"Was that how Jorn got that big scar? From the pirates?"

Meg winced and was about to apologize on her sister's behalf, but Richton spoke first.

"I am sorry, young princess, but that's not my tale to tell," he said, not unkindly. "If you want to know about Jorn's scar, you're going to have to ask him yourself. Shall I call him over for you?" He rose partway out of his chair.

"No!" Maurel cried immediately. Her eyes had grown enormous in her small face.

Richton laughed softly and sat back down. "I'm only teasing, little one," he said, patting her hand gently. "It would take a braver man than me to interrupt Jorn during a meal."

Everyone laughed at this, and Maurel gave a tentative smile, perhaps not sure of the joke but realizing all the same that Richton was only playing. Meg smiled, too. Richton seemed a happy and good-natured man, and that seemed to indicate good things about Prince Ryant as well. Meg very much wanted to believe that the prince was as perfect as he seemed. Marrying for love was seldom an option in a ruling family, and although Meg knew and accepted this fact in theory, the idea that Maerlie might find actual love within an arranged marriage . . . well, that would be wonderful. Wonderful for Maerlie, and wonderful in that it meant maybe such a thing would be possible for Meg as well.

Meg cradled this thought in her mind as she stole another glance at Wilem, across the table. The son of a royal advisor was not the most likely match for a princess. But they couldn't all marry princes, probably, and she was going to have to marry someone eventually, once she was older and well . . . ready. And Wilem was so striking, and tall, and strong-looking, and well spoken, and polite, and he chewed with his mouth closed a" she'd been checking a" and when he smiled, one side of his mouth curved up higher than the other in a way that made her feel sort of sweetly nervous and silly. And then there were his eyes, his beautiful dark eyes, which she suddenly realized were looking right back at her across the table. . . .

Meg blinked and quickly looked away. Stupid, stupid, she thought angrily, reaching for her heavily watered wine to stall until she could think of some reasonable explanation for why she had been staring at him. Her brain refused to cooperate. She risked looking back up and found him still watching her, though not with annoyance or contempt as she had feared. Instead he gave her one of those smiles, which did nothing to help quiet the mad fluttering of her heart within her chest, and held her gaze a moment more before turning to respond to something his mother, seated to his right, had asked him.

Freed from her momentary paralysis, Meg looked away and found Maerlie smirking at her from the far end of the table. Meg shrugged helplessly, and Maerlie shook her head, laughing.

For the rest of the meal, Meg did her best to avoid looking at Wilem as much as possible. This was made easier by two things. One, that Maurel was keeping Wilem occupied with endless boring questions about what it was like living in Kragnir, which Wilem was too polite to do anything other than answer, and two, that Sen Eva, Wilem's mother, had actually managed to draw Serek into a conversation, and nearly all of Meg's attention was focused on this rare and informative event.

"It was fortunate that Trelian was able to secure your services so quickly after Mage Fredrin's pa.s.sing, Mage Serek," Sen Eva said as a serving boy replaced her plate with the next course. "Although I'm sure your previous patrons were sorry to lose you."

"The Magistratum is careful not to rea.s.sign a mage without a replacement at hand," Serek answered. "I believe Mage Arlena arrived within hours of my departure, in fact."

"Of course." Sen Eva inclined her head slightly. "I suppose after more than three hundred years, the Magistratum has things well in hand." She flashed a radiant smile at him, the kind of smile that usually made one feel compelled to smile back. Serek pursed his lips; Meg wondered if that pa.s.sed for a smile as far as he was concerned.

"I don't have a great deal of experience in these matters," Sen Eva went on. "Our mage at Kragnir has been at his post for as long as I can remember, and we have not had many dealings with the Magistratum in recent years. Is it difficult, moving around as often as you have?"

"Difficult, madam?"

"Well, adjusting to a new place, new people . . ."

"A mage's life is dedicated to his work, wherever he is posted. I am, of course, honored to have been appointed King's Mage, but I serve King Tormon and Queen Merilyn best by focusing on the work, not the environment."

