Colors

White as snow, as Nerian's skin and pure heart.

Black as ebony, as the Sorcerer King's clothes and soul.

Red as blood, the blood of confrontations meant to happen.

Yellow as honey, as Riander's eyes, as the golden crown restored to the rightful heir.

Blue as the sky, the freedom, the bright future.

A fairy tale revisited, a sweet m/m romance, a Silvery Earth novella.

***

1. White as Snow

Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the breeze made it clear summer was over.

Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of swallows glided onto the stone of the windowsill. He'd seen the parents arrive with the spring and now they left with three little swallows in their wake. Their nest was right under the roof of the tower where Nerian lived and he'd often watched the adult birds feeding the little ones from his window.

"You're leaving already?" he asked, knowing it was time for the swallows to go back south. He could feel the fall coming in the air as much as them.

The couple chirped a good-bye. Nerian was always amazed that he understood the birds' languages. Swallows and sparrows were his best friends. The night owl that lived in the next tower sometimes kept him awake at night with spooky stories.

"I'll miss you guys," he said with a sigh. In winter only ravens kept him company, and their voices weren't as gentle as swallows'.

He watched the birds fly away and put his chin on his crossed hands, staring at the landscape outside. The mountains looming behind the walls and towers of the castle – snow had already fallen on the highest peaks. The forest spreading at its feet. And further away the hills and plains he'd never visit, since he was locked in that room.

He sat straight and gasped in awe as a winged being glided towards the mountain slopes. He knew they had a nest there and wondered if he'd ever be able to talk to any of them. They had human bodies like him, but also big feathered wings that carried them where they wanted. Males and females wore tight-fitting clothes and mostly short hair.

They never came close enough to enter the arrows' shooting range, but Nerian's keen eyes caught all the details of the feathers and the clothes and the androgynous faces of the winged beings. He had eyes as keen as the falcons that sometimes swept by.

The winged one vanished and Nerian sighed again. Hopefully his breakfast would arrive soon. The breeze pushed his long black hair onto his face and he tucked it behind his ears. He turned back to the room that was his world except for glimpses of whatever he could see happening outside of the castle windows.

The square tower was divided into two rooms by a staircase. A little door allowed him to move from one room to the other – he was currently in the bedroom, but kept his few books and some writing implements in the ante-room. The bedroom had no door to the stairs, only the passage that led to the ante-room.

The canopied bed was unmade, so he pulled up the blankets and sheets, and fluffed the pillow filled with feathers. He closed the curtains and went to the basin and jug to wash his face. Still no trace of facial hair, but he could feel his cheekbones now. He didn't have a mirror, but his face must have lost the roundness of childhood.

Tying his hair in a ponytail with a leather thong, he headed for the chest that held his clothes. Another summer gone. He searched for the woolen tunic and hoped he hadn't grown too much, or he'd have to ask for a new one that fit him. He wasn't getting any taller anymore, but even though he wasn't allowed outside of his rooms, he did exercise every day, and had put on muscle that strained to be contained by the older tunics.

He caressed the one he was wearing when he'd been locked up some ten years earlier, wondering what had happened to that child, that prince that had good cotton tunics in the summer and warm velvet clothes in winter. The cotton he now wore was rough and more for a peasant than a noble young man.

I'm nineteen, he thought. I wonder what Kariel will do with me. Why didn't he kill me when he killed my father and stole his castle and his lands?

His late mother had wished for a child with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood – and her wish had been granted. Unfortunately she didn't live to meet Kariel but passed away along with Nerian's sister.

Nerian had strong memories of the Sorcerer King coming to power and throwing him in that tower, but hadn't seen him very often since. Kariel never visited, therefore he couldn't ask the Sorcerer King what his fate would be. He could see the usurper when he walked by or exercised in the courtyard, but hadn't talked to him since he'd been locked up.

He took off the nightgown and pulled on a tunic and breeches, struggling to adjust the tunic to his shoulders. He'd have to ask for a new one.

He headed for his desk in the next room, stopping in the closet with its wooden seat to relieve himself. The other room was similar to the bedroom, except it had a desk, a couple of stools and some shelves where he kept his treasured books – all from childhood, since afterward he hadn't been deemed worthy to continue his princely education.

The usual servant brought him breakfast, barely bowing and not daring to look him in the eyes.

"Can you please inform the Sorcerer King that I'll need a new winter tunic? Or at least a cloak?"

The servant nodded and rushed out, leaving the tray of food on his desk. At least they weren't starving him. Nerian still had his appetite, and wolfed down the pastries and tea before pulling out his journal.

The swallows are gone. Soon it will be winter. They will light the fire in the hearth and bring me warm water for the bath-tub. I wish I could be part of the castle life. This tower is boring. I wish the winged beings would see me and take me away.

The quill broke before he added how lonely he felt. He decided not to write it down. What if Kariel came one day and read everything he'd written? Well, just thoughts of a lone boy who had grown up alone, but who knew what the cruel sorcerer could do with it...

He put away the journal and took one of the illustrated manuscripts. The morning went by, the midday meal came and went, sparrows visited and interrupted his reading. And then the door opened at an unusual time.

Startled, the young man looked up, and met the dark eyes of the Sorcerer King. Kariel was tall and handsome, with black hair and an oval, clean-shaven face. His lips thinned at the sight of Nerian and he frowned as Nerian asked, "How come you're here?"

"Just checking," Kariel snapped, retreating towards the door.

"You haven't changed at all, unlike your old counselor," Nerian said. Sir Streilan's hair was gray when he had reached the castle and it had become white since. Sparrows said the two men were the same age, but it wasn't possible since Kariel looked so much younger than his faithful companion.

"Streilan came to see you?" Kariel narrowed his eyes.

"The other day." The young man shrugged and looked away. "He was also checking." He smiled ruefully and looked at Kariel again. "Was his report unsatisfactory?"

"He didn't tell me he saw you."

"Oh." Nerian paused. "Can I have more books?" He looked at Kariel, hopeful. "I know these by heart..." He patted the pile that had come from his room. "And I requested a new tunic." He showed how the one he was wearing was too tight on his shoulders.

"I'll think about it." Kariel turned on his heels and quickly left the room in the tower, leaving Nerian puzzled and wondering what that was all about.

***

Riander pulled the reins of his horse, stopping the pursuit of the stag he was hunting to look at the sky, puzzled. Over the branches of the oaks and maple trees, he could see two winged beings gliding towards the nearby mountain. Oblivious of his prey, he spurred the horse in another direction at a light trot. He'd seen many winged beings from the towers of Ker Garenn, but hadn't yet been out when one of them passed by.

"Your Majesty!" Danhin called, alarmed, following him. "Where are you going?"

"I want to find out where those beings live!" Riander answered, pointing at the sky and feeling exhilarated.

He wasn't sure why he was trying to follow creatures who could fly on the ground, but he was really curious to know more about them. They obviously lived high up on the peaks where men didn't go, but maybe he could reach a spot where he could observe them from a distance.

"But your majesty!" Danhin protested. "We'll lose the hunting party!"

"Who cares? The hunters can take down the prey for the banquet..."

Riander put his bow on his shoulder and the arrow back in the quiver, shrugging his personal servant's protests off. Danhin was a couple of years older than him and his most faithful servant, the only one Riander really trusted at his father's castle, but sometimes he was a little over-dramatic with security issues.

Riander loved hunting alone in the forest, even though that drove his council crazy. He was king, he wasn't supposed to wander around on his own! What if someone attacked and killed him? What would happen to his castle and his lands? Danhin of course supported these theories, but stuck to him even when he wandered off like he was doing now.

Not that Riander cared. Not too much. He was an introvert and would rather lock himself in his apartments than deal with the council and the subjects and the administration and the kingly duties... Lately the demands were to find a wife and produce an heir, for the gods' sake. He was his father's only son, and he was already thirty, what was he waiting for?

Riander wished he could be free like those winged beings he was following. As the mulberry trees opened into a clearing, he tried to orient himself. He seemed to be on the way to Ker Daragon, where he could probably ask for shelter if he didn't go back right now. The day was almost gone, and he might have to sleep in the forest anyway.

"Your majesty, we should go back," Danhin said, panting as if he'd been doing the running instead of his horse.

"Why, you don't like sleeping under the stars like when we were younger?" Riander grinned and winked. "Come on, Danhin, we're fine. Imagine if we catch one of those winged beings."

"I wouldn't try that, your majesty," Danhin chided. "I heard that a hunter who shot one down couldn't even find the corpse."

"Really?" Riander wondered about that. He didn't want to kill the beings, he only wanted to capture one and see it from up close. "Let's go a little farther," he decided, spurring his horse again. "We can always ask for shelter at Ker Daragon."

"I wouldn't want to meet the Sorcerer King!" Danhin protested, still following him.

Riander shrugged. He wasn't afraid of the usurper that sat in Ker Daragon. He'd heard King Kariel was a handsome man, and Riander was curious. Maybe King Kariel had a sister and he could combine a marriage with his neighbor.

Or maybe he could ask King Kariel how he managed the pressure of not getting married. Riander knew the king of Ker Daragon didn't have a wife. They also said he didn't age, so he probably didn't need to breed to produce an heir. Riander wondered if some spell could help him do the same. He didn't mind being king as long as family matters were not put on the table.

He felt he never had a family and didn't want one. His mother had died in childbirth and his father had never remarried. He'd been a lonely prince who preferred reading to playing with other children. He'd dutifully learned everything he was supposed to know, but hadn't embraced the throne with great enthusiasm.

Unfortunately his father had passed away in a hunting accident and he'd been crowned in his place at twenty-two, narrowly escaping a marriage arranged by his father. For the past eight years he'd reigned as best as he could without taking a wife and resisting all offers. And when he had enough of the court and his counselors, he just took off with only the company of faithful Danhin, like he was doing now.

The forest was quiet. The forest was his friend. He wasn't afraid of bears or boars – humans scared him much more. He wasn't afraid of magical creatures either, and felt actually drawn to them, probably because he had a faery godmother. Well, he wasn't sure she was a fairy, although she had pointed ears and long golden blond hair, but she could do magic.

She said she was a healer and seemed to always feel when he hurt physically. Which didn't make him feel invulnerable, but he wasn't afraid of wounds and broken bones either. He knew she'd come if he called her with his mind. He had no idea of what kind of bond it was – magic, probably – but he took it at face value.

And she heard him better when he was outside the castle walls. She'd been almost a mother for him through the years. She said she'd been a friend of his mother, and he believed her. Maybe he should ask her about those winged beings.

But for now he was having too much fun trying to keep up with them through the forest.

***

Nerian took off the leather thong and let his hair fall freely on his shoulders. He slipped under the covers with a shiver. The floor was cold and he was glad to go to bed. As he snuggled up, hugging the pillow, he thought about Kariel's visit.

What puzzled him the most was that the man hadn't changed at all in ten years. He was exactly as Nerian remembered him. Tall and handsome and stern and strong, dressed mostly in black and sharp as a blade... Nerian couldn't decipher him, though. And the little boy inside him could still see the powerful newcomer tear his father to pieces without touching him.

Nerian sighed. Oh, well, if he decides to kill me, there's nothing I can do anyway... If only he would set me free...

Wishful thinking. Kariel couldn't afford to let him go. Nerian was the legitimate prince of Ker Daragon after all.

He's a handsome man. The thought startled him. What was he thinking? Kariel was his enemy! He'd killed his father and locked him in a tower!

Maybe I've been alone for too long... His loneliness was killing him. Bird chatter wasn't enough anymore. More had come, since cats had started vanishing when the Sorcerer King had set foot in Ker Daragon, but they were still birds and he was human.

He missed human relationships. He missed a human touch. Maybe he should have asked for a woman while he was at it. His body was definitely awake and he craved more than just his hand.

Heck, he'd almost jumped to his feet and rushed into Kariel's arms to beg him! Only the Sorcerer King's icy stance had blocked him on his stool. But he felt he was losing control of himself. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time.

Hopefully Kariel's visit meant his life would change soon.

***

Riander had dozed off against a tree long after sunset and woke up a few hours after dawn. Danhin was still asleep and obviously uncomfortable. Of course the winged beings had vanished and by now Ker Daragon was closer than Ker Garenn. He might as well reach his neighbor's castle, have some food and get back to Ker Garenn by the unpaved road, which would be much faster than traversing the forest.

Riander sighed and shook his servant awake. Danhin opened his eyes with a start and groaned as he stretched his limbs.

"You know, your majesty, it was much easier when we were younger," he complained. "We're not getting any younger and you still don't have an heir..."

"Hush," Riander said softly, raising a hand. "You don't have a family either."

"Because I promised I'd get married after you." Danhin rolled his eyes. "Although I'm losing hope by now."

"I free you of your promise, Danhin." Riander smiled. "When we go back, I'll make sure to prepare a wedding banquet for you and Inetina."

Danhin blushed, which made Riander chuckle. Seeing a grown man with chestnut brown hair and a shade of beard blush was quite a sight. He knew his servant had a girlfriend and they were in love. He'd tried to convince Danhin to get married without waiting for him before – without mentioning the lady's name.

"Don't worry, Danhin, I'll be fine. I haven't fallen in love yet, and I don't see any interesting alliance, unless the king of Ker Daragon has a sister."

"I don't think he does," Danhin grumbled, looking away.

"We'll soon know." Riander shrugged. "Get on that horse and let's reach Ker Daragon."

Riander patted his horse's neck and climbed onto the saddle. He should stop following magical creatures. Everybody knew what happened in Ker Eziel when the prince heir summoned a demon. Not that Riander wished to see a creature of darkness, but still...

Riander spurred his horse towards Ker Daragon, yawning in the pearly green light of the woods. He should also stop sleeping under the stars. Danhin was right, it wasn't as much fun now as it had been years earlier. He sorely missed his bed as he tried to ignore the soreness in his body. He wasn't going to show his weakness to his personal servant, though.

I'll recover tonight, in my bed...

***

Nerian was bluntly dragged out of bed and thrown to the cold floor by strong hands. Still dazed and half asleep, he didn't struggle much as someone tied his wrists together with a rope. He saw a tall man in hunting clothes who avoided his stare while he pulled him to his feet.

"Who are you, what's going on?" Nerian panicked as the man grabbed the rope and his wrists to carry him out of the tower room. "Wait, can I wear shoes? Clothes? Is it because I asked for a new tunic and books?"

The man stopped in the short passage and glared at him.

"I don't know what you did, but you won't need shoes or clothes," he said. "I'm supposed to take you to the forest and kill you."

"Will you kill me in my nightgown?" Nerian protested. "Please, allow me at least to wear boots!"

"What do you care if your feet bleed? What part of I'm supposed to kill you didn't you get?" the man snapped.

Nerian gaped and stopped resisting. The huntsman dragged him downstairs and outside the castle. He helped him to climb onto a saddle and mounted behind him before spurring the horse to a trot and leaving the courtyard and the castle walls.

Nerian sat quietly, his wrists now tied to the pommel as well as together. The sun was barely up and the forest welcomed them with its enticing smells and mysterious sounds. Nerian realized how much he'd missed the trees – birches, maples, mulberry trees – and the wildlife.

The morning air made him shiver since he was wearing almost nothing and the huntsman's arm wrapped around him wasn't enough to keep him warm.

"What's your name?" he dared to ask.

"Roddyn."

"Will you let me live, Roddyn? I promise I'll never come back to the castle to threaten the Sorcerer King!"

"I can't. I have family," the huntsman answered gloomily. "The king wants proof of your death."

"What proof?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

"Your heart and your liver."

"Oh." Nerian wondered what he'd done to deserve to die. First Kariel ignored him for ten years, then he stormed into his room – no, his prison – and decided to kill him. "I'm the most unfortunate prince that ever lived," he muttered, frowning. "Not even twenty summers on my shoulders and I'm already dead."

"You should be thankful," Roddyn said. "You could have ended up in his bed."

"What?" Nerian turned his head, trying to see the huntsman's face, stunned.

"He likes young men," Roddyn said mournfully. "He abused my teen son until he preferred death."

"Why do you still serve him, then?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

"Do we have a choice?" Roddyn answered. "Like I told you, I have a family. And none of us has magic powers. Resisting only makes things worse. Now that his best friend is dead, he can only become more cruel. Streilan was the only one who could keep him from hurting more people."

"Streilan is dead?" That was probably why Kariel had visited him, then.

Roddyn nodded, serious.

Nerian sighed. "So you're saying that my death is timely and would spare me much grief?"

"Exactly. You can't beat him and recover your father's throne, so I'll kill you swiftly to spare you what my son had to go through."

They were deep enough into the woods now. Roddyn stopped the horse and dismounted. He helped Nerian down and made him kneel on the leaf-covered ground.

"You won't suffer," he promised gravely, unsheathing his dagger.

Nerian looked at him with pleading eyes. He raised hands with entwined fingers as in prayer. "Spare me," he whispered. "And you won't hear from me ever again!"

Roddyn hesitated. When his dagger went down, it cut Nerian's bonds, freeing him.

"Don't ever come back to the castle," he grumbled averting his eyes.

"Thank you!" Nerian jumped to his feet. "Will you be all right?"

"I'll find an alternative. My brother-in-law is supposed to kill a pig today. I'll stop by his farm before going back to the castle." Roddyn gruffly pushed Nerian back. "Good luck, Prince Nerian."

Nerian watched him mount and spur the horse again. He waited until the huntsman had vanished in the undergrowth, then remembered to move. The cold was biting at his bare feet and his body covered only by the cotton nightgown. He'd better find a shelter if he didn't want to freeze to death.

***

Riander saw the towers of Ker Daragon long before he emerged from the forest and reached the castle walls. Five narrow, round towers were set firm and strong for a great defensive line and were connected by tall, vast walls made of gray stone. Wide windows were scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern, along with symmetric holes for archers. A moderate gate with massive wooden doors, a drawbridge and hot oil pots offered a safe home to all those in need on that side of the mountains that loomed over the castle.

"They probably have an even better view of the winged beings from their windows than I have in Ker Garenn," Riander said, impressed.

"They probably are as doomed as Ker Eziel," Danhin muttered gloomily.

Riander rolled his eyes. His servant's fears were probably justified, but Danhin hadn't been trained to fight. I've been taught that a sword can kill a sorcerer if used correctly. I can defend myself. I'm not afraid of the Sorcerer King.

The guards at the drawbridge asked him his business and he told them who he was, showing his medallion and signet ring. He left his horse at the castle stables and met the chamberlain at the main door of the castle, where he asked for food before heading back for his own castle.

"I believe his majesty would love to meet you," the plump man answered pompously. "He's just about to start his meal, please come and join him in the great hall." And with a stiff bow he turned on his heels to guide Riander and Danhin through the castle's ground floor.

Ker Daragon's great hall was very similar to Ker Garenn, except for the stained glass on the windows. The neighboring kingdom must have a master glass-worker to be able to have such works on all the window panes.

The Sorcerer King sat alone at the table on the dais. There was another plate to his right, but nobody sat there.

"Sir Streilan died yesterday," the chamberlain whispered before pointing Riander to the stairs that led to the dais. That explained the somber expression on King Kariel's face, although he brightened at the sight of the guest, loudly announced by the chamberlain who stayed where he was, blocking Danhin from following.

"King Riander?" The Sorcerer King rose and smiled to welcome his peer. "I'm honored by your visit."

"I got carried away in hunting a stag and found myself too far from home," Riander said with a nod as the chamberlain led Danhin to a table of lower dignitaries on the left side of the dais. "I haven't eaten and I slept under the stars. I'd be grateful for some food before I head back to Ker Garenn with my faithful Danhin."

"Please, sit with me," King Kariel said, pointing at the empty seat next to him. "We should have met a long time ago."

Riander wasn't sure he liked the king's smiles. The brown eyes seemed filled with lust at the sight of him. So that was the secret of not getting married and eternal youth – loving other men? There must be more, Riander thought.

As he tasted stuffed pheasant and boiled cabbage coming from the kitchens, he observed his neighbor who couldn't be much older than him. He remembered vaguely that King Kariel had come into power ten years earlier, but rumors said that he hadn't changed since.

Riander had heard of his magic and his powers, but wasn't shown any of it during the meal. Just pleasant conversation about both kingdoms, the hunts in the forest that touched both castles, some expeditions up in the mountains that King Kariel had made – to which Riander asked if he'd encountered the nests of the winged beings, receiving a sharp "No" – and other idle talk with no mention of getting married or needing to produce an heir to the kingdom.

King Kariel obviously felt immortal, or at least very long-lived, since he didn't care about succession. Or maybe it was because he wasn't really of royal blood. He even mentioned that eventually he would move away from Ker Daragon, getting lost in thoughts for a moment, probably thinking about the real heir that he kept imprisoned in a tower.

"Will you stay the night?" he offered as they rose from the table. "I'd love to show you the castle and talk more with you. We seem to have lots of things in common..."

Riander nodded. He was more and more curious about his host now. And he could finally ask all the questions. If not about the winged beings on the mountains, about everything else. Even though Kariel hadn't been king for much longer than him, he seemed much wiser.

And very charming. By the time the tour of Ker Daragon was done and a messenger had been sent to Ker Garenn, Riander had forgotten he was dealing with a Sorcerer King who had usurped a throne and mysteriously didn't age.

2. Black as Ebony

Nerian huffed and sat on the stone, trying to ease his feet. He had gone as far from the castle as he could without shoes and had reached the mountainside. Walking up a steep path had been easier than the forest, since stepping on big rocks hurt less than the uneven ground covered with fallen leaves that hid holes, twigs and other traps.

He lay against the rocky wall as he caught his breath. It must be midday now, and his stomach was rumbling. The sun warmed him, but he wasn't sure how he was going to survive, half-naked and weaponless, in the wilderness.

He shifted his back against the rock, trying to find a more comfortable position, and something clicked. An opening appeared near the stone where he sat, making him jump back to his feet, ignoring the pain.

A tunnel! Closed by a secret mechanism! Maybe he'd found some magical creature's home! As far as he knew magical creatures weren't as dangerous as the Sorcerer King who wanted him dead, so he'd better use whatever shelter he found.

Nerian hesitated, then entered the dark tunnel. It looked man-made and was very short. And very low. He had to stoop to walk through it. The opening sent light up to the end of it and he found a lamp next to the tunnel end. He barely had time to light it when the mechanism closed the entrance again.

Now I'm stuck underground, Nerian thought, looking around at the feeble light of the lamp. The ground was smooth and cold, and the cave didn't feel damp. He tried to listen for running water, but it was quiet. The cave wasn't big, but his lamp didn't show much of it.

He carefully moved forward, trying to figure out if the cave was lived-in. Since it had some kind of door, it must have more. The ceiling was high, and he could walk erect. The light didn't reach the top or the walls, so he assumed whatever furniture must be closer to the perimeter.

As he looked up and around, his toe hit something. Cursing under his breath, Nerian lowered the lamp. He'd almost tripped over a short cot, first of a series of neatly aligned cots. Was this a dormitory for children?

Moving around a little more, he found a sort of hearth with kitchen implements and some food. He managed to light a fire and cook some potatoes without burning them. The lit fireplace showed little more of the cave. There were two more tunnels ending there, but Nerian didn't dare explore. Not with just a little lamp that wouldn't last much longer, probably.

He ate the potatoes and found some dried meat to go with them. Better than nothing. He saw a chest of clothes, but they looked too small to fit him. He pushed the cots together so they would make one long bed and he lay across them, using a number of blankets to cover himself. Not as comfortable as the bed in the tower, but better than the cold floor.

He wondered who lived in the cave and when they'd come back. He shivered under the short blankets, eyes wide open in the semi-darkness of the cave. Now he could hear a drop trickling somewhere. The silence was overwhelming. Which was good – he would hear the cave's inhabitants come back.

Each living being made its own set of noises, and it seemed the tiniest sound echoed in the tunnels and cave. Shadows of bats fluttered by at the corner of his eye and he tried to calm his panting breath.

Eventually Nerian dozed off, tired by the walk and the stress of staying alert when he never really had to before.

***

"What the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Why would a Human wander in the forest half-naked and barefoot anyway?"

"This is an intrusion, we should kick him out!"

"I think he's cute, and very young..."

The male bickering jerked Nerian out of his slumber. He slowly opened his eyes that widened at the sight of the seven faces leaning over him. Some had black beards and tangled hair, one had a graying beard and sparse hair coming from a skullcap, one had completely shaven his head and one was clean-shaven with short black locks. One of the bearded ones also had very blue eyes.

Dwarves! Not children. That was why the cots were so short. Adult dwarves fully armed. They had lit lamps and put torches throughout the cave, allowing him to see the big room in its entirety – the beds on one side, the kitchen on the other, the fireplace and the two other tunnels, still dark, leading inside the mountain. The entrance tunnel was also lit, but closed.

Nerian scrambled to his feet. The dwarves barely reached his waist, but their frowns were still quite intimidating. They were armed, and he wasn't.

"I-I'm sorry, I was looking for shelter and I-I..." he stammered, ready to panic.

"How did you find the entrance?" one of the bearded dwarves demanded.

"I bet he opened it by mistake," the clean-shaven one added, amused.

Nerian nodded, speechless, then his knees gave way and he crumbled to the floor, his head finally at the right height to look the dwarves in the eyes.

"I mean no harm." His voice shook and temporarily went back to a childish tone.

"Who are you?" the eldest dwarf asked, almost nose to nose with him.

"Nerian..."

The dwarves pulled back with gasps and sounds of surprise.

"Nerian of Ker Daragon?" the eldest asked again, narrowing his eyes. "Nerian Raven Seeker?"

"Can't you see he has hair as black as ebony, skin as pale as snow and lips as red as blood?" the bald one mocked.

"And transparent sky-blue eyes," one of the bearded ones said gruffly. "That's him, no doubts."

"Yes, that's me..." Nerian's fear didn't subside at the dwarves' reaction. They seemed to know an awful lot about him. And they still held their weapons. And he was one against seven. Maybe he should have let Roddyn kill him swiftly. "Kariel ordered me killed, but I managed to convince the huntsman to let me go..."

The bald dwarf groaned, slapping his face with his palm. "That wicked half-blood!"

The eldest signaled all the others to shut up, since they were all muttering comments in a language Nerian didn't understand. The leader stepped forward and looked the young prince in the eyes.

"You were lucky," he said gravely. "We were wondering why Kariel left you alive ten years ago. You are welcome to stay here, but do not enter the other tunnels." He pointed at the two dark holes gaping at them.

Nerian nodded, eyes still wide in wonder.

"Welcome to our cave!" The clean-shaven dwarf patted his shoulder so hard, he almost sent him flat on his back. "We'll find you clothes and shoes, you can't live in a nightgown forever!"

"And we'll make you a bed your size," another added, white teeth shining through the black beard.

"Oh, sure, sorry I moved your furniture, I should have slept on the floor," Nerian answered eagerly.

"Nonsense, the floor is cold," the eldest said. "We better find a blanket and a cloak your size as well. I'm Alech, and this is my team. We guard this entrance to our kingdom."

"I'm honored to meet you." Nerian bowed his head. "How come you know so much about me and the Sorcerer King?"

"Humans chased us underground with the Genn, but this doesn't mean we never go out!"

"We avoid the crowded Human places these days, though, they stink!"

"We hunt in the forest and know all the castles' whereabouts."

"And we know who Kariel is and where he comes from."

"And we knew your mother and heard her wish!"

"Pity your sister took her with her a couple of years later..."

Nerian remembered to close his mouth and waved to make them shut up, now that each of them had given his opinion.

He gulped. "And do you know anything of the winged beings who live up in the mountains?"

"They are Sila, members of a Magical Race Humans seldom see," the clean-shaven one answered cheerfully. "They're very shy... so no, you can't meet them, even though you have Sila blood."

"I do?" Nerian marveled.

"Why do you think you can talk to birds?" the bald one said with a scoff.

"I don't know, I thought..."

"Humans don't have magic, unless they have some Magical Races' blood in them," Alech said, serious. "Some short-sighted Sila might have met a nice Human and had a child or two... without wings, so they stuck to earth and married and eventually you were born."

"Oh!" Nerian thought wonders never ceased. Then a thought struck him. "So Kariel has Magical Races' blood? Is that why he has magic powers?"

"He's a wicked half-blood," the bald one repeated with a smirk.

"His father is a member of a Magical Race," Alech added. "But Kariel doesn't know it. He thinks he's the son of a court magician, and he's entitled to some magic. That's why he studied magic, and became good – because of his father's blood."

Nerian nodded, thoughtful. Might be the reason why Kariel didn't age as well. But he didn't know enough about the Magical Races to figure out his captor.

"I'm Xhael." The clean-shaven one offered his hand with a grin. The bald one was Temai, and the other four were called Soss – the blue-eyed one – and Yeni, Ikeli and Losik. The last two were identical twins, and even Alech said he couldn't tell them apart. The others weren't related, but they all obeyed Alech, the captain of that little team.

Yeni went to one of the tunnels to see if the dwarves' town had anything for a Human while the twins went out to gather wood to make Nerian's bed. Nerian gladly helped the other four to rearrange the furniture to make room for him.

***

"I don't think it's a good idea to sleep here," Danhin said, scrubbing Riander's back. "What if King Kariel holds you prisoner?"

"He doesn't sound hostile and seems quite content with Ker Daragon," Riander answered with a shrug.

The Sorcerer King had given them a guest room with a big bath chamber. The wooden tub held both of them easily, and the smell of soap filled the room. After washing themselves, they'd shave and wear the clothes the host had provided for them while the washerwomen took care of their own forest-smelling garments.

"He's putting a spell on you," Danhin warned.

"I don't think so. Why would he? He's just charming, that's all."

Danhin moved in the water to face him and raised his eyebrows. "Charming? Let me tell you what I heard at that table, then. King Kariel likes men, and by the way he looked at you everybody in the room knew he'd come to your bed tonight."

Riander stared back at his faithful servant, pondering. "So? I'm sure he'll leave if I tell him to leave."

"Unless he puts a spell on you," Danhin insisted.

Riander snorted and rolled his eyes. "You fret too much, Danhin. I can take care of myself, even though you and the council think I'm a helpless brat. I'm not the prince heir anymore and I'm fully grown up. Just because I haven't found a wife doesn't mean my life is not complete."

"Women tend to fill our lives," Danhin said patiently. "And warm our beds. And cook our meals."

"I have servants to cook my meals and courtiers to fill my life with useless concerns. I don't mind sleeping alone. And I have three decades on my shoulders, I'm sick of being treated like when my father was alive!"

"Forgive me, your majesty," Danhin muttered, lowering his eyes.

Riander shook his head and got out of the cooling bath. Why was the world so obsessed with sex? He had better things to do than thinking about sex all day long. He'd had his experiences and didn't really enjoy them – that was why he was in no hurry to marry and breed out of duty.

He wrapped himself in a towel and Danhin shaved him, then helped him to put on clean clothes. King Kariel had provided a blue tunic and light brown breeches while the washerwomen of the castle took care of his hunting garb.

The dinner banquet was even more sumptuous, with a minstrel playing songs and laughter filling the great hall, now fuller with tables and servants. Still, the table on the dais held only the two kings, who observed the rest of the guests, amused.

Riander could see Danhin didn't look happy, but he decided to ignore him.

"Thank you for bringing your smile to this gloomy castle," King Kariel said as they rose from their seats to leave the great hall.

"I have been told of Sir Streilan's passing," Riander answered, stepping through the great door and seeing with the corner of his eye that Danhin was following them. "Was he very important to you?"

Kariel looked mournful again. "He was my best friend. We grew up together. He'd been my personal bodyguard for many years, so it was a great loss for me."

"Were you also lovers?" Riander asked with an impish smile. None of the ladies present seemed to exist for the Sorcerer King, but his eyes often lingered on young men – when he wasn't staring at Riander himself.

Kariel hesitated, then smiled. "A long time ago. He'd grown too old to have any regular sex."

"Oh, so he died of old age?" Riander asked, puzzled.

"Yes." Kariel sighed. "I'm obviously more long-lived than any of my friends. That's why I'm happy I found you. Will you be my friend?"

"I think being friends among kings is not something approved of," Riander said, amused. "Unless there's some kind of wedding alliance between royal families, I mean."

"You don't have a sister and neither have I." Kariel's smile grew wider. "And you're driving your council crazy by not choosing a bride... Do you count your servant among your friends?"

"I don't have friends." Riander averted his eyes, trying to hide the sour note in his voice. "I'm king, I'm not supposed to have friends."

Kariel put one arm around his shoulder. "Exactly what I hate about this position," he whispered. "And that's probably why I won't stay king for the rest of my life!"

"You are not of royal blood by birth," Riander said. "You can give up this castle when you want. You weren't born here..."

Kariel stared into the distance, taking his arm off Riander's shoulder. "The castle I was born in is cursed," he said. "My mother took me away from there and people abandoned it. I couldn't convince anyone to go back to living there with that accursed prince sleeping in the tower, so I came here."

"Would that be Ker Eziel?" Riander asked. He'd heard of the sleeping prince that had cursed his father's castle at the time of his own grandfather.

Kariel focused on him and smiled again. "Yes, I was born in Ker Eziel, from the court magician, Morthi, and a lady-in-waiting of the queen."

"At the time of Prince Rithvik?"

"I was ten when he killed his father and was put to sleep by Morthi." Kariel nodded.

"That makes you..."

"Eighty or so."

Riander stared impressed at Kariel. He didn't look much older than him, but he understood now why Kariel's childhood friend had died of old age.

Kariel grinned, opening the door to the guest room to let him and Danhin in. "Sweet dreams, King Riander..."

Still puzzled by his host, Riander headed for the big canopied bed ignoring Danhin's worried chatter.

***

Nerian felt like a prince with clothes that finally fit him. Yeni hadn't found anything among the dwarves, so he'd walked all the way to the nearby underground Genn town – whatever that meant. Apparently Genn were other members of the Magical Races, like the Sila, and they were as tall as Humans.

The dwarf had come back with a cotton tunic, leather chest armor and breeches – and soft boots that wrapped Nerian's feet perfectly. His bruised feet felt immediately comfortable in them. Soss, the blue-eyed team's healer, had put some healing balm on his bruises, but the boots were better than the light bandages to keep his feet warm.

He'd dressed in the now brightly lit cave, marveling at the soft fabric on his skin.

"I will repay you by working hard for you," Nerian said, delighted, after parading his new outfit in front of the seven dwarves who had cheered him all the way.

"I wonder what a skinny guy like him can do for us," Xhael teased.

"We should teach him to defend himself!" Ikeli – or was it Losik? Nerian had trouble recognizing the bearded dwarves, but the twins were impossible to tell apart.

"As prince heir of Ker Garenn, he should be able to hold a sword," Alech said, thoughtful.

Nerian's shoulders sagged.

