same piece of obsidian, chiseled from the same huge piece of stone as the floor itself. They were attached to each other and to the floor. And when Xeries and his queen sat in their thrones, they could feel the vibrations of the entire citadel, amplified above all other places.
'I know you haven't,' he said to his wife, his voice echoing as it always did. 'I wasn't speaking to you.'
'Oh,' she said. She wore a long, black veil that covered her face and shoulders. When seated, its hem collected in her lap.
'This was my home, long ago,' he said, looking down on the image at his feet. 'Well, a piece of it anyway. As a young man.'
'Is that why we are here?' she asked. She wheezed a little as she spoke these words.
'In part,' he said. 'I need something they have. Something to help me.'
His wife's voice grew cold. 'Something to maintain your immortality, you mean.'
Xeries 'stood, his knees popping and creaking as he did. He shuffled down from the dais. His body was bent from age, and he sported the wicked marks and deformations of a man who had dabbled with powers well beyond his control.
'Have you not lived a good life?' he asked. 'Have you not been given everything your heart desires?'
'You have shown me places and given me baubles,' she replied. 'But you have taken more than your fair share in return.'
'I have loved you more than I have loved any of my other wives. Does that not please you?'
'That is not true.' She spoke these words so forcefully that it caused her to cough. She struggled for air with long, gasping breaths. When her lungs were clear, she continued. 'What you call love is merely a memory. The memory of your first wife. I have been little more than a replacement. And not even that. I have been a means to an end for you.'
Xeries picked up a glass bottle and filled his goblet fuller. He had servants who would do this for him, but there was something enjoyable about pouring his own wine-something left over from the days when his first wife was alive.
'Then why did you marry me?' he asked, not looking at her.
'You seduced me with your promises of riches and power.'
'Did I not deliver?' 'Does it matter?'
Xeries thought for a moment. 'No. I suppose it doesn't.'
He gazed at the highly polished obsidian floor. He did not think of himself as the bent-over wizard who looked back at him from the reflection. His thin, pale skin, wrinkled and baggy, hung from his narrow frame. His cheeks stuck out at odd angles, and disfigured lumps protruded from his chin, forehead and ears-the leftover remnants of the day things all went wrong.
There were bits and pieces of Xeries in this man. But it was not really him.
The man looking back from the floor was something Xeries had become. Something he had transformed into, not entirely on accident. His mind wandered back to that day, so many hundreds of years ago…
Xeries could see her face as clear as if she had been with him yesterday. She was so beautiful. Golden brown hair, almost blond but more like the color of spun honey. Intelligent and kind, wise and patient, she was everything he had ever hoped for.
They married young. He, the fourth son in line for the throne of Tethyr. She, the eldest daughter of a rich and powerful baron. They made magic together, both literally and figuratively.
It was here, the kingdom now known as Erlkazar, where they had first concocted their plans. Back then, it was called Elestam, and it was little more than annexed wilderness on the outskirts of Tethyr. Xeries's father, King Strohm II, had only just made this overgrown patch of land an official part of the kingdom within the last year.
Xeries and his wife had been married since before the annexation. They had ventured out for a long ride, exploring the newest piece of what could one day be part of their lands.
'Do you wish you were in line to become king?' his wife had asked him.
'I am in line to be king,' he had replied.
They rode side by side, their horses picking their way through the pass at the top of the Cloven Mountains. An entire unit of King Strohm's army accompanied them.
'Yes,' she said, 'but you're the fourth son. Your oldest brother will become king, and his son will inherit the throne.'
Xeries nodded. 'That is how it usually works, yes. But that doesn't mean I'm not in line for the throne. If for some reason my three4rothers and father are no longer fit to rule, then I shall become king.'
'And I would be your queen,' said his wife, a wide smile on her face.
He smiled back. 'Yes, Shylby, you would be my queen.'
Shylby cocked her head. They had only been married a few years, not a long time by most people's standards, but he knew well what that look meant. 'You have an idea,' he said.
She nodded, her smile turning a little more devious. 'If we were to live longer than anyone else in the family, we would be the rightful heirs to the throne.'
Xeries spun around, looking to see if any of the soldiers could hear them talking.
'Shh!' he said. 'Someone may hear you. These soldiers all work for my father.'
Shylby laughed. 'You don't think I'm plotting to kill your family, do you?'
That was exactly what he had been thinking.
She shook her head. 'No. I said we had to outlive them, not kill them.'
'How are we going to do that?'
'I have heard of a spell that can be cast upon two lovers,' she said, leaning over in her saddle to place her head upon his shoulder. 'If their love is pure, they live on forever, together in each other's embrace. Then we could be together forever and always.'
'And we would live long enough to inherit the throne,' said Xeries, finally understanding. 'No matter how long it took.'
'Precisely,' said Shylby. 'And then all of this'-she waved her arm out, taking in the entire valley below the Cloven Mountains all the way to the Deepwash-'shall be ours to rule. Together.'
++++
It was nearly two years later before they had everything they needed to begin their spell. Their lives had been consumed by research and the procuring of rare magical components. But they had spent that time together, and they had only grown closer.
'The very last part of the ritual requires absolute concentration,' Shylby said. 'The words have to be spoken in unison.'
Xeries nodded. 'I know.'
'If either of us misses a beat, the spell will backfire.'
Xeries took a breath. 'Are you sure you're ready to do this?' he asked as the two of them laid out all the things they were going to need for their daylong ritual.
'Of course I am.'
Shylby smiled. To Xeries, Shylby's smile was the most intoxicating thing in the world. It calmed him. It warmed him. And it wiped away any doubt he had. 'Are you?' she asked.
'Yes,' he said, feeling tremendously lucky to have met and married such a wonderful woman. 'I'm ready.'
Taking their candles, they lit the censers and began the ritual. Since they needed an entire uninterrupted day to cast their spell, they had chosen a remore barn on the outskirts of Shylby's father's land. No one would find or bother them there, almost a full day's ride from the baron's keep. It was the perfect place.
Ground herbs and botanical oils were poured into the flame, one at a time, each in its proper order and accompanied by the correct words. They had rehearsed, over and over, the many different verses of the spell. Oftentimes reciting them like poetry to each other, as if the archaic sounds from this long unspoken magical language were sweet nothings.
The day passed, and finally they were ready to speak the last few words of the spell that would bind their souls, their spirits, and their life-forces together-bringing them immortality. Xeries and Shylby stood over a large stone altar in the middle of the room. It was filled with water, and they looked down at the reflections of
