Verence winced. “Hardly that quickly. It will take time to—”

“Father, every minute shortens her life. Let the dispatch riders go ahead. We can meet our army at Tuisons, where we’ll leave the boats. Church soldiers are my recommendation. You don’t want to weaken the holds by drawing on their forces for this purpose.”

“It seems you have everything planned,” the king said helplessly. “What if Nether refuses my request for your passage?”

“Then let them turn us back at their border, at their peril,” Gavril said darkly.

Verence turned to Dain, who was frowning. “And you, Faldain? You have grown silent. What have you to say about these arrangements?” Dain cared little how Gavril organized their party. He knew all too well that the prince would seize the first opportunity he could to betray Dain to the Netherans. All Gavril wanted was the Chalice. Even Pheresa’s recovery meant little to him next to the chance to get his hands on the sacred vessel. But Dain had been warned by Tobeszijian, and he would remain on his guard. There was only one last detail to mention.

Meeting the king’s gaze, Dain said quietly, “Several days ago, I made you a promise that I would take no Thirst knights across the border.” Behind him, both Sir Terent and Sir Polquin stirred. The king noticed, although he did not shift his gaze from Dain.

“Yes?”

“These men,” Dain continued, “wish to accompany me. I will not take them without your leave.”

The king was silent a long while, but the light of respect filled his eyes. “Do you mean to return to Mandria?”

“My path lies elsewhere,” Dain replied. “I thought I could change that, but I must follow my destiny.”

Verence nodded. “My leave is given. These men may serve you as they wish, wherever you go.”

As Sir Terent and Sir Polquin bowed, the king extended his hand to Dain. “Thod speed you on this journey. It is not what I wanted for any of you, but fate has decreed otherwise. That you would think of this maiden’s life first, before your own throne, speaks highly of your character. I wish you well in all that you do.  Furthermore, I do herewith release you from all the promises and oaths I have asked of you in the past. Go with Thod, Faldain. Seize your throne with both hands, if you can.”

Choking, Dain bowed low. “My father told me you would be ever a friend,” he said, his eyes brimming with gratitude. “I thank your majesty for all you have done and taught me.”

The king’s eyes grew moist. Compressing his mouth, he nodded curtly.  Gavril stepped forward. “Now then, Dain. Whatever preparations you need to make, see that you get them done quickly and in secret. We’ll leave at dawn.” He still spoke to Dain as a master would to his servant. And although others frowned at his tone, Dain made no objection.

Instead, he walked over to where Pheresa lay sleeping in her spell, neither of this world now, nor of the next. Her lashes lay in a dark ring upon her cheeks.  Her rosy lips were parted slightly, and her breath misted on the glass.  He pressed his hand against the cold surface of the encasement and closed his eyes a moment. Whatever lay ahead, he would do all he could to save her. That, he vowed from the depths of his heart.

After a moment he straightened, blinking against a little wave of dizziness, and strode out of the chapel. Dusk had fallen outside in the courtyard, and the wind blew sharp and cold. His nostrils drew in the scents, and already he seemed to find the north calling to him. Calling him homeward.