“I can’t hear Lady Gwennore’s thoughts anymore,” Dimitri whispered. “You must have taught her how to build a shield.”
Silas nodded.
“Then you must have told her we could hear her thoughts.” Dimitri jumped in front of him and looked him over. “No black eyes? She didn’t clobber you?”
Silas gave his friend an annoyed look. “Did you see anything today?”
“Changing the subject, huh? So how pissed was she?”
Enough to torment Silas with images of her sitting in his lap and caressing his face. She’d nearly killed him. “She took it well.”
Dimitri snorted. “Right. So how much did you have to grovel?” He snickered when Silas punched him on the shoulder.
“Did you see anything?” Silas asked again.
Dimitri nodded. “Someone sneaked away from the Eberoni camp and crossed the border, making his way north. He looked like a priest.”
Silas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think Leofric sent him. Not when he was able to pass a message to King Petras directly through me.” And if Leofric didn’t send him, then who did?
“I’ll keep watch to see whom the priest contacts.” Dimitri opened the door to the northern wing and glanced around to make sure they were alone. “Why did Aleksi go to the army camp? Are you expecting a problem with the elves?”
Silas stepped inside. “He’s bringing Annika here.”
Dimitri froze for a moment, then slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. “Why?”
“She’s trustworthy and has a good supply of medicinal herbs.” Silas gave his friend a sympathetic look. “It can’t be helped. I made a deal with the king and I have to deliver.”
Dimitri sighed. “Fine.”
Silas strode toward his brother’s offices with Dimitri trudging along beside him. “If Lord Romak is there, keep him busy. I don’t want him eavesdropping.”
Dimitri nodded.
When they stepped into the outer office, Lord Romak looked up from his desk and pasted a fake smile on his weasel-like face.
“His Majesty wants to see me,” Silas said.
Lord Romak stood and bowed. “I am aware of that, Lord General.” His beady eyes narrowed. “I heard you brought the elfin woman back with you.”
“Of course.” Silas smiled. “Lady Gwennore and I are inseparable.”
Lord Romak slanted a sly look at Dimitri. “I wonder if your dear friend Colonel Tolenko approves. After all, his uncle was probably murdered by those vicious elves.”
Dimitri stiffened. “If my uncle is indeed dead, then he died in service to his country, and his memory should be honored.”
“Of course.” Lord Romak folded his hands over his stomach, his numerous rings sparkling in the dim candlelight as he bowed low.
Silas knocked on the door to his brother’s office, then entered.
Petras looked up from his desk. “You’re back.” He set down his quill and rose to his feet while Silas made a quick bow. “So you returned the princess?”
“Yes.” Silas removed two letters he’d secreted inside his leather vest. “These are from the kings, Leofric and Ulfrid. They were both very grateful for the child’s safe return.”
Petras circled his desk and reached for the letters. “Then they don’t know that I’m the one responsible for the kidnapping.”
“No. I told them it was a rogue dragon.”
Petras unfolded the first letter and read it, then the second one. “They want peace and prosperity for all the people of our countries.”
Silas nodded. “Today’s act went a long way toward ensuring them that we want the same thing.”
With a sigh, Petras dropped the letters on his desk. “But it’s not what Fafnir wants.”
Not this again. Silas gritted his teeth. It had taken him an hour last night to convince his brother that following the dictates of a dragon were not in his best interests. “You’re the king here. You know what’s best for your people, and it certainly isn’t war. We can’t afford to lose any more of our population.”
Petras rubbed his brow. “But the curse—”
“I told you.” Silas stepped closer to him. “I will get rid of it. Give me one month. That’s all I ask.”
“You’ll make Freya healthy again?”
“Yes.” Silas nodded. “I’m bringing together a team of the best healers I can find. Trust me, brother.”
Petras regarded him sadly. “I do trust you. But Fafnir doesn’t. He thinks you want the throne for yourself.”
“I was raised to be a soldier, not a king. I won’t let you down, Petras.”
The king sighed. “One month, then. That was our agreement. Get rid of the curse. Make Freya well again. But if you fail—”
“I know.” Silas clenched his fists. “We’ll do as Fafnir wants.”
Petras nodded. “We’ll invade Woodwyn. And attack Tourin.”
Over my dead body, Silas thought. He had one month to set things right and figure out if this damned Fafnir was a hoax. “I’ll get right to work.”
Petras wandered back to his desk. “Fine. You may go.”
On the way to his room, Silas whispered to Dimitri, “Did you keep Romak from listening at the door?”
“Didn’t need to. Turns out he wanted to talk to me in private.” Dimitri withdrew a small dagger from his sleeve. “He gave me this.”
“What the hell?” Silas eyed the sharp dagger. “Does he expect you to assassinate me?”
“Not me.” Dimitri slid the dagger back up his sleeve. “He’s hoping Lady Gwennore will do it.”
“What?”
Dimitri smirked. “Romak laid a huge wager on when the elfin woman would stab you to death in your sleep. He asked me to pass the dagger on to her and encourage her to wait till tomorrow night to do the deed. If she does as I ask, he’ll give me ten percent of his winnings.”
Silas scoffed. “Ridiculous.”
“I know.” Dimitri grinned. “I held out for twenty-five percent.”
Silas cuffed him on the shoulder.
Dimitri laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t give her the dagger.”
“Go ahead and do it.”
“Are you kidding? When she’s pissed at you?”
Silas shot him an annoyed look. “She might need it for self-defense.”
“From you?”
Silas punched him harder. “I would never hurt her.”
“No, you just lie and deceive and—”
“Sod off.”
Dimitri grinned. “I’ll go then. See you at dinner.”
* * *
Gwennore was dressed in a shift and lounging in front of the hearth, drying her hair, when
