38

They halted soon after, pulling into a broad wayside market sheltered by massive interlocking boughs. The day was growing hot, and the animals drank thirstily from spring-fed troughs. They bought food and took tables somewhat removed from the boisterous throngs.

Connell seated himself next to Dally and said, “Time for your next dose.”

“No. Please. Later.”

Edlyn added her voice to Connell’s. The Mistress spoke gently, but it was an order just the same. “Drink.”

Once Dally had gagged down another horrid spoonful of the glutinous mess, she did feel significantly improved. She was content to listen in silence as they ran through both strategy and timing. These were no longer her plans. The idea might have come from her, but as she listened to the others she felt as though she had merely planted a seed.

As Dally watched the road, she cast the occasional glance at Connell. His closeness filled her senses. Dally had known several infatuations with local village lads. A dance or two at season fetes. A stolen kiss. A few whispered words. But all that seemed so distant now. This was her first contact with, well, a man. She had no idea what to do or say.

She wondered if Connell was this nice to all the ladies. The prospect stabbed at her. She wanted him to treat her differently than the others. And there had to be others, with a man this handsome and from a fine family and gifted in magic. No doubt his young female students had been madly in love with their strikingly grand instructor. Dally found herself jealous of them all. Logic had nothing to do with how she felt. More than anything else, right then she wanted him to see her as . . .

Special.

He turned and smiled at her then. Connell’s eyebrows were golden in the sunlight, his smile both gentle and beckoning. Dally wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, and blushed furiously at the direction of her thoughts.

Connell said, “Perhaps we should be going.”

They exited the forest soon after. A broad vale expanded out to where hills rose to the left and right of the highway. Four other roads joined together here, forming a river of traffic and people streaming to and from the capital. The broad thoroughfare dropped gently down an emerald slope. Beyond stone barriers stretched a latticework of farms and crops and herds. All this was overlooked by grand manors that dotted the hilltops. And directly ahead of them rose Port Royal.

Far to their right, a grand lake nestled up against the city’s ramparts, and from this flowed a moat that stretched out in both directions. The capital formed a gilded necklace strung around the realm’s finest harbor. The city’s walls gleamed a timeless yellow in the afternoon light.

A smallish island with sheer stone sides rose in the middle of the harbor, effectively splitting the port in two. An ancient fortress covered every inch of the island’s flattened top like an ancient stone hat. There were numerous other palaces and grand estates inside the city walls, each nestled within a small island of green. The remainder of the city showed roofs and chimneys and towers, all of the same reddish-gold stone. The effect was as striking as it was uniform. Long streamers of smoke rose from countless kitchen fires, drifting cheerfully in the still air.

Alembord had once served a count who owned a Port Royal manor, and he described some of what they saw. “The fishing vessels are that motley lot clustered to the left of the customs fortress. The broad, flat expanse you see fronting the sea wall holds the daily fish market. To the right are the merchant vessels and warships.”

“There are so many,” Dally said.

“Hundreds,” Alembord agreed. “Since the Oberons were deposed, the king has anchored his seagoing force here under his thumb.”

The ships rocked gently with the incoming tide. The sea glistened beneath the cloudless sky. Now and then a larger wave buffeted the ancient sea wall extending from the two natural arms. The sound boomed like a distant cannon, echoing off the hills and frothing the old stone before falling away.

Dally asked, “Where is the king’s residence?”

“Look there to the right. See the squared-off walls? That’s the inner keep. The palace is below those six towers with the banners—that’s the royal seal on the white backing. The king’s emblem.”

Dally asked because she had to. “And the treasury?”

Alembord cast her a worried look but merely said, “The large square windowless structure, just to the left of the inner keep’s tallest tower. The only door is solid bronze and well guarded. It leads to a series of vast storerooms.”

Connell said softly, “And where, pray tell, is the enemy?”

No one responded to that. But the answer hung heavy in the summer heat.

Everywhere.