Piven sighed and shook his head. "Not even I. But you must have felt something, Greven. If I've understood what my father discovered from the writings in his library, an aegis is aware of his power and is drawn to the Valisars like a moth to a flame. You knew, and still you came to me. You didn't fight it."

Greven held his head. He had guarded the knowledge for so long that the opportunity to finally admit his great secret served as a catharsis to the anger he'd harbored for all of his life. It cost him nothing to be honest with Piven for he was now bound to this young man until he died. He took a deep breath. "It takes enormous willpower to resist the pull of the Valisar magic. It's like a sickness. I yearn for it and yet I know I must fight it with every part of myself. It's instinctive-no one had to tell me, I've just always known this. I kept testing and improving my resistance. Over the years I'd trust myself to get a little closer to the palace, constantly checking and double-checking my addiction to the calling but never wandering too close or too quickly. I practiced and practiced. I even once tried to stand on the fringe of the huge crowds gathered for one of the royal walks in the midlands. That went badly; I only just managed to escape the notice of King Brennus. As you rightly say, he wasn't endowed with any useful magic of his own but even dormant Valisar sorcery reacts to the presence of its own aegis. And only its own, I might add. I remember how distracted Brennus suddenly became that day, looking around him...looking for me! I was standing on a hill and could see him clearly, but fortunately I was shielded by a crowd of other wellwishers. I was able to get away. I never got that close again." He looked up at Piven, a fresh gust of loathing washing through him. "But, it seems Brennus's cunning and ingenuity caught me in its web all the same. I'm surprised you knew that you could trammel your father's aegis."

"My Valisar magic was shielded and continued to be so while I emerged from my prison."

"True," Greven agreed. "I sensed your magic at the beginning, but told myself I was imagining it, or that it was a shadow of you being around the Valisars for so long. I was confident of my invulnerability. I could, to some degree, control the call to the magic around you because I was not born for you. My reaction to your father was immediate-I sickened instantly, lost my bearings and most of my control. But I don't feel this reaction to you, nor did I with your brother."

"I see. So the burden is on the Valisar to find his aegis?"

"Correct...or an aegis. It's actually far easier for you Valisar heirs to find your own because your magic and the magic of your aegis respond so dramatically to each other, as I've explained. Leo seemed to have no idea who I was and even if he did register something, I think he was in shock anyway; it would have easily slipped by him. I should add that I'm still very glad he spent the night in the crawlspace beneath our hut, however, and left the next day." He shook his head. "With you, it's been so different. I have been on my guard constantly this last decade. The smell of your magic-I have no other way to describe it-began to intensify as you grew and I subsequently had to intensify my control with each passing year. I wanted to convince myself you were adopted, not blood. It was too much to believe that your madness was a ruse."

"Not my madness. My birth was the only ruse," Piven corrected.

"Yes, it's all crystal clear now. Nevertheless, you were not the Valisar that I was born for, so in this respect I had the upper hand. I knew as long as I continued to guard my secret with care I was safe. And I loved you by then, child. I could not have turned you out."

"Now you despise me."

Greven nodded. "You have robbed me of the freedom I spent my life protecting."

"Is it really so vile?"

Greven didn't answer directly. "I went to the Academy at Cremond once in the hope of finding a cure for my disease. I met a very old scholar there, who had once had access to the royal library. He had helped your grandfather decipher some texts and had enjoyed the opportunity to read about-"

He was unable to finish his sentence. Vyk suddenly gave two big hops and lifted from the ground to flap into a nearby tree. Greven frowned and he and Piven were both looking around to see what had frightened Vyk when a man crested the small rise and stopped, staring at them dumbstruck.

Piven was on his feet in a blink. "You!" he yelled. "You followed me?"

The man looked nervous. "I had to. You saved my life, Petor...or should I call you Prince Piven?"

And Greven, without needing to be asked, without even realizing he was doing it, pushed and the invisible impenetrable shield instantly cloaked them...and the pain disappeared as he allowed himself to acknowledge the force of his magic. Piven turned and their gazes met. Piven's expression was grateful; Greven knew his reflected only resignation. And in their minds they heard a voice, one neither had heard before but both instinctively knew.

Aegis magic, the voice said in an awed tone. I will return. And then Vyk was gone, a dark smudge swooping through the forest, melting into its shadows.