Meg was impressed by Sen Eva's ability to persevere with such poise in the face of Serek's determined bluntness. Most people probably would have given up, but Sen Eva smiled warmly at him again. "I'm sure this dedication is indeed what led to your appointment, Mage Serek." She paused, then went on, "May I ask a" is an appointment such as this one, an honor like this a" is it recorded in your marks? Forgive me, but I've never understood the full scope of what a mage's marks include."

That was an interesting question. Meg had wondered about the same thing herself. Calen's face was barely marked, just a few lines and small shapes under his left eye, but Serek had delicate black lines spiraling across both sides of his face, with tiny symbols and dots of color worked into the design at various points.

Serek shook his head. "No." For the first time, Meg thought she detected the barest touch of emotion in his voice. "No, the marks are given for years of study, fields of expertise, and accomplishments of that nature, Sen Eva. A mage may serve many masters in his lifetime, but it is the work and the study of magic that defines his life and purpose. Those are the things that set him apart from others, and the reason why no mage may go unmarked a" what he is capable of, not where he performs his duties." He gestured at her with his knife. "If political appointments were important enough to be writ in flesh, madam, surely one as accomplished as you would bear some marks herself."

"I a" I see, yes. Thank you, Mage Serek. I had not fully understood. I can see why you feel so strongly about this. I hope I have not offended you with my questions."

Serek suddenly seemed to realize he was pointing his knife at her. He lowered it and offered the hint of a smile, perhaps in apology. "It is a serious matter, Advisor. And one that all mages feel pa.s.sionately about. But not one that non-mages are usually called upon to understand. I took no offense."

He near-smiled again, and Sen Eva smiled back with far more conviction. Maybe she was hoping her example would inspire Serek to do it right next time; apparently no one had ever told him that a smile was supposed to include your eyes as well. But Serek's eyes never seemed to change, no matter what the rest of his face was doing. They were blue, and bright, but there was no warmth in them that Meg could see. Sometimes you could get a good sense of people through their eyes a" Calen's eyes, for example, had been like open windows showing the slightest change in what he was thinking or feeling, constantly flashing in anger or widening in amazement a" but Serek's eyes gave nothing away. It was as if he were hidden behind a wall, able to see out but revealing nothing of his own thoughts or emotions.

Sen Eva turned away from the table to signal for more wine, and Serek suddenly and deliberately turned to stare back at Meg. She felt herself flush. Caught again, she thought ruefully, but this time she didn't look away. This was too good a chance to miss.

"How are you settling in at the castle, Mage Serek?" she asked politely. It wasn't the most dazzling of questions, to be sure, but it was the first acceptable thing that came to her mind. She could hardly ask the sorts of things she really wanted to know. "I hope it's beginning to feel like home."

"Thank you for your concern, Your Highness," he answered formally. "My quarters are quite comfortable and adequate for my needs."

Well, that was certainly revealing. Before he could turn away, she quickly spoke again. "I'm glad to hear it. Mage Fredrin seemed to like his quarters very much, and I know my parents hoped you would be as happy with them as he was." He nodded, clearly doing his best to avoid prolonging the conversation. A question, she had to ask a question. She cast around desperately for something to ask. "How, um, how do they compare to your former residence? Where was that, again?"

Clumsy, but it did the job. "My last station was in Eldwinn, Your Highness. I had the pleasure of serving the governor of that province. One of your royal cousins, I believe. My residence in Eldwinn was also quite comfortable, though certainly not so grand as this castle."

"Ah, yes. I hear Eldwinn is lovely, though I have not yet had the opportunity to visit there myself." They sat for a moment, looking at each other. He just wasn't going to give up anything willingly, was he? Finally she added, "And was Calen with you at Eldwinn as well?"

