Derwyn came to bed late, exhausted from overseeing the final preparations. Through his bond with her, Callador felt when it was the proper time to open the portal, and he could not do so until Derwyn was in bed, where he could safely fall into his trance. As it grew later and Derwyn still did not return, Laera started to feel anxious. All that day, she had felt a nervous anxiety, a presentiment that something would be different tonight, though she did not know what. She had even sent Rodric away, for she felt too preoccupied to spare any time for him. His attentions were becoming bothersome, in any case.
Soon, she would have to figure out some way to be rid of him.
When Derwyn finally came to bed, they spoke for a short while about how all the preparations had progressed-or rather, Derwyn spoke, while Laera made appropriate noises feigning interest, nervously wishing he would shut up and go to sleep.
Derwyn was concerned, anxious because he kept thinking there was something he might have overlooked. He wanted everything to go perfectly, to prove to the emperor and all the other citizens of the empire that the war was in the past and Boeruine was once more first in loyalty and standing.
He might have kept on talking, for despite being tired, he was keyed up and fidgety, but the misty tendrils of Callador’s portal started to appear within the room, and Derwyn dropped into a deep trance.
Laera watched eagerly as the smoky tendrils slowly started moving in a circle, more and more of them appearing as they spun faster and faster, forming a swirling vortex that became the tunnel to the Gorgon’s Crown.
She got out of bed and walked toward the misty, swirling portal, disappearing into it as if into a whirlpool composed of fog.
She passed through the sorcerous tunnel and felt the temperature drop, as usual, and goose bumps broke out on her skin. Her hair was blown by the wind within the tunnel. It plucked at her nightdress as she walked against it. Then, at the far end, she saw a light. A moment later, she stepped out of the tunnel, and it collapsed and faded away behind her.
But instead of coming out into Callador’s sanctum, she discovered that, for the first time, she had emerged into some other place.
She glanced around, puzzled. Had something gone wrong with the spell?
The walls of Callador’s sanctum in the depths of Battlewaite were built of large, mortared blocks of stone, but the walls in this place were constructed of another substance. They were jet black and sleek, rough cut, yet with a dark gleam as if they had been polished with a jeweler’s wheel. They seemed to absorb what little light there was, which came from large black, fluted iron braziers placed at intervals along the walls, emitting flames perfumed by some sort of musky incense.
Obsidian, she realized suddenly. The walls were made from blocks of obsidian. She was inside the aboveground portion of Battlewaite, the castle fortress of the Gorgon, Prince Raesene.
She started as she heard a voice behind her. “You are late.”
“Callador!” she said, turning toward him. “What is this? Why are we not in your sanctum?”
“There is no time for questions,” the old wizard said, approaching her.
“Come. His Highness does not like to be kept waiting.”
His Highness? That could only be a reference to Prince Raesene. She realized she was about to meet her tutor’s master, none other than the Gorgon. Her stomach tensed, and her mouth suddenly went dry.
She had never actually expected to meet Prince Raesene. She only came to Battlewaite at night, for a few hours, and spent all her time in Callador I s sanctum, located in the subterranean chambers of the castle. During the time she had studied the mystic arts with the old wizard, she had stopped thinking about why he had returned to contact her in the first place. In all that time, he had never mentioned wanting anything from her, but of course, he did. His tutelage would not come without a price. Laera did not know what that price might be, but as time went on and he said nothing more, she had simply ceased to think about it. Now she was going to find out just what that price would be.
For a moment, fear seized her. What if the Gorgon wanted her? The legends did not speak of Raesene’s having a wife. It was something she had never thought to consider. But now she thought about it.
He had been here ever since he fled the battlefield of Mount Deismaar, centuries ago. The city of KalSaitharak was old, but Raesene was older still. He had come here when there was nothing and had founded a settlement with his minions, raised this castle, and then over the years, the city had grown up around it.
All that time, and he had never had a mate. What if that should be the price? What if, this time, she would not be going back? What if she would never be going back again?
As they walked down the corridor toward two mammoth, intricately carved ebony doors at the far end, Laera’s pulse quickened, and she bit her lower lip. She had been repulsed by Arwyn when betrothed to him.
Raesene would be much worse. It was said the Gorgon wasn’t even human anymore.
And if he wanted her, how could she refuse? He held the power. Laera felt a chill run through her, and it wasn’t just the dismal, unearthly cold within the castle.
The two huge doors swung open of their own accord. A perverse thrill of excitement ran through
