LIO HAD NEVER THOUGHT he would be in a position to protect his prince, but by the Goddess, if Cassia’s
warning gave him that power, he would use it for all he was worth.
Lio would put on a show for the fortress guards later. He had no time to waste right now. He
stepped directly to Basir and Kumeta’s door.
Only the door was closed. Lio sensed no veil to indicate they did not wish to be disturbed. He let
the Union communicate his presence on the threshold, and the door swung open to admit him.
Kumeta stood at a battered map of Tenebra that hung on the otherwise bare walls. She had marked
nothing, and Lio could only imagine the complex picture she saw as she studied it. She was so still,
not a rustle disturbed her plum-colored veil hours robe. But her power roved the boundaries of the
small room.
Basir sat on the bed with his travel desk open before him and his legs crossed beneath what must
be his veil hours robe. He wore bright orange silk. Lio had never even imagined him in such a color.
Basir gave him a look. “Good moon, Deukalion.”
“You have learned something?” Kumeta turned to Lio.
“As I promised, I came to you immediately.” Lio resisted the urge to fold his hands behind his
back. “A rumor reached my ears during my wanderings tonight, one that you, Master Envoys, are the
most qualified to contradict—or act upon.”
Despite his appearance of calm, Basir’s attention sharpened. He seemed almost eager. It had never
occurred to Lio that two Hesperines who were such advocates of caution would be so restless at the
pace of diplomacy. But they were the Queens’ Master Envoys. Orthros had eyes everywhere—Basir
and Kumeta’s eyes. They spent every night coordinating their intricate association of informants or
gleaning information firsthand in the field. Inaction was hardly their element.
“I have heard hesitant whispers among the humans of an epidemic of frost fever that has begun far
from Solorum.” Lio looked at each of them. “In the eastern Tenebrae.”
“Cup and thorns.” Basir threw down his quill. “What a time to have no contact with the Charge.”
Kumeta paced away from the map. “When we last left the area, there was no sign of the fever
there.”
“It could have started since we joined the embassy,” Basir said.
Kumeta caught Basir’s hand as she neared. “How could knowledge of an epidemic reach Solorum
before the prince learns of it?”
“Perhaps he battles it even now.”
“Surely he would have sent word,” Kumeta said. “Our envoys know to risk contact if the need is
so dire. Deukalion, whom did you overhear spreading these rumors?”
“There is talk amongst the gardeners. Those who have contact with the nearby Temple of Kyria
seem to think the mages there are concerned.” Lio could only pray his carefully constructed omissions
were not a very deep hole into which he was digging himself.
“The healers are on the alert already?” Basir looked at his Grace, but did not make Lio privy to
the rest of their consultation.
A moment later, Kumeta nodded. “We are of the same mind. It is possible these mortals speak in
ignorance, but we will not stake the well-being of the prince’s flock on it. Those under his care are so
fragile. One outbreak of fever might be enough to devastate all they have worked so hard to build.”
“We must tell him,” Basir said. “It might give him time to prepare before the epidemic reaches
them from whatever starving village it started in. If he knows of it already, he can be the one to advise
us.”
“The eastern Tenebrae are vast,” Lio said hopefully, “and illness does not move as quickly in
sparsely settled areas. Perhaps there is still time to warn him.”
Nothing would devastate Rudhira like seeing the people he protected suffer. He had enough grief
to bear already.
“Tell your uncle what you have learned,” Basir instructed, “and that Kumeta and I will return in
time for the Summit tomorrow with the mortals none the wiser.”
“Keep Javed informed,” said Kumeta. “He would do well to keep his medicines ready in case the
Tenebrans change their minds.”
Lio bowed. As he straightened, he cleared his throat. There was so much he had not had the
opportunity to say after his initiation, even though Rudhira had made a rare visit home to support them
all during their Trial. And it would be such a long time before Lio saw him again. “If you would,
please tell Rudhira Lio says hello.”
Oh, a spectacular and eloquent message indeed. It was probably entirely inappropriate to call the
First Prince of Orthros by an affectionate name in front of the Master Envoys.
The suggestion of a smile flickered across Kumeta’s face. “We will tell him whom he has to thank
for this warning, and with what devotion it was delivered.”
