“But, sire—”

“Let her up. She intends us no harm, no matter what she wears.” Sir Terent looked as though he wanted to argue, but he obeyed the command. As soon as his sword tip swung away from her throat, Alexeika scrambled up and tackled him by his ankles, knocking him to the ground. He fell with a howling curse of fury, but she was already swarming him and had drawn one of her daggers. She pricked his throat, and had the satisfaction of seeing his green eyes flare wide with alarm, before she sprang off him and whirled to face the others, crouching low, her dagger ready in her hand.  “Get away from me, you Mandrian devils!” she snarled. “I curse this fire I’ve shared with you! I—” “Alexeika! Be at peace,” the lord said to her, holding up his hand placatingly.  The firelight gleamed in the ruby on his finger. “It was a mistake, nothing more.”

Sir Terent rose to his feet, dabbing at the trickle of blood on his neck, and scowling. “Damne, I’ll show her what a mistake is.”

“You’ll stand!” the lord commanded in a voice like thunder. “You’ve caused enough trouble, sir.”

Sir Terent turned bright red. “Sire, we’ve seen the womenfolk of Nether. Ain’t none of them like this. She’s a shapeshifter or Believer or both. What’s more, she’s likely to cast a—” “Enough!” the lord snapped, and Sir Terent fell reluctantly silent. “I have already said she’s not Nonkind. Even the mail she wears carries no taint.” “I cleaned it well after I killed the Believer it belonged to,” Alexeika said fiercely, glaring at Sir Terent.

He glared back. “Ain’t likely,” he growled. “Horse thief, liar, and idle boaster.”

His master gestured in visible annoyance, and Sir Terent uttered no more taunts.  Furious with herself for having brought these men here, Alexeika glared at them all. They had no right to judge her or insult her by calling her a liar. They were foreign dogs, louts of no breeding and less worth. And if Sir Terent insulted her once more, she’d hurl this dagger at his throat and silence him forever.

“Enough of this,” the lord said, cutting across the hostile quiet. “Let us all return to the fire and sup together. We’ve no right to judge Alexeika, no right to force explanations. She—” “You owe me two silver dreits,” Alexeika broke in, interrupting his attempt to restore peace. “I’ll have my payment now. Then I’m going. Keep the camp. I care not, but I’ll share no fire with you again. Nay, and I want no more of your putrid food, either!”

As she spoke, she vowed to spend the rest of the night walking to Costma’s camp.  She’d tell him where these rich strangers were and see him pluck them the way they deserved. That ruby ring alone would fetch a good price.  “Very well, Alexeika,” the lord said mildly. He ignored his men’s protests and turned toward the fire to pick out the coins from his purse.  As he did so, Alexeika caught a clear view of his face for the first time that night. To her total astonishment, she recognized his lean chiseled face, slanted cheekbones, keen pale gray eyes, and mouth both sensitive and determined. Now she knew why his voice had sounded familiar. She had seen this man, seen him in a vision on the fjord long months ago, when she’d tried to conjure forth her dead father’s spirit and had brought forth King Faldain’s image instead.  Disbelief flooded her, yet she was certain he was one and the same. Dropping her dagger unheeded on the ground, she retreated from him and nearly lost her balance on the sloping bank.

The men stared at her as though she’d lost her wits.

“Alexeika?” The lord’s voice was both gentle and commanding.  She felt faint at the sound of it, faint and on fire all at the same time. This was the man she’d cursed; this was the man she’d considered betraying to Costma’s bandits. Thod above, but she was unworthy to have found him, unworthy of his kindness and his valor in saving her tonight from the usurper’s soldiers.  “What’s amiss with you now?” Faldain asked.

“She’s lost her wits,” Sir Terent said gruffly. “That is, if she ever had any.” Ignoring his insult, Alexeika went on staring at Faldain. Her heart was thudding so hard it hurt. He was no apparition this time, but actual flesh and bone.  “She’s staring hard at his grace,” Sir Alard said in alarm. “If she means to cast a spell—” “She doesn’t,” Faldain said quickly. “Put aside your superstitions, men. She cannot harm you that way.”

Thum stepped forward. “Be at ease, Alexeika. This is our lord and master, the

Chevard of Thirst—”

“Nay, he is not!” she broke in, refusing the lie.

“He is!” Thum said hotly.

“Liar! I know different.”

Faldain gripped Thum’s arm to hold him still and walked toward her with a frown.

