surviving a coup attempt, looked up from where she was sitting. Beside her and lying asleep in bed, was Galea. The tall woman rose and walked quietly over to her mistress.
“Yes, your majesty?”
“How is she? How are both of you?”
“She feared more for your life and that of her dashing captain that she did for her own. Galea is worn out,
