Magic's Price

you and I are lovers, he won't hesitate to strike at you.”

Gods. I was afraid I'd shocked or offended him. He's so - virginal. And Kernos knows I'm not. “Ah,” Stefen said, relieved. “I was hoping it was just something like that, and not that - that I'd upset you or anything.”

Vanyel turned to face him with an expression of complete surprise. “Stef, you've just had a taste of what it's like to be a target! How can you brush it off so lightly?”

“I'm not treating this lightly, but why are you bringing your parents to Haven if it isn't safe there?” Stefen pointed out with remorseless logic. “I thought that was the whole idea behind making them move there.”

Vanyel looked away from him, up the road ahead of them.

It won't work, lover. You're never getting rid of me. Stefen had already made up his mind to counter any argument Van gave him, so he used Van's silence as an excuse to admire his profile, the way his long, fine-boned hands rested on his saddle-pommel, his perfect balance in the saddle. . . .

“It's safer,” Vanyel said, after a strained silence. “That doesn't mean it's safe. I don't want you hurt.”

“I don't want to be hurt,” Stefen said vehemently, then laughed. “You keep thinking I'm like a Herald, that I'll go throwing myself into danger the way you do. Look, Van, I am not a hero! I promise you, I have a very high regard for my skin! Bards are supposed to sing about heroes, not imitate them - there's no glory for a Bard in dying young, I promise you. I'll tell you what; at the first sign - the very first sign of trouble, I will most assuredly run for cover. I'll hide myself either behind the nearest Guard or the nearest Herald. Does that content you?”

“No,” Vanyel said unhappily, “But I can't make you leave me, and that's the only thing that would keep you safe.”

“Damned right you can't,” Stefen snorted. “There's nothing that would make me leave you, no matter what happened.”

“I only hope,” Vanyel said soberly, peering up the road at the gate in the city walls, “that nothing makes you eat those words.”

“I only hope nothing makes you eat those words.” Was it only a few months ago I said that? I knew it could come to this, but will he understand?

“I'm sorry, Stef.”

Vanyel spoke with his back to the Bard, looking out the window of his room as he leaned against the windowframe; he couldn't bear to look at Stefen's face. He didn't know how Stef felt, though he expected the worst; he was so tightly shielded against leaking emotions that he couldn't have told if Stef was angry, unhappy, or indifferent. But he didn't expect Stef to understand; the Bard couldn't possibly understand how a Herald's duty could come ahead of anything else.

Maybe nothing would make you leave me, ashke, but nobody said anything about me leaving you. And I don't have a choice.

“I can understand why you have to go - you're the only real authority who can speak for the King. But why can't I go with you?” Stefen spoke softly, with none of the anger in his voice that Van had expected - but Stef was a Bard, and used to controlling his inflections.

“Because I'm going to Rethwellan. They don't like shaych there. Actually, that's an understatement. If you came with me, they'd probably drive us both across the Border and declare war on Valdemar for the insult, if - when - they found out about the two of us.” Vanyel gripped the side of the window tightly. The beautiful late-autumn day and the garden beyond the open window were nothing more than a blur to him. “We need that treaty, and we need it now - and the Rethwellan ambassador specifically requested me as Randi's proxy. I want you with me, but my duty to Valdemar comes first. I'm sorry, Stef.”

Arms around his shoulders made him stiffen with surprise. “So am I,” Stefen murmured in his ear. “But you said it yourself; Valdemar comes first. How long will you be gone?”

Vanyel shook his head, not quite believing what he'd just heard. “You mean you don't mind?”

“Of course I mind!” Stef replied, some of the anger Van had expected before this in his voice. “How can I not mind? But if there's one thing a Bard knows, it's how Heralds think. I've known all along that if you had to make a choice between me and your duty, I'd lose. It's just the way you are.” His arms tightened around Vanyel's chest. “I don't like it,” he continued quietly, “but I also don't like it that you can speak directly to my mind and I can't do the same to yours, and I'm learning to live with that, too. And you didn't answer me about how long you think you'll be gone.”

“About three months. It'll be winter when I get back.” The silence lasted a bit too long for Van's comfort. He tried to force himself to relax.

Stefen slid his hands up onto Van's shoulders, and began gently massaging the tense muscles of his