"I had started my lessons with the swordsmaster when Kariel came," he said gloomily. "Then he locked me in the tower and I could never learn anything else..."

"We're not much of swordsmen," Soss said. "Or better, we don't make many swords for Humans. I'll get you one from the Genn forge and if Belfi comes this way – and he often does – we'll ask him to teach you. In the meantime you can learn everything else!"

"The battle-axe!" Yeni shook his with a threatening frown.

"The crossbow!" Xhael waved his with a big grin.

"The war hammer!" Ikeli and Losik chorused.

"The mace!"

"The dagger!"

Alech raised his hand and made them quiet down while Nerian chuckled. At least now he knew the names of the strange weapons the dwarves held so dear.

"I'll gladly learn everything," he said as Alech came to stand close to him. He knelt so he wouldn't tower over the dwarven captain. "I'm one of your men, captain, teach me. I will gladly join your team and help you protect this entrance."

"We will teach you our combat techniques," Alech promised solemnly. "And we'll call Belfi to finish your education for more Human-like weapons when you know the basics. We'll have a sword made for you when you can handle the dagger."

"Welcome to the team!" Xhael rushed to shake his hand and ruffle his hair.

"Will I be able to go out and talk to birds?" Nerian asked.

"Of course, we do go out on patrol," Xhael replied.

"If you can pass us," Temai added, throwing away his weapons and standing with his feet wide and ready to block any attempt to reach the entrance tunnel.

Nerian grinned.

"Is this a test?" he asked.

"We'll have to assess where you're at before we start the training," Alech said with a half-smile. "See if you can gain the exit."

"One against seven?" Nerian asked, jumping to his feet, excited.

"One tall against seven short," Xhael answered cheerfully. "Who's going to win? The giant or...?"

With a high-pitched scream that wanted to be a war cry, Nerian attacked Temai who was right in the way. The exercise ended in a wrestling match like Nerian hadn't had in years. Breathless, he stayed down with Temai and Yeni panting over him, and slowly started laughing.

The first lesson had left him a little bruised, but he didn't care. He hadn't had so much fun in years. The company was something he had deeply missed. The camaraderie of the team was warming.

"Thank you, guys," he whispered as his heartbeat slowly went back to normal.

"You lost, now you cook," Soss said.

Nerian sat as Temai and Yeni rolled off of him.

"I'm afraid you'll need to teach me that too," he said. "I was locked up in a tower with servants bringing me food..."

Temai groaned. "What a useless recruit!"

Xhael offered his hand. "Come, I'll show you a few tricks..."

Nerian smiled and followed him to the kitchen corner.

***

"Your majesty!"

Riander was jolted awake by Danhin's panicked voice and blunt shaking.

"What, there's a fire?" he asked sleepily, trying to focus on where he was. Oh, yes, Ker Daragon's guest room. Bed. Naked. Where was Kariel? Obviously gone, since Danhin was awake.

He aimed his attention at his servant's face. Danhin was disheveled, unshaven, eyes wide.

"What is it, Danhin?" Riander glared at the obvious distress of his faithful attendant.

"I slept... so hard! What happened to you?"

"Nothing, as you can see I'm perfectly fine. Why the panic?"

"Because... you're naked! And I've heard what they say about King Kariel! Did he visit you and put a spell on me so I wouldn't disturb you?"

Riander opened his mouth and closed it, pondering. He remembered the previous night, and Kariel's visit. When the host king had moved in closer, putting his hands under Riander's clothes, he had expressed the doubt that Danhin might wake up.

"He won't," Kariel had said with an impish smile.

He hadn't. Danhin had been spellbound while Kariel had his way with Riander. Who had enjoyed it. But... but... but.

"You succumbed!" Danhin hid his face in his hands, guessing the answer to his question from Riander's silence. "He seduced you! Oh Heavens, we should leave right now, go back to Ker Garenn and..."

"Shut up!" Riander snapped, jarred. "He didn't seduce me! We spent a pleasant night, that's true..."

"Your majesty, you're king! You need to get married and sire an heir, not spend the night with other men!" Danhin was voicing his council's concerns again.

Riander rolled his eyes and slowly got out of bed. "It's just one night. He hasn't emasculated me," he muttered, finding his own clothes clean on a bench and dressing quickly.

Danhin seemed to want to tear his hair out in desperation. "I knew coming here was a bad idea!" he complained.

"Will you shut up?" Riander was sick of him. "Nothing happened! Let's get some breakfast now!"

He hoped they'd find Kariel in the great hall, so he could at least say good-bye and thank him for the hospitality. And the night of sex. Such wild sex like he'd never had before. Made him wonder if indeed he'd rather take a male lover than get married. Or maybe he could get away with both. Marry a dumb lady and keep a male lover on the side.

King Kariel wasn't in the great hall. The chamberlain said he'd stormed out after hearing some bad news from the silly minstrel that had just been kicked out for upsetting his majesty.

"May I talk to that minstrel?" Riander asked, wondering what had upset Kariel so much.

"I believe he's leaving the castle right now." The chamberlain upturned his nose. "We don't like when someone upsets our king. There are always bad consequences."

"Please let me speak with him before he leaves," Riander insisted.

The Chamberlain sniffed but nodded, sending a page to get the minstrel. Riander sighed and sat at the table, ignoring Danhin's moans and groans.

"Your majesty, please, can we leave now?"

"No, we must see King Kariel first. Everything is fine, Danhin, stop fussing!"

"But your majesty..."

"Danhin!" Riander hated to be stern, but he had really had enough of his servant's fears. "We're not leaving yet!"

Danhin muttered something and crouched in his corner, glaring at everybody except his king.

The minstrel was a fair-haired, oddly-dressed young man who grinned as he sauntered to the dais where Riander was having his breakfast.

"So what's your name?" Riander asked him.

"You can call me Aedwyr."

"And what did you do to upset King Kariel first thing in the morning?"

"Ah, well, he doesn't take advice very well." The young man chuckled. "Not even from his old man." He picked a pastry and tasted it before continuing. "Mm, these are just like Rithvik's favorite... Kariel really recreated Ker Eziel here!"

"So it is true that he came from Ker Eziel," Riander said, thoughtful.

"Yes, people abandoned that castle for some reason."

"They were scared of the prince's presence?"

"That's silly, he's still fast asleep." Aedwyr shrugged. "Anyhow, I came to see how Kariel was doing and warned him to be careful with magic, since Humans are so afraid of it, but, like I said, he doesn't take advice very well. Can't blame him, though."

"Who are you, really?" Riander asked, narrowing his eyes. The minstrel sounded too wise and looked too young.

"I am not Human, if you really want to know." Aedwyr grinned. "I'm a shape-shifter."

"Kariel's father?"

Aedwyr nodded. "Estranged father, I think. But we don't really stick together as happy families like Humans do. I came to warn him that staying for too long in one place is quite dangerous for any of us magic users, but again, he didn't take it well. Maybe I should have stuck to him a little longer, but I preferred putting some distance between me and Ker Eziel. The spell I put on Rithvik took some toll."

So that was the sorcerer, wizard, whatever that had put a prince consorting with demons to sleep. Riander gaped at the young man by his side and wondered what he really looked like.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Aedwyr whispered, leaning towards him, as if reading his mind. "Thanks for the pastries. I better go before my son goes on some mad rampage and kills everyone in this castle. Not that he's like Rithvik, but well... you never know with half-bloods!"

The minstrel winked and left the table, leaving Riander even more puzzled than he'd been. So there was some truth to Kariel's magic. Much like he himself had a faery godmother, Kariel had a magical father. Impressively daunting. But it still made him want to know more about Kariel, see him again, talk some more.

Riander finished his breakfast and went to the chamberlain again.

"Any idea of when the king will be available?" he asked.

"He is locked up in his chambers," the chamberlain apologized. "Would you like to wait for him in the rose garden? It is a pleasant day to be outside..."

Riander nodded regally. Danhin followed him, frowning but finally silent.

***

Nerian sat on the stone outside of the cave, careful not to activate the mechanism that opened the door, and huffed. He was sore from exercising with the dwarves and he was glad to get a breath of fresh air, while they bickered inside over who would cook today.

Songbirds chirped, hidden in the trees, while woodpeckers chipped away at the bark of the closest trees. It wasn't easy to spot any of them, so Nerian didn't try to interrupt their conversations, but simply sat there, breathing in the cool air of the forest and watching the leaves move around him.

He was tired but happy. The company was amazing, but after some time tiresome. He wasn't used to having people around all the time. Not anymore. Blame it on that bastard Kariel, I've become some kind of hermit! I'm glad Alech and his men are so patient with me!

Barely two days with them, and he already felt at home. A strange, windowless home, but home nevertheless. Warmer than his tower had ever been, as warm as his old room had been when his father was alive.

A huntsman emerged from the undergrowth, startling him. It wasn't Roddyn, the man who was supposed to kill him. Nerian had never seen that handsome face and rose with his heart beating faster, his hand on the dagger the dwarves had given him.

"You're very quiet, sir, who are you?" he asked, trying to look more fierce than he felt. He knew he only had to touch the opening mechanism and seven warring dwarves would come and help him, dispatching the stranger in no time.

"I'm Riander of Ker Garenn, and I got lost while hunting in the forest," the man answered with a bow of the head. "And you are?"

"Nerian of Ker Daragon," Nerian answered, still wary. He knew that name, but had never met the neighboring royal family. "I believe your castle is that way." He pointed towards the forest to the right of Riander who had emerged in the clearing from the left, much like he had done, coming from Ker Daragon.

"Thank you." The king flashed a dazzling smile at him. "Would you like to come with me?"

"What?" Nerian's eyes widened in surprise.

"Would you like to come with me to Ker Garenn?" Riander repeated. "You'd be safe from that dreadful Sorcerer King..."

Nerian blinked, not sure of what to think. The voice sounded somehow familiar, but he couldn't place it. The man was handsome and he felt attracted to King Riander, but something was off. The brown eyes staring at him as if undressing him made him uneasy.

Riander stepped forward with a smile. He was slightly taller than Nerian, and had more muscles.

"I will protect you from evil, my little prince," the king whispered, taking Nerian in his arms. "If you let me, I'll make you happy..."

Nerian stammered incoherent words. Those lips that shone... and came closer... and kissed him... Nerian closed his eyes under his first kiss. Riander's tongue invaded his mouth. He shivered and passed out.

3. Red as Blood

The roses' perfume was starting to give Riander a headache. Danhin was finally quiet, allowing him to think. The garden was beautiful but dangerous, much like the owner of the castle.

I have been stupid, Riander thought, frowning at the memories of the day before. He'd been enchanted by Kariel's words and had probably drunk too much wine before retiring to bed, which had made him weak.

Yes, he had enjoyed the sex, but... now he felt uneasy. Had he liked the new experience too much? Was marrying whoever his council chose and keeping a male lover on the side really the solution to his problems?

No. He still wasn't so interested in sex that he'd do it every day. No matter with whom. As an introvert, he wasn't too fond of company. He should pick a bride and limit his husbandly duties. And no, a male lover wasn't the answer. Even though King Kariel had made him feel good for a few hours.

As he sat by a fountain, he stopped listening to the gurgling water to remember the words and then the lack of coherent words of the previous night. He was attracted to Kariel, but he wasn't in love. Or in lust. That hadn't changed. He'd enjoyed the new experience, but he still didn't understand what all the fuss about sex was about. Especially if it wasn't for reproductive purposes. Bed gymnastics were fun, but only to a point.

Kariel emerged from the castle in plain daylight, dressed in black like the day before. Riander wondered if the king always wore black, which was a depressing color in his eyes. He usually wore orange tunics to match his honey-colored eyes, or green when he went hunting.

"Good morning," Kariel greeted with a grin, stopping in front of him.

Riander rose and greeted back, staring intently at Kariel's face. He was perfectly sober now, and his curiosity had been satisfied, so he could see the Sorcerer King with a detached feeling – probably as Danhin had seen him in the first place. The minstrel's words also haunted him. Kariel was only half-Human. No wonder he was so powerful and long-lived.

"I thank you for your hospitality, but I really should go back to Ker Garenn," he said, not sure what to do with his hands.

"Please, stay a few more days. I'll send another messenger to your castle to warn them. Or you can send back your own servant. I'd love to have you here a little longer, so we could explore our friendship and tighten our bond..."

In spite of the gentle and slightly pleading tone, Riander saw hardness in Kariel's eyes. Maybe it was the plain daylight, being outside under the sun, but suddenly the Sorcerer King looked more dangerous than he'd thought. Because he had a charm Riander couldn't deny. A non-Human charm.

"I appreciate your offer, but I've been wandering way too much lately," he said. "I think it's time I make some important decisions. I must find a suitable princess and..."

Kariel scoffed. "Why should you marry if you don't feel like it?"

"Because I'm king and I must provide an heir to the throne," Riander answered bluntly. "And so should you."

"I wasn't born to be king, I'm told, therefore I don't care," Kariel retorted. "Please, stay. Let's have some more fun. I won't tell anyone."

Riander glared at him and checked where Danhin was. The servant had wandered away, unwilling to intrude in his master's matters. Good.

Riander looked at Kariel again and saw lust in the Sorcerer King's eyes. Not love, not friendship, pure lust.

"I appreciate the offer, and I indeed had fun last night, but I do not wish to repeat the experience," Riander said, straightening his back and balling his fists. "You are free to visit me, but I shall now bid you good-bye. My people are waiting for me."

He half-bowed and broke eye contact with Kariel.

"Danhin!" he called, heading for the door that went back into the castle. The servant eagerly followed him to the stables, still silent, and they both climbed into their saddles.

Before leaving Ker Daragon, Riander turned to look at Kariel, who stood in the castle's main doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a dangerous frown.

Let's hope he doesn't hit me with a spell, Riander thought, waving briefly before spurring his horse. Surely he wouldn't dare. He is a usurper, and he can't kill a king... Of course he can. He already did. To take Ker Daragon. What a fool I am!

As the horses entered the forest, following the unpaved road at a trot, and the towers of Ker Daragon vanished behind them, Riander snorted. He was very conflicted about his stay at his neighbor's.

Somehow he had escaped a deadly trap. Would that bring war between Ker Daragon and Ker Garenn? Riander hoped his faery godmother would protect him from any evil spell trying to hit him. And he must ask her about Kariel's father – what kind of magical being was he?

"Thank you for leaving that wretched place, your majesty," Danhin said in a low voice.

"You were right, we shouldn't have gone there," he grumbled.

The road wasn't straight, but it was easier to use than going through the forest. And Riander could see the sky – no winged beings in sight. In a couple of hours he'd be home and he could forget his charming but scary neighbor, unless Kariel paid him a visit.

And then behind a bend they stopped, surprised, and so did the people coming towards them.

"Dwarves?" Danhin whispered, eyes wide in wonder.

Six dwarves carrying a crystal coffin, led by a seventh with a graying beard. Encumbered by their burden, they hadn't had time to vanish in the forest. Their surprised expressions soon turned to anger, but the leader gave a sharp order. They dropped the coffin that fell and broke, and ran for cover under the trees.

"Two men, albeit armed, put to flight seven dwarves!" Danhin chuckled.

"Unless they're getting their weapons," Riander replied, frowning.

The broken coffin had revealed a body inside – a Human body.

Riander jumped off the saddle and went to check. He saw the most beautiful young man he'd ever seen, with long black hair and pale skin. An androgynous beauty that showed he must be very young, since he had no traces of facial hair. Riander crouched next to the young man, gaping.

He touched the smooth cheek and found it cold. The skin was too pale. The chest wasn't moving. What a waste of a beautiful youth...

"Get away from him!" The dwarves were back, fully armed.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Riander said, feeling a pang in his chest.

"Yes, and we're taking him to his murderer," the gray-bearded one said. "So the people he's reigning over see what a bastard son of a dragon he is and get rid of him once and for all!"

"Would that be King Kariel?" Riander asked, since they were headed towards Ker Daragon. The bald dwarf nodded with a frown. "Who is he?"

"Nerian of Ker Daragon," the only clean-shaven dwarf answered bluntly. "He had managed to escape the tower where he'd been locked."

"How did Kariel get to him?"

"With his magic. He poisoned him."

"Oh." Riander stared at the dead youth. "Maybe he's not dead yet, if the poison is slow... I'll call my faery godmother!"

He jumped to his feet and closed his eyes, concentrating. Wild Rose, help me!

"Hello, Riander."

He opened his eyes and she was in front of him, her long blond hair shining in the sun, her pointed ears obvious in the light, her sky-blue eyes staring straight at him. He heard the dwarves gasp.

"A Genn!" one of them said as the others lowered their weapons.

Danhin watched from his saddle, holding Riander's reins.

"Hello, Alech." Wild Rose turned to look at the dwarves' leader. "What happened?"

"That bastard Kariel poisoned Nerian!" the old dwarf answered, shaking his battle-axe more in anger than to hurt anyone. "I don't think you can do much for him!"

"Let's see." Wild Rose knelt next to the pale young man and closed her eyes, passing her hands over the still body and stopping on the face and mouth. Golden powder flowed from her hands to the young prince's mouth and soon enough a sigh moved the youth's chest.

Wild Rose opened her eyes and smiled at Riander's worried expression.

"He'll be all right," she said. "The poison hadn't completely finished working... or not even I could have saved him."

"Thank you, Wild Rose." Riander smiled and bowed as she rose and stepped closer to him.

"You're welcome," she answered, caressing his cheek. "Stay safe." And she vanished as fast as she had appeared.

"You're Riander of Ker Garenn," the bald dwarf said, glaring at him.

"That I am," Riander answered with a nod. "I wasn't aware dwarves followed Human history."

"We don't, really, but we do have Genn neighbors. And Wild Rose told us about you."

Riander nodded, thoughtful.

"If Kariel wants Nerian dead, we should move out of the road and wait until the prince recovers... lest the Sorcerer King sees us and decides to make another attempt."

"He's right." The leader, Alech, signaled his men who took Nerian and quickly carried him into the forest. Riander took his horse's reins and followed them on foot, knowing it was useless to tell Danhin to go ahead to Ker Garenn. The faithful servant wouldn't leave his side.

The dwarves led them to a clearing where they pushed a mechanism that revealed a tunnel.

"You better leave the horses out here," Alech said gruffly.

"I shall join you shortly," Danhin said. "I need to relieve myself."

Riander smiled briefly at him and nodded before stooping to follow the dwarves into their secret cave.

***

Nerian had a very bad taste in his mouth as he stirred awake. He winced and flapped his eyelids open, finding seven dwarven faces leaning over him. Xhael immediately grinned.

"He's awake!" he told someone who wasn't in the circle.

Nerian blinked, feeling still quite numb and slow, gulping down the sour taste. But before he could ask for water, another face appeared behind the dwarves' and he choked on the request. The man who had kissed him! He jerked up, but Alech put a hand flat on his chest and kept him down.

"Don't move, boy, you're still recovering from the poison."

"P-poison?" Nerian stammered. How could the man give him a poisonous kiss and smile at him like that? "He did it!" he pointed a shaky finger at the man who stood behind the dwarves, towering over them all.

"Drink." Temai shoved a flask to his mouth and he gratefully downed the cool water inside.

Sighing in relief, he looked at the man again and saw him puzzled, no, worried.

"Will you let me sit up?" he snarled at the dwarves that held him down. "I'm fine!"

"You weren't fine when we found you outside, passed out," Alech replied somberly. But he gestured his men to let him go.

Nerian sat, but then went still as his head spun. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. He felt Xhael's hands on his shoulders, keeping him up.

"I'm fine," he repeated, looking at the dwarves and then glaring at the man who looked relieved. "Why is he here? He's the one who poisoned me!"

"I didn't," the man said. "I first saw you in a crystal coffin, and called my faery godmother to heal you."

"He saved you," Alech confirmed. "Why do you say he's the one who poisoned you?"

"That's King Riander of Ker Garenn," Xhael added, whispering in his ear. "Your neighbor."

"I know who he is, he introduced himself," Nerian snapped.

"No, I didn't," Riander said, looking puzzled.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Soss waved his short arms. "The man who poisoned you, was he alone?"

"Well, yes," Nerian answered, surprised.

"Kings don't travel alone, ever," Yeni said gravely. "Royal blood can't go unattended."

"His servant is outside, relieving himself," Temai added.

"He was alone when he approached me!" Nerian insisted.

"Only Kariel travels alone," Alech said. "This is the real King Riander, Nerian. You met Kariel in disguise."

"But... but... he looked exactly like that!" Nerian protested.

King Riander looked as puzzled as he felt. "You mean the Sorcerer King can shift shape?"

"He hadn't so far. But he has it in his blood and since Nerian knows his face, he had to hide it, if he wanted to trick the prince," Alech said.

"I still don't understand how he poisoned you," Xhael said. "Did he offer you a poisoned fruit?"

Nerian blushed and stared at the ground. "He kissed me," he muttered.

He heard them gasp. He dared to glance at King Riander and saw him slowly smile.

"I wish I had done it," he heard the king say in a low voice.

Alech cleared his throat, glaring at King Riander. "I wasn't aware we should warn you to beware of strangers," he told Nerian.

"I did beware, but he took me by surprise!" Nerian replied. "I mean, he is handsome..."

He heard King Riander chuckle but kept his eyes on the captain of the dwarves.

"Mm, yes, you've been alone for too long," Alech said. "Now we better keep you locked in until we figure out how to get rid of the wicked half-blood who wants you dead so badly."

Nerian sighed. "I've been locked inside a tower for ten years," he whined. "And here there are no windows! Are you trying to kill me? I need air and sunlight!"

"Yes, your Sila blood yearns for air and sunlight, but we can't risk you getting killed," Temai said. "You're one of us, and we don't let wicked half-bloods have their way with us."

"Excuse me, how can I help?" King Riander asked. They'd forgotten about him. "I mean, I'll gladly give a hand to get rid of the Sorcerer King..."

"Why, he kissed you too?" Temai teased. King Riander averted his eyes.

"He's dangerous," he muttered. "I think I talked to his father as well." The dwarves oohed and aahed and cleared their throats. "Which helped me to see Kariel in a new light, I think. The Sorcerer King wanted me to stay at Ker Daragon, probably to convince me to give up my castle and my kingdom."

"Which you might end up doing anyway, but not to follow a sorcerer," Xhael said cheerfully. "I think you're the perfect companion for Nerian, here!" He ruffled the prince's hair.

"Hey!" Nerian protested, ducking in vain. "I don't need a companion!"

"You badly need one," Alech said. "And I don't see you spending the rest of your life in the company of dwarves." He turned to King Riander. "We thank you for your offer, Riander. But I'm afraid you can't do much. You've never tried to kill a dragon, have you?"

"I've never met one," King Riander admitted as Nerian gaped at Alech.

"Nasty beasts, those," Temai said with contempt. "Especially half-bloods."

"You mean Kariel is actually a dragon?" Nerian asked, incredulous.

"Half-dragon." Yeni shrugged. "None of us would be able to take on a pure-blood."

Nerian's shoulders slumped. He looked at Riander, hopeful, but the handsome king was thoughtful. Obviously the task was too much even for him. Nerian noticed that Riander had a sword at his side, even though he wore hunting clothes. He probably had all the warrior education he himself had missed.

Then their eyes met. In the warm light of the lamps, Nerian thought Riander had yellow eyes. Definitely not brown like the man who had kissed him. And even the smile that slowly curved those lips was different.

Nerian's heart started beating faster. Maybe kissing this Riander wouldn't be as disastrous as the previous one had been...

***

Riander wasn't sure, since the light in the cave was very warm and almost orange, but he thought Nerian had pale blue eyes. He wondered what they looked like outside, under the sun and a clear blue sky. Awake, the young man was even more charming, even though not much color had come back to his cheeks.

Riander sat on the ground with the dwarves and the prince, asking for more information on the Sorcerer King who had used his face to trick his victim. Bastard, you'll pay for what you've done! He wasn't going to fall for Kariel's charm ever again.

Nerian was barely starting to learn weapons, so he'd probably be completely useless in battle. The dwarves seemed fierce, though, with their strange weapons. Their captain tried to come up with a strategy that would corner Kariel and force him to use his magic or die.

"Shouldn't we prevent him from using his magic?" Riander asked, frowning in worry. "I mean, do you have weapons that allow you to beat magic?"

"Hell yes!" Two identical bearded dwarves shook their weapons with the same movement.

The bald dwarf groaned. "We should really send out word for Belfi, so he can help us and these two to get rid of Kariel!"

"Or we can see if Runedemon is still around," the eldest said, thoughtful. "Kariel has never shifted shape before, but if he has spoken to his father..."

"Would his father whip him into obedience or side with him?" Riander asked.

"Probably neither." The clean-shaven dwarf shrugged. "Fajrulo never care for their relatives. He might have come this way out of curiosity, to see what his son was doing, but he's not going to interfere with his life."

"Fajrulo?" Nerian asked, eyes wide in wonder.

"The Magical Races." Alech smiled. "You have Sila blood, Riander has Genn blood, then there's the Fajrulo and the Waiora. Air, Ether, Fire and Water. Humans have Earth."

"And what do dwarves have?" Nerian insisted.

"Earth, I guess," the clean-shaven dwarf said. "The Immortals don't seem to care for us much, but since we live underground... with the Genn, now..."

"The Genn used to live in the Moren Empire," Riander said, remembering his history lessons. "And I think the Waiora too."

"Yes, they had a joint kingdom in what is now the land of the descendants of the last Moren Emperor."

"The Blackmoren." Riander nodded. "And the Sila?"

"Winged beings!" one of the bearded ones said. "Nerian can talk to birds."

Riander stared impressed at the young prince who blushed and looked away. So Nerian was close to those winged beings he'd been following...

His stomach rumbled. "How about we eat something, get some rest and make plans with the new day?" he said, rising. "Where the hell is Danhin? We should let the horses free for the night. They won't wander very far, especially if you can provide some hay..."

"Right, who's cooking today?" Alech looked at his men and the two identical ones rose with sighs, heading for the kitchen implements in the other corner of the cave. Riander briefly smiled at Nerian who was still seated on the ground and followed the bald dwarf outside to call Danhin, a little worried now at the absence of his faithful servant. It was taking Danhin way too long to relieve himself – he had never left the king alone for more than a few moments.

***

Nerian watched the tall, handsome king follow Temai outside, then realized he was gaping when Xhael closed his mouth by putting a finger under his chin. The clean-shaven dwarf winked and offered his hand to help Nerian on his feet.

"I want to be like him," Nerian whispered, excited.

"I'm sure he'll take you under his wing," Xhael replied, patting his hand.

"He'll teach me how to use a sword?"

"And to be king."

"I'm not sure I want my father's throne, Xhael..."

Nerian felt steady now – no more dizziness or sour taste in his mouth – and he rushed after Riander. He found Temai sitting on the stone that he'd used too and watched as Riander walked to another man who was standing next to two horses on the other side of the clearing.

"That's his personal servant," the bald dwarf said. "Royalty doesn't go around unaccompanied."

"Except Kariel," Nerian muttered with a frown.

"Kariel isn't royalty," Alech replied. He had followed them and was staring at the king of Ker Garenn and his man with a frown. "Not one ounce."

"And that guy must have a very weak bladder or is an awful servant," Temai continued. "I wonder if Ker Garenn is trying to get rid of its king!"

"I'm sure they know his faery godmother," Alech said, sarcastic emphasis on the word. "Riander is as untouchable as Kariel for the silly Humans."

"At least he's the legitimate king." Temai shrugged.

"True." Nerian called himself stupid for forgetting that. Kariel was the usurper. He didn't have one ounce of royal blood. He could tell the difference with the real Riander now. The way the real king carried himself was different from the sorcerer.

Riander came towards them, followed by the other man who must be slightly older and kept his eyes low. He also kept his mouth shut, probably out of respect for his king.

"You shouldn't be up and out, Prince Nerian," Riander chided, stopping in front of him.

"The fresh air helps," he assured, straightening his back. He was slightly shorter than the king. He remembered how the huntsman-king had approached him – Kariel in disguise – and taken him in his arms. And under the daylight, Riander's eyes were definitely honey-colored.

"Good, let's eat, then." The king's smile was dazzling. "This is my personal servant, Danhin, who for once has no complaints."

Nerian glanced at the man, but he couldn't keep his eyes off Riander's handsome face. From the corner of his eye, he saw the servant lunge at him and a blade stabbed him under the ribs, making him scream in pain and double over.

"Danhin!" Riander shouted.

Nerian collapsed on the ground against Alech and Xhael. The captain of the dwarves called his men while Temai jumped on the shoulders of the servant, roaring in anger, his dagger ready. Nerian realized Danhin held a knife with the blade still dripping blood – his blood.

Panting, he lay against Xhael's torso while Alech pressed a handkerchief against the wound to stop the blood. Temai had disarmed the servant, throwing him to the ground.

"Danhin, how could you!" Riander was furious.

"It's not Danhin," Alech said from his crouched position. His men surrounded the servant with their weapons ready. The twins smelled the forest air and went straight to a group of bushes from under which they dragged out the body of a man identical to the one that had attacked Nerian.

"Danhin!" Riander's voice was full of anguish now. The servant was dead with his throat cut. Riander turned to the man who had been captured, furious. "You wicked monster..."

Nerian gasped in both pain and surprise as the man's features shifted and Kariel's face appeared. So that was how he had tricked him into a kiss! The Sorcerer King had true magic!

"Quiet," Xhael whispered. "You're wounded."

Nerian held his breath, trying to calm his growing panic. Temai was probably cursing in an unknown language, which only made Kariel laugh with scorn.

"Well, Riander, would you prefer me this way?" He rose and shifted face again, taking on Nerian's features. "Should I look at you as adoringly as he does?"

He pretended to do it, and it was jarring to see your own face acting. The voice was still Kariel's – that was probably why it had felt familiar when the fake Riander had talked to him, and why the fake Danhin had kept his mouth shut.

Riander gritted his teeth and slapped the Sorcerer King with Nerian's face. Kariel resumed his face and scoffed.

"I should really get you drunk again," he said. "You're much sweeter when you're drunk."

Riander slowly unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Kariel. "Stay away from me," he said through clenched teeth.

"Or? I didn't give you poisonous kisses, why the sudden hatred? Have you already tasted those luscious lips, that you already changed your mind?"

"I haven't fallen in love with you any more than you did with me," Riander retorted. "It was just a fun way to spend the night. You killed my servant. You're trying to kill the rightful heir of Ker Daragon. You want to get into my bed..."

"Your pants are enough. I'd rather take you to my bed." Kariel crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "So what are you going to do to punish me?"

Riander swirled his sword with a single movement of his wrist, but Kariel didn't shrink back, keeping his stare locked onto Riander's. The tip of the blade touched Kariel's exposed throat, but again the Sorcerer King didn't move.

"I think I should kill you," Riander said in a low, threatening voice.

My hero! Nerian remembered to breathe. He'd love to have that man taking care of him until the end of time.

"You can try," Kariel replied.

Xhael gently put Nerian against the rock, so he could be free to move, signaling him to be quiet. The dwarves surrounded the two men with their weapons ready. Nerian remained where he was, pressing Alech's handkerchief on his wound that seemed to have stopped bleeding. He was dizzy again, so he didn't try to get up and help the experienced warriors.

"Unsheathe your sword." Riander took his blade away from Kariel's throat and waited.

"You shouldn't have given him the chance!" Soss shouted angrily.

Kariel smiled, elegantly unsheathing his sword. "Ever killed anyone, Riander?" he asked.

"There's always a first time," Riander answered, holding his sword-hilt tighter.

Oh Gods, Kariel is a skilled swordsman! Nerian thought, filling with panic again. He'd often seen the Sorcerer King exercising in the courtyard from the tower window. He tried to rise, but managed only to sit more straight. He was too weak to stop them. Xhael glanced at him and nodded, determined. They'd help King Riander to defeat evil Kariel.

The two men walked in the circle of the seven dwarves studying each other, swords ready. Riander attacked first, and Kariel parried and struck back. Riander avoided the blade and swirled to strike again. Nerian stared with eyes wide as the duel went on, with the dwarves nervously moving around them and keeping them in a narrow fighting space.

Kariel's blade sliced Riander's left arm, which seemed only to infuriate the king of Ker Garenn, who gritted his teeth and attacked so swiftly that his sword stabbed Kariel through the ribs, probably barely missing the heart.

Kariel screamed in pain and dropped his sword.

"Stay back!" Alech screamed, grabbing Riander's hand.

The king fell back, still panting, as Kariel transformed once again. Under Nerian's incredulous eyes, the man's form grew into a huge animal form – a black dragon of legends that screamed in pain and anger before moving his long neck and trying to bite Riander's head off. Riander's sword, previously stuck in a human chest, fell off and was covered by the dark-brown belly of the big body.

The seven dwarves held the toothy head at bay with their pole-arms and battle-axes as Riander tried to get out of the way, unable to fight such an opponent. The mortal wound wasn't visible on the scaly body, but it was obviously still there. The dragon's attempts became weaker and finally the neck and head crashed to the ground before the dragon even tried to open its bat-like wings.

The dwarves fell silent as Riander stared wide-eyed at the dragon's body that slowly went back to its human form. One last twitch and Kariel was still, eyes wide open, chest covered in blood. He lay next to Riander's still bloodied sword and his own for a moment, and then vanished in a puff of magic fire that didn't burn, making Riander and Nerian gasp.

"W-what was that?" Nerian asked as Xhael and Yeni rushed to him and helped him to sit up.

"His Fajrulo blood," Alech said gloomily. "Magical Races don't leave corpses."

Riander retrieved his sword and put it back into the scabbard. Then he picked up Kariel's sword and weighed it.

"We found a sword for Nerian!" Soss said cheerfully while Alech offered Riander a scarf to wrap around his left arm. The king had barely a flesh wound and he set the sword on a stone to bandage his arm, absent-minded.

"We better tend that wound," Temai said gruffly, pointing at Nerian's bloodied hand that was still pressing the handkerchief on the wound. "Take him inside, guys."

The twins had already rushed back to the cave, probably to check on the food. Riander gave the sword to Soss and helped Nerian to go back inside and lie down on his cot.

"Thank you," Nerian whispered, grateful, finally relaxing in the dwarves' care.

Riander smiled and backed away, leaving the diminutive men taking care of the wounded prince.

***

Riander tucked Nerian's blanket and lightly brushed the raven hair of the youth before pulling away from the cot. He met Alech's eyes and smiled sheepishly.

"He's sleeping," he whispered.

Riander knew Nerian would be all right. He didn't need to call his godmother again, the dwarves' medicine would work as well, if slower. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"We didn't really do it for you." Xhael winked and grinned. "We're quite fond of him ourselves."