Piven returned his attention to the man who was walking toward them. "Stay back," he said.

The man stopped. "Is it really you?"

Piven scowled. "Whoever you think I am, you are mistaken."

The man shook his head, his expression one of wonder. "It's you. But you are talking, you are healthy? If I didn't know I was seeing you standing here, I would not believe it." He regarded Greven. "We meet again," he said.

Piven looked between them, shocked, then pointed at the man. "Stop your babbling," he ordered. "Explain yourself!"

The newcomer ignored the command. "I was so close to death I was letting go. I couldn't breathe. The fire scorched my insides and flesh was hanging from me. Look at me now. I'm whole. The magic you used was so powerful I thought I was experiencing the presence of Lo himself, until you restored my sight."

"Why did you call me by that name?" Piven demanded.

The man pointed at Greven. "He tried to keep me away but I know you. I recognize you."

"From where?"

"From Brighthelm, Prince Piven."

"Stop calling me that. I am Petor Lark."

"You are Valisar. You are royalty."

Greven so far had remained silent but fearful. He intensified the shield, as Piven demanded, "Who are you?"

"Ask your companion," the man said.

Tiring of the standoff, Greven answered without further prompting. "His name is Clovis. He has been following us...he and his wife, Reuth...the whole family, in fact," he said sourly.

Clovis nodded. "I am now alone. Your highness, I was sent to find you ten anni ago after your parents died and Leonel escaped Loethar's clutch. I have never stopped looking. Never. It would have been prize enough just to find you. But to discover you unshackled from your afflictions is too much to imagine. How can this be?"

"Who sent you?" Piven demanded.

"Master Freath...you may remember him?"

Piven considered this. "The servant."

Clovis nodded. "He pretends to serve the usurper, your highness, but he is loyal to the Valisars. He saved my life, my wife's and many others through his courageous deeds. He was devastated when you were lost."

"How was I lost?" Piven asked and Greven knew this was something the boy had always niggled at.

"From what I gather, Loethar forgot to take you back into the castle. You were outside playing in the queen's herb garden. Freath told us you were with the emperor-he used to keep you on a leash-and he was called away. It is our assumption that he thought you would be brought in by his mother, who was also present, and perhaps she thought you would follow her, or perhaps she didn't care. Either way you remained outside alone."

Piven nodded. "And Greven found me."

"Ah," Clovis said. "I understand now."

Greven spoke up. "I was already in the forest, but I was drawn to its edge near the palace by the raven."

"The raven! You mean Loethar's bird?" Clovis asked, surprised.

Greven nodded. "That was him you just saw."

The newcomer's mouth fell open. "I didn't see it properly. I just saw a large bird fly away-nothing more than a shadow and movement, really. So he's now your bird?"

Greven began to shake his head but Piven answered for them. "Yes. How did you find us up here?"

"I was trying to follow you, your highness. But it was the screams that helped me find you. What happened?"

Greven held up his arm. "An accident."

"Accident?" Clovis looked shocked. "I thought someone was being murdered. How bad is it?"

"He lost his hand," Piven said.

Greven scowled. "He doesn't need to know this," he said to Piven.

"Know what?" Clovis asked, advancing.

"Nothing!" Greven replied.

"I'm not scared of him, Greven," Piven admitted. "I promise you, he can't touch us."

"No, but he can tell others about us."

Clovis frowned. "What are you talking about? I am not your enemy and anyone I tell anything will be your ally as well."

"The mere fact that you have found Piven and will want to share this knowledge with others is dangerous to us," Greven countered. "Leave now while you can," he offered.

"Are you mad? Did you not hear what I'd just told you about Freath? A decade of searching, a promise, duty...?"

"Perhaps you didn't hear the threat in his voice, Master Clovis," Piven said. "I have to admit, I thought Greven was a mild person but he seems aggressive today, potentially violent."

Clovis looked from Greven to Piven as though they were both acting simple. "I don't understand this. I've been searching for you for a decade. You're still a mere youth but you're whole. You have everything to gain by reuniting with Leo. Two heirs-that would give Loethar pause for thought."

"Firstly, Master Clovis, we are not heirs in the eyes of the people. I'm known as the adopted halfwit brother. No one is going to rally to my cause."