They were gone before Lio had a chance to reply. He stared at Basir’s abandoned travel desk with
a stab of unfamiliar emotion. On any given night, the Master Envoys pushed their Hesperine power to
the limit for their people’s cause. This was just one of many occasions when Basir used his
thelemancy and Kumeta her illusions to deliver life-saving information.
Lio could have chosen that life. Should he have?
He checked himself. Diplomacy was his path. The Summit was the opportunity he had always
awaited. This was his chance to serve his people and try to influence the course of their future.
At the mental image of Basir appearing before Rudhira in a bright orange veil hours robe, Lio’s
mood lightened. He struggled not to chuckle. This was not a laughing matter. He had to tell Uncle
Argyros the Master Envoys were risking a departure from the Summit—to contact the prince.
Lio sensed his mentor waiting in the common room, as Uncle Argyros did every night, whether or
not Lio took the unspoken invitation to coffee on his way in. This time, Aunt Lyta was there too, her
aura closely intertwined with her Grace’s. Lio entered the common room to find her sitting with her
chair drawn close to Uncle Argyros’s and her body tucked against his side. He held her in one arm,
and where his hand rested on her thigh, her fingers intertwined with his. He sipped his coffee in
silence while they spoke without words.
What must it be like to communicate with each other when you had been Graced that long? How
must it feel to share knowledge and ideas through an effortless connection, which only grew stronger
with each passing century? It was hard for Lio to fathom a joining of the mind more powerful than
what his magic could achieve or a bonding of the soul deeper than the Blood Union that bound all
Hesperines together. But Union with your Grace, it was said, was beyond anything you could imagine,
until you knew it for yourself.
A sense that all was well with the world came over Lio, just as it did when he came upon his
parents dancing or saw the Queens embrace. But this time it was fleeting. The burdens he had carried
into the room with him ate away at the feeling that things were as they should be. He hated to add his
cares to all those that already weighed upon his aunt and uncle.
Aunt Lyta looked up, smiling at him as if nothing were amiss. But her aura, always so vibrant, was
veiled tonight. That alone gave away how much worry she sought to hide. “Forgive us, Lio. We were
lost in thought.”
“Not at all. I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“The boy says he’s an interruption,” his uncle scoffed. “Need I remind you how much trouble your
parents went to so we could have the pleasure of your interruptions?”
Lio took his seat at the table, smiling at a memory. “And the trouble you and Aunt Lyta went to so
you could have the pleasure of seeing Mak stuff one of your formal robes and use it as a practice
dummy as soon as he started training for the Stand.”
Uncle Argyros’s chuckle grew into a heartfelt laugh.
“We would sacrifice any number of robes to witness that again.” Aunt Lyta grinned.
The affection did not fade from Uncle Argyros’s eyes. “What is on your mind, Nephew?”
Lio broke the news.
In an uncharacteristic display of strain, Uncle Argyros lifted a hand to rub his eyes. “I must trust
Basir and Kumeta’s judgment on this matter.”
Lio exchanged a worried glance with Aunt Lyta. Uncle Argyros was truly weary if he didn’t have
the energy to repeat his lecture on the problematic nature of the prince’s mission and why it should not
be allowed to interfere with the Summit.
“May the Goddess’s Eyes light their path,” Aunt Lyta murmured.
“And may her darkness keep them in Sanctuary,” Lio finished. He composed his thoughts, ensuring
all he did not wish to reveal was safely behind his veil. He must tread with the utmost care, lest his
aunt and uncle find his words suspect. “There is another matter that troubles me: Lady Cassia
Basilis.”
“Yes.” Aunt Lyta frowned. “We have yet to see her at the Summit.”
“I am concerned.” Let them feel just how much. They would easily think Lio worried only for his
people.
Uncle Argyros took another swig of coffee. “I have not given her as much consideration as I
probably ought to have.”
Lio had seldom heard his uncle make such an admission. Perhaps he could do the right thing by
both Cassia and his mentor by taking it on himself to change her role in the Summit. “Isn’t your initiate
supposed to mind such details for you so you may devote your attention to leadership?”
“The night I need another to mind my details for me is the night I shall surrender my position
before the Queens.”
Lio tried not to wince.
The encouragement in Aunt Lyta’s gaze told him she at least appreciated his effort to shoulder
some of his uncle’s cares. She tightened her hand on Uncle Argyros’s. “Nonsense, my love. We all
learned long ago none of us carry our people’s fate alone.”