Riander had learned all the dwarves' names during the cheerful meal that had closed the encounter with the Sorcerer King. Now that Nerian was asleep, his own arm bandaged and the cut sewn closed by blue-eyed Soss, he had another duty to attend, though.

He rose. "I need to bury Danhin," he said. "Check on the horses. And then may I come back in here to get some sleep?"

"We don't have a bed your size, but we'll throw some blankets on the ground for you," Alech said. "Ikeli and Losik will help you deal with your servant's body."

Riander nodded and the twins followed him outside with torches. The forest was wrapped in darkness and only night animals could be heard. The horses had moved a little farther in search of food, but they came back towards the light and Temai gave them an armful of hay to nibble on for the night. There wasn't much grass in the forest anyway, so the hay was very welcome for the nervous animals.

Ikeli and Losik had brought spades to dig a hole in the clearing. Riander took off his sword-belt and helped them to prepare a final resting place for his faithful servant. Danhin had died too early and Inetina would never marry him.

Riander composed the corpse in the hole and stayed on his knees for a moment, praying for the soul of his servant, then the twins started to cover it with earth. Riander found a bigger stone and carved Danhin's initial on it, setting it over the shallow grave with a final prayer.

Then he followed the twins back into the cavern, checking one last time that the horses were all right. Xhael pointed him to a makeshift bed and he suddenly felt very tired. With one last glance at the pale, sleeping face of Nerian, he lay down and closed his eyes.

He woke up with the chatter of men in a foreign tongue. He opened his eyes and saw only the dwarves were up and about, preparing breakfast and doing their chores, bickering in low voices so they wouldn't wake up their guests.

Riander sat and stretched his limbs, yawning. Nerian was still peacefully asleep, and some color had returned to his cheeks. Xhael turned to look at him and smiled.

"Good morning, your majesty. Hope you slept well."

"One night on the floor won't kill me," he answered, rising and approaching the fireplace where water was boiling. Soss offered him a mug of herbal tea and some sugar.

"You don't need to drink it as is, like Nerian," he said gruffly.

"Why, Nerian likes his tea sour?" Riander asked, sitting on the ground to pour some sugar in the tea.

"No, but if he wants to get better, he better drink it sour this morning," Soss answered.

Riander smiled. "When do you think he'll be able to travel?" he asked, since the blue-eyed dwarf seemed to be the physician in the group of dwarves.

"A couple of days." Soss shrugged. "He's young, he'll recover soon. If you're in a hurry to leave, you can always call your godmother."

"No, I'm not in a hurry," Riander said, thoughtful, sipping his tea. "I'm not sure what to do next."

Alech came forward. "Go back to your castle? Your people are probably worried sick about your well-being..."

"How do you know all these things about the world if you never go very far from this cave?" Riander wondered.

"Our Sila friends tell us stories. They've seen it all."

The Sila. The winged beings. Riander wondered if he'd be allowed to meet them while he waited for Nerian to recover.

"No, they don't like Humans," Alech said as if he'd read his mind. "They wouldn't want to meet you. Or Nerian, even though he has Sila blood."

"How did that happen then?" Riander asked, disappointed. "I mean, if the Sila don't come near us, how could they have a half-blood offspring..."

"Sometimes they do get in touch with Humans." Temai shrugged. "If they're short-sighted for their standards, they might befriend some Human."

"They never came here while I was with them," Nerian's voice startled them. He was awake and sat on the cot, staring at Riander with his pale blue eyes. Soss rushed to him with the sour tisane and told him to drink it. Nerian obeyed but kept looking at Riander.

"Ah, well, never mind." Riander sighed. "I guess I should stop chasing wild geese... and make my council happy. Will you help Nerian become the king he's supposed to be?"

"We don't like Humans much, not in great quantities," Soss said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"We will take him back to Ker Daragon," Alech added. "But he'll have to deal with a council, much like you."

"I'll never be able to do it!" Nerian complained. "May I come to Ker Garenn to see how it's done?"

"I think you should go back to your castle," Riander replied, thoughtful. "I'm sure your people will welcome you back with open arms."

"They haven't seen me for ten years!" The youth seemed on the verge of panic. "They might not recognize me!"

"And that's why we're escorting you there," Xhael said, patting his shoulder. "If they don't want you, we take you to Ker Garenn."

Nerian sighed and looked pleadingly at Riander.

"It is best for us both," Riander said. "I will help you find a suitable bride..."

"Hey, he's still young, you're the one who should get married, like, yesterday!" Soss said. "Why don't you ask Wild Rose to send a Genn to Ker Garenn? She'd make a lovely queen and wouldn't suffer all the jealousy Human women are prone to!"

"Can I have a winged queen, then?" Nerian asked, staring hopeful at Soss.

"No, Nerian, no Sila for you."

"Wait, unless there's some short-sighted female..." Ikeli said.

"We'll go to the Sila nest and ask," Losik added.

"Just imagine, two Human kingdoms with Magical Races members' queens!" Xhael laughed out loud. "Never going to happen!"

"Not with the Sila, no," Soss said. "With the Genn, who knows."

Riander had never considered consulting his faery godmother about marriage. Maybe it was time to go home and call her for advice.

Yellow as Honey

Nerian "inherited" Kariel's sword and Danhin's horse as soon as his wound got better. Riander had left to go back to Ker Garenn, leaving him with the dwarves who now contemplated the tall animal with thoughtful expressions.

"It's all right that you go back on horseback," Alech said.

"But there's no way we can keep up with you," Temai added.

"We can't let him go on his own!" Xhael protested.

Nerian glanced gratefully at him. The clean-shaven dwarf seemed to be very fond of him.

"There were no Sila volunteers," Ikeli said.

"Nor would a Sila as escort keep him safe," Losik added.

Soss scoffed. "As if Sila could protect him," he muttered.

Yeni scratched his beard. "We really should get Belfi, guys. He's the most appropriate to take Nerian back."

Nerian crouched to be at the dwarves' height, frowning with worry.

"Don't leave me with a stranger!" he pleaded. "I should have followed King Riander to his castle!"

"He could have provided you an escort," Alech said. "Well, get on that saddle, we'll take you to the road between the castles and will go from there."

Nerian sighed. He wasn't much of a rider. He had barely started his warrior education, which meant he could barely use a sword and he'd been too small to get on a saddle when his father had been killed.

The twins held the reins while Alech motioned him towards the saddle. Nerian went to the horse and patted it warily.

"Don't unsaddle me," he muttered.

"Don't worry, it's a mare, not a war stallion," Yeni said with a chuckle.

Nerian grabbed the saddle pommel and put one foot in the stirrup before climbing on the horse. From the saddle, the dwarves looked even shorter and he felt like a giant.

"Hold on tight," Ikeli said as Losik pulled the reins and made the horse move.

Nerian swayed and held the pommel with both hands. And then a memory came back – him as a child on his father's horse, with his father's arms wrapped around him, keeping him still. He closed his eyes and let the dwarves lead the horse away from the clearing and the cave.

Soon his escort started singing as they marched forward, leading the horse by its reins. Nerian smiled and looked at them, trying to catch the lyrics, but they sang in a foreign tongue, probably their own. Still, the melody was catchy and he started humming the refrain when it came along.

They reached the unpaved road across the forest and stopped on the side. Signs of wagon and cart wheels showed it was well traveled. Donkeys, oxes and horses also left their tracks in the dust, along with some human feet. The birds were quiet here, as if they felt they were too close to the Humans' realm – not the safest place for them, Nerian knew.

Alech looked left and right along the empty road.

"That way is Ker Daragon." He pointed to the right. "And that way is Ker Garenn." He pointed to the left. "We could come with you, but we'd rather not. Maybe you should follow the road to Ker Garenn and ask King Riander to have you escorted back."

"Or you could boldly go back to your father's castle and claim your father's throne," Temai said, shaking his battle-axe. "It is your rightful place!"

"I doubt anyone would recognize me," Nerian grumbled. "Kariel kept me locked in a tower..." He thought about the huntsman who has spared his life. And the servant who brought him meals, always the same man. "Although maybe someone does know me..." He pursed his lips. "I don't know what to do!" he complained. "Why can't I stay with you guys a little longer? Maybe King Riander will come back to the cave and take me with him!"

The dwarves exchanged glances and smirks. Alech cleared his throat.

"Nerian, we made an exception for you. We don't like Humans. We don't want Humans around. You were in need, and we helped you. Now you can stand on your own. You're nineteen, Nerian. If you think you can't make it, Ker Garenn is that way. I'm sure King Riander will keep you under his wing until you're more self-confident."

Nerian sighed. One part of him really wanted to see his hero again and let Riander take care of him until the end of time. But another part of him reminded him he was prince heir of Ker Daragon and he owed it to his people to go back. Even though nobody had done anything to try and free him from the tower.

Someone appeared from the bend in the road on the side that led to Ker Garenn, making the dwarves grunt and prepare their weapons. Startled, Nerian looked that way as Yeni exclaimed, "It's Belfi!"

Now the dwarves all sounded excited. They put down the weapons and waved at the approaching traveler who waved back. Nerian's keen eyes saw an androgynous young man with very long, wavy, dark-blond hair held still to cover the ears with a headband. The newcomer had traveling clothes, a walking stick and a sword by his side. His smile was very sweet, almost boyish as he approached with long strides of his lean legs.

The dwarves rushed to greet and surround him, and Nerian watched with a little envy how friendly they were with the newcomer. And they said they didn't like Humans. And then Belfi's brown eyes fell on him, and the young man smiled openly.

"Hello, Nerian," he said. "Riander told me you might need me. And Alech had sent out word for me a few days ago."

"Who are you?" Nerian asked, a little wary.

"I'm Belfi, the immortal half-blood." The other took out the headband and showed off pointed ears, much like Riander's faery godmother. "I'm a magic user."

Nerian remembered the dwarves had mentioned him when talking about Nerian's education with swords.

"So will you take me to Ker Daragon and keep me safe?" he asked.

"Of course." Belfi came closer. "Can you ride?"

"Not really," Nerian muttered, eyes low.

Belfi mounted behind him and grabbed the reins from smiling Ikeli's hand. Again Nerian felt like when his father was alive and took him on his saddle for short rides around the courtyard.

"Thank you, Alech," Belfi said. "See you around."

"Thank you, Belfi," the dwarf captain replied. "Take care of our little prince."

"I will take him back to his castle safe and sound. And if his castle is not safe, I shall whisk him back to Ker Garenn where Riander is expecting him," Belfi promised. And he spurred the horse, holding Nerian who almost fell off at the sudden movement.

Nerian tried to look back to say good-bye to the dwarves, but Belfi had pushed the horse to a trot and he was sick already. "Bye, guys!" he shouted, leaning against Belfi's chest. A chorus of replies made him grin and relax in Belfi's embrace.

***

"Belfi is taking Nerian home," Wild Rose said, sitting on the corner of Riander's desk in the king's small office. "Don't worry, the prince will be fine."

"Thanks," Riander said, relaxing in his seat. "You never cease to amaze me. How you respond to my calls, how you communicate with other members of the Magical Races..."

"It's through our minds and our intrinsic magic." She smiled. "You'll need something physical." She offered him a crystal. "As soon as Belfi takes Nerian home, he'll give him something similar, so you'll be able to talk without leaving your respective castles."

"Thank you!" Riander took the crystal and looked at it more closely. "How does this work?"

"It's a magic transmitter. It's small, but you'll be able to see and hear Nerian." She shrugged. "That's all I can do for you, since you're so worried for the prince of Ker Daragon."

Riander thanked her again and put down the crystal.

"I'm worried for him because he wasn't trained to be king," he said, thoughtful. "If I find it hard, it must be much worse for him! If he were a woman, I'd marry her and unite the kingdoms, but..."

"You don't want even more people under your rule." She grinned. "You have enough trouble as is."

"True." He smiled sheepishly. "How do you do it? Without a king, I mean?"

He knew the Genn had lost their kingdoms centuries ago and wondered how they managed their hidden underground towns.

"A council of elders if there's some decision-making, otherwise we just live in harmony," she replied, amused. "But then, we were never violently possessive like Humans."

Riander sighed. "So do you think I should get married and breed?"

"It would help make your subjects feel more secure. Not that your neighbors seem to want your lands, but you never know."

"What if I give the power to someone more suited than me?"

"Your poor father will come back and haunt you," Wild Rose teased. "He raised you to be king, not to give up your inheritance."

"I know, but..." Another sigh.

In spite of meeting the Sorcerer King and fighting him, he still didn't feel like he deserved his throne. He wished he could leave and look for the Magical Races – see the underground Genn towns, the Sila nests, the Waiora underwater dwellings...

Except none of them wanted a Human in their midst. Not even the Genn. Wild Rose visited him, but never suggested he come and live with her.

"You're finding excuses because you don't want the intimacy of sex," Wild Rose said, serious now. "It should come naturally to you, but you're one of the rare Humans who can't be bothered. Which should make you a better king, since you're not obsessed with fucking everything that moves."

"Wild Rose!" he protested, blushing. That wasn't how he saw himself. He'd rather stay in his little office or in the castle library all day instead of dealing with people and royal matters. His council had scolded him for spending the night at Ker Daragon, and the death of poor Danhin, and now a bodyguard stood outside his every door at all hours.

She chuckled and caressed his cheek. "You're a fine king, Riander. Don't worry, you'll be all right."

A knock on the door startled him. Wild Rose blew him a kiss and vanished with an instant transfer spell that made him gasp, in spite of the fact that he was used to seeing her come and go that way.

"Yes?" He looked at the door and the guard let in a beautiful young woman with a brown braid of hair and an elegant light blue gown that matched her sapphire earrings and necklace. "Lady Viona," Riander greeted with a nod.

She smiled and curtsied before approaching his desk. "Your majesty, I was wondering if you'd like to see what we prepared for the homecoming banquet. It is almost dinnertime and I believe you've spent too much time working too hard to catch up for the few days you've been away."

"Well, it's true that I was starting to be hungry," he replied, standing and walking around the desk to join her. Lady Viona was the sister of Duke Arias, the youngest of his counselors who was only two years older than him but had a wife and four children. Other members of the council had suggested the king consider marrying Lady Viona, but he was still trying to find another princess outside of Ker Garenn.

He offered his arm to her and they left his office to go back to the great hall, where everybody was gathered. He'd been back the day before, but having arrived unannounced, there had been no time to set up a homecoming banquet.

His nobles and servants cheered him, especially seeing him next to Lady Viona, who smiled proudly. Riander left her with her brother and took his seat at the head of the table, nodding at everyone as he passed by them.

"Thank you all for this warm welcome," he said. "I'm sorry I worried you and I promise I'll do my best to fulfill my duties as soon as possible. I will choose a bride before the winter comes."

More cheers and applause welcomed his short speech. He nodded with a smile and waved so the servants could start bringing in the food. Chatter filled the great hall, making him feel slightly uneasy, but he managed to keep a smiling face.

Crowds would always make him uneasy. But his people were so happy to have him back, he couldn't avoid the festivities. He imagined his wedding banquet would be almost like this. If he found a proper bride.

His eyes met Lady Viona's and she smiled mischievously at him. He'd known her for years, even kissed her very awkwardly a summer of many years ago, but neither had liked it at the time. Was it possible she wanted to give him another chance? Did she really think he had changed?

Maybe she had changed and now had the experience they'd both lacked in their teens... Somehow the thought was comforting. She wasn't a stranger and maybe being intimate with her wouldn't be too bad...

***

Nerian felt his heart beat faster when the tower he'd been locked in for ten years came into view. He shifted uncomfortably on the saddle, looking forward to getting off the damn horse. He hoped he wouldn't have to do too much riding as a king.

And then the road bent and the castle appeared in full view, with its five narrow, round towers connected by tall, vast walls. The tallest of the five had been Nerian's prison and it still held the castle flag with his father's coat-of-arms.

The moderate gate with massive wooden doors was wide open and offered a safe home to all those in need at the base of the mountains, but it was not the only way in when you knew the castle's secret passages.

"My father showed me once the entrance of the emergency escape, but I'm not sure I can find it again," Nerian said as Belfi slowed the horse to a slower gait after trotting from the place where they'd left the dwarves.

"Alech knows the way in from the other side, but he thought you should go back from the main entrance," the half-blood replied. "The dwarves have expanded that single tunnel and the Genn know it too. They never use it, of course, not the part under the castle, at least..."

Nerian turned to look at Belfi, puzzled. The half-blood grinned.

"The castle is very old, Nerian, and the secret passage hasn't been used in more than a century, what did you expect?"

"Nothing," Nerian muttered as the horse reached the drawbridge. The guards stared at him with a mix of curiosity and boredom. He wondered if any of them had been posted behind his door on the tower.

Belfi stopped the horse in the courtyard and dismounted nimbly while Nerian struggled to get off the saddle. His thighs and ass hurt after only a couple of hours of riding. He really had to work out a lot to stop aching for any new movement he made.

Nerian looked around the courtyard, frowning with worry. But then he saw the huntsman who had dragged him out of the tower staring at him and gaping. He smiled weakly at the man and made a tentative greeting wave with his hand. What was his name again? Roddyn, yes. That was it.

Roddyn came forward and he wondered if he should head for the great hall.

"Prince Nerian!" The huntsman bowed and kept staring at him with wide eyes. "You promised not to come back!"

"Don't worry, Roddyn, the Sorcerer King will not punish you this time," Nerian answered, his voice shaky at first.

"You don't know how wicked he is..."

"He can't punish you, Roddyn, he's dead," Nerian assured, looking the man in the eyes. "King Riander killed him."

"Oh." The huntsman exhaled in relief and smiled. "Welcome back, Prince Nerian." He waved at the castle main door and the great hall. "Please take your father's seat. We are happy to have you back."

Nerian nodded, still frowning with worry, and headed for the castle and the great hall. The servant that used to bring him his meals gasped at the sight of him and bowed deeply. Nerian heard Roddyn gathering everyone as he reached the great hall and headed straight to his father's wooden throne, now empty.

"Wait, what do you think you're doing?" The captain of the guard stopped him before he climbed on the dais.

"I am Prince Nerian, rightful heir to Ker Daragon," Nerian replied proudly.

The man scoffed. "Prince Nerian is dead. The Sorcerer King will come back soon and I'd run away now if I were you." A gloved hand caressed Nerian's cheek. "I believe he'll find you to his tastes and take you to his bed as soon as he sees you."

"He can't," Nerian snapped, glaring at the oblivious captain. "Kariel is dead. He's not coming back. You better bow to me before I find myself another captain of the guard."

"He is Prince Nerian," Roddyn said, entering the great hall, followed by a crowd of castle workers. The servant that had had access to the tower nodded.

An elderly counselor came forward and turned Nerian towards the light of the windows. Nerian let the old man observe him, trying to stay calm. A glance at Belfi's smile was enough to make him feel safe. He was fine. It was fair that his people got to meet him anew. He'd been locked up for ten years after all.

"Mm, I see Queen Nerina in you," the old man said with a smile. "Yes, you must be Prince Nerian. May the gods be blessed! You survived the wicked usurper!"

"Thanks to Roddyn," Nerian replied. "I'm willing to give him the post of captain of the guard to reward him for sparing me."

The captain pulled away and bowed submissively. "I'm sorry, your highness, I wasn't aware you were still among us."

"I'm back and I hope you still want me as your king," Nerian said, climbing on the dais and addressing the audience.

Cheers led by Roddyn confirmed his people's will to have him on his father's throne. Smiling, relieved, he nodded and sat on the throne. Soon he'd have to wear a golden crown and lead those people into the future.

A hint of panic made him look at Belfi who nodded his approval.

"Your highness, can you tell us how King Riander dispatched the usurper?" Roddyn asked.

Nerian brightened as he excitedly recounted the final fight with Kariel. And then he had to tell them how he'd escaped the tower, and about the dwarves, and...

Night fell on Ker Daragon and servants set up tables so they could eat and celebrate well into the night. The rightful king was back. Tomorrow Nerian would be crowned. Nobody seemed to notice the androgynous half-blood keeping an eye on the young prince.

***

A couple of ravens' croaking calls awoke Riander from a dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes and saw the sun was up, but no servant had knocked on his door yet. He hadn't found a substitute for Danhin yet and he sighed, missing his faithful attendant's care.

Then he realized he wasn't alone in his bed, and that was probably why no servant had dared disturb him. He remembered the banquet the night before and leaving the great hall with Viona holding his arm and...

He hid his face in his hands. Much like at Ker Daragon, he hadn't been really drunk, but still willing to give sex another chance. Much like with Kariel, he had enjoyed the time with someone else, but the intimacy still made him uncomfortable. He didn't dare move for fear of waking her, still asleep by his side.

At least Kariel had woken up before him, sparing him this. He glanced at Viona's sleeping form and sighed again. Why couldn't he enjoy sex like everybody else? He'd had a couple of women in his life – his father had made sure he'd know what he was doing when he finally got married – but he still didn't like having them in his bed.

Yes, Viona had learned a lot since their awkward first kiss. And she had probably enjoyed the night more than he did. Maybe he should just marry her and make his council happy. But the thought of losing the freedom of sleeping alone...

She stirred and caressed his naked torso. "Morning, Riander," she grumbled, rubbing her naked body against his. "Thank you for not kicking me out last night."

"You're welcome," he muttered in return, trying to disentangle himself from her.

"You didn't like it." She stared at him, disappointed. "You don't like me."

"It's not you, it's me," he said. "I didn't like it, but not because it's you, it's because I don't like it."

"Do you prefer men?" She frowned in worry. "The council thinks so..."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because I allowed Kariel in my bed..."

"You what?" She jumped up, eyes wide in wonder. "Oh no!"

"It was just one night! What's the big deal? I still function, don't I? And I ended up killing him. So, there you go. First and last male lover of my life!"

Riander rose and put on a dressing gown. Of course he functioned, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.

"Can you pass me my dress?" she asked.

He obeyed and saw she was frowning now.

"Really, Riander, will you ever choose a bride?"

"I don't know, Viona. Thank you for the night, but please, go now."

She quickly pulled on her gown, barely covering her body without bothering with laces and buttons, and rushed out of the room, still frowning. As soon as she left, the barber came in, his face impassive as if he hadn't just met the lady who had spent the night with the king.

At least the council would know. That he'd slept with Viona and Kariel. The pressure would probably get worse now. He glanced at the magic crystal on his bed table and wondered how Nerian was doing.

***

Nerian awoke with a sense of doom in his princely room. It was coronation day and tonight he'd sleep in his father's bed. He hadn't had time to get used to his old room and he was changing beds again.

He'd have a big double bed from tonight, though. He was excited at the prospect of having someone sleeping with him. The night before he had eyed lots of pretty faces in the banquet hall and all had smiled eagerly at him.

Heartened at the thought of finally having real sex, Nerian threw away the blankets and got out of bed. Servants started pouring in as soon as he opened the blinds of his room, helping him to dress and comb his long black hair.

He still didn't need to shave, but he didn't care. Thank the Gods the fashion was clean-shaven for noblemen, so he wouldn't have to grow a beard to be a respected king. Belfi came into the room as the servants left, having prepared him for the ceremony.

"Lord Ulric is ready to crown you," the half-blood announced. "As the eldest member of your council and a close friend of your late father, he looks forward to bestowing your inheritance on you. And then he'll probably have a long list of suitable maidens for you to choose from."

"You mean I must choose a bride as soon as I'm king?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

Belfi chuckled. "According to them, yes. But you can do like Riander and wait."

Nerian sighed.

"I wish I could talk to Riander... I'm sure his advice would be welcome!"

"I was instructed to give you this." Belfi offered him a crystal. "It's a magic crystal. It transmits images and words. I believe Riander has one too." He smiled impishly. "Wild Rose gave him one during her last visit."

Awed, Nerian took the crystal. "How does it work?"

"Think hard about Riander. It will tune to his crystal."

Nerian closed his eyes, holding the crystal tight in one hand.

"Hey, Nerian!" Riander's cheerful voice startled him. He stared amazed at the crystal that showed the king's smiling face. "You look great. Ready for your coronation, are you?"

"Yes!" Nerian gulped his excitement and his anxiety. "Can I talk to you when I'm done? I think my council will want me married as soon as possible!"

"Ah, yes, they probably will." Riander chuckled. "I need to go now, but we can talk tonight – unless you have company, that is."

"What about you?" Nerian felt his cheeks on fire. "Will I disturb you if I call you when I retire to sleep?"

"No, tonight I shall blissfully sleep alone," Riander answered with a smile. "Don't worry. Call me when you retire to bed, if you retire alone."

"Thank you!" Nerian watched the king's face fade away. He looked at Belfi. "Where should I keep this?"

***

Riander left the council room with a huff. Another full morning of suggestions of possible brides. His trip to Ker Daragon had scared his dignitaries and they really wanted him to tie the knot. Except after the night with Viona he was even less willing to have someone in his bed.

True that he could keep separate bedrooms. Some royal couples didn't sleep together constantly. Especially when there were children, which would be the only reason to get married. Provide the castle with an heir.

His stomach grumbled and he headed for the great hall. Time for a midday meal, then more administrative matters. At least for those he could retire to his office. He didn't need a secretary and could have some time off. Maybe he could even finish reading that history book he had taken from the castle library before going on the hunt that had taken him to Ker Daragon.

The bodyguard assigned to him followed him like a shadow everywhere, but not into his office or his private apartment. And since they guarded him day and night now, he wasn't going to befriend any of them like he had done with Danhin. He didn't even know all their names yet, but he knew they had long shifts to keep him safe.

During the meal Viona kept smiling at him, in spite of everything. Maybe she wanted another chance. Maybe she hadn't given up yet. Maybe she hoped he'd choose her and make her queen. Lady Viona was rumored to be quite ambitious and have turned down many suitors, as if she were waiting for someone in particular...

Riander ignored her obvious offer and left the table as soon as he could. He was finishing some accounting when a knock on his door distracted him. Lord Arias came in and bowed.

"Your majesty, may I have a word with you?"

"Please, take a seat." Riander put down the quill and pointed at the stool in front of his desk. Maybe Viona had talked her brother into asking him to marry her.

Arias cleared his throat, staring at his feet as he sat. He hadn't spoken much that morning, since he was the youngest member of the council, but maybe he had something to say – something he'd rather not tell Riander in front of the other counselors.

"I've been wondering... What are your feelings for my sister?" Arias finally looked Riander in the eyes, serious. "She's been quite taken with you for years now, so... where do you stand in this matter? I'm sure you are aware she refused to marry in the hopes of... well... being chosen by you."

Riander smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I'm aware that Viona has had a crush on me since we were teens," he answered. "I was hoping she would find someone else, but she's obviously set on me."

"She mentioned awkward meetings in your younger years, but also that you made up for them lately," Arias said with a half-smile.

"I did?" Riander raised his eyebrows, surprised. He didn't think he'd done great last night. "Arias, I don't love her, if that's what you're asking. I don't see myself spending my life with her either."

"I understand," Arias said gravely. "Is there anyone else, then?"

"Ah, no." Riander looked away. It was his turn to feel uncomfortable. "I... I don't think I'm made to be a family man."

"Why?" Arias asked, puzzled. "You don't feel attracted to women?"

"I don't feel attracted at all. To anyone. I don't see anything interesting in sex. I don't understand why people are so obsessed with it. And I don't think I'd be a good father. I'm a loner, Arias, I don't want the hassle of a family."

"You'd be a great father if you let anyone near you," Arias replied with a smile. "But I understand how you feel. It shows. Whenever you're in a room full of people you look lost, as if you wanted to be anywhere else but there. Which doesn't go very well with your kingly duties, but you keep showing up. You should be commended for this. And that's why we still want you as a king. We love you because you're so quiet but strong, and your father raised you well. You can handle anything and anyone. Except this marriage thing."

Riander sighed.

"Sometimes I think I'm not really fit to be king and I wonder if I should name someone else in my place." He stared at Arias who looked surprised at the thought. Arias would be a great king. He had a wife, and children, and he wasn't a loner. He was calm and wise and totally different from his fiery sister. "Would you like the throne?"

"Your majesty!" Arias protested. "I wasn't born to be king!"

"No, but you could run this castle and its lands better than I ever would..."

"No, your majesty, you're doing a fine job at that. If you do not wish to marry, don't. But please, don't let us down. You still have plenty of years ahead of you."

"If I don't get killed in a hunting accident or some other stupid way," Riander muttered. "Maybe I should write down that in case I die before my time, you should inherit everything."

"I still think a wife would be a better way to leave your father's legacy to someone else," Arias said. "My sister adores you. Think about it."

Arias rose and bowed stiffly before leaving. Riander pursed his lips and sighed. Marrying Viona might be a little too much to handle, though...

***

The coronation went well and Nerian was so busy rekindling the relationships with the castle inhabitants that a few days went by before he remembered the crystal. After ten years of loneliness, he finally had people to talk to, and everybody seemed eager to please him in any way.

After the few days with the dwarves, who had introduced him to community life again, he naturally fitted in the castle life, busy with kingly duties and lessons from his council members.

A teacher completed his education in bookkeeping and accounting. Belfi trained him with his sword. Roddyn taught him to use a bow. And the girls giggled when he entered the room, which made him feel elated and excited.

One bolder than the others kissed him on the lips, another, slightly older, went even further, visiting him in his royal bedroom and taking his virginity. Nerian enjoyed every moment of it. His body was starved for attention and he soon found his way around women.

"Maybe I went too fast," he confided to Riander on the night he remembered the other king. "Today Lord Woram scolded me, but apparently Kariel did the same with young men."

"So you enjoy sex?" Riander asked from the magic crystal.

"Yes, very much! So much so that I can't decide who I want to marry! And you? Have you found someone?"

"I'm still pondering the choices. There is a childhood friend who has a crush on me, but... I don't love her, so..."

"I love them all! And they love me!"

"Maybe because you're young, dumb and full of cum. Not to mention king."

"Aw, come on, Riander, don't shatter my dreams! I haven't had so much fun in years!"

Riander chuckled. "I'm happy for you. As a young king, your council must be on your neck even more than mine, just to make sure you don't make mistakes..."

"And there's so much to learn! If only I didn't have to learn it all at the same time!" Nerian complained. "I wish there was a magic spell that could make me know everything I need to know!"

"I'm afraid not even my faery godmother could do that," Riander commented. "Glad to hear everything is going fine. If you need advice, you know where to find me."

That night Nerian dreamed of Riander and Kariel fighting in the clearing. The duel was in slow motion and he kept seeing Riander's face and body. He woke up aroused but alone and wondered what the dream meant.

He remembered the rumors about Kariel, how he had used and abused young men... and wondered. Maybe Riander didn't want to get married because he preferred men too? He couldn't really ask, though, could he? He didn't want to piss off his neighbor.

Belfi found him particularly distracted during his morning lesson. "And Sir Eneck said you couldn't concentrate on books either," the half-blood said with an amused look on his androgynous face.

Nerian put away the sword and sat near Belfi on a bench in the castle courtyard. "I'm thinking... about Kariel and Riander. And their sexual tastes."

"That's not something one discusses in the open," Belfi replied. "I mean, you can't go ask Riander who he likes to sleep with. But there's enough about Kariel to confirm that he preferred his own sex. So? Are you confused, overdosed with women and want to try men?"

"I don't know." Nerian frowned. "I think I've tried everything with women..."

"Nerian, you're nineteen and you've just discovered sex. There are millions of other things to try. Both with men and women."

"Have you done it with men?" Nerian looked at Belfi who smiled and shook his head.

"No, but I know people who do. Explore your desire, Nerian, eventually you'll fall in love."

"How will I know that I'm in love?" Nerian worried he would confuse the act with the feeling.

"Trust me, you'll know," Belfi assured him. "Shall we go back to the training now?"

Nerian sighed. But he was aware he needed to learn to defend himself, and Belfi was a good teacher. He rose and unsheathed his sword, taking position.

***

Riander was happy for Nerian. The young man had sounded excited by his new life. Riander was sure he'd soon settle and fall in love and live happily ever after. Nerian wasn't an introvert like him and his youth made him rash, but also sweet. Riander hadn't seen him for long, but he compared Nerian to a puppy – playful, cuddly, happy-go-lucky.

Nerian was the younger brother he never had. When they talked through the crystal, he smiled at how Nerian was rediscovering life and enjoying it fully. He had never been like this, not even in his younger years. He had never been attracted to anyone.

Sometimes he envied Nerian's love for life and for people. Sometimes he felt like a grumpy old man, even though he was only thirty. He already wanted to retire and be a hermit somewhere. Except they wouldn't allow him to abandon his post.

Viona kept coming to his bed – not every night, but she kept coming. They didn't speak much, though. She never asked him when he'd marry her. It was plain on her face, but she never mentioned it.

Viona loved him but he preferred sleeping alone. His people loved him, but he wanted to leave them. He knew they didn't really need him to make the castle and its lands prosper. Such a small kingdom didn't really need him to go on.

But any other form of government was unheard of, so he had to sit on that throne every day, administer justice, make sure everybody had food and shelter and paid taxes to pay the guards to keep everybody safe.

Maybe with time he could convince them that Lord Arias would be as good as him. Or maybe he'd end up marrying Viona. If she got pregnant... but then, if it was a baby girl, he didn't want to keep having sex with her until a boy came.

Sometimes he still remembered the night with Kariel. Which didn't mean he wanted to try another male lover, but he kept wondering. Nerian's boyish face also often appeared in his dreams. He sort of missed him.

They hadn't had time to know each other properly. Which was good, after all. A relationship between the two of them would have ruined two kingdoms...

Blue as the Sky

One month had gone by since Kariel's death and Nerian's coronation and Belfi was still at Ker Daragon. Nerian's sword skills had improved, his administrative skills were almost as good as Riander's and his sexual adventures as varied as he could have them. Being aware of his youth, he listened carefully to his counselors before making any decision and sometimes consulted with Riander or Belfi when he had really no idea of what to do.

"We told King Kariel that some people were sick, but he couldn't care less," Lord Serin told him one morning. One of the older members of the king's council, he had large ears and ruddy skin. He was funny and not very stubborn. One of his hobbies was experimenting with pyrotechnics and he had made a wondrous show the night of Nerian's coronation. "Maybe your sword teacher can help us figure out how to stop this? It's contagious and deadly..." He stared hopeful at Belfi, whose pointed ears were hidden, but whose true nature hadn't escaped the castle inhabitants. Nobody dared ask him anything, but Lord Serin was bold enough to suggest something during a council session.

Nerian had asked Belfi to take part in those sessions even though the half-blood wasn't accustomed with royal councils because he thought the immortal being had the wisdom to advice him anyway. Belfi had been to many courts in his long life, and maybe something he'd seen somewhere else might represent itself in Ker Daragon.