Serek raised his eyebrows at this, and she knew immediately that Calen hadn't mentioned their meeting this afternoon. Well, of course not. She was being stupid again. He'd been sneaking around just as she had. Certainly he wouldn't have told his master about it.

"I was not aware you had met my young apprentice, Your Highness." Now he seemed interested. Meg cursed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to get Calen in trouble! "I hope he hasn't been making a nuisance of himself."

"Not at all," she said, trying to think. "In fact, I met him only once, by chance, while he was on an errand." That was true, technically. "He seemed very nice. I mean, polite. Not that we spent much time talking. He was eager to continue on his errand. Not that he said that directly, of course, but I could tell. He wasn't rude or anything." This was terrible. "I mean, we just exchanged a few words. He seemed very nice."

Meg turned away and feigned a deep interest in the remains of her meal. She could feel Serek's cold eyes staring at her, but he said no more. After a minute she heard Sen Eva ask him a question about his experience with medicinal herbs and, with great relief, felt his focus leave her.

Had she managed to accomplish anything this evening other than embarra.s.sing herself? She hoped Wilem hadn't overheard any of that conversational disaster. She glanced up at him and found him looking at her again. Her face flooded with heat. Again. How red is my face by now? I wonder. But this time she didn't look away from him. If she was going to stare at people, she might as well be strong about it. With a mighty effort, she forced herself to smile. He smiled back.

G.o.ds, but he had a nice smile.

At the end of dinner, Maerlie rose and invited everyone out to the royal gardens. It was a warm night, and the gardens were wonderful for walking off the effects of a heavy meal or just enjoying the night air. A few of the young men, who perhaps had had a bit too much wine with dinner, decided to attempt the enormous hedge maze, leading many of the others to speculate that a search party would need to be organized before the night was ended. Most of the remaining guests took to the stone benches nestled among the slender, elegant trees of the main garden or walked around admiring the manicured hedges trimmed in the shapes of various animals.

Meg was looking for Maerlie, to find out what sort of interesting things had happened at her end of the table, when she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned to find Wilem at her side.

"Wh a" h.e.l.lo," she said stupidly, grateful that she was standing far enough away from the lanterns that he probably couldn't quite see her blushing this time. "I mean, good evening, Wilem. I'm surprised to see you on your own a" I thought you'd be eager to rejoin the prince."

"While I enjoy Prince Ryant's company enormously, I do get to speak with him often, and there are some here tonight whose company I have not yet been able to enjoy nearly enough." His voice was low and confident, and Meg felt her pulse racing at the sound of it. She knew she was being silly, but she just couldn't help it. She couldn't. Wilem was unbelievably charming, and handsome, and he had that smile, and here he was, talking to her, and not Morgan or Maerlie or the prince or his mother or any of the other important people he could be talking to.

He offered his arm, and she took it, feeling more than a little as though she were dreaming. They began strolling slowly along one of the tree-lined garden paths. For a while neither of them spoke, and the only sound, other than the muted conversations of other guests, was the night breeze rustling through the leaves. Meg looked down, enjoying the sight of their feet walking in step, side by side. For all her earlier staring, she suddenly wasn't sure what to do with her eyes. She fought the urge to look up at Wilem. Somehow she felt sure he'd be looking right back at her, and without the table between them, the idea of his face so close to hers made her so nervous and excited it was almost frightening.

"So," he said finally, "Princess Meglynne. What would you be doing at this moment had I not lured you away to walk with me?"

It was so hard to think; half of Meg's mind was still shouting He's talking to me! He's talking to me! in giddy delirium. Meg willed her brain to silence and tried desperately to emulate Maerlie's calm princess demeanor. "Nothing else quite so pleasant, I imagine," she said finally. "Wandering the garden, making polite conversation, watching after Maurel to keep her out of trouble . . ."

"Does she require a great deal of watching?"