“I have given a great deal of thought to this particular detail,” Lio offered.
“What is your opinion on the matter of Lady Cassia?” his aunt asked.
“I know we must pick our battles.” Lio let out a humorless laugh. “The Tenebrans pick most of our
battles for us, and we have yet to win any. But this may be an issue worth pressing. It is no small
offense on the king’s part.”
“He denies Lady Cassia a seat at the table that is rightfully hers,” Aunt Lyta agreed.
Uncle Argyros took his coffee pot in hand. “It offends our sense of justice deeply, to be sure. But if
we sought to address every abuse a Tenebran man committed against his daughter, where would we
stop?”
Where indeed? If Lio must stop at Cassia, he would still call it a great victory. But if Uncle
Argyros did not feel her plight as Lio did, he must give his uncle other reasons to champion her. “It is
an offense against us as well. The king is withholding one of only three people he is honor-bound to
bring to the table. He is violating the long-standing terms of the Summit.”
“Lio is right,” Aunt Lyta said. “We as the Queens’ representatives are here to swear the Oath with
the ruling monarch of Tenebra and his entire family.”
Uncle Argyros poured Lio a cup of coffee and slid it across the table. “Of course Lio is right. My
initiate knows we must look ahead. Lucis is a formidable king, and his reign appears to be an iron
rule, but such things can change swiftly among mortals.”
“I appreciate your confidence, Uncle.” But their discussion seemed to be veering from the reasons
and justifications Lio had intended to present in favor of Cassia’s inclusion in the Summit.
“Lio is obviously thinking of the precedent of the Summit of 973,” his uncle said. “We were
fortunate the king kept his elder son, favored but illegitimate, involved in the negotiations, along with
his younger, legitimate son. Upon the king’s death, when the two rivals vied for the throne,
Hesperines’ greatest anxiety was mitigating the suffering the civil war caused, for the Oath would be
secure regardless of the victor. Although the younger son prevailed, it could easily have gone the
other way.”
Lio did his best not to think of the precedent the king’s younger son had set when he had ordered
his own elder sibling publicly drawn and quartered.
“We do not know what may come to pass,” Uncle Argyros went on. “A feared and hated man rules
this volatile country. Those who oppose him may yet get the better of him, and what then? A free lord
puts himself on the throne with Queen Cassia for a wife to ensure some degree of continuity?”
Aunt Lyta nodded. “Then where would we be, if we had no agreement with her? Right back where
we began, forced to negotiate with a new king whose intentions are unknown. Unless Lady Cassia
puts her name to the Oath now.”
Lio could not believe that was a likely future for Cassia. She would never allow herself to become
the puppet queen of one of the suitors she despised. But Lio could not afford to contradict the
possibility, if it made Uncle Argyros more ready to help her now. “I do think it is in our best interests
to see her more involved in the negotiations. Perhaps there is a tactful way we could encourage the
king to allow her to take part.”
“We have given ground on almost every matter.” Aunt Lyta’s eyes flashed. “He ought to give
ground on at least one.”
“But is this the ground on which we wish to make our stand, my Grace?”
“What reason has the king to refuse?” Lio asked. “Although we take the long view, Lucis clearly
does not regard his concubine’s daughter as a political threat.”
No. Lio knew well that Lucis believed he had complete control of Cassia. How wrong the king
was.
“Showing such generosity to her might enhance his prestige,” Aunt Lyta pointed out.
Uncle Argyros shook his head. “Bringing a girl child to the table is more likely to draw mockery.”
Aunt Lyta’s lip curled. “Or admiration. She is evidence of his conquests, after all.”
Lio’s jaw tightened. “Although we remain unconvinced Lucis wants the Summit to succeed, we can
be certain he wishes to appear as if he supports the restoration of the Oath. On the question of Lady
Cassia, would he not consider it in his best interests to oblige us, in order to keep up appearances?”
Uncle Argyros said nothing. After a few long sips of coffee, he nodded. “I think this may be one
debate we can win. There are so few of them, I should hate to sacrifice even one.”
“Then we are agreed?” Lio tried not to sound too eager.
“Yes,” his uncle said. “Tomorrow night we shall see if we can get Lady Cassia to the table.”