"I am not a healer," Belfi answered while Nerian looked puzzled at him. "I can call upon a healer, though. If it's the plague, though, there isn't much either of us can do. It is indeed contagious and deadly, and all she could do is figure out who is not sick yet and keep them away from the sick."

"Has the plague come from Ker Eziel?" Lord Uriel asked, frowning.

"Ker Eziel was abandoned because of the magic involved," Belfi replied. "There was no plague over there. It probably comes from the plains – or maybe from rats. I haven't seen many cats around the castle."

"Since the Sorcerer King came, many small animals vanished," Lord Serin said. "The hounds are still here, and they're still used in hunts, but cats are gone. Mice were also gone, but they're back now."

"Where are the sick people?" Nerian asked, frowning with worry. "In the castle?"

"It started in the village by the watermill," Lord Serin answered. "But it's spreading. It has reached the castle now."

Nerian gasped and looked at Belfi, ready to panic. What could he do against the plague? What could anyone do, besides letting the sick people die unattended to avoid contagion?

Belfi pondered then looked at him.

"I can call Wild Rose. She's a healer. But, like I said, she can only determine who is sick and who isn't. She can't heal the dozens of people in the castle and the kingdom. She's a pure-blooded Genn, but she can't do miracles."

"So what can we do?" Nerian asked.

"Leave the sick ones behind and move away. Burn everything that entered in contact with the plague."

"Burn Ker Daragon?" In spite of his love for pyrotechnics, Lord Serin's eyes widened in shock.

"If the plague has reached the castle, it's the only way to stop it." Belfi replied.

"But where would we go?" Lord Uriel wrung his hands in desperation. "We were born here and..."

"And here you shall die if you stay," Belfi replied gravely.

"I will ask Riander if he can accommodate us," Nerian said. "But first we must be sure we don't bring the plague to Ker Garenn. Please summon Wild Rose, Belfi, and let's do as you suggest."

***

"Wild Rose!" Riander was startled by the sudden appearance of his faery godmother. He was preparing for bed and the night wrapped the towers of Ker Garenn. In the pale light of his single oil lamp, Wild Rose's face looked tired.

"I come on behalf of Nerian," she said. "I spent the day at Ker Daragon, checking the people of the kingdom."

"Why, what happened?" Riander asked. "Nerian didn't mention anything..."

"It was brought to his attention this morning. The plague, Riander. It has reached the castle now. Kariel had gotten rid of all the cats, rats and mice, but now that he's gone, they're back, and rats are carriers of the plague..."

"How did Kariel...? Wait, I don't think I want to know."

"He ate some and the others ran away." Wild Rose smiled tiredly. "He was a half-Fajrulo, after all. Yes, he did eat raw meat when nobody was watching."

Riander felt his stomach in his throat. He had kissed someone who ate raw meat. Cats or mice or other animals... it was disgusting. Kariel kept his inhuman habits well hidden.

"Now, I've checked everyone and they put the sick people in the great hall in some kind of quarantine," Wild Rose continued. "There are still a little less than a hundred people in the whole kingdom that are not affected. Some villages are completely depopulated already, and soldiers have been sent to burn the huts to purify the places. Others are untouched and people can just stay there. But the castle..." She looked Riander in the eyes. "They can't stay at the castle. Nerian would like to know if people can move to Ker Garenn. Whoever doesn't have relatives in the unaffected villages, that is. He is willing to give you his father's lands. You would rule over everyone."

Riander gaped. As if he hadn't enough of his own people!

"I know you had considered it if Nerian were female and I had discouraged you then, but now the situation is different," she continued. "This is serious, Riander. Some will probably move to the closest towns, but others really need your protection. Including Nerian."

"Maybe we could have a joint rule," he muttered, averting his eyes. "I will sleep on it and will send a messenger to Ker Daragon in the morning," he promised.

Wild Rose nodded and caressed his cheek. "You can do it, Riander," she whispered before vanishing again.

Riander went to bed and curled up in the fetal position. Now he really wanted to break down and cry.

***

Nerian couldn't believe he had to abandon his castle barely a month after going back there. His father's legacy, his people who had been kept away from him for ten years... Why hadn't Kariel cared more for them? Maybe because he didn't plan to stay in Ker Daragon for the rest of his life?

True that the Sorcerer King had already left a castle behind. And he'd never been of royal blood. He obviously couldn't care less about what happened to Ker Daragon. But Wild Rose had been adamant. Whoever wasn't sick yet must leave.

Families who didn't want to split were doomed to die together. But many mothers who had healthy children gave them to other women when staying behind to care for the sick. There were lots of sudden adoptions as a long line of wagons and carts left the castle and headed for Ker Daragon on the dusty road through the forest.

Nerian rode in the front of the line, on horseback – Danhin's horse going back to its original stable – followed by his royal guard. Belfi was on the wagon of the council with Lord Serin who had considered setting the castle on fire, but not with the people still in it.

The people who stayed closed the big doors and locked themselves inside, so that no traveler would be affected by the plague. A scribe pinned a note on the wood, saying the castle was a dangerous place because of the plague, just in case.

Nerian sniffled and stopped turning around when the tall trees covered the sight of Ker Daragon's towers. Even his ten-year prison was now left behind. He'd never been to Ker Garenn and wondered what he would find. Riander had sent a messenger that welcomed them to the neighboring kingdom, so Nerian hoped they'd be all right.

He actually looked forward to being with his hero again. To watch him be king and save his people like he had saved him. He missed the presence of his neighbor, even though he'd spent barely a couple of days with him in the dwarves' cave.

And then Ker Garenn appeared beyond the forest. It was late morning by now, almost lunch time, so they'd reach the castle in time for the midday meal. Messengers had been sent ahead to announce the number of people coming and Nerian was almost sure that Riander was ready for them.

He admired the six thin, square towers scattered in a seemingly random pattern, built for an ideal defense and connected by tall, firm walls made of yellow stone. Tall, wide windows scattered here and there across the walls in a seemingly random pattern made it look lighter than Ker Daragon.

A regular gate with hefty metal doors and strong defenses offered a safe home to all those in need. Well-kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes decorated the outside of the castle. A hamlet leaned on the right sight of the main gate, in the shadow of the tall walls.

"This castle has been improved and improved over the ages," the captain of the guard said behind Nerian. "See how some parts of the castle are clearly newer than others? The inhabitants are determined to keep their castle as modern as possible."

"They won't have to abandon it to the plague," Nerian whispered as Riander's well-built frame appeared at the gate.

Nerian's heart jumped when he met the honey-colored eyes of the king of Ker Garenn. Riander was serious, but he opened his arms in a gesture of welcome. Nerian gulped his homesickness and guilt for having abandoned his castle and slid off the saddle. He had to rush forward and hug Riander.

"Thank you!" he whispered, hiding his face against Riander's wide chest. "I didn't know what to do..."

"You're welcome." Riander patted his back, then pulled away. "Now let's find a place for you and your people." His lips twitched into a smile and Nerian realized his gesture hadn't been very kingly, or even manly for that matter.

He blushed and nodded, signaling his men to come forward and stepped away from Riander. He let the hosting king instruct everyone and then followed him inside the main building, through the great hall that was ready for a banquet – even though it wasn't really a banquet, more a way of feeding the extra mouths until they settled – and to the upper floors.

"I hope you don't mind the prince's room," Riander said, opening a room. "There's only one king's room, and I moved my things there when I was crowned."

"Prince's room is perfectly fine," Nerian said, seeing it had a big curtained bed, much like the king's. "My room as a prince was a child's room, and this is much like what I had at Ker Daragon when they crowned me king."

"Good." Riander smiled. "I'll have your servants bring your things here. I thought we could eat in my office so we can discuss what to do."

Nerian nodded, frowning in worry again, and followed him to another room with a desk and bookshelves, clearly the king's office like the one in Ker Daragon.

"I have a secretary that will bring all the books of Ker Daragon here," Nerian said, sitting down. Servants had already brought in trays of warm food and cold drinks. "As soon as he finishes eating, that is."

"That's fine. We'll have to figure out which fields are still usable and add them to Ker Garenn. And what other things you have in your kingdom that could be taken care of from here."

"There's a fishpond or two, and a couple of windmills... if your faery godmother can clean the watermill, the people there are all dead, but we haven't burnt it down..."

"I'm sure Wild Rose can purify it, so we can use it again. Please eat before it gets cold. We have plenty of time to make plans."

Nerian nodded, but his stomach was clenched closed with anxiety. But watching Riander's cool demeanor helped him relax and start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

***

Riander wasn't too happy when Viona knocked on his door that night. The day had been exhausting, dealing with people until dusk and dining in the great hall with everybody else. Peasants had been redirected to the villages in his kingdom, guards had joined his own, servants had crowded the castle beyond what seemed possible.

Some were already thinking of moving to town soon, even his own people. And if the castle felt overcrowded to his council, it was much worse for him, who couldn't have a moment alone since the arrival of the Ker Daragon inhabitants. Nerian clung to him until bedtime and now Viona wanted his attention as well.

"Please, Viona, I'm not in the mood," he said as she tried to hug him. "I'm very tired and worried and..."

"I'm here to help you relax," she said.

"Your presence doesn't relax me, honey," he snapped. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I need some time alone."

She stiffened but backed away. "That young king seems smitten by you," she said a little bluntly.

"I saved him from Kariel, and he's like a little brother to me," Riander said with a shrug.

"He doesn't look at you like a younger brother, Riander," she said, sarcastic. "His stare is adoring. Maybe he doesn't even know himself, but he's madly in love with you."

"Nonsense! Allow him to feel at home and you'll see how happy he will be to have you in his bed – you or any other woman for that matter!"

She scoffed. "I doubt it, but we'll see. Good night, Riander."

And she left. Riander exhaled in relief and slipped under the covers. In the quiet and darkness of his room, he saw Nerian's face again. The pale skin, dark hair, red lips... the androgynous beauty of a young man who talked to birds.

Viona was wrong. Nerian wasn't in love with him. And he probably didn't want to be king either. He's just like a little brother. Looks up at me, and maybe one day... Maybe one day he could leave Ker Garenn in Nerian's hands. At least he was of royal blood. His father would probably approve...

***

Nerian liked being an observer. He'd felt too young and unprepared when he'd been crowned king at Ker Daragon and now that responsibility fell on Riander's wide shoulders, he was much relieved. His admiration for the king grew daily, reminding him how his father had handled the kingdom.

Birds had told him of Kariel's ruthless rule and birds told him of Riander's gentle reign. A sparrow came to chat with him every morning as he sat at the window, looking at the castle life from a first floor room – not the top of a tower like it had been for the past ten years.

Ravens had flown back and forth from the two castles, bringing news of the dying Humans in his father's inheritance. They weren't affected by Human sicknesses and watched from the heights the unfurling of the tragedy.

Birds would keep living at Ker Daragon, especially since there were no cats left. They hadn't come back yet when plague had struck, so birds had found a safe haven in the abandoned castle. There were less of them in Ker Garenn because in Riander's castle there were still cats and mice and all the other normal animals that thrived in Ker Daragon before the arrival of Kariel... but still enough to keep Nerian company.

The young man enjoyed having Human company, and that even Ker Daragon's girls smiled at him, but he was still driven towards Riander. The king was an example for Nerian who still felt like a prince barely freed of his prison.

He noticed Lady Viona always clinging to Riander's arm in any social occasion and wondered why Riander hadn't married her yet. She was beautiful, noble, what was keeping him? Even if he didn't love her, wasn't he supposed to marry someone and provide an heir to the castle?

He dared ask when sitting with Riander in his small office, dealing with administrative matters. Riander didn't need a secretary, so they were alone.

"Why don't you marry Lady Viona?" Nerian asked out of the blue.

Startled, Riander glanced at him, then cleared his throat. Nerian didn't think it was an embarrassing question, but the honey-colored eyes seemed full of anguish now.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't supposed to ask?" he added quickly.

"No... no, it's a legitimate question." Riander gulped and looked at him again. "You sound just like my council." He made a brief, nervous laugh. "Why don't I marry her... I just can't. It doesn't seem right because she loves me and I don't."

"Oh." Nerian pondered. "Surely you weren't expecting to marry for love?"

"Certainly not, but an arranged marriage is one thing, marrying a childhood friend who always had a soft spot for you is another, don't you think?"

"I guess you're right..." Nerian pondered some more. "Have you ever been in love?"

"Ah... no, I don't think so." Riander sighed and leaned back on his chair. "I'm a loner, Nerian, I don't want anyone by my side. I like to sleep alone. Crowds tire me immensely. I'm fine with just one person to talk to, like we're doing right now, but the council sessions drain me of my energy in a way you can't imagine. Having a family would drain me some more, and there wouldn't be much left of me to reign."

Nerian gaped at the king.

Riander didn't look like someone who needed anyone by his side to feel complete, which showed a lot of strength on his part, but at the same time it probably wasn't a good quality for a ruler. He was good at organizing and leading people, but that didn't mean he liked being always at the center of the attention.

"Council sessions drained me too," Nerian muttered, looking away from Riander's pained face. "I'm glad I don't have to attend yours. I'm glad my people accepted you as their king. I'm glad to be a prince again, I wasn't ready to be king..."

"But you will be, won't you? Eventually." Riander stared at him, hopeful now. "I will train you and then, when you find a wife, I'll give everything to you and retire to my room and my library to live a private life. You can always consult me, of course, but you'll be the king."

"Oh no!" Nerian protested. "I don't want to inherit all this! My father's castle was already too much to handle!"

"But you're barely nineteen... I'm not saying I will abdicate this year, but when you're ready and in love and get married, I'll retire from public life."

"You have a wonderful library, and I'm glad I could bring Ker Daragon's books here. I'm catching up on some reading and the more I read about ruling the less I want to do it. As for falling in love and getting married... just because I discovered sex, doesn't mean I fell in love, does it?"

"No, but you're young, you still have time. I'm not that old either, so I can hold on for the few years it might take you to find the perfect match and learn everything about running a castle and a kingdom, not to mention sword-fighting."

Belfi was gone, but Riander's sword-teacher was finishing Nerian's warrior education. An old scholar was helping him through the library of Ker Garenn where he had added his own books. But Nerian still didn't see himself on a throne. He still wanted to nestle against Riander's wide chest and feel Riander's arms wrapped around him.

"Have you ever wished to spend your life with another man?" he asked.

Riander rolled his eyes. "Boy, so many questions today! Why, Nerian? What's with you? You're not happy here?"

"I'm very happy." He took Riander's hand. "Here. With you." Riander freed his fingers, looking uncomfortable. "Not so much when everybody else is around," Nerian finished, staring at his now empty hand.

Riander sighed. "Maybe you should try a male lover. I did, once. He gave me pleasure, but that's it. I still don't want to attach myself to anyone."

"Really? Can I go to him and try?" Nerian wondered.

"Ah... no. It was Kariel, Nerian. You might have heard nasty things about him, but he was nice to me and my body."

"He raped Roddyn's son." Nerian frowned. "But he was good to you? I guess we'll never understand him..."

"If you want to try men, I'm sure we can find someone," Riander said.

"Would you do it?" Nerian asked. Riander stiffened, and it was enough as a reply. "Never mind," Nerian added quickly, averting his eyes. "I'll find someone."

***

Riander was more and more confused. Viona was pregnant. Nerian was always by his side. The castle was more and more crowded. His sanity was slipping away! He had hoped he could share the burden with Nerian, but the young man obviously didn't want to be king either.

What am I supposed to do? Nerian's pale blue eyes kept haunting him. The way Nerian looked at him. The way it seemed Nerian wanted to nestle against him as soon as they were alone. The questions – all those damn embarrassing questions about his feelings.

He did care for Nerian, but probably not in the way Nerian wanted. Nerian was young and wanted sex. He was... not old, but... different. Except he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Well, he wanted to get away from Ker Garenn, but he couldn't.

Winter came and snow fell on the castle roofs and battlements. The courtyard was quickly cleaned, but the rest remained blissfully white. All the hearths of the castle were kept alight with logs at all hours, to warm the big and small rooms of the stone building.

And then one night someone came into his room and snuggled under his blankets and furs, shivering as a warm body nestled against his, startling him awake. He saw a pale face, long black hair, but it wasn't Viona.

"My hearth ran out of wood," Nerian said. "I woke up from a nightmare and found the room freezing. May I stay here until morning?"

Riander gulped but nodded, pulling the young man closer. Nerian's feet were still cold from running over the stone floor, but soon warmth wrapped them both. Riander dozed off with Nerian's head on his shoulder and Nerian's arm wrapped around his waist.

He woke up first with the pearly light of dawn. The fire in his hearth was all but embers now, but Nerian's warm body meant he wasn't cold. The young man hadn't moved, and slept peacefully against him.

Since he couldn't feel his arm, blocked under Nerian's body, Riander gently disentangled himself from the young man. It was like when Viona spent the whole night with him, but since they were both still in their nightgowns, it was also different. Intimate but not so intimate.

After reactivating his arm, he stared at Nerian's face for a while, pulling the blankets and furs up to their chins. Sometimes it felt like the young prince was a kindred soul. Maybe they could live happily ever after. But where? Not in Ker Garenn, where kingly duties wouldn't allow them to have a peaceful existence.

Maybe I should go to Cinnae like the families that left Ker Garenn and Ker Daragon for city life, Riander mused. Although that would mean finding work and paying for food and shelter. He could take some of Ker Garenn's treasury to support himself for the first year, but then he had to start working – coins wouldn't last forever in a town run by officials elected by nobles...

He sighed, rolling to stare at the wooden ceiling. He didn't want to leave his castle and his library. But he'd had enough of being king. If he could find a suitable substitute... Lord Arias would do until Viona had her baby. And if it was a boy, Viona's child could inherit Ker Daragon. If it was a girl, Lord Arias's firstborn boy would have the castle. The kingdom would become a dukedom, but that wouldn't change much for the people living there.

"What worries you?" Nerian's voice startled him. He turned his head and saw the prince was awake, even though he hadn't moved. But then a hand found his under the covers. "I'm sorry I came here, but it was the closest warm room from mine," Nerian apologized.

"It's not you," Riander replied, leaving his fingers under the warm hand. "I just want to get rid of my crown."

"Why? You look great with it."

"It's heavy. Too heavy for me. If you're not willing to be my successor, I will have to find someone else soon."

Nerian slid closer to him and wrapped both hands against his, putting his chin on his shoulder.

"And then we can leave together?" he whispered, hopeful.

"To go where?" Riander smiled against his will. "Living off what? I haven't left yet because I don't know what to do out there. But if I can find some accord with my council..."

"You have already someone in mind?" Nerian sounded excited.

"Yes, Lady Viona's brother would be a perfect king. Or duke. Or lord. I mean, he can run this castle as well if not better than I do. He can consult me anytime and..."

"Can I stay with you?" Nerian asked.

A little puzzled, Riander looked at him again. "Why are you so eager to give up your father's inheritance? You're young, you have plenty of time to learn and..."

"And I don't want to be king," Nerian replied. "I want to be with you. My hero."

"Nerian, I don't think..."

Nerian slid even closer and grabbed his head to pull him down. Nerian's kiss silenced Riander who closed his eyes, savoring the youth's mouth. He had never really liked kisses, but found himself ravaging Nerian's mouth, which the prince lying by his side passionately returned.

They both broke the kiss to gasp for breath. Nerian's lips curved into an impish smile.

"I knew you'd be the one, my beautiful hero..."

Still breathless, Riander found his face covered in butterfly kisses.

***

Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the snow still covered the roofs and battlements of Ker Garenn.

Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of sparrows glided to talk with him. He knew he must look happy even to them.

He had spent the night in Riander's bed, and had had the sweetest awakening ever. His hero had allowed him to touch and explore his perfect body and Nerian knew he was madly in love now. He wanted to please Riander for the rest of his life and couldn't be bothered with kingly duties anymore.

And neither could Riander. They really should retire to a private life. He was falling asleep again with his head against Riander's chest when the barber and the king's personal servant had entered the room and were startled by his presence.

He had quickly slipped his nightgown back on and rushed back to his own room, giggling like a child caught in the act. Nobody had shown up yet to wake him up, so he entertained the sparrows with his morning tryst.

The cold forced him to close the window and dress, joining Riander in the hall where he was having breakfast, already surrounded by his counselors. The pained expression on the king's face made Nerian's heart beat faster. He must protect his beloved from all the people who wanted him.

For the first time since he'd moved to Ker Garenn, he took part in the council session and spoke his mind. He said that King Riander was tired and he was too young and that the council should accept someone else as the head of the castle. Riander's puzzled but grateful stare made him hold his ground with the elder member who screamed outraged at him that it was unheard of.

"My father was killed to get his throne," Nerian replied, determined. "Riander doesn't want his. He is willing to abdicate and name his successor. Why can't you accept this? What makes our blood so different from yours? If you cut our veins, you see red liquid pouring out. Much like yours."

The council grumbled – all but the youngest member, Lord Arias, who stared at Riander with a half-smile. Nerian elbowed the king who looked dazed by his intervention.

"Don't you have a successor in mind?" Nerian asked him.

Riander cleared his throat.

"Actually, yes. I have already mentioned it to him, but so far he has refused."

The counselors stared at him, gaping – again, all but Lord Arias.

"I want Lord Arias to sit on my father's seat and run the castle. If his sister, Lady Viona, has a boy, that boy can be considered my heir by blood and might succeed his uncle when he comes of age. If it's a girl, Lord Arias's firstborn male will continue the dynasty of rulers of Ker Garenn."

"It won't be a kingdom anymore!" someone complained.

"What's the difference between a kingdom and a dukedom?" Nerian replied. "You don't have a king to answer to anyway..." He looked at Lord Arias. "Do you accept the honor bestowed on you?" Useless to keep arguing if the chosen one refused to do Riander's bidding.

"I do." Lord Arias bowed his head in agreement. "Are you willing to give up your own inheritance for a stranger such as myself?"

"Of course." Nerian shrugged. "Riander was also a stranger until he saved my life. If he trusts you, so do I. If he thinks you'll be the perfect leader, who am I to speak against him? He's older and wiser than me!"

"Thank you, Nerian." Riander put a hand on his shoulder and took back control of the conversation. A couple of hours later it was all set in writing. Lord Arias would consult with Riander when he saw fit, but Riander was mostly free to do what he wanted in his own apartment and the castle library.

"I shall move back to my princely rooms," Riander said. "They are closer to the library and more comfortable for me."

"What about Prince Nerian?"

Nobody called him "king" at Ker Garenn, but Nerian didn't mind. Even his former subjects seemed happy to answer to someone older and wiser than him. He stared hopeful at Riander, waiting for his answer.

"I believe we can share," Riander said with a smile.

Nerian wanted to sing and dance, but stayed put. Nobody would wipe the ear-to-ear grin from his face, though. He met Riander's honey-colored eyes and felt as if he were high up in the sky.

Cinder Boy

1.

Rohan slowly entered the natural warm pool that gathered under the small waterfall generated by the hot spring up the ledge. He sat on the uneven ground and let the warm waves wash away the ashes and the soreness from his body while inhaling the cool forest air.

Oaks and beeches surrounded the small pond he had found in the woods behind the manor. It felt almost like a private bath chamber, with natural architecture enclosing it. The smell of musk filled his nostrils with a touch of sulfur coming from the water.

The forested massif of Ker Noran had most of its inhabitants living on the outskirts of the woods. The castle and villages were on the river shore, and isolated farms and manors were closer to the trees that climbed the lower slopes of the mountains.

Rohan's house was one of those, built at the edge of the forest and overlooking the castle of Ker Noran down the gentle slope that took to the river. A two-story manor house that could be locked up in case of siege, it could be a watchtower for the king or a hunting pavilion for the royal family, who hadn't bothered visiting in years.

Winds from the coast further north brought lots of rain, allowing for luscious vegetation and feeding the many brooks at the bottom of smaller valleys, all flowing into the river Wated that provided the castle wells with cold freshwater.

But between marshes and swamps, sometimes a pond of turquoise warm water surprised hunters.

The forest provided timber and venison, and Rohan's family had been a guardian of that part of the woods for many generations now. Except he didn't feel as much in control as his father had been.

They called him Cinder Boy, even though he had turned twenty-two the previous winter. His mother had died when he was ten and his father had remarried a widow with two sons from the castle nobility.

Lady Blandina was blonde and blue-eyed like his late mother, and he had hoped his father had found a substitute that was just like the lost one. His hopeful gaze had looked awed at the beautiful lady who now sat by his father's side.

And then Lady Blandina had moved to the manor with Tristan and William, two spoiled blond boys who had been very happy to be trained by his father, one of the best knights of the king's retinue. Lord Alan was a swordsmaster and a great rider, and Rohan was also a very good rider, since he'd been given his first horse around that time.

When his mother was alive, he'd been used to helping around the house and they didn't have that many servants, but Lady Blandina demanded house servants. Until his father had died in a hunting accident a couple of years later, when his stepmother had shown her true face to Rohan.

She had sent away most of the servants and moved him to the house chores, hence the Cinder Boy nickname. He'd been working as a servant since, and he'd been denied the chance to complete his knightly education, while his stepbrothers had been knighted by their uncle a few months earlier. Surely other knights of the king's court could have completed his training, but his stepmother didn't think he deserved it.

Rohan sighed, relaxing in the warm pool. He didn't mind the house chores, but he missed the lessons with his father. He missed riding on his horse and having mock duels with the other knights-in-training. He missed going to the castle and joining the king in the great hall and talking to his peers.

He'd watched with envy William and Tristan's training, and often wished he could take part in it. But his stepbrothers called him in only to beat him and use him as a practice dummy. Which still allowed him to hone his defense skills, even though he was given a club and wooden shield to parry and block the blows, and not a real weapon.

Even though he'd been kicked out of his room and his position, he wasn't sour. He was waiting for the occasion that would allow him to rise from the ashes and claim his father's inheritance.

When his stepbrothers weren't watching, he took their swords and tried the moves his father had taught him against a dummy, sometimes the scarecrow in the garden of the manor, sometimes a tree. He petted the horses in the stables and rode them as often as he could – usually when Lady Blandina was at the castle for some social gathering.

"Is the water warm?"

The voice startled him and he opened his eyes. A rider had stopped his mount on the other side of the waterfall and stared at him from the saddle. He wore travel clothes and dark stubble covered his cheeks. Raven hair and brown eyes, he stared straight at Rohan, who cursed himself for having been taken by surprise. The sound of the waterfall had covered the approaching traveler.

"Yes, it's a hot spring," he answered, a little embarrassed for having been found lingering in a pond by a complete stranger.

"I didn't know there were hot springs in the kingdom." The man got off his saddle. "I should probably use it before I reach Ker Noran... Do you happen to have a razor with you?"

"Uh... no, but my house is not far, I can get you one if you want," Rohan answered, a little puzzled.

"I'd be very grateful," the other said, starting to undress. He had tied the horse to a low branch and seemed to look forward to a bath.

Rohan quickly got out of the water and wrapped himself in his towel, grabbing his clothes and shoes before heading back to the manor. He wondered who the man was and why he was headed for the castle.

He dressed in the empty house – his step-family was at the castle, as usual – and took a clean towel and the necessities for shaving before going back to the woods. He found the stranger already in the water.

"I hope you don't need clean clothes, since I don't have any to spare," Rohan said shyly, offering the shaving implements and the towel.

"No, I still have a clean tunic in my pack. Thanks. You can join me, since I interrupted your bath."

"Uh, no, thanks, I'm clean now. When you're done, take everything to the house you'll find at the end of that footpath." He pointed in the direction of the manor.

"Thank you... what's your name?"

"Rohan."

"Rohan, I'm Kurtis. I shall bring back everything as soon as I'm done."

Rohan nodded and headed home. His hair was still wet and he was a little upset by the meeting. Nobody had ever found the pond before. It was as if Kurtis had discovered his secret place... but then, maybe Kurtis was just passing and would leave without telling anyone about the natural warm pool in the woods.

***

Nice ass, Kurtis thought. Pity he covered it so quickly.

The pool was more comfortable than castles' bath-tubs and he wondered if the warm water also had some healing properties. It seemed to wash away all the soreness of the saddle and the long trip from Moriana.

I may have never left Ker Noran if I'd met Rohan earlier in my life. The young man was gorgeous, with dark hair and blue eyes and that shy smile and perfectly toned body... Pity he must be a servant. If he were a knight, Kurtis could ask him to join his retinue.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay and shave me, he mused. Although probably his masters wouldn't be happy if he kept their servant busy. Well, he could probably request him, if he really wanted to. Nobody would deny him anything.

Now that he was almost home, he wasn't too keen on getting there. He knew what awaited him. His father had probably chosen a bride for him, and he'd lose all the freedom he'd had for the past three years.

He hoped to be able to keep doing what he'd done in Moriana. But even though things had changed at the former capital of the Moren Empire, everything was probably still the same in Ker Noran.

Kurtis sighed and washed his now shaven face before getting out of the water. He dried up his body and put on his last clean tunic and breeches, then led the horse through the woods towards the mentioned house.

Rohan came out of the two-story manor to meet him, as if he were afraid to let him in. Kurtis admired once more the handsome, clean-shaven face, blue eyes and dark hair. And the body hidden under shaggy clothes.

"Thank you," he said. "I hope to see you at the castle soon."

"I'm never invited to the castle," Rohan answered, averting his eyes. "You have a safe trip, good sir."

Definitely a servant, Kurtis thought. I should ask him if he has any skills, so I can request him for my service...

But words didn't come out. He watched the young man go back into the house and close the door.

He sighed and spurred the horse towards the castle.

***

Rohan watched the rider leave from behind the windowpane and waited for his heart to stop beating so fast. Clean-shaven, Kurtis looked gorgeous, a true knight like his father had been, even though he wasn't wearing chainmail armor. But Rohan could see him jousting and fighting in a tournament – and winning the day.

I wish I could become like him. I wish I could join the king's retinue...

He went to the kitchen to help the cook, who was getting very old. The only servants left in the manor were her and her husband, the gardener. Their daughter came to do the laundry every other day, and Rohan usually did the cleaning and served the lady's table. He wasn't allowed to eat with the family anymore, but he didn't care.

Tristan and William sounded quite excited during dinner. Something big was going to happen at the castle, and of course Rohan wasn't invited.

"What is it this time?" he asked out of curiosity, knowing he wouldn't take part in it.

"A tournament," Tristan answered. "The prince heir is back, and he will choose the knights for his retinue."

Lady Blandina's eldest was a couple of years older than Rohan. He was blond and blue-eyed like his mother, but not as beautiful. Ladies liked Tristan more for his title than his looks, and his mother had already found a couple of suitable brides.

She was negotiating with the maidens' parents, hoping to have one marry Tristan and the other William. No bride for Rohan, though. He wasn't her son, after all.

"You wouldn't stand a chance of being picked up," William added with a smirk. "You're not a knight!"

His impish smile had seduced many women. William was a few months younger than Rohan and more handsome than his brother. Ladies loved him for his looks and his charming ways, even though he showed none of that to his stepbrother.

But since they were so close in age, sometimes William had asked Rohan to side with him against Tristan – behind Lady Blandina's back, of course.

"Rohan is not coming to the tournament," Lady Blandina said sternly. "And you two better stop fighting among yourselves if you want to stand a chance."

"Don't worry, Mother, we'll show the prince what a great team we can be," Tristan assured her.

Rohan scoffed. He doubted it. He took away the dirty dishes and sat by the hearth, brooding. He'd love to show them he could be a better knight than them. But he had no sword, no armor, no horse. And nobody had knighted him, even though he felt his knightly education was complete, despite his stepmother denying him.

Lord Alan had joined the king's retinue when Konan was still prince heir. Why couldn't Rohan do the same? Why wasn't he allowed to take part in the tournament? Maybe he could try to ask his stepmother's permission. After all, they all thought he didn't stand a chance, so why shouldn't they let him try?

Lady Blandina stared at him with a frown.

"You haven't completed your knightly education, Rohan. You'd get killed. I can't allow you to do this. Your father would never forgive me."

"My father would never forgive you the fact that you didn't allow me to complete my education!" Rohan snapped. "He was one of the king's men! I want to try to be like him too!"

"That is out of the question, Rohan. You will not set foot in the castle. Ever. And that's final."

Rohan clenched his teeth and stormed back to his room – well the place where they allowed him to sleep, up in the attic, with mice and doves. He threw himself on his bunk bed and screamed his frustration into the pillow.

Then he calmed down. He'd find a way to go to the tournament. But he needed weapons.

Night marched on as he tried to figure out how to become a true knight.

***

"So, how are things in the east?" King Konan asked, staring at Kurtis who sat in front of him in his private chamber. "Was there truth to the rumor?"

The king's hair was turning gray, and he had visibly aged since Kurtis had last seen him. The private chamber had a big mahogany desk, shelves of manuscripts and parchments bound in leather, and a chest for more writing implements – quills, ink, wax seals and blank sheets of parchment.

Kurtis sat on a stool, but the king had a chair with a high back and a big cushion under his royal ass. Kurtis had missed the cozy office with its smell of wax, paper, ink and dust.

"Yes, the Moren Emperor is dead, and no Chosen was found to replace him," Kurtis answered. "The two years since Emerald's death have expired and nobody was able to find his successor, so I guess the Moren Empire is definitely gone."

"They already had trouble finding the Chosen some twenty years ago, when the barbarians killed Gold IV and there was a regent for one full year before Emerald III came along..."

"He didn't last long." Kurtis scoffed. "And now that the Genn are hiding and the other Magical Races are as elusive as them, nobody can find the Chosen. I guess the spell that lasted almost three centuries is now broken."

The king nodded, thoughtful.

"So you've given up hope of becoming emperor?" he asked with a half-smile.

"Yes, Father. I kind of liked the idea of not marrying, since the succession was not dynastic, but I guess it wasn't meant to be." Kurtis shrugged, but his thoughts went to handsome Rohan bathing in the warm pond in the woods.

"Kurtis, you're almost thirty now. It's really time you tied the knot and started breeding," King Konan chided. He'd been very patient with his rebellious firstborn, but Kurtis had assured him he knew everything about the succession of the Moren Empire, and therefore the king had allowed his heir to try and get an imperial crown.

"I thought you were ready to pass everything to Ewan."

His younger brother was married, and probably had children already. Kurtis hadn't seen him yet, but he'd left after Ewan's wedding and since it had been three years...

"Indeed, but what will you do with yourself? You're the eldest, Ker Noran is rightfully yours..."

"If I marry and breed. I'm not too keen on that, Father."

King Konan sighed.

"Very well. I assume you'll be happy to protect your brother and the kingdom, and be his general then."

"Absolutely. Has he already chosen his retinue?"

"We were waiting for your return, or the news that you'd become the next Moren Emperor. Tomorrow the tournament will start, and it will last three days. I'm sure you and Ewan can find the best knights to serve you among our younger fighters."