“Sire, don’t go near her!” Sir Terent pleaded, but Faldain ignored him.  As he approached, it was all Alexeika could do to hold her ground. Her knees were shaking so she feared they might buckle.

“Alexeika,” Faldain said gently. “What ails you?”

Her ears were roaring. She kept staring at him, telling herself that he was real. She had ridden at his back. She had gripped his hand in hers.  “Alexeika?”

“You,” she said, forcing herself to speak at last. In some dim corner of her brain, she realized she was acting like a fool, like the basest, most unlettered peasant, but all her training seemed to have deserted her. In truth, she could scarcely command her wits. “You are King Faldain.”

He halted in his tracks.

Alexeika’s gaze never left his face. She had dreamed of him often, trying to imagine where he was, what he might be like. In her mind she had made a valiant hero of him, hoping that one day he would return to his kingdom and free his people. But in all her dreams and imaginings, she had not quite conjured him into this tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man. She had not prepared herself for the keen force of his penetrating gaze, for his intelligence and perception. She stared at him now, and wondered if he would admit his true identity to her.  “You are,” she insisted, although he’d neither confirmed nor denied what she’d said. “You’re King Faldain. You have returned.”

Still he did not speak.

His squire frowned at her. “Why do you say this? How do you know?”

“I have seen him before.”

“And I say her wits are clean addled,” Sir Terent said loudly. “She’s no—” Faldain, however, held up his hand. Recognition suddenly flashed in his eyes.  “The lake,” he said. “You were the one who brought me there!” Her knees failed her then. She sank to the ground and bowed low, overwhelmed by the desire to weep and laugh at the same time. “Your majesty,” she said through her tears. “Oh, that my father could have lived to see your return.” Faldain bent over her and pulled her upright. “You parted the veils of seeing to find me many months ago,” he said to her in wonder. “Who are you?” And now at last she remembered her training and her lineage. Lifting her head proudly to belie her ragged clothing and dirt-smeared face, she said, “I am the Princess Alexeika Volvn, daughter of Prince Ilymir Volvn, former general of King Tobeszijian’s forces. My mother was lady in waiting to Queen Nereisse and later served Queen Neaglis under duress until Neaglis had her executed as a spy.” Faldain said nothing, and Alexeika swiftly dashed her tears away. She drew Severgard, ignoring Sir Terent’s swift reach for his own weapon, and held its hilt up before Faldain.

“My father’s sword. He has no sons to carry it, and so I bear it in the cause of restoration of your majesty’s throne, and the defeat of the usurper.” Faldain reached out and gently touched the hilt for a brief moment. “Your service honors me,” he said quietly. “As does the noble blade Severgard.” Awestruck, Alexeika realized she had not said the sword’s name aloud. “How did you—you—” Faldain smiled. “It told me.”

She knew that swords made of magicked metal were supposed to speak to their masters, but although Severgard obeyed her hand and had glowed with power when she’d wielded it against the creatures of darkness, never had she actually heard its song. That he could astonished her. In truth he was the king.  Faldain gestured. “Come, my lady,” he said with courtesy, as though her hair was combed and braided with jewels and she wore a fine gown of silk velvet. “Come and retake your place at the fire. We’ve much to discuss.” Feeling numb, she obeyed, and hardly noticed when he bent to pick up her dropped dagger and hand it back to her. Absently she sheathed the weapon and sat down across the fire from him.

The ruddy light cast shadows and angles over his face, as sparks and flame danced between them.

When the others crowded around, Alexeika leaned forward. “Your army,” she said eagerly. “How far behind you does it come? How many troops have you? Infantry or calvary? Or both?”

Embarrassment colored his face. He shook his head. “Nay, good lady. I come not leading an army. I am here with these men only, traveling in secret to find the eld-folk.”

His answer was so unexpected she could but stare at him at first. “I must have misheard your majesty,” she said slowly. “You come not with an army?” He shrugged. “Do you see one encamped here? Nay. As I said, I travel with these men only.”

“But what mean you by this?” she cried, forgetting she spoke to a king. “Have you not come to Nether to claim your throne, as is your right?”

“In time, yes, but first—”

“First? What could be more important?”

His gray eyes flashed angrily. “That, good lady, is not your concern. ” “Isn’t it? Why come here at all, if you mean to ignore the plight of your people?” she cried, ignoring the anger in his face. Disappointment and outrage choked her. She could not help thinking of her father’s slain body lying on that battlefield, a brave and noble man who had fought for this—this craven’s cause.  Tears burned her eyes. “Do you care nothing for the sacrifices that have been made on your behalf? Do you have no heart, that you can ignore the misery and wretchedness that you’ve seen?”