Clovis leaped in eagerly. "You're so wrong. The people of Penraven will rally to your name, I'm sure, when they see you are far from a halfwit."

Piven continued, ignoring Clovis's remark as though he hadn't said anything. "Secondly, Leo is not an heir."

Clovis's frown reappeared. "Not an heir?"

"No. If he lives he's king, or hasn't that occurred to anyone yet? It doesn't matter what Loethar calls himself, Leo is the 9th Valisar, the true sovereign. Go away, Master Clovis. You should never have followed me. What I did, I did for selfish reasons you could never understand, not even if I tried to explain. Forget your search, forget you've seen me, forget what I did for you. Go back to your wife and your family and forget about us. Get on with your life."

"This is wise counsel, Master Clovis, even if it is given by a youth," Greven warned.

"I don't understand," Clovis repeated, sounding helpless and suddenly lost. "And for some reason I feel frightened by you both and I don't know why. I am loyal to your family, your highness. I was there in the palace soon after all the terrible events. I worked alongside your allies, who risked their lives to preserve the Valisar name. I don't understand."

"Master Clovis, I tire of you. I think we have been fair. Leave now."

"No, highness. I will not. I ran away from my duty once before. I was too weak, too filled with fear. I have regretted it ever since and it's part of why I have never given up hope of finding you. I want to re unite you with those who would wish to know of your safety. I promise you I will expect nothing of you, force nothing upon you, but let me fulfill this one desire on behalf of those who gave their lives for the Valisars."

"It's a pity, Master Clovis, that as a Vested, you haven't put those skills to better use. If you had, you might have sensed I was beyond saving," Piven said. Do it, Greven!

Greven knew that poor Clovis hardly noticed his arrival, or the blade in Greven's good hand, or even that his throat had been slashed. Indeed, even when the blood came spurting from his neck, his face looked mystified, not angry, not scared.

"I'm sorry for your family," Greven said and meant it, hating how he had now become a helpless, witless servant.

Clovis dropped like a sack of potatoes, crumpling in on himself, first to his knees then curling inward, clawing at his neck. He bled out within moments and then all was still, the forest surrounding Greven and Piven eerily quiet.

"I hate you," Greven said, not turning, staring sadly at the corpse of a good man.

"I know. I hate myself," Piven replied, sounding equally melancholy.

"Let's go," Greven growled.

"Where to?"

"Who cares? Away from here."

There was nothing to pack. All that remained to tell anyone that they'd been there was the remains of a fire, the remains of two rabbits and the remains of a man. And, in fact, the gruesome events that had occurred might have been lost forever, had it not been for a child, who had witnessed everything, wide-eyed and terrified, hidden from sight.

Fifteen.

Faris hadn't spoken to him for hours. He didn't need to talk to the outlaw, however, to know the man was seething. Beyond seething, in fact; he was all but foaming at the mouth, his fury burning hot below the controlled expression. Everyone, bar Jewd, was traveling well ahead of him and Jewd was giving him plenty of space too. Leo kicked his horse forward to catch up with Faris.

He was used to the man giving him a wide berth. He had never understood the yawning gap between them both emotionally and physically for he loved Faris. And though there were occasions like yesterday at the inn where Kilt was in high humor and they seemed as close as friends could be, those moments were not frequent. Leo had learned to enjoy them when they presented themselves and had become used to Kilt's more usual remoteness. Lily had assured him repeatedly that Kilt didn't permit himself to get too close to anyone. And though Leo worshipped Lily he considered her naive to think that he could not work out that Kilt deliberately avoided him.

"Kilt, I know you don't want to talk to me but-"

Faris exploded. "It's not what I want, Leo. This is all about you. You're a king, you can do just what you want! You can commit murder in broad daylight against a loyal man who had likely laid down his life many times for you already; had clung to your life like a beacon for ten anni, wishing and hoping that his dream to see you again might come true. What does his life matter, when you-great and brave King Leonel-want revenge? A man's life clearly means nothing to you. Even as he died-with your back turned to him-he had only the highest regard and care for you. Talk to you? I don't even want to look at you, Leo. Get out of my sight, your majesty."