Again, Kurtis's mind went to Rohan. He wondered what the servant was doing. He'd look him up when the tournament was over, though. Too many things to catch up on right now, he'd have no time for the beautiful young man...

Ewan had indeed bred, a girl and a baby boy. He was glad to see Kurtis again and they both went to survey the tournament's preparation.

Ker Noran had thick walls that formed an irregular hexagon with six square towers joining them. The main building was rectangular, and on one side there was another square tower, taller than the others.

The guards' barracks were built against the external walls on both sides of the main gate, and the stables were hidden at the back of the main building. Commoners' houses basked in the shadows of the castle walls and on the northern side of the grounds there was a vast esplanade that could be used for tournaments, fairs, festivals or any other public celebration.

But it needed cleaning after the weekly open air market. The joust and the quintain should be set up, and seats for the king and the audience must be built on both longer sides of the almost rectangular area. There were no windows on that castle wall, so a stall was built for the royal family and the nobility, while benches were brought for peasants and servants.

The day flew by as Kurtis rekindled his relationships in his birth castle. He didn't have time to go to the river and talk with his secret friends, but there was plenty of time for that. Besides, they probably already knew the Moren Empire succession spell was broken. They were true magical beings after all.

He was glad to be back. And that he didn't have to marry soon. He went to bed happy and hopeful he'd dream of Rohan.

2.

The next morning, Rohan tried again to convince his stepmother to take him to the tournament.

"You don't have weapons or armor," William said, frowning at him.

"Who wants to see a Cinder Boy joust?" Tristan added.

Rohan clenched his fist, trying to control his anger. He wanted to punch them both in the face and show them he was as much of a knight as they were!

"It is better if you stay at home," Lady Blandina said contemptuously. "If you behave, we will tell you what we saw."

Tristan sniggered, elbowing William who nodded with a smirk.

Rohan gritted his teeth. He watched them go in the carriage led by the gardener, who doubled up as stableman and coachman. Two horses for the joust were attached to the carriage and trotted behind it.

The cook patted his shoulder.

"Let it go, Rohan. Since your father's death, you are no longer the master of the house," she said with a mournful look on her round face.

"I will change that," he said, determined. "First of all, I'm no longer a boy. I shall prove to them that I'm a knight and have the right to sit in my father's place, or take a position in the king or prince's retinue!"

"How can you attend the tournament?" she asked, worried. "You might take one of the horses, but you have no weapons and no mail hauberk..."

"I know!" Rohan stomped his food, frustrated. "Where did my father keep his armor?"

He looked at the cook who shrugged. Why would she know... but then, neither did Lady Blandina, or she'd have given Lord Alan's armor and weapons to her sons.

Rohan pursed his lip and frowned. He must find his father's equipment. Lord Alan had put everything away when he had retired from the king's service, after his first wife's death. Rohan knew he was meant to inherit them, but couldn't remember what his father had told him about them.

He went through his parents' chamber (now Lady Blandina's), through his old room (now belonging to his stepbrothers), through the whole first floor and found nothing. Snorting impatiently, he went to brood on his bunk bed in the attic... and then noticed the furniture covered by dust and cobwebs in a corner.

He went to have a closer look. He had used the attic to sleep, but hadn't really explored it, or even kept it clean. He'd rather be outside than in that poor excuse of a room most of the day.

He moved a wobbly bed table and opened an old wardrobe with carved doors. He gasped at the sight of his mother's clothes, neatly stashed in there.

And under a linen sheet was the mail hauberk with its chainmail coif that had belonged to his father. Underneath, on the wardrobe floor, there was the flat-topped helmet and the chausses, or chainmail leggings for riding. And leaning against the back of the wardrobe, a kite-shaped shield and his father's sword.

Rohan almost screamed with joy. He pulled out all the items and spread them on the bunk bed. They needed polishing, but they looked as new as the day Lord Alan had stashed them away with his late wife's things. Lady Blandina had never seen them, but she'd recognize the kite-shaped shield with her late husband's coat-of-arms painted on it.

Rohan took everything downstairs. He rolled the chainmail in the same barrels of sand where his stepbrothers had polished theirs, and checked the blade of his father's sword. It needed sharpening, but it wasn't a priority.

"You found Lord Alan's armor?" the cook asked, brightening at the sight.

"Yes, but I need to paint the shield, or they'll immediately recognize me. I don't want my stepmother to know I disobeyed her."

Just in case I make a fool of myself. So if I don't win anything, nobody will know and I shall be the Cinder Boy forever.

He held a sigh at the thought, but then he was even more determined to prove to the world he could do it. He'd enter Ker Noran as a knight, an honor he'd earn on the field. His father would be proud of him.

"You don't have time to paint it, the tournament will start soon," the cook said. "Here, cover it with these leather strips that came off that chair over there."

She helped him to cover the painting and reinforce the shield for the blows it would definitely get during the tournament. Then she helped him put on the chainmail armor and she pulled an anonymous tunic over it.

"The Nameless Knight is ready to win the tournament!" She chuckled. "Let's hope your stepbrothers don't recognize the horse..."

"They never really cared for horses, and in fact neither of them can ride my father's steed," Rohan said proudly, holding his helmet in one hand and the shield in the other. "Wish me good luck."

"You shall return a winner," she said gravely, patting his cheek.

Rohan grinned and went to the stables. The cook's grandson was there, since his mother had come to do the laundry, and he helped Rohan to saddle Lord Alan's horse. Rohan put on the helmet, effectively hiding his face behind the metal, and spurred the horse towards the castle.

***

Kurtis watched as people gathered on the tournament field. He had already donned his chainmail and was ready to join the knights in the games.

In Moriana he had attended a lot of tournaments and had won many. He'd been considered a true champion at the former capital. Many had wished he sat on the throne in the great hall, but it wasn't meant to be.

Without the succession spell, nobody could hold together the lands of the Moren Empire, in fact it was already falling apart. Emerald's relatives had crowned themselves kings at Xendaria, the Blackmoren family claiming a castle and a town because they had given birth to the last Moren Emperor.

On his way back from Moriana, Kurtis had seen cities proclaim their independence and smaller kingdoms reform, as if the Moren Empire had never existed, even though only three years had gone by since Emerald's death. Moriana itself was now part of the Salamar Kingdom.

"Are you sure you want to participate?" King Konan asked, worried. "Sometimes things get rough out there..."

"So? It's not as if you're losing your one and only heir," Kurtis replied with a grin. "I want to test my men personally."

Ewan chuckled. "You're crazy, dear brother, but you'll be a great commander, if we are ever in danger!"

Kurtis winked. "I have won many tournaments while in Moriana. If only those victories were enough to become Moren Emperor!"

"Good luck, Kurtis. May you unsaddle all your future men," King Konan said.

Kurtis bowed and stepped down the royal stall. His squire gave him his steed's reins and he mounted. He pulled on the coiffe and then his squire passed him his cone-shaped helmet.

The first day of the tournament was a run at the quintain. The dummy mounted on a pivot with a revolving arm unsaddled quite a few knights, but not Kurtis or an unnamed knight with no coat-of-arms, who struck cleanly the wooden post and avoided a hit by the revolving arm.

Kurtis nodded his admiration to the other knight who bowed his head in acknowledgment.

The Nameless Knight scored higher and was declared the winner of the first day, but he refused to remove his helmet, and left as soon as the king announced the results.

"Strange man," Kurtis commented, passing his helmet to his squire and taking down the coiffe. He was drenched in sweat after the exertion under the sun. "I like him, though. He'd make a perfect lieutenant."

"Or the captain of your retinue," King Konan said. "Like Alan was for me. Except I assume you'll be your own captain, since you'll be working for your brother?"

Kurtis nodded. "All captains need lieutenants, don't they?" He smiled at his father who grinned back with a nod.

"Go bathe yourself. I don't think we'll see our champion at the banquet tonight."

Kurtis obeyed with a sigh. As he waited for the servants to fill the bath-tub, he remembered the previous day's bath in the natural warm pond. And Rohan's naked body.

I must be obsessed. I will have to look him up when this is over...

***

Rohan cursed himself for having been so naive. Of course the gorgeous stranger was Prince Kurtis. He should have known as soon as his stepbrothers had mentioned he was back.

It had been a shock seeing him wear his helmet and enter the quintain. Rohan had to control his heartbeat and take long breaths to remain calm.

Luckily his father's horse carried him to victory, and he managed to make a clean hit on the revolving post. Not bad for someone who hadn't completed his knightly education. Tristan was unsaddled and William barely kept hold of the reins.

He couldn't stay for the festivities, thus he'd gone back as fast as he could. He knew Lady Blandina would attend the banquet, trying to place her sons as close as possible to Prince Kurtis, but he'd better pretend he hadn't left the house at all.

He jumped off the saddle, took the horse back to his stall, then went to the attic and took off the armor, hiding everything in the old wardrobe. He went back down again and made sure to clean all the hearths of the house, so that when his stepmother came back, he was covered in ashes as usual.

He wished he could go to the pond and bathe, but didn't dare risk it. He'd better look his usual dirty self if he didn't want to be discovered yet.

The carriage came back before sunset. Tristan and William demanded warm baths while Lady Blandina sat in the main hall. After he'd taken the warm water to his stepbrothers' room, Rohan went to her.

"Will you be eating tonight?" he asked.

"No, we already ate at the castle," she answered, bored. She stared at him from head to toe. "You should bathe, Rohan, you're covered in ashes."

"I cleaned all the hearths while you enjoyed the tournament," he said. "How was it?"

"Interesting." She looked away and shrugged. "An unnamed knight won the day and didn't even stay for the festivities. Let's hope he doesn't show up tomorrow."

Oh, he will! Rohan tried to keep his exhilaration to himself.

He bowed. "Should I retire, my lady?"

She waved him off without looking at him.

Rohan took a lamp and went to the pond. At night it looked eerie, but he wasn't afraid. He undressed and went into the water, sitting on the uneven ground and looking at the fireflies dancing around it.

Another lamp soon joined his, and he had a glimpse of Prince Kurtis's smile before the other man slid into the water next to him.

"I was hoping to find you here," the prince said. "How was your day?"

"The usual." Rohan gulped and looked away. He shouldn't let the other man know he knew who he was. That would mean giving away his identity, and he wasn't sure he could tell anyone yet. The Nameless Knight had won only the first day of the tournament, there were two more greater challenges to come.

Rohan could still make a fool of himself in front of the whole of Ker Noran, so he'd better keep his mouth shut for now.

"What does the usual mean?" Kurtis asked. "I could also say I had the usual day, since I've spent most of my days in Moriana attending tournaments, but I'm aware not everyone spends his life in mock duels."

"Some people don't get the knightly education they deserve," Rohan said sourly. "But sometimes, this doesn't stop them from trying to achieve something."

He felt Kurtis's hand on his back. The caress sent a shiver down his spine.

"I need to go. I have to wake up early tomorrow," he said quickly, rising and heading for the pond's shore.

"Please, stay!" Kurtis said.

"I can't." Rohan quickly dressed, grabbed his lamp and almost ran away from the pond.

***

Kurtis sighed. Mysterious and elusive, but so beautiful! He should really claim Rohan for his service.

Having already bathed at the castle, there was no reason to linger in the pond, if the reason why he came was gone.

He got out of the water, dressed and went back to the edge of the woods, where he'd left his horse. He rode back to the castle and retired to his room, wishing he could have brought Rohan with him.

3.

Rohan dreamed of Prince Kurtis. They were together in the warm pond, naked. He awoke before things could get really embarrassing between them, but the thought lingered in the pearly light of dawn.

What am I thinking? Me and him... lovers? I must have gone crazy!

He got out of bed to keep his mind busy. He shaved and dressed, and then went downstairs to help the cook prepare breakfast. He didn't ask again for permission to attend the tournament and barely listened to his stepbrothers' excited chatter. He didn't even watch them leave, too busy pulling out his father's armor and weapons from the old wardrobe in the attic.

This time he reached the tournament field almost at the same time as William and Tristan. He signed up for the joust and was given a long wooden lance. He knew today his father's shield would take a beating, but he hoped the leather strips would still cover the coat-of-arms.

The length of the field had been divided in two by a low fence. Rohan waited for his turn to run the joust and unsaddled two knights with no real effort. Then he was pitched against Prince Kurtis, and was almost unsaddled as the lances broke into splinters.

He enjoyed unsaddling Tristan – William had already been unsaddled in the previous round – and started to have a lot of fun, in spite of the hard, physical work of holding the lance and staying on the saddle. He was born to be a knight! He felt one with his father's horse and the cheers of the crowd galvanized him.

Again, in the second round he had to run against Prince Kurtis. It was his turn to almost unsaddle his opponent, but since neither fell off their horse, they both went to the next round.

A few hours later only he and the prince were left. His shield was battered and he had had to change three lances, but he was ready for the last joust of the day. Then he'd rush back home and have a relaxing bath in the pond.

When the trumpets sounded, he spurred the horse and lowered the lance. The impact was so hard that both knights flew off their saddles and rolled to the floor. Rohan huffed. He had almost lost his helmet in the fall.

He picked himself up, went to retrieve his horse and jumped on the saddle.

"Hey, wait!" Prince Kurtis called.

Rohan didn't think he needed to know the outcome of that day. His stepbrothers would tell him when they got home. For now he was sweaty and sore, and only wanted to take off the mail hauberk and relax in the warm pond.

But first he took care of the horse, since it had served him so well on the tournament field. Then he took off the armor and left everything in his room. Half an hour in the warm waters gave him back his strength and he went back to the manor to check the damage to his equipment.

His helmet had taken a beating and the shield didn't look any better. He had time to take both to the blacksmith before Lady Blandina and her sons came back. The sword hadn't been used yet, but it still needed sharpening, so he might as well bring that too.

He'd need the sword tomorrow. He was very happy for the outcome of the tournament so far. Pity he couldn't stay for the celebrations...

***

Kurtis cursed under his breath as the Nameless Knight vanished again. They were even. They had both won the day. They should both be honored. Why was the mysterious warrior so shy? Why did he guard his identity so closely?

Kurtis could only say the Nameless Knight had blue eyes. And he was strong and an excellent rider.

"I look forward to tomorrow," he said during the banquet. "I wonder what other skills he has."

"I wonder why we never heard of such a strong knight," King Konan commented, skeptical. "Where was he hiding?"

"Maybe he is one of your retired men who wants to come back," Ewan suggested. "And he doesn't want to be recognized."

"My best man is unfortunately dead," the king grumbled. He frowned every time he thought about Lord Alan, who had been his captain for so long that even his sons had met him. "Anyhow, I think we already have a winner for tomorrow. Any other knight who looks promising to you?"

"A couple." Kurtis shrugged.

"Where were you last night?" Ewan asked with an impish smile. "The sentinels reported you left after sunset and came back about one hour later..."

"Why does it bother you?" Kurtis smiled. "I'm not getting married and I'm not going to claim the throne."

"But you're going to claim someone after the tournament," King Konan said. "Am I right?"

"Yes, Father. I think he's a servant, and I haven't figured out what he does exactly, but I will."

"Your personal servant doesn't need any specific skill." The king shrugged. "If you're not happy with the one you have..."

"He's old, Father. I'd rather have a younger man, if you don't mind. I think it's time Envel retired."

"I wonder why you'd want a younger man," Ewan said. "Envel is very efficient..."

"But I'm not attracted to him." Kurtis decided that if his brother wanted to keep playing dumb, he was going to be more direct. "I like men, Ewan, that's why I'm not getting married."

"Oh." Ewan blushed. "Sorry," he muttered, lowering his eyes.

Kurtis sighed. But if his brother had been genuinely oblivious, his father didn't look surprised. King Konan shook his head with a smile.

"You're twenty-nine, Kurtis, do what you want," the king said.

"Thank you, Father."

Again, he left the castle at sunset, but Rohan wasn't at the pond.

Did I scare him off? Is he avoiding me? he wondered, disappointed.

Tomorrow was the last day of the tournament. If the Nameless Knight proved to be ugly or old, he'd go to the mansion where Rohan served and take him away.

But why wait until tomorrow when one could do things now?

***

Rohan wasn't asleep when he heard his name called in a low voice. The single small window of the attic was open, since the summer nights were warm enough to leave it that way, and the sudden, discreet call had made the night owls shut up.

He jumped out of bed and went to glance out of the window. Holding a lamp but mostly bathed in moonlight, Kurtis was looking up at all the windows of the manor, obviously looking for him. The prince was on horseback and he uttered another hushed, "Rohan!"

Rohan cursed under his breath. "Quiet!" he whispered back, leaning outside of the window.

"Come down," Kurtis replied softly. "Or I will raise my voice!"

Rohan signaled him to wait and retreated. He snorted and tugged at his hair. He was wearing a nightgown, but didn't want his stepmother to see the visitor. He pulled on a pair of breeches and quickly went downstairs, barefoot.

He slowly opened the front door, trying to avoid creaks and other revealing noises. Kurtis had dismounted and was waiting just outside.

"What are you doing here?" Rohan protested in a low voice, closing the door behind him and leaning on it.

"You weren't at the pond, so I thought I'd come here. Everybody seems asleep, so why don't you come with me? I promise to take you back before dawn, so they won't notice your absence."

"What? Why? Where would you take me?"

"To the pond, or if you know of a nice, hidden clearing where we could spend some time together..."

Rohan gaped. Kurtis seemed to tower over him, and the light of the lamp flickered on his face. What did the prince really want? Why was he sneaking out of the castle to come and see him?

His heart thundered in his chest as Kurtis's hand brushed his cheek.

"Come on, Rohan, I won't hurt you," the prince promised in a whisper.

"I... I can't." Rohan snapped out of whatever spell Kurtis's eyes were weaving upon him. "Please, Your Highness, go back to the castle now."

Kurtis stepped back, a little surprised.

"You know who I am?"

"Yes, and you shouldn't be here."

"Why not? I do as I please. I want you to come into my service, and I will speak to your masters as soon as the tournament is over."

"Oh." Rohan was breathless again.

He wasn't technically a servant. But he did depend on his stepmother, since he hadn't been knighted and hadn't inherited his father's title – not officially, at least.

He gulped as he straightened and took a step forward.

"You should forget me, Your Highness."

"I could never forget you, or your secret pond."

"The pond belongs to the king, and therefore to you. I will not go there anymore."

"But I want you to go there!" Kurtis stepped forward again, putting his free arm around Rohan's shoulders. "I want to meet you there every night if you don't want to come to the castle with me!"

Again Rohan flattened himself against the door to escape the prince's embrace.

"Please, Your Highness, leave me alone," he pleaded. Then he opened the door, slid inside and locked the door.

"Rohan!" Again that hushed call.

Rohan put his ear to the door and didn't move. He heard a sigh, then the horse snorted and moved away from the manor. Just to be certain, Rohan went to the window, but the courtyard was empty and dark.

Rohan exhaled. He couldn't deny he was attracted to Prince Kurtis, but he couldn't give in to his feelings, could he? What would King Konan think? Or his late father? He slowly went back to the attic, feeling the cold of the stone floor and stairs under his feet seep into his heart.

On the first floor landing, he found William waiting for him.

"When did you meet Prince Kurtis?" The question was a threatening whisper. A moon-ray coming from the corridor's window showed William's frown.

"Ah... he went through the forest on his way to Ker Noran," Rohan answered hesitantly. "I was picking berries when he startled me..."

"And he took a fancy to you?" William sounded skeptical.

Rohan shrugged. "I'm not leaving my father's house until I'm knighted," he said.

"Then you'll die here, Rohan." William scoffed. "Mother will never let you be knighted."

"I had guessed that much," Rohan retorted. "Good night, William."

He went back to the attic and slumped into bed, wondering what he should do now. Maybe he really shouldn't go to the last day of the tournament. But then, William was right. If he didn't earn himself a knighthood, he'd die in that manor, forgotten and unsung.

4.

The last day of the tournament meant the joust would continue with swords until one of the knights yielded or was defeated. One run against each other and then swords would be drawn to show off the swordsmanship.

Rohan managed to unsaddle a couple of opponents and kept the advantage of the saddle height to defeat them. William for some reason didn't participate and hid in the crowd, while Tristan was defeated by Prince Kurtis.

Again the Nameless Knight and the prince were the last two men standing. If it was because nobody wanted to hurt Prince Kurtis or because the prince was actually better was anyone's guess. Rohan's admiration for the prince's skills kept growing with every match and round of the tournament.

He lowered his lance and aimed at the prince's armored chest. Again the blow was so strong, he was unsaddled, but he quickly got back on his feet. Prince Kurtis jumped off the saddle and unsheathed his sword. The duel would continue on foot, then.

This was actually Rohan's first real duel. He channeled his father as best as he could and managed to give such a blow with the flat of his blade that the prince's helmet flew off. Both were breathless and stared at each other for a moment.

"I yield," Prince Kurtis said, offering his hand with a grin.

Rohan exhaled and squeezed the extended hand. Kurtis's firm grip held his fingers.

"Will you take off your helmet, now, sir knight?" the prince asked, dropping his sword.

"No, Your Highness," he answered, struggling to free his hand.

In spite of the limited view behind his visor, he saw the prince's hand reach for his head, so he raised his sword to block the attempt.

"Let go, Your Highness," he whispered threateningly.

Kurtis pulled back, raising both hands in surrender.

Rohan backed away, his sword still in front of him, then rushed to his horse. He sheathed his sword and climbed into the saddle, spurring the horse.

Only when he was in the stables did he remember he'd forgotten the shield on the tournament field. He groaned, but it was too late.

***

Kurtis cursed out loud when the Nameless Knight retreated from the battlefield without showing his face. His squire tapped on his shoulder as he was still muttering under his breath, unhappy with the outcome of the tournament.

"Your Highness, the Nameless Knight has forgotten his shield." The young man shyly offered the kite-shaped shield with leather strips covering the coat-of-arms.

"Take it to my room," Kurtis ordered. "I will check it later."

Now it was time to celebrate the end of the tournament, even though the champion was gone, and choose the knights for his retinue. As he headed for his room to bathe before the banquet, he met a blond knight who seemed to be waiting for him in the corridors of the upper floor of the castle.

"Your Highness." The knight bowed respectfully. "Have you, by any chance, found my shield?"

"Are you the Nameless Knight?" Kurtis asked, a little wary. Of course he'd have had the time to take off his chainmail, but the knight looked a little too fresh for being just back from a tournament.

"Yes, Your Highness." The blond young man bowed his head in false modesty. "I saw your squire retrieve my shield. I would like to have it back."

Kurtis let him into his bed chamber. The shield was against the wall near the door. Kurtis took it and ripped off the leather strips.

"This is Lord Alan's shield," he said, studying the coat-of-arms. He heard the blond young man hold his breath.

"Yes, he is my stepfather. I am Sir William de Roland. My mother, Lady Blandina, married Lord Alan."

"I see. Well, this is yours, then." Kurtis gave him the shield. "Well done. If you'll excuse me, now, I need to get ready for the banquet."

William bowed. "If there's anything I can do for you..."

Kurtis shooed him away. Was the young knight flirting with him? William had blue eyes all right, but Kurtis wasn't convinced he was the Nameless Knight. He remembered the names of the competing knights and Sir William had participated in the first two days of the tournament, along with the champion.

Kurtis took off his armor and clothes. The bath-tub looked less inviting than a pond in the forest, but he'd have to make do until it was all over and he could claim Rohan for his bed. As for the Nameless Knight, he was probably better off without him.

***

"I know what you've been up to." William crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Rohan with a smirk.

Rohan, who was tending the horses and hadn't looked up when his stepbrother had entered the stables, had to stop and look at William.

"Do you want me to unsaddle your horse and take care of it after today's exertions?" he asked, puzzled.

"You know perfectly well I didn't participate in the tournament today. You were there. In spite of having been forbidden. Where did you find this?"

William went around his horse and took something from the saddle. Lord Alan's shield, stripped of the leather strips.

"Does Prince Kurtis know who you are? Apparently not, since I managed to convince him I was the Nameless Knight..."

"You didn't!" Rohan threw away the horses' brushes and marched on his stepbrother. "That's mine, you have no rights to it!"

"Nobody knighted you, Rohan. You have no rights either," William teased, hiding the shield behind his back. "Now you better keep your mouth shut if you don't want me to expose you. Nobody wants to hear that a non-knight won the tournament!"

Rohan clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. William was right.

"Now tell me where I find the rest of the Nameless Knight's equipment, so I can receive all the prizes." William lifted his chin in challenge.

"I buried it with my father," Rohan replied through clenched teeth. "Since I can't be a knight, nobody will use his weapons to be one."

William scoffed and threw the shield at his feet.

"So, what's next, Rohan? Will you join Prince Kurtis in his bedroom? I heard he's a very good lover, especially for someone like you who never had that many occasions to play with sex..."

Rohan slapped him. "What is your intent, William? Besides shaming me in my own house, I mean. Didn't you have enough? What else do you want from me?"

"Nothing." William spat. "Just stay in your place, Cinder Boy. And take care of my horse."

William stormed out of the stables.

Rohan wanted to scream, but held it inside. He picked up the shield and hid it inside a manger in an empty stall. He unsaddled William's horse and finished his chores as stable-boy before heading back to the house.

William, Tristan and Lady Blandina were in the main hall, discussing the tournament. He didn't stop to listen and went upstairs. He pushed the wobbly bed-table in front of the old wardrobe again, making sure everything looked untouched in case they decided to check his room.

He lay on the bed, staring at the square hole of the window and wondering if William would give him away or not.

***

"So the Nameless Knight had Alan's shield?" King Konan asked, caressing his chin. He was alone with Kurtis in his chambers and had listened to his son's words carefully.

"But Sir William wouldn't use Alan's shield, would he?" Kurtis asked, worried. There was something wrong in William's claim.

"Well, Roland had two sons, so if his weapons went to the elder – Tristan, if I remember correctly – it makes sense that William would get Alan's equipment..." The king pondered again. "It did look like Alan's sword and armor, now that I think about it!"

"But didn't Alan have a son himself? Or did you keep him so busy that he didn't marry until Lady Blandina came along?"

"Oh, yes, he was married." King Konan smiled. "Lady Mathilde was the most beautiful maiden of her times. And she was madly in love with him. So I had to watch my best friend marry her and wish them happiness. They had a son, now that I think about it."

"So wouldn't Alan's son be entitled to his weapons? Who knighted him?"

"Nobody, as far as I know. I thought Lady Blandina would complete his knightly education along with her sons, but now that you're bringing this to my attention, only William and Tristan were knighted. I wonder what happened to Alan's son..."

"Maybe he didn't survive infancy?" Kurtis wondered. "What was his name anyway?"

"Rohan..."

Kurtis's heart jumped in his throat. "Rohan?" he asked with a shaky voice. "Rohan is Alan's son?"

"Alan's son was called Rohan, yes, why?" His father stared puzzled at him.

Kurtis cursed under his breath. He knew the manor where Rohan lived was Lord Alan's. The hidden warm pond was right behind the manor. And he'd thought for four days that Rohan was just a servant in the house...

"I think the Nameless Knight is Rohan de Alan, Father," he said, determined. "We should knight him and honor him as he deserves."

***

"You are not inheriting any of your father's things!" Lady Blandina screamed, outraged. "How could you hide your father's equipment from your brothers?"

"You never completed my knightly education," Rohan replied venomously. "Those things belong to me. I just proved to you all that I'm as good a knight as them, you can't stop me from claiming my rightful inheritance! I'm twenty-two and I will be the master of my own house!"

"Ha! And who's going to support your claim? You're the Cinder Boy, not a knight!"

"But he caught the eye of Prince Kurtis," William said. "Although he should probably be willing to give his highness his ass to get any favor..."

Rohan glared at him, but William simply scoffed.

"Rohan is not setting foot in the castle," Lady Blandina said. "Therefore he won't be able to petition the king, the prince or whoever else he's thinking to turn to!"

"Too late, Mother, I told you Prince Kurtis already noticed him," William insisted. "Were you all so soundly asleep last night?"

"I thought I heard whispers, but since you weren't in bed, I thought it was you," Tristan said.

"No, it was Prince Kurtis trying to lure Rohan into the woods."

The sound of horses and a carriage interrupted the discussion. Tristan was closer to the window opening onto the courtyard. He looked outside and gasped.

"It's the king!"

Lady Blandina pushed Rohan out of the main hall and into the kitchen as she told her sons to prepare for the royal visit. Rohan smiled ruefully and went to sit next to the cook, who patted his shoulder, hugging him like when he was a child.

"Everything will be all right, Rohan," she said.

"Only when those parasites are out of here," he grumbled.

***

Kurtis helped his aging father out of the carriage. He had wanted to come on his own – it would have been much faster on horseback – but he knew the king's presence was necessary in this case. Lady Blandina seemed to have a lot to answer for.

The herald introduced them to the main hall of the manor, where the lady curtsied deeply and her sons bowed respectfully. A royal servant opened the folding chair the king always carried with him and put a pillow on it before King Konan could sit. His gout had gotten worse while Kurtis was away, and he couldn't stand for long.

Kurtis remained standing by his father's side while Lady Blandina sat with her sons standing next to her.

"Your Majesty, to what do I owe this impromptu visit?" she asked.

"I was told the Nameless Knight who won the tournament had Lord Alan's shield," King Konan answered.

"Yes, it was me, like I told Prince Kurtis when I retrieved the shield," William said.

"I see. And what happened to Rohan?" The king stared curiously at Lady Blandina who paled.

"He... is not well. He was never knighted and certainly didn't attend the tournament," she said quickly. But she didn't look anyone in the eyes.

Lying bitch, Kurtis thought.

"I would love to see my dear friend Alan's weapons once more," King Konan said. "Please indulge this old man, will you?"

William nodded and headed out. Kurtis saw him enter the stables and, after some fussing, come out with the kite-shaped shield.

"That sick Cinder Boy hid the rest," William said, presenting the shield to the king. "I've tried to make him tell me where, but he wouldn't speak to me. Maybe you could convince him?"

"Who is this Cinder Boy?" the king asked, puzzled.

"Rohan," Lady Blandina answered. "I told you he is not well, Your Majesty. The loss of both his parents made his mind go away."

Kurtis raised his eyebrows. Rohan had looked perfectly normal and balanced for someone who was obviously treated like a servant in his own house.

"Why don't you summon him?" Kurtis said. "Maybe he will tell us where he hid his father's weapons."

Lady Blandina signaled to Tristan. She looked nervous now. Tristan came back with Rohan who kept his head hung and his eyes on his feet.

"Ah, yes, I see a lot of Alan in him!" King Konan beamed. "Come here, young man, my sight is not as good as it used to be."

Startled, Rohan approached and knelt in front of the king. He seemed riveted on the old man's face and Kurtis wanted to kiss him blind.

"Your Majesty..." Rohan whispered, shyly. "I know I wasn't supposed to take part in the tournament because I haven't been knighted, but I wanted to prove my worth and show everyone that my father's legacy is not lost..."

"It is not, indeed," King Konan said gravely, caressing his cheek. "Kurtis, will you please make a knight out of him?"

"Wait!" Lady Blandina rose, outraged. "You have no proof it was him! Anybody could be the Nameless Knight..."

Rohan sighed. He rose and slowly went to the stairs. "Your Majesty will trust his son's word? He shall be my witness, along with Tristan."

King Konan nodded and Kurtis hurried after Rohan, followed by Tristan. They went to the attic, and Rohan pushed away a bed table, opened a wardrobe and pulled out Lord Alan's armor and sword.

"That's where you hid it!" Tristan said.

"No, that's where my father put it when he buried my mother," Rohan answered. "I found it three days ago."

Kurtis grinned.

"Let's go back downstairs. I guess I shall make a knight of you, Sir Rohan."

Rohan finally looked at him and blushed. His sweet and shy smile was the best reward.

***

Rohan deposited his father's equipment at the feet of the king.

"Well, suit up, young man, so we can make a knight out of you and celebrate your victory in today's tournament," King Konan said cheerfully.

Rohan obeyed. His stepmother was quiet now and he could feel Tristan and William's envious eyes on him. He could also feel Kurtis's gaze as the prince helped him into the mail hauberk.

He knelt again and Kurtis unsheathed his sword to touch both his shoulders with the flat of the blade.

"Rise, Sir Rohan, you are now a knight."

"And my son's trusted lieutenant," King Konan added, clapping his hands. "He will be the captain, but you shall answer only to him, like your father did with me."

Rohan dared to look at the old king's face.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He felt overwhelmed. He could see Kurtis's eyes on King Konan's face. He glimpsed the grin on Kurtis's face, then lowered his eyes again.

He was a knight. He had inherited his father's post. Things would change from now on.

"You will have your chambers at Ker Noran," Kurtis said. "Will you entrust your manor to your stepmother or would you rather find someone else?"

Rohan turned to look at Lady Blandina. She sat composed and defiant. Tristan and William both frowned, wondering if he'd kick them out of the house where they had abused him for so many years.

"She can stay, as long as she leaves as soon as I find a suitable bride," he said. "I'm sure William and Tristan will soon marry and move to their own manors. Unless she'd rather follow them, of course."

"I will not live off my stepson's charity." Lady Blandina rose and regally walked out of the room, followed by her sons.

Rohan sighed. As if she hadn't lived off her stepson for years.

"Do you want me to find someone to take care of the manor?" Kurtis asked.

"The servants will take care of it. I will let the extended family come back. They'll keep it clean and will have a roof over their heads for the time being."

"Very well." The king rose. "We shall wait for you at the banquet tonight. You can bring your things at your leisure tomorrow."

Kurtis allowed his father to lean on him as they went back outside and into the carriage.

"See you tonight," Kurtis whispered with a wink as the coachman turned the carriage around.

Rohan felt his cheeks burn. Now he was truly trapped.

***

Kurtis brightened when Rohan entered the great hall. Finally the young man wore clothes that showed his rank and he looked even more handsome than before.

Kurtis waited impatiently for the herald to show the guest his place, right between the king and Kurtis himself.

"Your Majesty." Rohan bowed to King Konan before taking his seat.

Kurtis leaned towards him.

"Did you bathe in your hot pond before coming?" he asked in a low voice.

"No, I tried the castle's bath chambers," Rohan answered, keeping his eyes on his plate, but smiling.

"Don't you think the pond is... more intimate?"

"It is, but I need to get used to a crowded castle, don't I?"

"What if I told you that you don't have to and can just use my bath-tub when you feel so inclined?"

Rohan's blue eyes stared at him.

"Your Highness, I guess we will have to talk about my duties. But not now, if you don't mind. I'm quite starved and all these dishes smell delicious."

"Then help yourself, Rohan. Tell me, have you ever been to a ball?"

"No, Your Highness, my social skills with the nobility are non-existent. I will have to learn that too."

