THE MOMENT THE MAGE noticed Lio watching him, the man startled visibly. Lio had to admit it was
satisfying to see Amachos jump at the sight of him. Cassia could have taught the king’s new glyph
scribbler a great deal about the art of not displaying reactions.
This was one encounter Lio could spare her. His veil spell kept her concealed and safe back at the
fountain, and he had succeeded in intercepting the mage some distance from her. Concealing a human
while a mage was on alert required what Lio had described to Cassia as making an effort, but it was a
manageable risk for him to cloak her in moonlight while she sat still and he distracted Amachos. Even
if the mage noticed anything, the Font of the Changing Queen had a magical aura more palpable than
Lio’s subtle weaving.
Amachos stood bedecked in the full three-robe ensemble that signified his rank as an honored
master in the Order of Anthros. Here under the Goddess’s Eyes, Lio tried to find it in himself to
regard the mage justly. He must separate Amachos as an individual from the Order whose robes he
wore and give the man a chance to show what truly lay within his heart.
But facing a mage alone for the first time, Lio discovered the limits of his fairness. He could think
only of the names his people spoke with reverence and grief, the names of Hesperines he might have
had the privilege of knowing if not for the cult of Amachos’s violent god. Among them was
Prometheus.
Lio made himself perform his most studied ambassador’s bow.
Amachos, hands in his sleeves, gave him a shallow, stiff bow in return.
Lio reminded himself the man before him was not personally responsible for the deaths of those
Orthros mourned. This Tenebran temple sweeper had nothing to do with the Cordian war mages who
had cut short so many Hesperine lives. In fact, Amachos’s home temple at Namenti played a vital role
in keeping Cordium out of Tenebra, and Amachos himself had been outspoken in favor of restoring the
truce between his people and Lio’s.
Lio resolved to address the mage with courtesy in Divine, the language they both held sacred,
which Hesperines spoke as their mother tongue and human mages still used in all their rites. Lio had
learned it on his father’s knee, while Amachos would have had to study it for years. Lio told himself
it was a peace offering. Or perhaps he couldn’t resist testing Amachos’s education.
Lio opened with a neutral greeting. “Good evening, Honored Master Amachos.”
“Anthros shine upon you, Deukalion.” Amachos’s accent was different, but his words were
perfectly understandable.
The mage’s inflammatory statement dried up what little compassion Lio had managed to muster. He
did not reply. He need not defend his presence here, where the king had authorized him to be. It was
Amachos who was out of place at the moment, and they both knew why.
Apparently the mage had judged his apprentice capable enough to spy on the elder Hesperines
while they were in plain sight, surrounded by liegehounds and warriors. But Lio was in the wind, and
Amachos had come to keep an eye on him. The silence stretched between them as Lio waited to see
what excuse the mage would give for harassing him.
Amachos’s smile appeared forced. “The king saw that one of his guests had excused himself
before the festival was at an end, and he grew concerned his hospitality might have been found
lacking. I have come to inquire after your satisfaction.”
“My satisfaction?” What a disingenuous way of saying he had come to breathe down Lio’s neck.
But Lio was not afraid of this undereducated superstition-monger. No...it was not Amachos Lio was
worried about.
The most dangerous person here was Lio himself. It was Amachos who would have cause for
concern, if Lio could not master the strange and powerful feelings now threatening to overcome his
conciliatory nature.
Lio never had this much difficulty formulating a tactful response. He was still considering his
words when he sensed a disturbance in the veil he had left over the fountain.
He felt Cassia exit his concealment, as if a rose and her thorns had fluttered from his grasp. She
had not taken him at his word that he would keep her safe.
Lio had no time to indulge his disappointment. This was not the bright, crowded great hall, where
he had fiddled with the candlelight and nudged minds eager for diversion. He must wrap a moving,
mortal target in a veil so complete that a mage on the hunt would not notice a Hesperine had cast a
spell under his very nose.
Lio lifted his veil from the fountain and tossed it around Cassia an instant before she passed
beyond the furthest edge of the Font’s aura.
He allowed all his knowledge of flowery discussion free rein and spoke in the way Xandra
always referred to as his “infuriating pretensions.” His perseverance in reading all those verbose
discourses hadn’t been a waste after all. “How infinitely kind of His Majesty to trouble his thoughts
over each and every one of his grateful foreign guests, and how beneficent of you, Honored Master, to
cleave yourself from the festivities and sacrifice the exalted company of Tenebra’s magnanimous
prince, tonight’s celebrant, in order to convey His Majesty’s thoughtful concern for the lowest
member of our embassy from distant Orthros.”
While he chattered, he made sure his veil kept pace with Cassia. Each band of moonlight through
which she passed strengthened his spell. As she trod through shadows, his magic made a safe path
beneath her feet.
Meanwhile, Amachos glazed over in the eyes without Lio having to employ any mind magic
directly. Ah, the power of words, especially in overwhelming quantity. The mage’s smile thinned, and
his eyes narrowed. It was plain the man could not make up his mind whether or not Lio was mocking
him. Perfect. Amachos sucked in a breath through his nose, as if to speak.
Lio preempted him. “Upon your return to His Majesty the King, please express my thankfulness
and say to His Majesty that Deukalion found the generosity of the royal table to be without compare
and treasured the opportunity to observe such a truly grand display of human culture.”
“Yet,” the mage cut in, “we missed you at the dance.”