"Oh yes," Meg said, laughing. "Please don't misunderstand a" she's very sweet-natured, and rarely actually intends mischief. Yet somehow even with two or three older sisters keeping an eye on her, not to mention Nan Vera ever close at hand, she almost always manages to get into trouble. Very shortly we will probably hear shouts of alarm and run back to discover that she has set the gardens ablaze or lost the prince in the hedge maze or released four hundred minks among the guest suites."

Wilem glanced sideways at her. "Are those actual examples of her past exploits?"

Meg shrugged. "Well, only the minks."

"Four hundred?"

"A visiting merchant brought them to display before my mother. When Maurel discovered they were to be killed for their coats, she stole the key to their cages and released them into the castle. It took weeks to catch the last of them. The merchant was not pleased. Nor were the guests who found angry, frightened minks roaming the halls at night. Or hiding under the bedclothes."

Wilem shook his head, chuckling.

"I'm not so sure you should be laughing," Meg said, smiling herself. "There's always a chance they missed one, you know. You are staying in the guest quarters, aren't you?"

"I see I shall have to be on my guard. I had no idea Trelian was such a dangerous place."

Meg sobered at that. "Unfortunately, that seems all too true of late. At least as far as the roads go. When the prince's party hadn't arrived by midafternoon, we all began to worry that something had happened."

"It would take more than bandits and thieves to threaten a royal escort."

"From what we've been hearing, there are more than bandits and thieves. Especially in the Hunterheart. Some of the stories have been quite frightening, and I'm sure there are worse that I've not been allowed to hear. You didn't a" you didn't encounter anything unusual during your travels? Anything a" unnatural?"

"Unnatural?" Wilem smiled gently. "I think you may have been listening to a few too many of those stories. It's true that the roads are no longer safe for the lone traveler, or even small groups, and that roaming bands of thieves and other criminals have been attacking people in the Hunterheart. But although their actions may be described as unnatural, the bandits themselves are as natural as you or me. Any stories you hear of monsters in the forest are just that a" stories."

Meg didn't say anything. Perhaps worried that he'd offended her, Wilem didn't pursue the topic further. They walked in silence for a while, but Meg's mind was anything but quiet. Was this a comfortable silence? Or an awkward silence? How did one tell these things? Should she say something? She should say something. But she couldn't think of anything to say.

"How do you get along with your sisters?" Wilem asked, saving her from her stupid floundering. "Is it difficult, to be part of such a large family?"

"Are we such a large family? I didn't think five children was so many, really. But either way, it's all I've known. I don't think it's difficult. On the contrary, when anything happens, when I need to talk, or if I'm sad, there's always someone there for me. Maerlie is the one I talk to most often, but Maurel is always good at lifting my spirits, and of course the baby is such a sweet little thing . . . I feel so lucky to have them." Am I babbling? I'm babbling. "And you," she asked, "do you have any siblings?"

"No," he said, looking away suddenly. "Not anymore." He paused. "I had a brother, Tymas, but he and my father were killed when I was very young."

Meg was shocked. "Oh, Wilem. I'm so sorry. I a" I never would have asked a""

He shook his head. "It's all right. You couldn't have known."

"I'm so sorry," she said again. She couldn't think of what else to say. She'd always thought that children without siblings must be lonely sometimes, but to have a brother, then have him taken away. . . . She couldn't imagine losing one of her sisters. It would tear her apart.

Wilem stopped walking and turned to face her, touching her hand. She looked up at him, startled.

"Please, don't be sad, Meglynne. It was a long time ago. And it's my own fault the conversation led to such a . . . difficult . . . topic." One corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "I was trying too hard to think of something to say, I suppose. You know, you got so quiet, and I feared you were becoming bored with my company."

Meg gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself. "You feared I was getting bored! Me, with my endless babbling about nothing. . . ." She trailed off, embarra.s.sed.

"You underestimate your own charms, I think," he said quietly after a moment.