"I will happily teach you everything," Kurtis assured him with an impish smile.

"I may not be ready for certain... teachings, Your Highness," Rohan warned, but he didn't sound angry or upset.

I will seduce you, Rohan.

Kurtis changed the subject, pointing out his favorite dishes. Rohan might be shy and introverted, but this only made him more interesting.

5.

Rohan hadn't slept so well in years. He'd been given a chamber with a big and soft curtained bed and private outhouse. There was a chest for his clothes and armor, a table and stools, and a cozy hearth that he didn't have to clean up.

There was also a door that connected to Prince Kurtis's private chambers, but he had locked it before going to bed. Except when he woke up, he found a note on the pillow next to his face.

You're beautiful even when you sleep. You look so peaceful, I can't bring myself to wake you up. Sweet dreams, Rohan. We have a lifetime to explore this.

Startled by the "K" at the end of the note, Rohan glanced at the door that led to the prince's rooms. The lock was unbolted. Probably Kurtis had entered from the main door on the corridor, when he'd found the internal door locked, but had gone back to his room the more direct way.

And he hadn't awoken him. Rohan blushed at the thought of what Kurtis hinted. He'd been so isolated at the manor, he didn't think he could actually function in the crowded castle.

He hid the note in the chest, and quickly dressed and shaved.

He went to the great hall to grab a pastry and see if the royal family was already up. He had obviously overslept in the comfortable bed, since they were all there. King Konan, Prince Kurtis, Prince Ewan and his wife, Princess Johanna...

Rohan was about to sit at the courtiers' table when he saw the king signaling him. A little puzzled, he went onto the dais and bowed at King Konan.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. How are your feet today?"

"Eh, still hurting." The king shrugged. "Have you met Ewan and Johanna? This is Kurtis's new lieutenant."

"The Nameless Knight, yes, we heard of him," Prince Ewan said with a smile.

"And also Lord Alan's son," Kurtis added proudly. "Now in his rightful place."

"That would be with the prince heir," King Konan commented without looking at anyone in particular but smiling broadly.

Kurtis cleared his throat and smiled. "Yes, well, he's still the best man protecting the royal family," he said. "Rohan, please, help yourself to some pastries and then we can begin our day."

"And what is my duty today?" Rohan asked as Kurtis passed him a tray of sweet smelling cupcakes.

"You will have to familiarize yourself with the castle grounds," Kurtis replied as Rohan picked a pastry. "I understand you haven't been allowed to come in the past ten years or so."

"True." Rohan nodded. "And will I need further knightly training?"

"I don't think so," Prince Ewan said with a chuckle. "You almost beat the shit out of my brother! Who taught you anyway?"

"My father, and then I watched my stepbrothers train with their uncle." Rohan shrugged. The pastry was delicious, but it was gone in two bites. He leaned over the table to pick another. He didn't dare sit with the royal family.

"Very well, let's make our first inspection." Kurtis rose as Rohan quickly finished the second cupcake.

Rohan followed the prince outside the great hall and through the castle corridors. When they reached the top of the castle tower, they spent some time watching the landscape. From that height, they could see the hexagon of the outer walls, the river, the faraway coastline. And the mountains.

"And your manor." Kurtis pointed at the brown spot against the green of the trees. "And the secret pond behind it. How about a ride and a hot bath?"

"Your Highness, I appreciated you letting me sleep and not embarrassing me last night. But I'd really like to know where this is headed and if I have a choice in the matter."

"Of course you have a choice." Kurtis grinned. "I want you in my bed, but I won't force you."

Even though he was expecting this, Rohan blushed.

"I... I don't think... I don't deserve such an honor," he blurted out, feeling his cheeks on fire.

"Why not?" Kurtis stepped closer and caressed his cheek. "You're young, handsome, of noble blood... What's missing?"

"I just... I don't think I..."

"You don't know what you want. You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Rohan gulped and nodded, staring at his feet.

"Well, I'll let you play with women first, if that's what you want," Kurtis said, stepping back. "You know where to find me when you're ready."

And with a dazzling smile, he headed back for the lower floors.

Rohan had to take long, calming breaths before following him down the spiral staircase and into the castle main building.

***

Kurtis sat under his favorite willow on the river shore. Rohan was busy socializing at the castle and the prince felt the need to get away from the hustle and bustle for a while. What he had appreciated the most while in Moriana was the fact that he was just another prince, a hopeful who may or may not become the next Moren Emperor, but nobody actually gave him a second glance.

At Ker Noran he was still the prince. Maybe not the heir, since his father had announced that Ewan would inherit the castle and Kurtis would be his trusted captain, but still the prince. There were still ladies who wanted his babies, in spite of the fact he had made it clear he didn't want to get involved with any of them.

And watching those same ladies surround Rohan got on his nerves. He knew Rohan would have his rightful experiences with women before – hopefully – surrendering to him. Now that they had talked about it, he wasn't going to try anything until he saw Rohan was ready.

"Hey, Kurtis, you're back at last!"

The cheerful voice startled him. From the river emerged three pale beings with tunics of a nacreous fabric and eyes the color of the water they had come from. All three had chestnut brown hair, and the one female had a longer tunic. They could probably pass off as Humans if they wore different clothes, but Kurtis knew who they were.

He brightened at the sight of his Waiora friends. They lived in the Wated and he had met their "cousins" of the River Ondan when in Moriana, but he knew he was lucky. The Waiora didn't like to show themselves to Humans after Humans had taken down their kingdom.

One of the four Magical Races, the Waiora had taken part in the creation of the succession spell weaved for the first Moren Emperor some three centuries earlier. Kurtis had heard the story from them – the descendants – since Ker Noran was too remotely far from Moriana to have heard of the Empire.

Busy with the tournament, the Nameless Knight and his infatuation with Rohan, Kurtis had forgotten his secret friends, but now he was happy they'd showed up.

"Good to see you," Kurtis said as the three sat around him on the grass. "I missed you."

Mostly he'd missed Mekhi, who stared at him with his luscious lips curved into a smile. Next to him sat his sister Maxene along with her vivkunulo (or life-mate), Warin.

"Really?" Maxene giggled. "I thought you had lots of fun in Moriana!"

"How do you know what I did in Moriana? It's miles away!"

"News swims pretty fast, trust me." Mekhi winked. "So how was Sir Michael?"

Startled, Kurtis looked at Mekhi.

His meeting with the handsome Waiora had awakened his senses when he was barely seventeen. Mekhi had been his first male lover, and he'd been madly in love. But then after a couple of years of secret meetings, Mekhi had vanished for a few days.

The members of the Magical Races weren't liars and when he'd come back, Mekhi had admitted he'd had his parigha nagho, or mating swim. Kurtis's sudden violent jealousy had ended their relationship and extinguished his passion for the handsome Waiora.

Both had moved on since, even though they were still quite fond of each other.

"Are you still jealous of my Human lovers?" Kurtis asked, amused. "They can't compare to you, and you know it!"

Mekhi chuckled. "And they can't stick to you even though you don't have to hide your meetings with them."

"I do, I was prince heir until I went to Moriana, I was supposed to marry and breed." Kurtis shrugged.

"But then in Moriana you felt free to do as you pleased, away from your people's eyes," Maxene said. "So how's the homecoming?"

"It's been great." Kurtis pondered. "I met someone, and to tell the truth, at first I thought he was one of you."

"Why would you think that?" Warin asked, puzzled. "Where did you meet him?"

"In a warm pond at the edge of the forest. He was naked and had stark blue eyes, so I thought... But then I saw his clothes and his house, and then I knew he was Human."

"Would that be Rohan de Alan?" Mekhi asked with an impish smile.

"Do you know him?"

"Any Human who often goes to a body of water is known to us, Kurtis," Maxene teased. "You should know!"

Kurtis smiled. His love for swimming in the river had brought him to the attention of the Waiora siblings at first, then to the whole underwater community that lived along the Wated, especially near Ker Noran.

"Did you show yourselves to him?" he asked.

"No, that pond is secluded enough to grant him privacy." Mekhi shrugged. "But one of us has been keeping an eye on him."

"So you should know I met him five days ago."

"We didn't talk to her yet. She lives up near the source of that stream and doesn't come down very often. So, where is Rohan now?"

"At the castle, socializing for the first time in his life..." Kurtis sighed. "His stepmother kept him as a servant, so he has a lot of catching up to do on his knightly life."

"Why don't you tell him to come over to the river?" Maxene suggested. "Or does he like only warm ponds?"

"I haven't asked him." Kurtis grinned. "I didn't even manage to take him back to the pond where we met yet. Maybe I should suggest a day-trip on the river!"

"We'll make sure the currents push you to a secluded green alcove," Mekhi promised with a smile.

"Thank you." Kurtis pondered some more. Yes, he should definitely take Rohan away from the castle at some point. Be it the pond or a river trip or a ride somewhere... he must find the right excuse, and then Rohan would be his.

***

Rohan had never been so much the center of everybody's attention. Beautiful maidens competed for a word with him, young knights wanted to know how he defeated them even though he hadn't been properly knighted, older nobles kept telling him he was just like his father... He felt a little overwhelmed!

Over the first few weeks of his moving to the castle, life was so busy he had no time to think. Learning court etiquette and what was expected of him as a knight, socializing with his peers and adjusting to the new life made him crumble in bed at night without thinking about nightly visits.

Lady Blandina, Tristan and William sulked as he met everyone at Ker Noran and tried to remember all the names and faces at once. Which was of course impossible, but his mistakes were endearing, especially to the ladies who swooned even more for him.

Kurtis showed him the easier dance steps, so his first official ball went smoothly. No, it was actually a success, he decided, as he passed from one lady to another, not wanting to leave anyone out. Of course by the end of the evening he was exhausted and his feet ached, but he felt he had found his place at the castle.

He retired with Kurtis who had quietly watched him all night, nodding his approval from time to time. The prince had hit the dance-floor less often than him, but then, he was probably bored by those noble pastimes that were so new to Rohan.

"Have you found anyone in particular that you fancy?" Kurtis asked as they stopped in the corridor between their rooms' doors.

"Ah, no, they're all so pretty and sweet and..." Rohan didn't know how to voice how he was feeling. Exhilarated but tired but happy but scared but... "I wonder if I should ask the king to choose one for me."

"I wonder if you should just wait until your heart settles on someone," Kurtis said. "You're young, you don't have to marry within the year, you know?"

"Right, sorry, I don't know what's bugging me. I guess too much at the same time."

Kurtis put his hands on Rohan's shoulders. "Get some sleep, Rohan. Give yourself time. Don't make hasty decisions, will you?"

Of course, he wants me to consider him as well. And why shouldn't I? He's handsome, sweet... Kurtis's stare made him feel warm and his touch made him shiver, but he didn't want to give in to that fire burning inside him until he tried women.

"Good night, Your Highness," he said, bowing his head. "I shall not oversleep tomorrow morning in spite of the late hour."

"Do you want me to call you when I wake up?" Kurtis asked with a smile.

"Why not?" Rohan blushed.

"Then don't lock the internal door, and I'll make sure to let you know I'm up."

Kurtis winked and headed for his door. Rohan exhaled and went to his own room, slumping onto the bed and staring at the canopy for a moment.

He could have done what he wanted ever since I came here, even though I locked the internal door... I may as well leave it open. He won't do anything I'm not ready for.

He didn't know why he trusted Kurtis. Maybe because he was attracted to the prince. Or maybe because Kurtis had promised to wait.

Rohan sighed and prepared for bed. He was about to switch off the lamp when a soft knock startled him.

Barefooted, he went to the door and found one of the noble maidens in the corridor with a candle, her hair loose on her shoulders, wearing only a pale nightgown.

"May I?" she asked, batting her eyelids.

"I don't think it's proper..."

She pushed him back and entered the room. She put down her candle and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him hungrily.

He didn't even know her name, but he played along. It was a wonderful night to lose his virginity.

6.

Kurtis had heard some clearly female giggles come from Rohan's room as well as some very sexy moans from the handsome young man, but he hadn't bothered watching. Well, at least now Rohan had tried women, maybe he'd soon be ready to try something else.

When he opened the internal door, Kurtis hoped that whoever had spent the night with Rohan was gone. He was wrong. He recognized the blond curls of Isabel, William and Tristan's cousin who had also tried to convince him to marry her.

Considering the high contempt Lady Blandina had for her stepson, Kurtis wondered why Isabel had bothered seducing Rohan. Probably the young man's new position had made him a most wanted bachelor at the castle.

Kurtis cleared his throat and shook Rohan's foot. The young man was startled awake and he blushed when he realized he was naked and with a nude young woman by his side.

"I'll be ready in a moment, Your Highness," he grumbled, trying to cover both himself and his lover with the bed-sheet.

"I'll be next door." Kurtis went back to his own room, a little pissed off. Not at innocent Rohan, but at the bitch who had carved her way into his bed. He'd better talk to Isabel before she broke Rohan's heart.

Isabel laughed when he told her to handle Rohan with care.

"Don't worry, Your Highness, he hasn't fallen in love with me," she said with a smirk. "Unless tonight he comes to my room, in that case you might start to worry. He may have liked last night more than you ever did."

"Stop going around and breaking young men's hearts," he said sternly. "Or I'll tell my father to find you a suitable husband."

"Sir Rohan would be perfect, Your Highness," she teased. "Besides, I haven't broken your heart, have I?"

"Just because my heart isn't touched by women's arts doesn't mean that I don't see what you do to others," he replied. "You did break my brother's heart."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Gods, that was so long ago! We were both still children!"

"He might have been a child, but you definitely weren't anymore. Quit fooling around, Isabel, or I'll have you evicted from the castle."

She frowned at him and grumbled something.

"What did you say?" He glared back at her.

"As your highness wishes," she said with a mock curtsy before storming away.

Kurtis snorted. But now he was curious to hear Rohan's side.

"Ride with me to the pond," he said. "I fancy a bath in that natural pool."

Rohan nodded and obediently followed him to the stables and out of the castle. They didn't speak until they were both immersed in the warm water, naked.

Rohan was very modest, taking off his clothes while trying to hide his privates as much as he could. He obviously wasn't used to communal baths.

"So, how was your night?" Kurtis asked, relaxing in the pond.

"Interesting," Rohan answered without looking at him.

"You realize she's your stepbrothers' cousin, don't you?"

"Ah, yes, Isabel... I hadn't met her until I came to live at the castle. She made sure to introduce herself as soon as she could. Although I admit at first I couldn't remember her name when she knocked on my door."

"Do you regret letting her in?"

"Uh, no, but... I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have? Will I have to marry her now?"

Kurtis chuckled. "No, not really. You're not her first lover, and probably not the last either. Her father has given up hope of marrying her off – unless he sends her far from Ker Noran, which wouldn't be that bad."

"I guess not..." Rohan stared into space. "I'd like to try more if you don't mind."

"As long as you don't let them break your heart."

"What if you break my heart?" Finally Rohan looked him in the eyes, serious.

"I wouldn't," Kurtis assured him. "I'd never hurt you or do anything against your will. I'd love to spend my life with you, but if you're uncomfortable with the thought and want to get married instead, that's fine too. I'll help you choose your bride. Just forget Isabel, you deserve much better."

"Thank you." Rohan's smile blossomed and made Kurtis's heart beat faster.

After weeks of watching Rohan adjust to his new life, the prince only fell for him more. It would be very hard to give up on Rohan. But if he really loved the young man, he must set him free.

***

Another week passed. Rohan was getting used to the crowds of Ker Noran. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he retired to the manor for an hour or two to recharge his energies, spoiled by the cook and the gardener and their daughter and husband and children who had gone back to the servants' quarters, like when his parents were alive.

Rohan didn't go to Isabel's room, but tried a couple more noble maidens. Somehow he felt he wasn't living up to their expectations, so he even asked a whore working at the village tavern to show him some tricks to please women.

Kurtis's eyes always followed him everywhere, but the prince hadn't repeated his offer. He hadn't followed him to the manor or met him at the pond again, as if Kurtis was giving Rohan time to make up his mind.

Rohan was very conflicted. Sometimes he wanted to nestle against Kurtis and just let the prince take care of him. But he wasn't Cinder Boy anymore and he couldn't afford to be so dependent on someone else.

The old king was always very benevolent towards him, and often asked him how he fared, and if he wanted to settle with a wife and start his own family. Rohan didn't feel like lying to King Konan, so he answered invariably that he was still young and hadn't made up his mind, which made the king both smile and sigh.

"Just like Kurtis," the old man muttered, but he didn't look angry.

Prince Ewan was Tristan's age, but seemed to like Rohan and often invited him to his table to play games or chat with him and his noble friends. Kurtis seemed to be more introvert, never really mixing with the castle life and often riding off on his own along the river shore.

"Would you like to come with me?" Kurtis asked one day before leaving for a stroll.

"I thought you treasured these lonely walks," Rohan answered, a little embarrassed.

"You can be very quiet, and I'm sure you wouldn't bother me with useless chatter," Kurtis replied with a smile.

Rohan was kind of curious to know more about the prince, so he followed him along the river bank. They sat under a willow and Kurtis told him that was his secret place.

"I've discovered yours, the warm pond in the woods, it seems fair that I introduce you to mine," he said with a grin.

"It's... very peaceful," Rohan said.

The river flowing in front of them made enough noise to cover any man-made sound coming from the castle. The branches of the willow provided shelter from view. The grass was soft and green.

"You can't come here in the winter," Kurtis said. "I hope you don't mind if we go to the pond instead. It must be great even when it's surrounded by snow."

"Well, you need to get in the water quickly if you don't want to freeze," Rohan replied, amused.

"So you've done it, I take it?"

"Yes, quite often. Although it wasn't easy to sneak out of the house in winter, when my stepmother didn't leave to visit her relatives."

Kurtis chuckled.

"We could move to your manor this winter. Things slow down at the castle anyway, and nobody would be so foolish to start a war in winter."

Rohan nodded, thoughtful. It was an interesting thought. Luckily winter was still a few months away. Who knew what could happen between now and then.

***

Kurtis knew he was in love. Totally head over heels for Rohan. Sometimes he thought he'd never have the patience to wait for Rohan to open his door to him. Sometimes he was content with watching him interact with people, thinking Rohan deserved all the honors he was receiving after winning the tournament.

Maybe I should let him marry and breed, Kurtis thought, lying on his bed as the sun went down. Maybe I should just go back to Moriana and find someone there. Although even Michael wasn't Rohan and we'd gotten sick of each other.

When would he get bored with Rohan? And would he get bored? Apparently his crushes didn't last more than two or three years, and then he yearned for freedom again. Maybe he'd better stay away from Rohan, lest he indeed broke Rohan's heart, even though he had promised not to.

But then, he'd been obsessed with Rohan for two full months already. What if it was just because Rohan resisted him? What if when Rohan surrendered, he started looking for another pastime?

Sometimes he really wished he could consult with someone – anyone. But Mekhi would tell him to get that love and his father... Kurtis wasn't sure what his father would say anymore. Maybe the old man was more similar to him than he thought.

He heard noises in the next room. Maybe Rohan had finally come to bed. Kurtis had left the discussion for the upcoming royal hunt before it was over, knowing his "lieutenant" would stay until the end and tell him everything in the morning.

But why wait until morning? Maybe they could discuss it now.

Kurtis rose from the bed and headed for the internal door. It wasn't locked anymore, and he opened it. As he stepped into Rohan's bedroom, he realized someone was seated on Rohan's bed, but it wasn't Rohan. It was William.

"What are you doing here?" Kurtis asked, frowning.

"I thought you might feel lonely," William answered, throwing away the bedsheets to show he was naked. "Rohan is probably spending the night with Maid Eleonor. I was about to come knocking on your door, in fact."

He got out of bed and sauntered towards Kurtis. He had none of Rohan's innocence and his impish smile showed he knew exactly what he was doing. William was just like his cousin Isabel.

"When you have enough of waiting for him, I'm at your disposal," William said, stopping in front of the prince and putting his arms around Kurtis's neck. "And I can play the virgin, if that's what you want..."

Kurtis scoffed.

"I want Rohan, not you," he said, freeing himself from William's embrace. "Get dressed, William, neither you nor Isabel have room in my bed."

William's smile vanished. "As you wish, Your Highness. You don't know what you're missing."

He wiggled his ass impertinently and picked up his clothes. He shot a defiant stare at Kurtis and left.

***

Rohan gasped, seeing William coming out of his room with his clothes and shoes in his hands.

"What were you doing there?" he demanded, blocking his stepbrother in the middle of the corridor.

"Giving Prince Kurtis what you're denying him," William replied mockingly. "We spent a delightful hour together."

"William, you're disgusting!"

"Maybe, but he's tired of you holding him at arm's length. At least he had some fun with me." William winked. "If you pull the rope too hard it will break, Rohan..."

And moving around stunned Rohan, William went down the corridor, whistling a cheerful tune.

Rohan snapped back to reality and turned to look, but William had vanished behind the bend of the corridor. Rohan gulped and entered his room.

The door to Kurtis's chamber was closed. On tiptoes, Rohan went to put his ear over the wood of the door. No sound came from the other room.

Rohan undressed and went to bed. He turned off the oil lamp and noticed that no light came from the other room from under the door, therefore Kurtis must be asleep. After having sex with William.

Somehow the thought was very distressing.

7.

Rohan awoke from a restless night of bad dreams. He didn't remember any of them, but he knew somehow he had seen Kurtis and William naked together. The fact that he didn't actually remember what they looked like was even more upsetting.

He got out of bed and was rather grumpy when he reached the great hall. His stomach was clenched close, so he didn't eat. He went to ask Prince Ewan if he needed anything, bowed at King Konan and left.

Kurtis might still be asleep, or maybe already out for a ride or a check up of the battlements, but Rohan didn't care. His feet took him outside of the castle walls and to the river shore as he pondered his situation.

He really didn't know what to do. He felt both attracted and repelled by the thought of what Kurtis could do to him. He had heard some drunk guards one day mentioning their abuse of another guard who happened to be younger and probably more effeminate than the rest. What they did to him pushed him to end his life in shame.

Rohan didn't want to end his life in shame. He didn't want to be used like a woman. He wasn't as shameless as William, who obviously had had all kinds of experiences at the castle, while he was stuck at the manor, cleaning hearths.

He reached the willow where Kurtis liked to sit. The prince wasn't there. Snorting, Rohan sat under the weeping branches and hugged his knees. Maybe Kurtis would come later and they could talk...

A sudden splash startled him. A head emerged from the water, and then a pale young man came out of the river to sit next to him. Water-blue eyes stared at him and luscious lips curved into a smile.

"Hello, Rohan," the young man said.

"You know my name?" Rohan asked, puzzled.

"You are well known to the Waiora community, Rohan... especially now that you've caught Kurtis's eye."

"Waiora..." Rohan repeated the word, uncertain.

"We are the water people. We can turn into seals or dolphins. Can't you see the fabric of my tunic is different from yours?"

Rohan opened his mouth, but then closed it. Indeed the young man's tunic was sleeveless and of a nacreous fabric. He didn't wear breeches and had sandals that tied up to his knees. He wasn't Human, now that Rohan observed him closely.

"Waiora, do you know Prince Kurtis well?" he dared to ask, a little awed at the thought of being in the presence of a member of the mythical and often invisible Magical Races.

"My name is Mekhi, and yes, I've known Kurtis for years. I was his first love, but in his youthful rashness, he soon got over me."

This time Rohan openly gaped. Mekhi smiled ruefully.

"Yes, I was unlucky, or maybe we were both too young to handle the passion in our veins... but now he is an adult and he knows what he wants."

"And what does he want?" Rohan asked shyly.

"You." Mekhi stared at him. "You're the one who could be by his side forever."

Rohan averted his eyes.

"I'm not sure... I don't think I deserve... I mean, what are we supposed to do together?" He looked at Mekhi again, worried.

"Love and cherish each other," Mekhi answered.

"And the sex part?"

Mekhi grinned. "You're afraid of the sex part?"

Rohan gulped and nodded.

"Don't be afraid." Mekhi leaned towards him. "Kurtis would never hurt you. You own his heart, you can do what you want with him."

The Waiora pulled back and looked beyond Rohan in the direction of the castle.

"Uh-oh! Here he comes! Good luck!"

Mekhi winked and quickly dived back into the river. When Kurtis reached Rohan, even the circles in the water had vanished.

But Kurtis wasn't blind.

"So, you met my friend Mekhi?" he asked, sitting next to Rohan with an amused smile.

"Ah, yes, he's... charming," Rohan answered, embarrassed. He dared to look at the prince. "Did you enjoy William's company?" he asked boldly.

"I didn't touch him," Kurtis replied, shaking his head. "Even though he threw himself at me, I couldn't care less. He's not you. He's just like Isabel. They have no power over me."

"And I do?"

Kurtis grinned. "You sure do," he whispered, leaning towards Rohan. "I'd do anything for you. Including finding you a bride, if that's what you want."

"No, it's not what I want." Rohan shrugged and looked away.

"So... what do you want?" Kurtis elbowed him and waited.

Rohan let go of his knees and turned to face the prince.

"I want to be with you, but I don't know how."

Kurtis took a deep breath, caressed Rohan's cheek. "I do," he murmured before leaning forward and kissing him.

***

Gods, he tastes good! Kurtis could never have enough of Rohan's eager mouth. He pulled Rohan's body closer and they rolled in the grass together, away from the willow's interlacing roots.

Rohan pulled away to gasp for breath, but Kurtis could feel his hardness against him. Rohan's eyes were wide with desire and fear.

"You... will not hurt me?" he pleaded.

"Never," Kurtis assured him, stroking Rohan's dark hair.

Rohan leaned to kiss him again. "I want you, but..."

"Don't worry, I know what to do."

Kurtis rolled over him and lay him down on the grass, slowly opening his tunic with butterfly kisses. Rohan moaned and closed his eyes as Kurtis explored him with hands and mouth. Soon Rohan was naked in all his glorious beauty, but Kurtis still had his clothes on.

Giving Rohan pleasure was the best thing that Kurtis could do. Listening to his groans of enjoyment and sighs of passion took his breath away. And when Rohan reopened his eyes, drowsy with spent passion, Kurtis lost himself in that blue.

He could die for Rohan. He could adore Rohan's body for eternity. He hoped Rohan would be by his side forever.

"Why are you still clothed?" Rohan asked with a little smile.

"Because it was all about you, and I wanted you to relax and feel good," Kurtis answered. "There will be time for you to explore me and return my caresses..."

Rohan hugged him. "Mmm... maybe I could start now..."

"Maybe you should rest now," Kurtis replied tenderly. "I told you, we have the rest of our lives to enjoy each other."

Rohan sighed in contentment, his eyelids heavy. "I love you, Kurtis," he whispered before dozing off.

"I love you too," Kurtis answered, caressing his lover as he slept.

Good thing he liked watching Rohan sleep. He covered the naked body with the clothes when the breeze picked up speed, and Rohan stirred awake.

"Maybe we better go back to the castle," Kurtis suggested as Rohan quickly dressed. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished," Rohan admitted. "I didn't have breakfast..."

Kurtis grinned. "Good. Then we'll eat, and then we'll retire to our rooms and continue this exploration, what do you say?"

"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," Rohan answered with his shy smile.

Firebird

His world was made of water, trees and rocks. The high forest that he called home had plush underbrush with plenty of streams and bedrocks like dragon spines crossing the green and watery growth. Ponds and streams were filled with fish to feed him and the bears. And the trees – beech, oak, birch, chestnut, alder – and the lower bushes – gorse, broom and heather – wrapped him in a green embrace. Springs of bubbly or sulfur-smelling water made him avoid certain places and look for freshwater coming down from the mountains, icy both in summer and winter. Moss covered stones to sit on, and berries were everywhere.

His kingdom was huge for his needs, inhabited by owls and falcons, riverbed-nesting birds, mountain birds, and a large variety of skunks and geckos. Bears, deer, wolves and hares. Foxes, squirrels and weasels. Most of them he didn't eat and he'd seen generations of wolves grow old and die in a pack that lived close to his dwelling.

He knew the smell of spring, summer and fall. The icy air of winter and when winds brought thunderstorms. He walked and climbed and dived and watched the animals live and die. His skin wasn't sunburned since he lived mostly under the cover of the foliage and he cut his hair at shoulder-length with his knife to avoid it getting tangled in bushes and branches.

He didn't have a name, but didn't really need one. Well, he probably did have a name, but it didn't occur to him until another being like him entered his life again after unnumbered seasons of isolation. He'd been living in the forest forever, in a small cabin deep in the grove that kept him warm in winter and dry when it rained.

His only friends were animals – who scattered as soon as the human form stumbled out of the bushes to crumble on the shore of the stream where he was seated, catching fish for dinner with his hands.

He gaped at the being so similar to him. He had forgotten there were others and had no idea of where they lived. He'd never moved very far from home and the sudden intrusion startled him.

He saw two arrows protruding from the man's back and blood flowing in the water of the stream. Snapping into action, he jumped to his feet and went to crouch next to the man lying face down half in the water. He poked at the limp body, saw the uneven breathing and decided whoever it was, he was alive, but hurt, and having half his face in the water wouldn't do him much good.

He flexed his muscles and dragged the man's body to dry ground. Studying the placement of the arrows, he swiftly took them out. The man groaned once before passing out. He ripped off the man's long sleeves and used them to cover the bleeding wounds before he went off to search for herbs to heal him.

The man's tunic felt strange to his touch – it wasn't animal pelts, but something soft and warm that didn't smell and of a bright blue color. It reminded him of something... maybe called fabric? He covered his body in winter for protection against the cold, but animal furs and pelts weren't as comfortable as those clothes seemed to be.

The makeshift bandages held as he carried the man back to his cabin. There he tended the wounds as best he could. He observed the man's medallion resting on the bandaged chest. It reminded him of something. Someone. A lifetime ago – a man whose face he didn't remember had worn something similar. It was some kind of emblem and...

Heavens, it had been so long since he'd seen another Human! He knew he was supposed to communicate, but didn't remember how. Besides, the man was asleep, or unconscious. He touched the tunic and belt of his wounded guest, frowning in concentration. Dyed wool and leather, that was what the other was wearing. He vaguely remembered having clothes like that when he was a little boy.

He shrugged off the faded memories and decided it was time to cook something – maybe a stew or some broth so his guest could eat too... He normally cooked fish, but he thought he could catch a hare tomorrow, and share it with his guest.

The man was feverish by evening, and kept moaning and saying things that must be words of the Human language, but he had trouble understanding them. He could make out the sounds, "no, Bran, no, oh, gods, no", but wasn't sure of the meaning. The wounded man seemed to be in great pain.

He sighed as he lay down next to his guest to sleep. He'd managed to make him drink some broth and a calming tisane, and soon the other man's breathing slowed down. When he felt the wounded one was resting, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep to the lullaby of his friendly neighbor the night owl.

***

Rowan burned with fever, reliving the hunt and its unexpected ending. What was meant to be a normal day in the forest had turned into a nightmare.

He had grown up with Brandegor. They'd been knighted together, and then had sworn to protect each other by a bubbly, sparkling spring in that very forest. When Rowan had inherited his father's castle and married Alienor de la Mountaine, he'd kept Brandegor by his side, since his best friend was a cadet with no rights.

Rowan never expected Bran to break their pact and turn against him, barely a year after his marriage. Alienor had hinted that his friend seemed a little too interested in her, but he had shrugged it off as wanting more attention on her part. The knightly oath had tied them as brothers-in-arms and Rowan thought their friendship would last forever.

And then Brandegor had suggested they go hunting together like in the good old times. Rowan thought maybe he wanted to renew their pact, but as they rode for miles next to each other, looking for prey, Brandegor had barely replied to his prodding, until they'd seen a stag and started the pursuit.

And then an arrow had hit him in the back, making him drop his bow. A second arrow had made him drop the reins, and the animal had slowed down. He'd fallen off the saddle and met his best friend's icy stare. Brandegor had cocked another arrow, and Rowan had fled on all fours, moaning in pain.

In his daze caused by the wounds he saw a young man leaning over him, ministering to his wounds, helping him to eat some food, before he passed out again.

When he came to his senses, he was lying in a timber cabin – one room with a fireplace and small windows – with an animal pelt covering him like a blanket. The mysterious young man, half-naked and gleaming with sweat, was cooking something.

The air was warm and smelled of sweat and broth. The timber cabin seemed old but solid, and there was another pelt under him, isolating him from the unpaved floor. Used to a stone castle and a real bed, Rowan felt stiff and uncomfortable lying on the ground. But when he tried to move, he winced in pain as his wounds reminded him of their presence.

Rowan was parched, so he gulped before speaking.

"Hello?" he called tentatively.

Grey eyes stared at him and the young man brightened, coming to crouch next to him.

"Water, please?" Rowan asked, licking his chapped lips.

The other looked puzzled, as if he couldn't understand the words.

"Water," Rowan repeated. "Thirsty." He weakly moved his hand in a drinking gesture.

The young man smiled and nodded. He went to a flask hung on the wall and came back, helping Rowan to drink. The water was cool down his throat.

"Thank you," he said, lying down again.

The other nodded and went back to the cooking. Rowan observed him – a Human who dressed in animal hides and who either was mute or had forgotten how to speak.

Rowan sighed, wondering where he was. The Forest of Blanchefleur wasn't huge, but in his panic he had probably run the wrong way, leaving his earldom behind. Luckily this wild young man had found him.

His host came back with a wooden bowl filled with stew, and again helped him to eat.

"Do you have a name?" Rowan asked. "I'm Rowan." He pointed at himself. "You?" He pointed at the other.

The young man opened his mouth and pondered. "Fire bird?" he said tentatively.

"Your name," Rowan insisted. "What do they call you?"

The other shrugged with a disappointed expression. Nobody ever called him anything, obviously. Which made sense if he was the only Human around.

"Thank you, whatever your name is," Rowan said with a sigh.

The other grinned. He seemed very friendly and willing to communicate, but couldn't wrap his tongue around words. Maybe he spoke another language, since the forest was on the border with other kingdoms.

Rowan felt too weak to talk more and the wounds in his back made for uncomfortable rest, thus he slept on his side. The nameless young man observed him closely, trying to imitate him.

When he felt better, he tried to learn more about his host, but again was met with puzzled stares and shrugs and apologetic smiles. The young man seemed to understand most of what he said, but wasn't able to respond. If the question required more than yes or no answers, there was just silence, or stuttering and snorts. Not a mute, possibly someone who hadn't spoken in years – if he ever learned.

"How many turns of seasons have you seen?"

The young man started counting on his fingers, but soon gave up and shook his head with a shrug. Rowan had never heard of lost or stolen children in the earldom, so he couldn't figure it out either.

A pang in Rowan's heart reminded him of Alienor – he missed her, and wondered if she was looking for him and what Brandegor had told her when he'd gone back alone. Maybe she'd been right, and Brandegor had betrayed him to get her and his castle...