Rigid with anger, he jumped to his feet.

She also stood up, glaring at him with a spirit fed by years of hope now crushed past bearing. “Sneaking into Nether like a thief, hiding yourself as though you are ashamed of who you are—” “That’s enough!” he snapped. “I do not answer to you. I need not explain my actions.”

“Why?” she taunted him. “Because you are king?”

Nostrils flaring, he said nothing.

“If you will not declare yourself, and act like a king, then you cannot expect me to treat you as one,” she told him. “I have seen five hundred valiant knights, brave warriors all, slain to the last man by trickery and evil. They died in your cause, and my father died with them. He believed in you and your father to the last.” Her voice nearly broke, but she managed to control it. “I am glad now that he did not live to see this day, did not live to see you as you really are, unworthy of his sacrifice and devotion.”

Faldain had turned white. His lips were clamped in a thin line, and his pale eyes blazed at her. “You are quick to judge, my lady,” he said at last, his voice hoarse with the effort of controlling it. “You are quick to condemn matters you understand not.”

She despised him for keeping his temper, for refusing to defend himself against her accusations. Worse, she despised him because she’d been infatuated with him all this time, and now that she’d seen him she was forced to realize that she’d been thoroughly deluded. He looked strong and handsome, yes. He had civil manners, and intelligent, well-governed men around him, but he was all show and good clothing. She’d seen nothing of worth in him except his innate kindness.  But kindness did not make a king. Kindness did not win a stolen throne from the hands of one so evil and unscrupulous she could barely say his name aloud.  “By what right do you judge me?” he asked coldly. “If your father died, I am sorry for it—” “You are not sorry,” she broke in with scorn. “You did not know him. You did not watch him cut down, as I did. Why should you care?” His pale gray eyes raked her. “I, too, have seen loved ones die. Do you think you are the only one in this world who has suffered loss or deprivation, princess?”

“You have grown up in Mandrian ease,” she said scornfully, glancing at the other men, who were looking on in complete silence. “A prince of royal blood, pampered and given every—” Faldain laughed, the sound cutting across her words and driving her to furious silence. Even worse, some of his men began to smile. They exchanged glances as though they shared some private joke. She despised them for laughing at her.  “Well?” she demanded, refusing to back down. “What does your majesty know of want? When have you ever gone hungry or slept in the wilderness like an animal with only a pile of leaves to serve as a bed?”

A muscle leaped in his jaw, but he answered not.

Instead, his squire spoke up: “Truly, my lady, you do discuss matters of which you are woefully ignorant. It has only been this autumn that his majesty learned his true identity and royal lineage. He grew up in Nold, apprenticed to a sword-maker, and would remain there still had his family not been slaughtered in a dwarf war.”

“That’s enough, Thum,” Faldain said.

But Thum squared his shoulders and continued. “He has known both whippings and near-starvation. People of eld blood fare poorly in Mandria, and had he not come to the favor of King Verence he might be beggared still.” Alexeika’s eyes widened. She felt a roaring in her ears, and her face was on fire.

“You call yourself highborn,” Thum continued scathingly, “but you have the appearance of a harridan. You are wild, tattered, and dirty, with sticks and leaves in your hair. You are garbed immodestly in men’s clothing. When we saw you this evening, you were stealing horses, yet you think you have the right to scream at our master and accuse him of cowardice and worse. You are not fit to speak his name, much less judge his actions.”

“Enough, Thum,” Faldain said sharply, and this time his squire colored and obeyed.

Alexeika stood there as though frozen while they all stared at her in disapproval. Inside, she raged at what Thum had said, yet his words carried the ring of truth. And she was mortified by how much she deserved his reprimand. Her father would have been ashamed of her for the way she’d acted tonight, and she wished the ground would open now and swallow her.  Living alone these past few weeks had been hard indeed. Since her escape from the Grethori, she had been all internal fire and steely determination. It had driven her and given her purpose so that she could survive on her own. But perhaps she’d become too hard, too fierce. If what Thum said was true, she’d made a dreadful error.

Somehow, although she wanted to die, she managed to bring up her gaze to meet Faldain’s. What must he think of her? What had she done?  “Your majesty,” she said so softly her words were barely above a whisper. “My behavior has been inexcusable. I forgot my place. I—” “Let us say no more about it,” he interrupted coldly, and turned away. “We’d better get some rest if we’re to make an early start come morning.” “Aye,” Sir Terent said. “I’m to take first watch. You use my blanket as well as your own, sire.”