Leo was stung deeply by the emotion driving Kilt's words, but his heart refused to back down. "When you have lost as much as I have, Kilt, perhaps you'll glimpse the depth of my despair. I watched my father die horribly while people laughed at him. Loethar hacked off his head to present to my mother. And perhaps you think a boy of twelve can stomach watching his father roasted and eaten without carrying that memory forever within a dark place? And how about watching his mother flung from a high window? In the space of a few days, Kilt, I lost both my parents, my new sister, my brother, a great friend called Corbel, his father, who was second only to my own father as the man I most admired, and any number of other people I had grown up with and loved. I lost my family, I lost my crown, I lost my life as I knew it in those few blood-laden, terror-filled days. And the only constant in those dark hours, apart from my fear and Gavriel de Vis, was Freath! Freath sucking up to the invaders, helping them hunt me down, saying the most terrible things about me and my family. I killed him-yes. It's done. By all means pass judgment but don't ever forget this: I am a man of my word. If I make an oath, no matter the consequences, I'll keep it. You know that scar you've seen on my chest?"

At last he had Faris's attention. The outlaw finally turned his angry face to look at him, still filled with loathing.

Leo pressed on. "Well, I'll tell you what it is. That wound was made by my own blade when I was in hiding, witnessing all these brutalities. I made a blood promise to end Freath's life. And today I killed him because he murdered my mother and I swore an oath that he would pay for that with his life. His reasons for what he did may well have been honorable but he murdered a queen. And now he has paid the consequences in front of his king." Leo felt himself breathing hard, driven by passion and anger. "You're an island, Kilt. You've said often enough that you don't have anything to lose. But one day you will lose something precious to you and you'll know just a fraction of the despair I have felt."

Faris didn't soften his glare but Leo knew his companion had paid close attention to his impassioned speech. "War is never fair, Leo. In times of war people behave in a manner that often seems unthinkable. I could hear the admiration in Freath's voice for Loethar. Even you admire him! But that same man who is now winning so many hearts and so much respect-just ten anni ago was roasting and eating those he conquered. War brings out the very worst in people, and Freath was in an impossible situation. But he wasn't trying to save his own life through his actions; he was trying to save yours!" Faris gave a groan of despair. "Your father demanded this of him. Freath hunted us down, no doubt risking plenty, in order to try and save your life once again, and you reward him with a painful execution." Faris shook his head. "Honor be damned. You Valisars with your oaths and secrets and magics and wretched duty. What about the lives you ruin? What about the people who have given and would gladly give their lives to hold on to that precious crown for you?"

It was Leo's turn to be infuriated. "What do you want me to say?" he yelled, aware of the others stealing backward glances at them. "Do you want me to apologize for being Valisar...for being the king? I didn't choose this path. It chose me."

"Then grow up, your majesty!" Faris hurled back at him. "I liked your father and I respected his courage and commitment but I didn't and don't agree with his methods. Life cannot be seen in simplistic terms of black and white. Poor old Freath lived in shades of gray, risking his life for ten long, hard anni on your behalf, you ungrateful, petulant prat! If you think I'm going to support a revenge mission, you've got another think coming."

"Faris, I-"

"Hush while your elders speak, Leo," Jewd said quietly from behind and Leo closed his mouth, stunned by how viciously Faris was addressing him and so publicly.

"I will not let you bring death and destruction through your spontaneous and thoughtless behavior simply because you're too young and delusional to realize that owning the title of king does not guarantee you safety or immunity from my rule. While you live under my protection, you follow my rule. That wound in your leg should be a timely reminder to how tenuous your situation is. And without Freath we wouldn't know anything about this new threat. His risks, his courage have forewarned us and we can now try and take some precautions." Faris stopped his horse, forcing Leo to do the same. He noticed, uncomfortably, that everyone else had stopped as well and was watching them in awkward silence. "But all of that aside, your majesty, you have now risked my life and those of my men."

Leo frowned. "What do you mean?"

Faris regarded him as though Leo had lost his mind. The king felt the rebuke as keenly as a slap. "Did it enter your vengeful mind, filled with only what was good for you, that in killing Freath you would focus imperial attention on us? As far as Loethar is concerned, his aide had traveled north on imperial duty to inform taxpayers of new obligations. So I'm sure he's not going to ignore the fact that his counsel was not only murdered but that it occurred outside of the town where he was supposed to be. Loethar is no dullard. He will investigate Freath's death, putting my men in peril."

"I didn't think-"