When he asked his savior how many days had passed, the other pondered, then raised four fingers. Four days already. Rowan must get back on his feet and find his way to the castle as soon as possible.

***

Alienor stared at the forest where Rowan had vanished. Five days since Brandegor had come back alone from the hunt, reporting they'd been attacked by a wild boar that had killed Rowan. But Brandegor hadn't bothered bringing back Rowan's body, and looked strangely satisfied and determined.

Alienor had never liked her husband's best friend. Rowan called him brother-in-arms, said they had a pact of mutual help, but she wasn't blind. Brandegor lusted after her and hated to be in Rowan's shadow.

Alienor's marriage had been arranged by her father, and Brandegor had come to pick her up on behalf of the groom. He was blond and handsome and obviously knew it – like other young noblemen Alienor had dealt with.

She was happily surprised to discover dark-haired Rowan was nothing like his brother-in-arms. He was good-looking and chivalrous – and very tender when they were alone. She'd been happy to marry him and had slowly but steadily fallen in love with him who adored her. But so did Brandegor.

No, Brandegor's was lust, Rowan's was love. She could tell the difference. And now Rowan had vanished and Brandegor behaved as if he owned the place.

Since everybody knew Brandegor was Lord Rowan's best friend, nobody called him a liar and even the captain of the guard had told her, "If Sir Brandegor says Lord Rowan is dead, it must be the unfortunate truth."

Alienor had gone to the forest, alone, looking for Rowan. She'd found traces of blood, but she lost his trail by a stream. Who knew which wild beast had finished him off, maybe dragging him off to its lair...

"Lady Alienor?" Daphne always knocked before entering and she put in her head, waiting for permission to come in.

"Yes?" Alienor sighed and pulled herself away from the window. Her room felt cold and empty now that Rowan was gone, and her embroidery work wasn't going anywhere. She should busy herself with other tasks in the castle, since she still had duties towards Rowan's people.

Daphne came forward hesitantly. Alienor knew the maid had a crush on Brandegor but he was too haughty to even look at a non-noble maiden. He had used her and dumped her, like he'd done with all his lovers – one more reason for Alienor to despise the young man. She'd taken Daphne as a maid almost as soon as she'd entered Rowan's household also to spare her the verbal abuse of Brandegor.

Now Daphne looked tortured and hurt, as if she were a widow.

"What is it, Daphne?" Alienor tried to keep her voice calm. She wasn't going to let the maids and servants see how empty she felt herself. She still hoped Rowan would come back. She couldn't be a twenty-year-old widow!

"I think Sir Brandegor has gone mad."

Alienor smiled ruefully. "Of course he has. If he was ever sane in the first place. You've known him for longer than me... Was he always so ambitious? Why did he stay by Rowan's side if he wanted to marry a noble maiden? I'm sure there's plenty of heiresses around he could have wooed with his courage and good looks..."

"You are very hard on him my lady," Daphne chided. "He was never so lucky. He is more handsome than Lord Rowan, but he's less noble and wealthy. They have a pact, knightly honor, and all those men's things... but now that his best friend is dead..."

Alienor had cringed at the word "dead" – she thought more about "vanished" – but she nodded with a sigh. "He has grown ambitious and wants to run the castle – and have me."

"Maybe it's not ambition, it's... I don't know what it is, but he... he assaulted me and another servant who was trying to help him with his grief, calling us names..."

Startled, Alienor looked at Daphne. She didn't think Brandegor was grieving. He hadn't even bothered bringing back his best friend's corpse, nor organized any vigil... but he was forcing himself on maids?

"You mean he raped you and who else?" she asked, frowning.

"Lunette... not at the same time, but I found her sobbing and she told me what had happened, and since it has happened to me too, I thought I'd come and tell you." Daphne blushed and lowered her eyes. "If there's someone who can control him, it's you," she finished in a whisper.

"I'm not so sure about that," she muttered, frowning with worry. If even Daphne, who loved Brandegor and forgave him everything, said he'd done such a thing, maybe Brandegor was beyond control. Unless she found a magic user to help her. "Where do you think we can find a wizard? Maybe there's someone at the king's court."

"You will tell the king?" Daphne's eyes widened in fear.

"I believe my husband was killed, Daphne," she answered bluntly. "By his best friend. Yes, I will ask the king to send a magic user to uncover the truth."

***

He was starting to remember. Those sounds were words, and they were coming back to him. The first time the wounded man had spoken, he couldn't figure out what he wanted. But now he understood almost everything, and was hesitantly trying to answer back. Rowan was very encouraging and patient, although he could tell his guest was frustrated and looked forward to going back to wherever he came from.

Eventually Rowan was strong enough to walk out of the cabin. He followed his guest outside, a little worried. He didn't want to be alone again, not after having another Human's company for a few days. He was sure of one thing now – he used to live with Humans. But why he had left and moved to the forest still escaped him.

Rowan looked around at the tall trees and sighed.

"I don't recognize anything... can you take me back to where you found me?"

He frowned, but nodded. He grabbed his few belongings – his knife, spare hides and pots – threw them in a wolf pelt he'd sewn so it could carry things, filled his flask and led Rowan to the stream where he'd first seen him.

Rowan looked up and down the stream, found the traces of his fall and retraced his steps in the forest, frowning in concentration.

He followed the other man in silence, hoping he'd be allowed to stay with him. His animal friends peeked out at his passage, but didn't show themselves to the stranger, and he ignored them.

Rowan picked up a strange weapon that looked like an oversized knife and put it around his waist with a belt.

"I found my sword," he muttered. "So this is where it all started."

He nodded, puzzled. He had no idea of what Rowan was talking about, but kept following him.

Finally Rowan found an unpaved road and stood on the side looking both ways.

"I know where we are," he said, sighing in relief. "Do you want to come with me?"

He nodded eagerly.

"All right. This way." Rowan led the way on the strange road.

He vaguely remembered such a thing, with two strange furrows that were always parallel. He pointed at them, frowning, as strange sounds came back to his ears. But he couldn't see what made them.

"That's the wheels of carts and wagons," Rowan explained. "And you can see the sign of horseshoes or oxen's hooves. Here it's a donkey, and its owner walking next to him, see?"

He curiously observed all the traces left after the latest rain, caked in the road's dust. Rowan's words made sense. A vague image fluttered in his mind – a wagon led by a couple of oxen. There were traces of people out there, even if they didn't meet any. A flash of a busy, noisy place quickly passed through his mind. He wished he could hold on to those memories.

At sunset they reached a small house made of timber on the side of the road.

"We will stop here," Rowan said. He was very pale and exhausted from all the walking. "Tomorrow we'll reach Kelvin Castle. It's not much farther, but I don't want to reach it at night."

He nodded and waited while Rowan knocked on the door. "Castle" was a familiar word. He rolled it on his tongue, without saying it out loud. His childhood in a castle. Why couldn't he remember more?

A man with graying hair and a protruding belly opened the door and gaped at Rowan.

"My lord, you're alive!"

"Yes, Peter, I'm alive and famished. Can you provide me with food and shelter for the night? You will be rewarded as soon as I reach Kelvin Castle..."

***

Rowan was relieved to reach the woodcutter's house before it was too dark. He didn't have a torch, and there were clouds in the sky – without moonlight it was dangerous to follow the road in the forest at night.

Peter let them in and his wife Margerie was as surprised as the woodcutter to see him. A pot was already on the fire, sending a smell of onions and beans through the main room that made Rowan's stomach rumble.

"And who is your friend, my lord?" the woman asked, looking at the wild young man who looked around with curiosity.

"He doesn't seem to have a name, but he has saved me," Rowan replied. "Can you keep him for a few days until I figure out what's going on? I'm afraid my best friend has gone insane."

"We were told you died in a hunting accident," Peter said gravely.

"Actually, Brandegor tried to kill me." Rowan sat with them at their humble table and Margerie added two bowls and two goblets for the unexpected guests. "And I wandered through the forest, getting lost. Luckily this young man found me and took care of my wounds. I need to go back to Kelvin Castle as soon as possible."

"I can take you there with the cart first thing in the morning," Peter suggested.

Rowan nodded, then noticed how Margerie stared at the young man. After serving the men, she sat in front of the quiet guest and watched him eat with a tender expression. Rowan knew the couple had lost a son who was probably the same age as the stranger, and could understand why she looked at the nameless young man that way.

"We should teach you some manners," he told his savior who was eating his soup with excessive noise. "You've been alone for too long."

"You show me!" the young man said, frowning in worry.

Margerie chuckled. "It's easy. Look..."

***

"Hoswyn! Come here my little fire bird!"

The long forgotten female voice visited him in his dreams, probably evoked by the gentle caress the middle-aged female had given him after covering him with a warm blanket for the night. He woke up remembering the dream and his mother's tenderness – and the name. He had a name.

A pearly light came in through the small window and Rowan was already up.

He rose and joined the woodcutter, his wife and Rowan in the main room.

"Good morning!" the woman greeted cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes!" He came forward, excited. "My name is Hoswyn! I dreamed it!"

"Hoswyn?" Rowan repeated. He was drinking a warm tisane and the woman offered one to Hoswyn as well. "It's unusual... Do you remember any other name? Your mother's? Father's?"

Hoswyn shook his head, frowning with worry. His mother's features had been blurred in the dream. "Lord..." The word sounded familiar. "Father, Lord..." He couldn't remember.

Margerie put a hand on his shoulder. "Sit down, Hoswyn. You're such a big boy!"

He obediently sat next to Rowan again and sipped his tisane.

"You will stay with Margerie and Peter," Rowan told him. "They will take care of you."

"But I want to come with you!" he protested.

"I will send for you as soon as I'm certain it's safe. In the meantime I want you to stay here and get used to people. You're quickly learning to speak again, but the castle might be too much for you. You've been alone for so long... Peter and Margerie will bring you to me when I'm ready."

"But if they manage to kill you?"

"You can't protect me, Hoswyn. You cured my wounds, but this doesn't mean you can fight for me, not until you have some training."

"I'm strong!"

"But you're going weaponless against fully-trained men-at-arms. I don't want you to get killed for nothing. I am grateful you saved my life and I don't want you to end up in trouble because of me. Please, just wait here, it won't be long, I promise."

"Oh." He hung his head, disappointed, surrendering more to Rowan's concerned tone than anything else. It was true he needed to get used to people, but he was afraid to see the only person he knew go. But then Peter and Margerie had given him food and shelter – Margerie's gentle hands had even brought back the memory of his mother and his name – he could obey Rowan's orders and wait.

Margerie took his hands resting on the table. "We will take care of you as if you were our son," she promised. "And as soon as Lord Rowan sends for you, we'll take you to the castle."

He nodded with a sigh.

***

The woodcutter's house was close to the castle. Rowan emerged from the forest and was walking towards the drawbridge when Brandegor came out on horseback with a lance in his hand, alone. The watchman must have told him Rowan was back – unless he had been on the lookout himself.

Rowan stopped, hesitating. Again he saw that murderous expression on his best friend's face. There were no guards in sight, no peasants... no witnesses, much like during the hunt. Would screaming bring anyone?

And then Brandegor lowered the lance and charged him with a determined look on his face. Rowan gasped and ran back towards the trees, where the horse couldn't trample him. He dived in the undergrowth as the galloping horse came closer, panicking.

Brandegor didn't seem to want to spare him. Why had his best friend turned into his worst enemy? Rowan couldn't believe Bran really wanted him dead.

He jumped up on a log to gain height and pulled out his sword. He swung it at charging Brandegor, but didn't manage to strike his brother-in-arms. He lost his balance and fell, losing his sword.

He grabbed it and ran again, looking for a place to ambush his mounted foe. The broken pact made him bleed more than the arrows Brandegor had planted in his back.

Panic mixed with anger as he ran in the forest he knew so well. There were rocks, but Brandegor was always too close and the tip of his lance barely missed Rowan at each pass.

He finally stopped to catch his breath behind an old oak, hoping Brandegor wouldn't see him. The wounds on his back hurt, and he hadn't regained his full strength, or he'd have stood his ground. His temples pulsed as he squeezed his sword-hilt and gritted his teeth.

Then Brandegor came around the oak, his horse now walking. He got off the saddle and marched on Rowan, who raised his blade, ready to defend himself.

Brandegor's lance was longer than his sword, and Brandegor pinned him to the tree, then took his dagger out and slashed at Rowan's belly, slicing it open.

Rowan screamed as his legs started shaking and he lost the grip on his sword, unable to control his limbs. His head hit the trunk and he could see his intestines coming out. Too breathless to scream again, he waited for his death, shivering with pain.

***

Belfi was almost at Kelvin Castle, walking the unpaved road through the forest on behalf of the king with his walking stick ready at hand. He didn't have weapons, but didn't really need them. Besides, he looked like a poor young wanderer, no bandit would attack him in plain daylight.

The lady of Kelvin Castle had written to the king to inform him that her husband, Earl Rowan, had vanished, and she requested a magic user to uncover what had happened during a hunt when supposedly the lord had met his death. Her letter wasn't very specific, and Belfi imagined she felt threatened by someone at the castle itself.

Hopefully his arrival wouldn't alert anyone, since he looked like a beardless young man when he hid his pointed ears under his long wavy dark-blond hair. Not many were aware he was a half-blood, a healer, a magic user. An ageless, androgynous being who often had to hide his main in-Human feature – those pointed ears typical of the Genn and faeries most Humans never met.

He heard grunts and metal on metal to his left, as if someone was battling through the forest. He left the road and entered the undergrowth, following the sounds.

Someone on foot, someone on horseback. And then a scream of pain and a horse trotting away.

Belfi walked faster, and emerged in a clearing. A dark-haired young man with the emblems of Kelvin Castle embroidered on his tunic was pinned to the tree with a lance, disemboweled, his eyes unfocused and his body shaking uncontrollably.

Cursing in the Old Tongue, Belfi rushed to the dying man. He grabbed the shaft and extracted the lance, which made the man collapse, shivering and coughing blood. He knelt next to the dying man and put his hands on the loose intestines, closing his eyes. His golden healing powder froze the wound and then slowly pushed back in what was supposed to stay in. The man lost consciousness from the pain, and Belfi kept sending his magic through the man's body.

Belfi heard the horse come back, so before working on the stab wound, he wrapped himself and the wounded man in an instant transfer spell. He had seen a crumbled chapel on the way to Kelvin Castle, and he wished them both there.

"Rowan!" someone screamed from the direction where he'd found the dark-haired man. "Hope the demons took you!"

Belfi looked at the unconscious man next to him. He'd found Earl Rowan all right – and he was still alive. But since the other man seemed so determined to kill him, they might as well stay in the forest until Belfi understood a little better what was going on.

***

Hoswyn was restless. Rowan had been gone for two days and already he wanted to explore more, meet other people, make friends. His speech had improved enormously from talking with Peter and Margerie, and he looked forward to re-entering the Human kingdom.

Even his body seemed eager to get more intimate with others of his kind. He'd watched animals mate for many many moons and seasons, and he knew he was supposed to do the same at some point.

He'd used his hand so far, but a long lost memory of friends talking about those things floated in his mind now. His body seemed to be fully awake. He'd considered trying with Rowan, until he'd realized they were both males, and he needed a female for what he had in mind.

"You want a woman," Peter told him knowingly, pointing at the hardness barely contained in the clothes the woodcutter had given him. "I guess I could take you to the village, if not the castle itself, and we can ask what news of our lord they have."

"Thank you!" he said, hoping they'd go immediately.

Peter decided to give him a lesson on women first, which he listened to carefully. He didn't want to hurt anyone, and needed to know the rules before throwing himself into this new world. Slowly memories of life in a castle resurfaced as Peter talked. He had no idea of how long it had been since he became a forest dweller. He'd never kept track of the turns of seasons. He lived in the present and now, but he was beginning to understand Humans had a different concept of time.

He had questions, and Peter patiently answered them all. By then it was dinnertime, and Margerie set up the table.

"Tomorrow you'll go," she told him, serving him a vegetable soup that smelled very good. "I'm sure we can find you a nice girl to marry and have children with."

He wasn't too sure of what that meant, but he was willing to try. He gobbled down the soup, daydreaming of tomorrow.

"Thank you, it was delicious," he said then, grateful. "Do all females cook so well?"

"Women, Hoswyn, women," she corrected. "And yes, most are trained to cook for the whole family."

"Good." Hoswyn beamed. He looked forward to having someone who would cook for him and keep him warm in bed. As he lay on his pallet, he used his hand, hopefully for the last time.

***

"Can I have a word with you, Sir Brandegor?" Alienor frowned as she addressed Brandegor in the courtyard.

"Sure." He dismissed the guards he was talking to with a gesture and turned to look at her with his new determination.

They retreated to a corner by the well. Brandegor's eyes surveyed everything and everyone.

"Brandegor!" She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "Tell me again what happened in the forest!"

"I already told you, my lady Alienor. Your husband, my brother-in-arms, found death when his horse fell and a wild boar charged him. I have killed the beast and brought it back to your kitchen. When I went back to look for my dear friend Rowan's body, I couldn't find it, but saw traces of a pack of wolves all around the spot where he had fallen. In spite of my sorrow for the loss, I'm doing my best to continue his work here. I haven't mentioned anything to you yet, because I'm sure we're both mourning the passing of my courageous and extraordinary friend. I will help you to take care of the castle..."

"Rape servants in the corridors, abuse maids and command guards as if you owned the place,"  she interrupted him, sarcastic. All those pretty words sounded fake. Brandegor wasn't mourning Rowan's death and he was smart enough to wait to suggest she marry him. He was pretending to be useful and caring, but she could see right through him.

"I am Rowan's brother-in-arms, we had a pact of mutual help and protection," Brandegor said. "I knew I'd be a bachelor for the rest of my life unless something really awful happened to him."

"I wonder if you caused that hunting accident to get rid of your friend and marry his widow," she retorted.

"My lady!" he protested. "I grew up with Rowan! He was more than a brother to me! We pledged fealty to each other in front of the sacred spring as soon as we were knighted!"

"I've heard you boast of being his better half. I know everybody here knows and respects you. But I don't think you kept your part of the oath."

"My lady, you know nothing of knightly honor."

"No, I don't. What if I decide to go back to my father's castle and ask him to find me another husband?"

"You wouldn't abandon Rowan's legacy!"

"Why not? I don't like you, Brandegor. I didn't make any pact with you! If Rowan is dead, I'm going home to mourn – or maybe visit my sister-in-law and ask her what she thinks of you at the helm of her brother's castle!"

She knew Katelyn, Rowan's sister, didn't like Brandegor any more than she did. They had exchanged letters and her sister-in-law had warned her about Brandegor. Katelyn had hinted at Brandegor's ways with women and how he'd always felt the most handsome of the two – but somehow Rowan landed more lovers because he was nicer to them. Alienor thought that maybe once upon a time Katelyn had been in love with Brandegor herself, until – like Daphne – she had opened her eyes.

Brandegor glared at her and stormed off. Alienor huffed. It wasn't easy to be so blunt with a knight that had been so tied to her husband. She looked forward to the visit of the king's magic user. If Brandegor had murdered Rowan, she'd see to it that justice was served.

***

Hoswyn was impressed by the sheer size of the castle walls, the square towers and the drawbridge that towered over the huts and little houses of the village. But at the same time he had a sense of déjà vu, sort of a forgotten dream coming back to him. He'd been born in a place like that, so long ago he had no idea where it might be now.

Peter introduced him to the village people, but he kept staring at the bigger building, wondering if he could explore it without getting lost.

"That's where Lord Rowan lives," Peter told him. "Would you like to go in? We can go as far as the courtyard and the kitchen door to deliver logs."

Hoswyn nodded eagerly. "Do you think Rowan is there?" he asked.

"He should be... although he hasn't sent anyone for you yet... let's go and ask."

"Lord Rowan is dead, but since they never found his body, he never had a proper funeral," a fat woman said.

"No, he was alive three days ago, didn't he come back?" Peter replied, puzzled.

"Not as far as we know." The woman shook her head.

Peter exchanged a glance with Hoswyn and they headed for the drawbridge.

"Hey, Peter, who's your friend?" One of the guards cheerfully addressed the woodcutter.

"He's my new apprentice," Peter answered.

The guards turned serious again.

"Ah, yes... of course... after Junior's death... Go ahead, Peter." The guard waved them in through the gatehouse, unable to look at them anymore.

"They knew my son," Peter explained as they entered the courtyard.

"How did he die?" Hoswyn asked.

"He fell in the forest while he was picking mushrooms – he slid into a hidden ravine and broke his neck." Peter sighed. "Marge doesn't like to talk about it, so thank you for not asking in front of her."

Hoswyn nodded, thoughtful. He'd picked mushrooms himself and he knew that some parts of the forest were dangerous, especially after heavy rains. He'd broken his leg once by stumbling in a hidden hole, and it had taken months to heal.

He looked around in the courtyard, as Peter pointed at the ramparts, the stables, the barracks, and the main building with the keep. Lots of people milled around, busy with various tasks – drying clothes, bringing food to and from the kitchen, cleaning the stables, exercising with swords. Children and livestock mixed with servants and guards, and the courtyard was a mix of noises, most of which were like a forgotten dream for Hoswyn.

"You certainly leave an impression on women," Peter whispered with a chuckle. "I guess you only have to take your pick."

Hoswyn realized that – like in the village – women of all ages smiled at him whenever they met his eyes. He glanced at Peter, a little puzzled, and the woodcutter gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"You're young and handsome, Hoswyn, why are you surprised? When I was your age I also made all women's heads turn. And then I fell in love with Margerie..."

That was a concept that wasn't very clear for Hoswyn, but there were so many things to discover, he decided to wait. He wanted to experience the Human mating first, so he looked around for a female that attracted him.

And then his eyes fell on a tall woman with a brown braid and a blue gown who was talking to a blond man with a tunic and a sword very similar to Rowan's. Hoswyn's heart started beating faster as he stared, hoping she'd see him and smile at him like the others had done.

"Uh... Hoswyn?" Peter elbowed him.

"I like her!" he said, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

"Hoswyn, that's Lord Rowan's wife. You don't sleep with other men's wives."

Puzzled, Hoswyn stared at Peter.

"Remember what I told you yesterday?" Peter insisted. "We're not like animals. Women must be wooed. You cannot force yourself on a woman. And you shouldn't even look at somebody else's woman. She's Lord Rowan's woman."

"Oh." He lowered his eyes, disappointed. "But they say Rowan is dead."

"Well, we saw him alive three days ago, but I don't see him here. And Lady Alienor is arguing with Sir Brandegor, who is Lord Rowan's childhood friend. He has some kind of pact with our lord – noblemen's things – and he's in charge of the castle when the lord and lady travel. We should beware of him."

Hoswyn nodded, thoughtful. He was staring at Lady Alienor again. Sir Brandegor had turned his back on her, and she was following him with her eyes, frowning. Then her blue eyes fell on Hoswyn and he immediately smiled. But she didn't smile back.

She sauntered towards them and Hoswyn held his breath. She was so beautiful! The way her gown swayed around her... She seemed to float! And her eyes were pieces of blue sky... He wanted to touch her and feel her skin and her braid and taste her and...

Peter bowed when she reached them, and Hoswyn stiffly imitated him.

"Good morning, Peter," she said. "What brings you to the castle today?"

Peter looked around to check the whereabouts of Sir Brandegor, then leaned forward.

"I was hoping to have good news of Lord Rowan's return," he whispered.

"He hasn't returned, and Sir Brandegor insists that he's dead. Nobody found his corpse, though, and I don't trust Brandegor anymore."

"And you shouldn't, since your husband was alive three days ago. This young man saved him, and Lord Rowan reached my humble house with him. He stayed the night, and was supposed to be back here by then, and send for Hoswyn." Again he pointed at Hoswyn who straightened and smiled again, hoping to get the response the other women had given him. But there was no way Lady Alienor was going to smile at him.

She glanced at him and nodded, concentrating on Peter again. "Thank you, Peter. I hope the king's magic user will arrive soon, so we can make Sir Brandegor tell the truth of what actually happened."

Peter bowed again as the lady walked away, calling, "Daphne!"

"I want to stay here and be with her!" Hoswyn said as soon as she was gone.

"You can't be with her," Peter chided. "I told you, she's Lord Rowan's wife."

"But he hasn't returned, therefore he's dead!"

"Maybe not. Let's go back, Hoswyn, it's getting late."

Hoswyn's smile vanished. "I don't want to go back to that little house," he protested. "I want to stay here!"

"You can't Hoswyn."

"Yes, I can! I was born in a place like this! My father is Lord Philip!"

Peter gaped. "I have never heard of a Lord Philip," he muttered, averting his eyes. "You shouldn't stay in the castle, it's not for you."

"I'm staying."

Peter looked at him as if he wanted to say something. He was shorter and weaker and knew better than to try to force a young man to follow him. He sighed.

"Marge will miss you tonight," he said. "Don't put yourself in trouble. Lord Rowan is not here to protect you."

Hoswyn nodded, still frowning. "I can take care of myself."

He wasn't stupid, he could manage. He watched Peter leave, then looked around. Maybe some other woman would help him to join the castle life.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, startling him.

"And you are?" Sir Brandegor looked him in the eyes.

"Hoswyn. I want to stay here," he answered.

"And what can you do, Hoswyn, besides displaying your muscles?" Sir Brandegor asked, amused. He was quite handsome himself – blond, tall and well-built – and wore his sword with the same pride Rowan had.

Hoswyn looked forward to learning how to handle weapons. He had only a knife to his name and had used traps to catch small animals in the forest.

"I'm strong. I can learn any job."

"Good. Well, start with the stables. We're short of stable-boys."

Hoswyn looked in the direction of the stables, a little puzzled, but nodded and obeyed. At least he'd deal with animals first. He hadn't seen a horse from up close in so many turns of seasons... Wasn't his father a rider? No, not his father, Lord Philip, whose name had just come back to him. The man he'd thought was his father. When he lived in a castle.

At sunset the servants went to the kitchen to have something to eat, then spread out on the floor to get some sleep. Hoswyn found a kitchen maid who came to lie next to him and as the light went down, she kept him awake most of the night.

***

Alienor came back from Peter and Margerie's house frowning. She'd talked to the woodcutter and his wife and now wanted to hear Hoswyn's version before confronting Brandegor. Daphne rushed to meet her as soon as she entered the courtyard.

"My lady, James was on watch duty a few days ago, he said he thought he saw Lord Rowan coming back, but when he pointed him to Brandegor, Brandegor stormed away and went to meet that person  and drove him away," Daphne said quickly, keeping her voice low, eyes wide in fear.

"Come to my rooms with Hoswyn, he should still be at the castle, according to Peter."

"You mean the new guy?" Daphne scoffed. "You must be the only woman who hasn't noticed him! Brandegor sent him to the stables yesterday, but today he hasn't left the kitchen."

Alienor raised her eyebrows. "He's entertaining the women of the kitchen all by himself?" she asked, skeptical.

Daphne chuckled nervously. "Not all and not at the same time, but he's been quite busy, yes. He's gorgeous, but still a little rough, from what I've heard."

"Well, go get him. I need to talk to him," Alienor replied, taking off her hooded cloak before entering the castle. She went upstairs to her room and looked outside of the window to check Brandegor's whereabouts – he was on the battlements, talking to the guards on duty, probably telling them to keep an eye on whoever approached the castle. If she weren't a lady, she'd call him a son of a bitch. She'd tear off the mask from that treacherous face. The king's man must be almost to Kelvin Castle by now.

Daphne knocked and introduced Hoswyn. Alienor signaled her to come in too as the young man came boldly forward with a big grin on his face. He was handsome, she had to admit.

"Hello, Hoswyn," she greeted. "Peter and Margerie told me you found Rowan wounded in the forest and you helped him. Where exactly do you live?"

"In the forest," Hoswyn answered. "Far from here. I had never met another Human before him."

"Must be really deep in the woods, since they never met you," Alienor said, thoughtful.

"I come from Lord Philip's castle," he said.

"Do you remember the name of the castle?" she inquired.

"Don't you know Lord Philip?"

"No. So, where did you find Rowan?"

"He passed out by my stream. He had two arrows in his back. He had lost blood, but I managed to tend his wounds. I was afraid he wouldn't make it at first, but he is strong."

"Well, thank you for saving him. Did he tell you what happened?"

"Uh... no. I don't know. I couldn't understand him at first."

"I see. What happened next?"

"When he felt better, he asked me to take him back where I found him and from there he retraced his steps, I think, until he found Peter and Margerie's house. And then he left me there to come back here."

"He didn't make it because he was ambushed again," Alienor muttered, exchanging a glance with Daphne, who nodded, thoughtful.

"But even if Brandegor tried to kill him again, we should have found his corpse," the maid said. "And we didn't. Many of us go to the forest, especially this close to the castle, we should have found him."

"Lunette was looking for herbs yesterday and she noticed a great oak was splattered with blood, but there was no trace of whoever had crashed against it. Might be an animal..."

"Or a man!" Daphne gasped and covered her mouth. "What do we do, my lady?"

Alienor bit her lower lip, looking out of the window. Brandegor wasn't in the courtyard anymore.

"We can't do much until the king's man gets here. Go make sure any visitor is immediately brought to the great hall."

Daphne nodded and left.

As Alienor frowned, trying to come up with a plan, she forgot Hoswyn was still there. His hands on her arms startled her. He had come close and stared at her with open lust.

"Don't you have enough for today?" she scolded. "I heard you're having a lot of fun with the kitchen maids!"

"But I want you," he replied.

"I'm Rowan's wife, in case you haven't heard."

"I know. But he's dead."

"Not until I find his corpse, no. Take your hands off of me."

He kissed her instead. Awkward, hungry, rough – like Daphne had said. She pushed him away, determined.

"You don't force yourself on a woman," she said. "I said no, and I mean no. Now go back to play with the servants, if you feel so inclined."

He frowned and was about to object when Brandegor entered the room without knocking.

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" he asked mockingly. "So stern with me and so sweet with a stable-boy, my lady?"

"I'm going to ask the king to settle this matter," she replied impatiently, pushing away Hoswyn. "He'll find me a new husband and it won't be either of you, so leave me alone!"

"Why call upon the king when you have two strong men ready to die for you?" Brandegor scoffed. "Although Hoswyn isn't noble, therefore he should go back to the stables."

"I want her," Hoswyn said bluntly.

"She's a lady, Hoswyn, you can't touch her without her permission, if you want to keep your head on your shoulders," Brandegor warned.

Hoswyn gritted his teeth and stormed out.

"Try to remember that yourself," Alienor said, staring at Brandegor with contempt.

He took her hand and kissed it. "I haven't done anything as bold as Hoswyn," he said innocently. "I don't know why you hate me so much..."

She freed her fingers and slapped him. "Get out of my room," she said through clenched teeth.

He touched his stinging cheek. "I think you badly need a man."

"As much as you need a woman, Brandegor!"

"You shall pay for this slap," he whispered threateningly.

"Out!" Alienor pushed him out of the room and down the stairs. Brandegor had tried to kill Rowan. Twice. And maybe succeeded the second time. Why? She'd find out the truth. Time to go to the great hall and find out.

***

"Thank you for saving me," Rowan said, staring at Belfi who was seated in the grass. "I wish I knew why Brandegor tried to kill me."

"That's why the king is sending me to your castle," the young man replied.

Rowan couldn't believe Belfi was a real magic user until he'd seen his pointed ears, now hidden again under his dark-blond mane.

"Will you be able to protect me if he tries to kill me again?" he asked, worried. Belfi might have saved his life and healed an impossible wound, taking away even the scar, but he wasn't invulnerable.

Belfi flashed an impish smile at him. "I have battled demons," he said. "Yes, I believe I can protect you. Let's go to Kelvin Castle. The king invested me with the powers of his justice."

Rowan nodded. They both rose and left the ruins of the chapel where Belfi had taken him to heal him.

They took the road through the forest and reached the castle. People gaped at the sight of him and his strange companion, but nobody stopped him at the gate. He headed directly for the great hall where he found Alienor and Brandegor glaring at each other.

Alienor gasped at the sight of him, but didn't look too surprised, as if she felt he might be alive. Brandegor clenched his teeth and unsheathed his sword – but then dropped it with a scream of pain.

Puzzled, Rowan glanced at Belfi's impish smile.

"Not a good start, Sir Brandegor," the half-blood chided.

Alienor rushed to hug Rowan.

"I knew you'd be alive," she whispered in his ear, holding him tight. He squeezed her, inhaling her scent and thanking the gods for being alive. He couldn't speak as he watched Brandegor walk to them, his face finally showing pure hatred.

"Not even demons wanted you or did you bring back one from the underworld?" Brandegor growled.

"Demons don't like the company of Humans," Belfi replied, stepping between the two former friends, showing off his pointed ears.

Rowan was about to unsheathe his sword, but waited, feeling Alienor trembling slightly against him.

"Why are you so determined to get rid of your brother-in-arms?" Belfi stood in front of Brandegor who seemed unable to move. His hate turned to fear as he stared at the half-blood's pointed ears.

"He always had it too easy!" Brandegor blurted out. "I didn't want to be a bachelor!"

"You always had plenty of lovers," Rowan replied, puzzled. "I thought you didn't care about marriage!"

"He's been lusting after me since you married me," Alienor said ruefully. "You trusted him and didn't believe me when I told you, but that's why he broke your pact."

"I should have forced myself on you, my precious, haughty lady," Brandegor muttered.

Rowan's fist hit him before Rowan himself realized what he was doing. Brandegor collapsed, his jaw displaced by the blow. Belfi knelt next to him, and his golden healing powder settled the broken bones.

Rowan's fury faded as he watched his former friend shiver in pain and shock on the stone floor of the great hall. Belfi's healing power made Brandegor lose consciousness.

"He'll be all right." Belfi rose. "Ready to be hanged, or put to the sword..."

Rowan turned around to see the captain of his guards and his men gathered in the entrance of the great hall.

"Take Sir Brandegor to the dungeon," he ordered. He felt Alienor exhale in relief and squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you, beloved. If you hadn't written to the king, I'd be dead by now."

She nodded gravely

"You have other concerns, Rowan. Your savior. He's at the castle. And apparently wants to think you're dead so he can have me."

Rowan groaned. "I left him with Peter! What is he doing at Kelvin Castle? He's been living alone for too long! He couldn't even speak when I met him!"

"Well, he can speak now. And women love him. But he seems to be quite stubborn. Maybe you should take him back to the forest."

"I doubt he'd obey... unless Belfi can help us?" He looked at the half-blood.

"Help you with what?" Belfi asked.

"Help me figure out who this young man is, maybe he does have a family somewhere..."