Then they went on about their business of shaking out bedrolls and banking the fire, all of them ignoring Alexeika as though she’d ceased to exist.  She stood there, appalled and horrified by how quickly their acceptance of her had turned into contempt.

Then Faldain glanced at her and held out the spare blanket. “Come to the fire, Alexeika,” he said. “Use this blanket, if you have none of your own.” His kindness was even worse. She turned away and stumbled out into the darkness to the edge of the trees. Her throat ached, and tears spilled down her cheeks, freezing there in the frosty air. She felt as though she’d failed her father and all his expectations of her. And yet, what was she to think of a king who would not seize his throne, would not take the risk of standing forth and making his claim openly?

After a few minutes, she heard footsteps behind her and whirled around, her hand on her dagger.

“Alexeika,” Faldain said quietly, “fear not. I mean you no harm.”

Her hand dropped from the weapon, and she drew a long, shuddering sigh.  “Please,” she whispered, wiping furtively at her eyes in the dark, “leave me alone.”

“If that’s your wish. I came to pay you the coinage I owe you.” Pride surged hot in her throat. She wanted to throw the money in his face, but her common sense and desperation made her stretch out her hand to take the coins. She gripped them hard, and fresh shame branded her all over again.  “You are no common lass. Forgive me, but I meant ‘no common lady,’ ” he said, breaking the silence. “Your way of life has taken you cross-country many times?” “Yes.”

“Good. I could hunt the eld-folk on my own, but winter is coming soon, and I must find what I seek without delay. Will you guide me to my mother’s people, Alexeika? I will pay you well for your trouble.”

She sniffed, and wiped her eyes again. “I don’t understand. The eldin will not fight. They will give you no army.”

He snorted impatiently. “Do not worry about my army. I have one already in place.”

She stared at him in astonishment, wishing she could see his face through the darkness. “But—but your majesty said you had none.” “I said I have come to Nether with only the men who are with me tonight. That does not mean I have no warriors to fight in my name.” Her sense of astonishment grew, and rapidly she reviewed in her mind the remaining bands of rebels that she knew about. So many had given up and dispersed.

“Will you guide me to the eld-folk?” he asked again. She frowned. “They cannot be found, not now. Perhaps in the spring, when thaw begins, but—” “But do you know where they are? Where to look for them?” She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, majesty.” Without warning, he pounced on her, pushing her back against a tree and pinning her there. She tried to fight him off, but he gripped her wrist with crushing strength. “Never lie to me again,” he said harshly. Her mouth went dry. She could feel her heart thudding against her ribs, even after he released her and turned away. He was incredibly quick. She realized she had underestimated him, misjudged him, perhaps completely.  Confused and embarrassed, she swallowed with difficulty and tried to amend her mistake. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

“You have judged me, insulted me, and now lied to me,” he said, his voice like iron. “Why should I forgive you anything? I will find another guide.” He started to walk away, but she ran after him. “Your majesty, wait! I didn’t mean to lie. It’s just that searching for the eldin is a waste of time. They—” “It is my time to waste,” he said harshly. “Mine, and that of the one I love.  How dare you decide such things for me?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling as though she’d been struck. “I—I have been used to giving orders. I don’t take them very well.”

“It would seem you do not take them at all. If your father was a general, my lady, I wonder you are not better trained.”

He could not have said anything that hurt her more. She shut her eyes a moment, and forced her pride to bend.

“Please,” she said, letting herself plead. “I would be honored to guide your majesty anywhere. I just thought I—” “You must give me your word never to lie to me again, Alexeika. I will not tolerate it, not in anyone who serves me.”

He spoke to her the way he might have spoken to a servant. Irritation flared inside her, but she stamped it out. If he was really the king, he could speak to her any way he chose, and she would have to accept it.  She bowed her head. “I swear my honesty, your majesty.”

“Then on the morrow you will guide me to the eld-folk?” She hesitated. “I will take you where I think they might be found. I cannot promise success. They no longer trust men.”

“Then I shall find much in common with them,” he said dryly.  She frowned. “If your majesty would but strike first at Grov, and proclaim yourself there, the people would rally to you. And the eldin would come forth from hiding. It would not be necessary to seek them.” “I have asked you to be my guide, not my adviser,” he said firmly. “If I want your counsel I will ask you for it; otherwise, my actions and decisions are not yours to question.”