Lio spread his hands in a classic gesture of admission. “As the evening progressed, I became
overwhelmed with concern on behalf of the many Tenebrans who would be returning to home and
hearth long after nightfall, and I thought to hasten and conclude my own evening meal here amid the
bounty of the royal grounds, while my merry hosts still celebrated, so that I might be gone by the time
the king’s well-satisfied subjects embarked on their path homeward. I would not wish to remain at
large once they depart the palace, lest my presence cause them undue alarm.”
A branch snapped in the distance. Lio dared not turn his head, but Amachos did. The mage paused
to listen. Lio kept his physical gaze on his adversary and cast his senses far into the trees.
Knight moved with the certainty of a hound on a trail, giving Amachos a wide berth, but an animal
of that stature was not built to move quietly. Thorns. Lio couldn’t do anything about Cassia’s
liegehound. Except keep talking.
“Ah, the aforementioned bounty of the royal grounds,” he declared. “I must compliment His
Majesty on the number and diversity of creatures thriving under his care.”
There came a pulse of Amachos’s power. Lio recognized the Anthrian seeking spell from
descriptions in scrolls and the uncomfortable warmth on his senses. He held his veil over Cassia
steady and let his power wax, as diffuse as the moons’ glow, as pervasive as the darkness, that his
spell might be one more natural shade of the night.
The mage’s probe sputtered out. He turned his attention back to Lio. “Yes...just an animal of some
sort.”
Lio had seldom been so grateful for his superior education.
“May I ask if you have concluded your evening meal?” the mage inquired.
Lio showed Amachos a close-lipped smile, filling one more moment’s pause with the gesture,
stalling for that much more time. “I thank you. Indeed, I too have enjoyed the plentiful gifts His
Majesty has so liberally bestowed tonight. As you see, I was just returning to the comfort and
welcome of my guest quarters within Solorum Fortress. I thought to go directly to bed, rather than
return to the festival, for I suspect I am too late and have already missed the best of the dancing.”
“Yes, I fear the prince’s temple day is concluding somewhat earlier than in past years. I can’t
imagine why.”
“Even so, such a celebration could not have been a disappointment to him. He is a truly fortunate
young man.”
“Indeed he is.” Amachos eyed Lio. “Well, I am relieved to hear all is well. When the royal
groundskeepers found no evidence you had taken advantage of the king’s provisions, Basileus was
troubled that what he set aside for you might be...insufficient.”
“Evidence, Honored Master Amachos?”
The mage put on a supercilious smile. “The remains of the deer, naturally.”
“Only dead deer leave remains, Honored Master.” Lio made an effort to conceal his disgust.
The mage subjected him to a piercing gaze. “I trust it is only venison for which you have a taste,
honored guest?”
Lio abandoned empty words. Such an insinuation called for a real response. How dare Amachos
demand such gruesome proof of Lio’s honor? How dare the mage imply that the lack of a trail of deer
carcasses behind Lio meant he was drinking from humans instead?
Lio sensed Cassia’s presence disappear into the palace’s magical aura. She was safely away. He
let his veil spell unravel into the night.
He looked Amachos in the eye. “No Hesperine has a taste for flesh, much less death. Unlike my
mortal hosts, I do not slaughter my dinner. I assure you, all those I have ‘taken advantage of’ on the
king’s grounds walked away from the encounter.”
“How...forbearing. The king will marvel to learn of how you contain yourself on his behalf. I
shall return and reassure him.” The look in Amachos’s eyes said he would be watching Lio long after
they parted company.
Lio put a hand over his heart. “May the Goddess’s Eyes watch your path.”
The mage’s smile twisted. Oh, so close to a sneer. A sudden flare of light broke the darkness, and
when it cleared, Amachos was gone.
Lio cringed at the intangible sparks that spat at him in the aftermath of the mage’s expense of
power. He couldn’t believe Amachos had just performed a traversal. A working of that magnitude
could leave a man bedridden, if he wasn’t careful. Moving from one place to another with magic
might come naturally to Hesperines, but not to mortal mages. Apparently Amachos would not be
outdone by an initiate heretic.
When Lio reentered the barracks, he bowed to the guards at every turn to leave an impression on
them, securing still more witnesses to his good behavior. At last he made it to the embassy’s guest
quarters, where moonlight and darkness had taken over, and no guards dared tread to replenish the
torches even when Aunt Lyta and Kadi’s ward did not bar them from entry. Lio was relieved to sense
none of his elders in their rooms. It seemed he still had a little time before they returned from the
palace. He retreated to his own chamber and sank down on the edge of the bunk.
He looked down at his hands. Yes, they were shaking, and light pulsed around them.
He could not remember ever feeling so angry in his life.
Lio curled his hands into fists and shut his eyes. Behind his eyelids, the current of his own power
shone bright white and blood red in his mind’s eye. He drew upon it, urging it into himself. Tonight it
was like trying to herd the moons. The calm and joy he always felt in this moment, when he withdrew
into himself to that place where only he and the Goddess dwelt, would not come to him.
The Gift, his own Hesperine nature, had never felt this way to him before. As if he did not have the
Gift. As if his Gift, cold and clear, heated and wild, had him.
He had thought himself more reasonable than this. More altruistic. He was not prone to anger,
never had been. But tonight his temper had arrived unannounced and determined to outstay its
welcome.
Lio must regain control of his emotions. It would be wrong to let the sun rise on his anger, and if
only the Dawn Slumber proved enough to calm his ire, that would feel like defeat.