Meg's heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he must hear it. She should say something, it was her turn to speak, but he was looking at her, looking down with those beautiful, sad, dark eyes, and she couldn't find any words. They stood that way for several seconds, or maybe it was hours a" Meg stopped trying to think of what to do or say and just looked at him. Could it be that under his beautiful polished exterior he was just as awkward and nervous as she was? She thought about Maerlie's "proper princess" role and the roles Meg herself sometimes played depending on where she was or who she was talking to. Was there another Wilem underneath, more real and frightened and imperfect and all the more appealing for all those things?

He smiled at her again, sending new, ridiculous shivers running through her and driving the last of her thoughts out of her head. Meg let herself get lost in that smile. It was a nice kind of lost. She didn't think about anything else for a long time.

THE SMALL GATE WAS THE FARTHEST and least ornate of the entrances to the castle's outer ward. Presumably it was called the small gate because it was intended for the "smallfolk"; it was generally used by servants and couriers, as well as apprentices on errands. The gate itself was actually fairly large, in Calen's opinion. Most of the n.o.bility ignored it, if they even knew it existed. The fact that Meg wanted to meet here made him all the more curious about what her secret could be.

As he neared the gate, Calen scanned the crowd for the princess. She didn't seem to have arrived yet, so he walked over to lean against a section of the outer wall. It gave him a good view of the main road from the castle proper, so he'd be sure to see her when she approached. In the meantime, he amused himself by watching other people. While it was true he hadn't gotten to know anyone closely, there were plenty of people he knew by sight, some well enough to pa.s.s a few words with now and then. Some folk were always happy to share news and spread gossip, and Calen liked to hear tales of the world outside his own dreary existence.

So far the only familiar face he saw was Lammy, the kitchen boy. Lammy was about seven and not the most reliable source of information, especially since he liked to make things up. He was hauling a huge sack of what appeared to be turnips, and not being all that careful with his burden, either. As Calen watched, two of the pale vegetables tumbled out onto the ground, and the sack showed definite signs of having been dragged through the dirt for at least part of its journey. Calen shook his head and jogged over to rescue the fallen turnips.

"Need some help with that, Lammy?" he asked, handing the turnips over to the boy.

"No," Lammy said testily, grabbing them and stuffing them back into the sack. "I got it. I could carry this a hundred miles if I wanted to. A thousand, probably." He paused, considering. "Unless you want to make it fly for me?" He looked up at Calen hopefully. "Not because I can't carry it, 'cause I can, but I never seen flying turnips before, and so that would be good. Also Cook would probably shout when she saw them and drop her spoon." He seemed to find this last idea especially appealing.

Calen smiled down at him. "Sorry, Lammy. Mage Serek hasn't taught me anything about levitation yet." At Lammy's blank stare he clarified: "That means making things fly. I could turn them into toads for you, though, if you wanted. Then they could hop to the kitchen on their own." He lifted a hand theatrically, pointing at the turnips and raising his eyebrows at the boy.

Lammy scowled and thrust the sack higher up against his shoulder. "That's dumb. What's Cook gonna do with toads? Can't make turnip soup from toads!" He started walking again, muttering about toads as he went.

Calen laughed and headed back toward the wall. He couldn't really have turned them into toads, of course. Serek still denied that such transformations were even possible, although Calen was pretty sure Serek just didn't want to teach him about it. He frowned. Probably didn't think he had the discipline or intelligence to handle it. Well, that didn't matter anymore. Calen had decided to take more of his education into his own hands. You could learn a great deal from a book, he'd discovered. The pages he'd read in the Erylun had been far more informative than anything Serek had deigned to tell him, although he still hadn't found any clear instructions about interpreting the spirit card reading he'd done yesterday. There were apparently hundreds of different ways to deal and read the cards, and Calen hadn't seen anything that seemed to relate to the specific pattern Serek had laid out. Also, Mage Erylun a.s.sumed a certain level of knowledge and experience in his readers, and so didn't explain a lot of things in detail that Calen guessed most full mages would already know. But that didn't matter, either. With time, and lots more reading, he'd eventually be able to understand. And he wouldn't need Serek's help to do it.

