The expression on his face startled her. He looked frightened but determined, as he often did before marching into battle. His back was stiff, his shoulders squared; he cradled the box so gingerly that she wondered if it held live coals.

"Oh, did you buy me a ring?" Bitharn asked. She meant it as a joke, hoping to lighten his tension, but Kelland started as if she'd dropped an icicle down his back.

"I can't give you a ring," he said gravely. "I want to, and I will, but a not yet. That must wait until I'm ready to step down from the order. Until then a I'd like you to wear this." He offered her the box.

Feeling oddly hesitant, she folded her hands behind her back. "What is it?"

"Open it." The trepidation was still in him, but his lips twitched too, as if he wanted to smile and didn't quite dare. "It's not a snake, I promise."

"I was thinking hot coals," she said, lifting the box's lid.

Gold twinkled on a bed of velvet inside. Two sun medallions nestled next to one another, separated by thin golden pins that affixed them to the velvet. They were similar to the one Bitharn wore, but more finely wrought, and each of them had a chip of diamond throwing fire at its heart.

She looked from the jewelry to Kelland, astonished. "What is this?"

"A gift," he said, pressing his hands over hers on the box. They trembled, although he no longer seemed afraid. "I read about it when I was researching Bysshelios a and the history of my oath. In Pelos, near the end of the Ardasi Flowering, it was the custom for newly married couples to exchange sun signs at weddings. They gave each other medallions that were made of gold, as ours are today, but were also set with a diamond to symbolize their love: a part of this mortal earth, but a beautiful onea"and a prism through which the full splendor of the light could be seen."

"It's lovely," Bitharn breathed.

Kelland exhaled, relaxing visibly at her approval. He unpinned one of the medallions and held its glimmering chain over her head. "Will you wear it?"

"Yes." She tilted her face up, mirroring his smile. Happiness swelled in her. As he settled the delicate chain carefully around her neck, Bitharn leaned forward, surprising him with a kiss. "Yes, I will."

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

This was a hard book to write. I have quite a few people to thank for the fact that it ever got done, rather than ending unceremoniously as a never-finished manuscript buried in an unmarked a um a trunk. I owe debts of gratitude to: Jennifer Heddle and Marlene Stringer, for their encouragement, clear-eyed honesty, and (especially!) willingness to crack the whip when this thing got mired too long in the bogs of despair.

Victoria Mathews, who saved me from at least seven face-plants in print.

Dan Andress, Nathan Andress, Ian Hardy, David Montgomery, and Cliff Moore: the valiant team of early readers, who generously gave of their time and brainspace to read half-finished drafts on short notice and comment thoughtfully on same.

Hugh Burns, for being extraordinarily understanding when deadlines crashed into deadlines.

Peter, for being calm, patient, and quick to distract me with zombie cowboys on flaming horses when mere rationality wasn't going to do the trick.

And my dog, Pongu.

Also by Liane Merciel from Pocket Books.

The River Kings' Road.