“But—”

“Your majesty!” a singsong voice called out in Mandrian.

Dain whirled, his gaze searching the many faces. “Sulein?” “Your majesty, have pity!” Sulein came shoving his way through the line, breaking away from any guards who tried to stop him. Hobbled by his shackles, his long robes tattered and torn, his black hair frizzing wildly, the physician stretched out his hands to Dain.

“Do not let them make a slave of me,” he begged. “Have mercy, majesty, for I belong to your service. Keep me with you. I was not destined to be broken hauling stone.”

“Sulein,” Dain said with pity, “I cannot help you. I am a prisoner too.” “No, that cannot be so,” Sulein said, shaking his head. Guards caught up with him and grabbed his shoulders. “You are King Faldain. All in Gant know your name. Your horoscope shows you emblazoned across the heavens.” The guards pushed a struggling Sulein back toward the line of prisoners.

“Majesty! Keep me with you! You swore you would.”

Dain took a step toward him, but Quar’s arm blocked his way.

“Keep your promise!” Sulein called out.

But there was nothing Dain could do for him. When he helplessly shook his head, the physician’s face contorted with rage.

“You cannot cheat me!” he cried as he was shoved into line next to Alexeika. She stared at him in amazement, but he never noticed her. His dark eyes blazed at Dain. “If you break your royal promise to me, you’ll regret it!”