Calen looked around with growing impatience. Where was Meg? It was all very well for her to tell him not to treat her like the princess she was, but she couldn't at the same time expect him to wait around all day so she could show up at her leisure. Unless a" His heart went small and tight within his chest. Had she only been having fun with him yesterday? She was a princess, after all; she certainly didn't need to befriend some lowly apprentice in order to have someone to share secrets with. Suddenly he felt very stupid. Of course, that had to be it. She had probably laughed about it all evening with her sisters, mocking the silly, lonely boy who actually thought a princess wanted to be his friend.

He pushed away from the wall, his face hot with embarra.s.sment, but couldn't help looking around once more. As he turned back toward the castle, he noticed a scruffy-looking girl eyeing him with an amused smile. Calen glared back at her. What did she think was so funny?

Oh.

Oh!

He walked over to her, struggling not to grin like an idiot. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a short while," Meg said. "I was wondering how long it would take you to recognize me."

"I almost didn't. You look really a" different." She was wearing a tunic and faded breeches, similar to the clothing of most boys and many girls whose responsibilities had them running long errands or working outside the castle. Hers were certainly dirty enough to look authentic; perhaps she had borrowed them from a real errand girl. Her boots were splattered with dried mud, and her hair was loose over her shoulders and looked rather tangly. It was hard to believe this was the same girl he had seen yesterday.

"Well, good. It certainly wouldn't be much of a disguise if I looked the same, would it? Now, come on." She started briskly for the gate, and he hurried to catch up.

"Why do you need a disguise?"

She gave him a disgusted look. "You seemed smarter than this yesterday. For one thing, princesses do not go wandering outside the castle grounds by themselves. My parents would never permit it, and the guards know it. Maurel tries it often enough, so they're always on the lookout for her, but they believe we older girls have more sense." She flashed him a wry smile, and he had to smile back. Even after his doubts a few minutes before, her comment about his intelligence lacked the same bite as Serek's more pointed remark. And besides, he hadn't been stupid. She was here, just like she said she'd be.

They were almost at the gate. Meg shook her head, causing some of her hair to fall around her face. Her hands were thrust into her pockets, and she walked with a slumped posture that was completely unlike the normal way she carried herself. The transformation was amazing a" no one would ever imagine she was really a princess. Calen forced himself to stop staring, lest he draw unwanted attention to her, and looked up at the nearest guard instead. The guard was one he recognized a" Lared, he thought his name was a" and Calen waved as he walked past. Lared nodded back at him and then turned his eyes to the next in line. Meg walked through beside him without incident.

"For another thing," she went on once they were safely past the gate, "this is a secret, remember? Even if I were allowed outside as myself, people might wonder where I was going, and why, and arousing curiosity about something is generally not the best way to keep it secret. Mellie, the dirty errand girl, however, can go virtually anywhere without attracting anyone's interest."

"Mellie?"

She shrugged and pushed her hair back behind her ears. "I had to have a name ready, just in case anyone asks."

"Yes, but Mellie?"

"You be quiet, or I'll make up a name for you, too."

Calen held up his hands. "All right, you win. No more teasing about the name. So where are we headed, Mellie? Are you going to tell me this secret or not?"

She looked back over her shoulder toward the gate. "Once we're out of view of the guards, we're going to leave the road and head for those trees at the bottom of the hill."

"And then?"

"And then you'll find out what the secret is."

"Can't you tell me now?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Sorry. You'll just have to learn to be patient, I'm afraid."

The road from the gate took a sharp turn toward the south, heading to where it would eventually branch into two roads, one going on to meet up with the Queen's Road and one continuing toward the market grounds. Once they pa.s.sed the turn, Meg took a final glance around and then pulled Calen off onto the gra.s.sy field beside the road.

"Walk casually," she said, "as if we're just wandering over to the trees to rest in the shade."