She could not rein in her pride. “You misjudge me if you think I am some meek maiden fit only for pointing you down a road,” she told him plainly. “I know this land, yes, especially the mountain and fjord country. But I know much more that could be of use to your majesty, if you would but allow it.”

“You—”

“I have been trained in battle strategy.”

He laughed. “Am I to be taught by a girl? Nay, my lady, you won’t—” “Hear me!” she said furiously. “Of course I do not intend to teach your majesty simple battle skills, but do you know the Netheran style of fighting? Do you know how to face Nonkind and sorcerels? Do you even know what they are?” “Aye,” he said brusquely. “I do.”

She realized she was offending him again, but she had to prove her point. “I am not helpless. See these?” She drew her daggers and held them out for him to see.  “I have slain the men who carried them. One was a Grethori chieftain; the other was a Believer. I have used my father’s sword in battle. I have fought in your majesty’s name, struggled to keep your cause alive. There is a price on my head, as there was on my father’s. I tell you all this not to boast, but to show you the value of my advice. Heed me, majesty, and let me guide you in more than following a trail.”

“You have been accustomed perhaps to giving orders in your father’s camp,” he replied, “but you will not give them here. There can be but one leader among us.  If you are a true supporter in my cause, you will accept this. Well?” Alexeika felt as though she’d been flattened again, and a mixture of resentment and exasperation stirred her. After all, her father had trained her to use her intelligence and abilities. She wasn’t trying to compete with Faldain; she only wanted to help him. But it seemed that wasn’t what he wanted.  She had often imagined what it would be like if she were to ever meet him. She believed he would instantly acknowledge her to be no ordinary woman, and he would be grateful for her help. Instead, she had found herself reprimanded harshly and put firmly in her place. It seemed her expectations had been far too idealistic. He had a mule’s stubbornness, and a poor grasp of his kingdom’s political situation. Such a combination could be deadly. She should perhaps abandon him now, she reflected, before she was forced to witness disaster.  And yet, she could not go. She had spent her life wondering what he would be like. After she’d seen the vision of him on the fjord, she had been infatuated with him. Now that she’d met him in person and felt the force of his charm and magnetism, she could not imagine herself anywhere except at his side. Yet that confused her too.

“Well?” he asked again, impatiently this time. “We must get this settled, for I do not want to repeat this argument with you.”

She bowed in the darkness. “I accept your majesty’s terms.” “Good.” He did not seem to notice how hard it had been for her to say that. “I am in great haste to find the eld-folk. I seek a cure, one that they alone can give—” “Are you ill, majesty?” she asked in alarm.

“Nay, it is for someone . . . very dear to me,” he said.

She tried to draw breath, but her lungs did not seem to be working very well.  Her dreams were bursting in rapid succession tonight. How could she have ever hoped he would see her and instantly lose his heart? She was rough and unfeminine, her maidenly wiles forgotten. Naturally he would have a lady he loved. He might even be married, although he wore no marriage ring. Feeling foolish, Alexeika told herself her dream of winning him was girlish nonsense that must come to an end. But it hurt just the same.

As Faldain walked back toward the fire, with Alexeika following, he said, “When we have found the eld-folk, then I hope you will guide me to General Matkevskiet.”

Surprised yet again, she stopped in her tracks to stare at him.  He did not pause, but continued walking so that she was forced to hurry to catch up.

“If you are indeed the daughter of a rebel leader, then you must know this man.” “Of course.” She frowned. “I mean, I know who he is. I saw him once when I was a child. He—he refused to join the Agya forces with my father’s men. If he had, they could have crippled Muncel’s army before he gained troops from Gant. It might have made all the difference, or so my father used to say. There was no communication between them after that.”

“And Count Romsalkin?”

Again he surprised her. “These men support you?”

“Aye.”

“And you tell me this?” she said, marveling. “You do not suspect that I might betray you at the first village we come to? The usurper’s spies and paid informants are everywhere. I could betray you, and Matkevskiet and Romsalkin as well, for a few pieces of—” “But you won’t,” Faldain broke in calmly. Their gazes locked for a long time.  “No,” she said, lifting her head proudly. “I won’t. But I do not think you should trust me—or anyone—as quickly as this.”

He grinned, and in that moment she lost her heart to him forever. There was such charm in his face, such a winning look, that she could not resist him. “You need not worry,” he told her. “You seem to think me something of a fool, Alexeika, but fear not. I was raised by dwarves, and I know more than you suppose.” Her face flamed anew. It seemed she had made every mistake possible tonight.