***

Hoswyn saw Lady Alienor come out of the main building of the castle with a young man with pointed ears and Rowan who was very much alive.

As the servants in the courtyard cheered, Hoswyn felt anger. If Rowan was back, he couldn't have his woman. Although he didn't understand that law and didn't want to follow it. He was stronger than Rowan – unless Rowan used his long knife, but maybe if he attacked him by surprise...

Rowan and Alienor walked towards him, holding hands and followed by the young man who made him uneasy. He wasn't like the other Humans, although Hoswyn couldn't tell how. Couldn't be just the pointed ears. He looked ageless, but his eyes were very wise.

"How interesting," the young man said, stopping in front of him. "Another half-blood."

"A what?" Rowan asked, puzzled.

"He's a half-blood. Half-Fajrulo and half-Human. Which of your parents do you remember, Hoswyn?"

"My mother," he said, frowning at the young man who wasn't deterred. "She called me her little fire bird."

"You said your name was Firebird the first time I asked," Rowan said.

"That's his Fajrulo name," the blond being said. "Do you remember if your mother died or if she abandoned you?"

"I left. She loved me, but she feared me. And Lord Philip hated me. He said I wasn't his son, not even illegitimate."

"And he was right. Were you looking for your real father?"

"Maybe. I don't remember."

"Who is Lord Philip?" Rowan asked.

"He said he grew up in his castle, but he can't remember the name of the castle," Lady Alienor told him.

"Derwin Castle," Hoswyn said, glaring at both. He hated that his memories came back in bits and pieces.

"Derwin Castle? It's in the earldom of Derwintwater," Rowan said, puzzled. "But the lord is called Henry."

Hoswyn shrugged. He didn't care. He wasn't going back to Derwin Castle.

"He's half-blood, he's older than what you think," the blond told Rowan and Lady Alienor. Then he turned to look at him again. "Do you want to come with me? We can go looking for your Fajrulo father."

"No." He didn't want to leave the castle, not now that he had found someone he wanted to be with. He didn't care about parents or family or whatever he was supposed to have – he'd grown up on his own and now only wanted to stay where he was to explore his new life.

As a Human, you've lived enough to be considered an adult, but as a Fajrulo you're still a child. The voice was inside his head and he understood it came from the strange young man. I know it's exciting for you to get back in touch with your mother's people, but your father is from a race of loners. You'll soon get bored with the company and after you appease your lust, you'll lose interest. You can't fall in love, Hoswyn, not right now.

"Stop talking in my head!" he protested covering his ears as if it could help.

"You have powers you don't understand and you're unfit for living with Humans at this time," the other said out loud. "Come with me. You can come back when you can handle yourself."

"What if I don't want to come with you? Can you force me?" he challenged.

The pointed-eared youth smiled sweetly, a boyish smile that made Hoswyn wonder if he could beat him. "I can't. But I'll call your father and he'll whip you into obedience."

"You don't know who he is!"

"I'll find out. I'm a half-blood and a magic user. I can weave a spell."

Hoswyn was burning. Anger, helplessness, fear, pain. He felt abandoned again. And then a pulsing red light enveloped him, soothing him.

Don't worry, my son, you'll be all right.

Father? he asked hesitantly.

Your father doesn't care. Firestarter has long forgotten the castle maid who lay with him and had you nine months later. I'm Fire, the Immortal who takes care of Fajrulo. Since you found your way back to the Humans' world, Earth and I will help you to understand and fit in. But when we release you, things will have changed out there... time has no meaning here.

So I will never have Alienor? He whined in the nothingness that enveloped him. The limbo was so empty to be almost scary. Not the forest, not the crowded castle, just that pulsing red light.

She is not for you. Not in this incarnation at least.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but he surrendered. He couldn't fight against nothingness.

***

"What just happened?" Rowan asked, eyes wide. "Where did he go?"

Hoswyn had vanished in a flash of red light, leaving him and Alienor gaping. Belfi was smiling and seemed lost in thought.

"He's been taken care of," the half-blood told them. "Don't worry, he won't bother you again."

"But who is he?" Alienor insisted, as puzzled as her husband.

"He's a half-blood and he's probably been living on his own for half a century or something. I know he looks twenty, but he ages much slower than you – and grows up much slower, so even if he lived fifty years or so, he's still a very young man. And very stubborn, apparently." He chuckled.

"What happened to him?" Rowan frowned with worry. He'd heard of real magic and was afraid of it. What if Hoswyn came back, powerful and invincible, and destroyed them? He'd looked so angry and dangerous...

"Fire is taking care of him. It will teach him who he is. It will help him remember. I don't think you'll see him again anytime soon. Fire won't let him go until he's able to live among Humans again."

"Thank you, Belfi," Alienor said, relieved. "I wish we could have more interactions with you magic beings."

Belfi smiled ruefully. "Maybe one day," he said. "We might mingle with Humans again sometime in the future."

He waved them good-bye and left. Rowan could administer his own justice on his treacherous friend. The truth was out.

Rowan lost himself in Alienor's eyes, feeling the burden of his father's legacy for the first time in his life. Putting to death his childhood friend was a hard task, but he couldn't trust Brandegor anymore.

***

He remembered now. The first fifteen years in the castle. His wish to blend in – and his failure. He'd left to look for his real father, but then got lost in the forest, willingly, finding more friendship among the animals than he'd had with Humans.

He still had no sense of time in the limbo where Fire had taken him, but he knew better now. What his real father's race was really like. What powers he possessed. What he could or couldn't do, because the all-powerful Immortal wouldn't allow him to abuse any of his gifts.

He still wanted Lady Alienor. He could admit it was lust now, but he had to have her.

"When will you let me go back into the real world?" he demanded, although he knew it was useless. Fire would let him go when it wanted him to go. "You gave me a body, why can't I use it?"

"If you're so keen on fulfilling your physical body's needs, then go," the disembodied voice replied this time.

The limbo faded away and he was in the forest again. Back to his cabin – what was left of it. It had crumbled and was half-buried under the vegetation. He observed it, puzzled, then shrugged it off. He wanted a castle, not a cabin in the woods.

He remembered the way and stepped into the forest at a steady pace. A few hours' walk and he'd be at Kelvin Castle and see Lady Alienor again.

***

The trees had seemed bigger on his way to the castle, but he'd found a path and eventually the unpaved road that passed close to Peter and Margerie's house. As he crossed the village outside the castle walls, he saw many new faces and nobody seemed to recognize him. They stared at him with open curiosity, although his lack of weapons didn't make him a threat.

At the castle gates he was requested to state his business.

"I wish to see Lady Alienor for a private matter," he answered promptly. He didn't have problems in expressing himself anymore.

The guard stared at his raggedy look, skeptical, but nodded him through. He was still wearing the clothes Peter had given him – probably his son's – and he didn't think of mentioning the woodcutter.

Hoswyn stepped into the courtyard and looked around, pleased. It hadn't changed much, although here too he could see new faces, and people stared at him as if he were naked. He saw Lady Alienor near the stable, arguing with an elder lady who seemed to be scolding her.

Hoswyn smiled and walked to them, determined.

"Lady Alienor," he called when he was close enough, staring at the beautiful face he couldn't forget. She actually looked younger than what he remembered.

"Yes?" The voice came from the elder woman and Lady Alienor looked puzzled to see him. "Hoswyn?"

Stunned, Hoswyn looked at both women. They resembled each other, but...

"You haven't changed a bit," the elder said with a strangled voice. "What brings you back here?"

"You..." He stared at the woman, frowning. "You can't be Alienor, you're old!"

The woman smiled. "Thank you, Hoswyn. Still not much of a gentleman, I see. Yes, I'm not young anymore."

"And who is this?" He pointed at the young lady who was staring at him with open admiration – the thing he'd wished to have when he'd first come here.

"This is Alys, my daughter," Lady Alienor answered. "Hoswyn, you don't seem to have a good sense of time, but it's been twenty-five years since you saved Rowan from Brandegor's madness."

Hoswyn stared at her, incredulous. If he compared the two women, he must admit the elder was the one who had that something that had attracted him when he'd first laid his eyes on her. The younger was more beautiful, but she lacked that self-confidence that Lady Alienor had.

"Twenty-five years?" he asked, unsure of what it meant. Even with graying hair, Lady Alienor still commandeered his attention.

"Yes, Hoswyn. You might call them turn of seasons. But that's what makes us age and grow old. I was pregnant after you vanished and had two children since. Alys is the second born, she is now almost twenty-one."

He understood that. He remembered growing up, and people changing around him.

"What happened to Rowan?" he asked.

"Unfortunately he died two years ago," Lady Alienor answered. "The castle is now run by our son Ewald. But I'm still in charge for some things, including the destiny of my daughter here, who seems to be as rebellious as I was."

Alys raised her chin, staring at her mother with challenge in her sky-blue eyes. Hoswyn was curious now. He wasn't attracted to the younger woman, but he wanted to know what had happened.

"I'm not marrying that prick," Alys said. "And that's final."

"You're not marrying the minstrel either, Alys," Lady Alienor replied sternly. "He won't have you anyway."

She turned back to Hoswyn. "You should go back to Derwin Castle, although even more years have passed there. After you vanished, Belfi told us you might be older than what you look like, so we did some research. Lord Philip was a contemporary of our grandparents, so we're assuming you have lived more than us, even though you look in your twenties."

"Grandfather?" Hoswyn stared at her, puzzled. "What does that mean?"

"It means you should be the age of my father, who died thirty years ago. You're seventy or so, not twenty-something."

"How is that possible?" he wondered aloud.

Lady Alienor shook her head. "You should ask Belfi. I think he's back at the king's court. He's also a half-blood, but not exactly like you. I'm afraid I don't know anything about half-bloods and magical beings."

"Who's Belfi?"

"That young man with pointed ears that stopped you twenty-five years ago."

"Oh, him." Hoswyn wasn't happy to be reminded of the strange being.

"Why don't you stay here, at least for the night?" Alys suggested with a bright smile. "Tomorrow you can go to the capital and look for Belfi."

Lady Alienor cleared her throat, glaring at her daughter, but Alys ignored her.

Hoswyn looked around the courtyard. He wasn't in a hurry after all.

He smiled at Alys. "Thank you, I don't mind sleeping in a castle again. I don't remember when was the last time I did."

"Twenty-five years ago in our kitchen," Lady Alienor teased. "Let's give you some decent clothes now."

***

Ewald was twenty-four and stared curiously at Hoswyn, but then agreed to give him one of his discarded tunics and breeches. He invited him to his room, where a big bathtub of hot water awaited them both.

"I know you saved my father when his brother-in-arms betrayed him. Where have you been?"

"Somewhere," Hoswyn answered vaguely. "With someone who didn't have a body. But it did teach me things, and helped me remember..."

He was interested in Rowan's son too, and asked Ewald if he had a woman.

"I married Elawanda deGrey, daughter of the Earl of Derwintwater, whom I met when I visited there with my father. We were looking for information on you – well, on Lord Philip, since you mentioned him."

"Grandfather." Hoswyn nodded, thoughtful.

"Great-grandfather of the current lord, my brother-in-law," Ewald confirmed.

Hoswyn asked him to explain all the family ties – and what in-law or in-arms meant.

After the relaxing bath, they dressed and went to the great hall to dine with the ladies. Lady Alienor was at the center of the table, with her son and daughter-in-law to her right, and her daughter to her left. Hoswyn sat between the lady and Alys, desirous of knowledge about everything. Lord Philip had never allowed his bastard son to sit at his table on the dais.

The dinner was delicious and the drinks made him feel very light and happy.

"Never drank wine before?" Lady Alienor asked, amused.

"No, but it's good," Hoswyn answered, sipping more red liquid. It had a strange taste, but the way it filled him with warmth was... incredible.

Then he heard Alys gasp, and looked at her, puzzled. She was staring at the main entrance and he noticed a handsome young man had entered the great hall and had gone to the fireplace, where he'd taken out a lute.

Hoswyn hadn't heard many minstrels at Derwin Castle, and he was enchanted by the voice of the young man.

"He's a charmer, I give him that," Lady Alienor whispered in his ear.

Hoswyn couldn't explain why his heart was thundering so hard. It wasn't just the beautiful voice, or the melody, or the lyrics of the songs, it was something about the minstrel that made him feel kinship. He met the young man's brown eyes, and his heart jumped in his throat as something flashed between them. The minstrel averted his eyes first and continued his song.

Who is he, Fire? Why does he make me feel like this?

That's your real father, Hoswyn Firebird. You see him as your mother saw him when she conceived you. Wybert the minstrel... it's one of his favorite faces.

He can shift shape?

That is the nature of Fajrulo... Their true form is the mighty dragon, but their favorite form is Human.

Hoswyn grinned as the minstrel finished his song. Alys rose and went to the minstrel, so he followed her, along with Lady Alienor.

"Thank you, Wybert, you were wonderful as usual," Alys said as the minstrel put away his lute and rose with a smile.

"Always a pleasure," Wybert replied. Then he looked at Hoswyn. "What do we have here today?"

"Your son," Hoswyn answered. "You looked like this when you seduced Bertha, didn't you?"

"Bertha..." Wybert thought about it. "Sorry... I make love to all of them and they love me, but I forget them the morning after."

"She lived at Derwin Castle. With Lord Philip."

"You mean she was his lover?" The minstrel chuckled. "What a whore! Not that I care who she sleeps with..."

"Why did you abandon her?" he asked.

"I never promised to stay with her." Wybert shrugged. "She knew it would be a one night stand."

"How many children have you spread, then?" Hoswyn insisted.

"I don't know. I don't care. Humans love me. And I like them."

"You're not Human?" Alys asked, shocked. Hoswyn noticed Lady Alienor was smiling.

"As a matter of fact, no, I'm not. I'm Fajrulo and a shape-shifter."

"How old am I, since I had no sense of years gone by for a long time?"

"Derwin Castle, Lord Philip... that was eighty years ago. You're still a child by Fajrulo standards. We live up to nine centuries."

"And how old are you?" Hoswyn marveled.

"Two hundred and fifty something. Still in the youthful phase of my existence. Fajrulo take three hundred years to grow, three hundred to live and three hundred to die."

"Like oaks," Lady Alienor said, amused. Alys stared at Wybert, aghast.

"Indeed," Wybert answered pleasantly. He turned to Hoswyn again. "Would you like to come with me? This world is big, and it's wonderful to explore..."

"Yes!" Hoswyn brightened. "Will you teach me how to sing?"

"We'll see..."

The Path of Water

CHAPTER ONE

Hinrik hurt everywhere. Inside and outside. Bruises, wounds, those he was used to. The rest, not so much. The smell of blood was overwhelming and he had an awful taste in his mouth.

He forced his body to move and get off the ground, but his legs wouldn't sustain him, so he crawled towards the Ondan. He could hear and feel the river inside him. Luckily the battlefield wasn't too far from the river shore.

The crawling peeled off what was left of his chainmail and clothes, but there weren't any living human beings around to notice. Crows filled the air with their caws, but none had glided next to him. The damned birds obviously knew he was still alive even when he was passed out.

Hopefully Humans would think he was dead. Both friends and foes. He didn't think he could go through another battle and another defeat and another... aftermath at the hands of the bearded Varian soldiers.

He was thirsty but at the same time wanted to throw up. The river came in sight and he found new strength to reach it on all fours.

Water enveloped him and he closed his eyes. His face must be as bruised as his body, but the gentle current was like a healing balm, washing away the blood and dirt of the battlefield.

He thought about his faithful war stallion, a beautiful blue roan that now lay butchered under the walls of Moriana. The city had fallen to the enemy and was now part of the quickly expanding Varian Kingdom. The efforts of the Salamar army, to which he belonged, had been in vain.

Hinrik thought he'd let the river take care of him. Take him away. If he stayed in the current, he'd reach Salamar and by then he might have recovered enough to show himself to others. Or maybe he'd just let the river take him to the sea.

For some reason, he knew he wouldn't drown. And even if he did, he was so hurt, he couldn't care less. He shivered, but not because the water was cold, more from a memory of what had been done to him.

He could feel the sun on his face and hear the birds in the trees along the shore as he floated like a log, trying to forget the past day. Or was it the day before? He had no idea how long he'd been out after the Varian soldiers assaulted him.

Much like a log, he bumped into a rock and opened his eyes. The walls of Moriana were somewhere upriver, hidden by the trees. The Ondan had gently brought him to the opposite shore in a safe, secluded spot. A weeping willow covered him and the water had given him back enough strength that he could finally sit up.

He checked old wounds and new bruises. The chainmail had spared him new cuts, but he still hurt and probably still bled somewhere. Sitting was still quite uncomfortable, so he lay down again.

Too much water usually hurt people's skin, but not him. For some reason water had healing powers over him. He could swim like a fish and couldn't be away from bodies of water – rivers, lakes – for a long time.

He stared at the leaves of the willow above him, wondering what he should do with himself. A defeated warrior left for dead – might be a good time to start a new life somewhere else. But he should get his things from his house in Salamar...

Flashes of the last battle and aftermath kept distracting him and made his thoughts scatter like scared rabbits. He wasn't strong enough to make a decision yet. He sighed as his stomach rumbled. He must be hungry too, but didn't dare ingest solid food at the moment.

So tired, so sick of it all... he slowly pushed himself back to the middle of the river and then underwater, trying to sink like a rock to the bottom of the Ondan. He could find peace there and stop the pain in his body and soul...

The river bottom was sandy and very soft. Hinrik closed his eyes and sighed.

His eyes popped open again. He sighed? Underwater?

He rose and looked around. He was breathing as if he were on the ground. He started to panic, but still no water was coming into his lungs.

And then an androgynous man came, swimming like an eel, wearing only a nacreous sleeveless tunic. No facial hair and hard to determine his age, but he had chestnut brown hair like Hinrik.

By then Hinrik's heart beat so fast, he thought it would stop. The swimmer stopped next to him and touched his face where he had felt a bruise.

"Oh, Hinrik, what have you done to yourself?" he asked, frowning in worry.

"I didn't do it myself," he snapped. "How do you know my name? How come I can speak underwater?"

Slowly the man smiled, a smile very similar to the one Hinrik saw in the mirror when he shaved.

"We weren't supposed to meet like this, but... welcome home, Hinrik."

***

"There's the Ondan," Belfi said, pointing ahead at the blue ribbon of the river running through green shores.

"At last." Bellinda snorted. "Can we camp now? I'm sick of this saddle!"

"I think there's a perfect spot in that thicket." Belfi grinned.

"Let's go, then," Keneith said, signaling his horse to move.

The riders headed for the hazelnuts trees Belfi had pointed to. Bellinda looked forward to dismounting, even if it meant taking care of the horses while the men set up their tent.

"How long until Salamar?" she asked.

"We can probably be there tomorrow, my lady," Belfi teased. "You can have a real bed tomorrow night."

"Thanks," she muttered. "I still don't understand why we travel on horseback when both of you know the instant transfer spells."

"Because we like to see the country?" Keneith smiled. "Besides, I thought you loved horses."

"I do!" She patted her bay mare's neck. "But it's tiring! I may not be doing all the walking, but the saddle isn't the most comfortable place to sit all day!"

"We're almost there," Belfi said. His long, wavy, dark-blond mane moved around him as the wind picked up speed. "We should be protected from the wind over there."

Bellinda nodded. What a strange trio of wandering half-bloods. The immortal Belfi, who was half Genn – hence the pointed ears – and half demon. The half-Fajrulo Keneith who had become a powerful wizard thanks to the magic in his blood. And her, a half-Genn with no pointed ears and hair too dark, but still with the power to heal through the golden magic powder of the Genn.

They'd left Havenstock and the Varian army behind to get away from war. They weren't warriors and weren't interested in politics. They had earned some kind of respect for the obvious powers that came with the mixed blood, but they couldn't say they had found a place to call home.

Belfi was their guide, since he'd been traveling those lands for almost four hundred years. And he still looked in his twenties, with his androgynous beauty and long hair. He wore a short green tunic over his leather breeches and had soft Genn boots that allowed him to control his mount.

Bellinda might not look Genn at all, except for the color of her eyes and the fact that she grew old slower, but many had been saved by her healing gift, including Keneith, who still had many scars on his body from previous fights with other magic users.

She was almost thirty-five, but looked some ten years younger and she hadn't found a man to settle with. She'd been in the Genn villages scattered through the forest of Appleyard, visiting her father's relatives, when she'd met Keneith some ten years earlier. They had started working together, the healer and the magic user, and maybe there was something between them.

Well, there had been something when they'd first met, but whatever passion had brought them together, it was now gone, although they were still the best of friends and perfect working partners. The inclusion of Belfi hadn't upset their relationship in the least. It was an honor to be with such a legendary being who could be both healer and magic user but was condemned to loneliness by his long, probably eternal life.

Bellinda had envied him at first, but when she'd realized what it entailed – being the son of a dark goddess, a minion of a Dark Pond that might have been Human once, with a twin who was pure evil locked underground – she was content with being half-blood and having inherited her Genn father's gift for healing. Belfi was also her ancestor, but he still looked like a younger brother to her.

She had often wondered if it was the fact that her father had loved both men and women in his life or that her dark-haired mother had somehow managed to seduce a Genn, but her father had taken only one wife. She certainly didn't want to become one of many wives herself as was tradition in the Varian Kingdom, and hoped to find a place where polygamy was not allowed. Or at least find a man who wouldn't want more than one woman.

Keneith seemed to be of the monogamous kind, but he was also of the "I don't want to get married" kind, which had been fine with her. Unlike her childhood friends, she'd rather not marry than agree to spend her life with the first man who requested her and made her as many children as he could.

She hadn't had any maternity call either. The only call was to heal people, wherever and whoever they were. Therefore she'd had enough of watching Varian soldiers fight for their king, and often die since she couldn't be everywhere at once.

The Varian king had started campaigns to expand his lands, nibbling at the Gallians' borders and now expanding north. He'd been temporarily stopped by the savage barbarian tribes, so he'd marched on Moriana and bit off a piece of the Salamar Kingdom on this side of the Ondan, like he'd done to the Gallians in the west.

Bellinda didn't understand his hunger for conquest and had left her hometown, unsure if and when she'd return. After losing a couple of friends and almost her own brother to the warmongering king, she decided she couldn't take it anymore – not another summer of battles, worrying for her loved ones.

The hazelnut thicket was really perfect to make camp. Even if sunset was still a few hours away, they had time to set up the tent and maybe go fishing in the river. And they might bathe too – if she found a pond away from the two men. Although the water might be too cold, therefore she better wait until they reached the city of Salamar.

She dismounted with a sigh of relief. Wearing breeches wasn't a problem, but spending hours and days in the saddle was bothersome after some time. Even if she used her gown to cushion herself, rolling it up around her waist. Keneith also had a long tunic, but it was split at the front, which made riding astride easier.

As Belfi and Keneith set up the tent – probably with the help of magic, but she'd rather not watch – she took care of her mare, and the other two horses. Keneith had a black gelding with two white socks and a stocking. Her mare had a black mane and tail and black legs. And Belfi had a Pinto mare, for which warriors of the king's court had teased him, but he didn't care. The mare loved him and he took good care of her.

She was still grooming Keneith's horse when they joined her. Belfi took care of his own mare as Keneith took the brushes from her. She brought her saddle and travel bags to the tent and started preparing the space for a fire, setting up rocks in a circle and cleaning it.

"Who's going fishing?" she called.

"Not me," Keneith replied. "I'm a fire person, not going near water if I can avoid it!"

Belfi chuckled. "Then you could shoot down a bird or two – or starve!" he teased.

"We still have provisions," Bellinda replied. "I thought it would be good to have fresh food, though."

"If I see a pheasant, I'll make sure to burn it for you," Keneith said. "I'm gathering wood. Belfi can go fishing."

"I will. Just light the fire, and I'll bring fresh fish for dinner..."

Bellinda smiled. She knew Keneith only needed to snap his fingers to light a fire.

***

Hinrik's eyes widened in shock. This couldn't be. He was already dead and the underworld was underwater.

The man's hand on his chest calmed his heartbeat. He looked sorrowful now.

"You are my son, Hinrik. And you are badly hurt. But the kingmaker is coming this way and he is with an excellent healer, she will help you."

Hinrik closed his mouth and gulped. He still couldn't believe all this was happening underwater. His mother had told him his father was a magical being, but he wasn't expecting this! She'd been blamed all of her life for having a son outside of marriage and now, twenty-five years later, this... stranger walked, no swam up to him and told him he was his father!

"You are half-Waiora, Hinrik, that's why water heals you. But what you've been through needs more healing power, and only the Genn can give you that. Go back to the surface, the kingmaker is making camp on the river shore with his friends, you will find him easily and they will help you."

"I don't want anybody's help!" Hinrik's scream was lost underwater. He didn't want anybody to see him right now. He was naked, bruised and hurt. He wasn't going to go back to the surface and meet people.

His father hugged him and gently rocked him as he burst into sobs. His tears were lost in the water and he was too weak to free himself from the unwanted embrace.

He was so tired, so sick of it all... he passed out again.

***

The hazelnut shrubs covered the sight of the river now. Belfi sat somewhere on that side, but Keneith and Bellinda had gathered wood and were setting up the campfire. Keneith kept looking around, though, knowing that pheasants lived in grassland near water with small copses of trees.

"Can you please start this fire," she said, sitting back and tying her hair in a loose braid, since it kept falling in front of her face. It was dark blond or light brown, like Belfi's, not golden like his father's and most of the Genn. She kept it long, but not as long as her Genn friends, in fact Belfi's hair was longer than hers.

"Sure." Keneith shrugged and snapped his fingers over the dry wood and leaves, setting them on fire. "There you go, my lady."

"One can never grow cold with you." She smiled fondly at him.

When she'd seen him for the first time, dark-haired among the fair-headed Genn, he had really stood out. But even in Havenstock he looked different, and probably not just because he came from the east and was a half-blood.

His hazel eyes could be both warm and icy, and his oval face had no trace of facial hair. He didn't have much body hair either, which had attracted her immediately, since she was used to a father with a long mane and no body hair.

"Thank you." He sat back too and started looking around again. Both could hear pheasants calls, if only one of them would walk into the clearing where they had pitched the tent... "Coming from someone who calls herself Lady Ice, it's even more appreciated."

She chuckled. "You've tried to set me on fire, and you were quite good at it, but I guess we weren't made for each other after all."

"I guess not. You may have heard that Fajrulo don't fall in love. I'm half-Fajrulo, so it's not as if you broke my heart. I've often been told I don't have a heart."

"I think you do, and it's a very big one. Oh, look, there's a pheasant!"

Keneith swiftly pointed his finger and shot a ray of fire that hit the bird. He rose and picked up the dead pheasant that was badly burned where he'd hit it, but still needed to be plucked and properly cooked.

She clapped her hands before taking the bird.

"Belfi, we've got meat!" she called towards the river.

"One moment!" Belfi replied from beyond the bushes.

Bellinda busied herself with their prospective dinner under Keneith's eyes. Then she heard him gasp and looked towards the river.

Belfi was carrying bride-like a passed out young man completely naked and quite bruised, but obviously still alive, since his chest heaved and Bellinda could feel his heartbeat.

"Was he half-drowned?" Keneith asked, taking the bird from her as she rose to check the wounded one.

"No, a Waiora brought him to the shore. It's his son. He was hurt at the battle around Moriana." Belfi laid the young man on the ground near the fire. "I'll get a blanket, the temperature is going down fast."

Bellinda forgot her hunger as she knelt next to the young man. She closed her eyes and felt his bruises with her gift, sending the golden powder through the skin. She found old wounds as well, and helped those to vanish.

Her hands barely brushed the naked body, and as she went down towards the legs, she kept feeling something was wrong. Not in the body, but in the mind that seemed to be screaming in pain and horror for something that wasn't physical.

She held her breath when she felt the sore spot. The warrior had been raped. Defeated and raped and left for dead. She poured all her healing power into him, then almost collapsed over him, exhausted.

She felt Keneith's hands helping her to lie down.

"The meat is ready, eat," he said gently, holding her so she could eat.

"He shouldn't eat solid food," she managed to say.

"We'll give him broth," Belfi replied. "Eat and rest. You'll both be fine."

***

Hinrik felt the intrusion. It was a woman, and it was very gentle. It eased some of the pain and the shame that he felt, but it wasn't nearly enough. Then someone helped him to sit and managed to shove some warm broth inside him. That felt good. He was starving by now.

Although, was it worth it? Was it worth living? Who was helping him? That stranger who lived underwater and had declared himself to be his father or the other – what had he called him? Kingmaker? Who?

His eyelids were too heavy to open. He didn't care what would happen to his body anymore. He drank the broth and lay down again. He shivered in the night air – it must be night, or he'd feel the sun's rays on his skin – and someone covered him with a blanket.

"We should carry them both inside the tent," someone said. "Just in case it rains tonight."

Hinrik remained limp as someone wrapped him in the blanket and carried him somewhere else. The place felt warmer, but he still lay on the ground. Must be a tent with no camp-beds.

He curled up in the fetal position and dozed off.

CHAPTER TWO

Bellinda awoke with a headache, sort of normal after a healing, especially a deep one. Keneith was by her side with a mug of warm tisane as soon as she moaned and opened her eyes. He knew the effects of her gift on her and was prepared, as usual.

Bellinda sat and sipped the tisane, waiting for the headache to recede. "Thanks," she said, giving back the empty mug. "Give me a moment."

"Breakfast is almost ready," he said. "Do you think we should wake him up?"

His chin pointed at the young man curled up on the ground and wrapped in the blanket that still left quite a lot of skin exposed.

She shooed Keneith out and leaned over the wounded man. Again she closed her eyes to feel him, and his sleep seemed normal. His body was healed, but she doubted his mind was.

She opened her eyes with a sigh and observed him for the first time. His brown hair curled up at the nape of the neck. He was handsome and looked harmless in his sleep, but his muscles showed he was a man of action. She wondered where he'd lost his weapons and armor, since he was definitely a warrior.

She gently shook his shoulder and startled him awake. Eyes of a strange turquoise widened in surprise before he focused on her and exhaled in relief.

"Would you like to eat something? We are headed for Salamar, do you want to come with us?"

"I'm thirsty," he whispered, sitting up. He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and winced. He seemed to remember his bruises and checked them, staring at her puzzled when he didn't see them.

"Your body is healed," she said. "It will carry you outside to eat and drink. As for the rest... there is only so much that I can do."

He frowned and nodded. He slowly got to his feet and followed her outside.

Belfi and Keneith sat by the fire, boiling more water for more herbal tea. Keneith offered his dry cookies, but only Bellinda took one. The young man headed for the river.

"He's thirsty," she told the other two, sitting down.

"He's half-Waiora." Belfi smiled. "His name is Hinrik."

"Did he tell you?"

"His father did."

"Oh, right, so you spoke to a Waiora."

"He knew we were coming. Water is everywhere, and the water people know everything that happens near water."

Bellinda nodded, thoughtful. Of course the members of the Magical Races knew a lot more than Humans. And they'd talk to Belfi, since he was almost one of them.

Hinrik came back, holding the blanket like a cloak, his face still wet. He sat on the only free spot around the fire and this time he took a cookie from Keneith's satchel, nibbling it as if he were afraid.

"So, Hinrik, I'm Bellinda and this is Keneith and that's Belfi," she said, sipping another mug of tea.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, wary.

"Your father brought you here and told me your name," Belfi answered. "Where would you like us to take you?"

"Nowhere," Hinrik snapped. "I'm dead to the world!"

"I think you're pretty much alive," Bellinda replied. "Like I said, your body is healed. I took care even of the old wounds. But if you want your friends and family to think you're dead, that's another story."

"I don't have friends and my mother is dead," he muttered, staring at the fire.

"And you may feel useless, but if you're still alive, if you survived, there's a reason. Therefore I suggest you keep on living. Might be a good idea to change profession, though. You're a warrior, right?"

"Army of Salamar," he said with a nod.

"Uh-oh." Keneith shook his head. "You were trying to protect Moriana, weren't you?"

"We were defeated." Hinrik glared at him. "But I don't think I want to keep fighting. For what? To protect what? This makes no sense at all!"

"Not from our point of view, no," she said, thoughtful. "Kings and the powerful are another matter."

Hinrik looked at them. "Who is the kingmaker?"

"Some people call me that," Belfi answered. "Even in Salamar, I helped Conon to get back his throne."

"You mean Conon I? Wasn't that almost a century ago or something?"

"More or less. They call me the Immortal Half-blood for a reason." Belfi grinned while Bellinda chuckled and Hinrik gaped. "You have just discovered you're a half-blood. I guess you could explore what it means to have Magical Races' blood in your veins. If you don't have a place to go back to, come with us. I'm making a pilgrimage to the ruins of the capital of Rayheart, where I grew up centuries ago."

"And we're exploring the east," Bellinda added. "I'm half-Genn, and Keneith is half-Fajrulo."

Hinrik's eyes widened again in wonder.

"I see we need to explain a few things to him," Keneith said. "Glad we're not in a hurry to go anywhere..."

***

Hinrik listened to the three half-bloods, almost incredulous. He'd grown up thinking he had no father – although his mother had indeed mentioned one, but when she'd noticed it upset him, she had stopped talking about his father – and now not only had he met him, he'd even discovered he was one of the water people, the Waiora who lived in bodies of water, oceans included.

That explained his love for water, but not the rest. He wasn't sure he had any special gift like Bellinda or could become a magic user like Keneith. The Magical Races were all different and had different levels of magic.

The Genn belonged to Ether and they'd become invisible to Humans after losing their overground kingdoms before the birth of the Moren Empire, although some still showed up in Salamar – and apparently in the Varian Kingdom, since Belfi didn't feel the need to hide his pointed ears yet.

The Fajrulo belonged to Fire and they were the most powerful, hence Keneith's magic was the strongest. But Waiora and the Sila – Air people – only had a strong affinity with their element, and although Hinrik had felt it, maybe there was more to it than healing water.

Going back to Salamar didn't sound like a good idea, because he'd have to resume his service of the king and keep fighting his wars. He could use the freedom to explore what it meant to have magical blood. He could go anywhere and forget that last battle and its tragic ending. But he needed clothes and a horse, and he had those at home.

"My war stallion was killed, but I have a gelding. And a few spare clothes and some other things. Except if I go there, they'll see me and they'll know I'm alive and..."

"I can speak to the king of Salamar for you if you want," Belfi said. "He'll release you from your duty and let you grab your things before you leave."

"Oh!" Hinrik stared at them, still puzzled.

He shivered under the blanket. He really needed to retrieve his clothes. And exploring the world with three strangers might keep his mind off what happened.

"I'd be grateful if you could do that," he said hesitantly. "I will repay you all," he added, looking at all three in turn.

"You don't need to repay us," Belfi said.

"I heal because it's my gift," Bellinda added. "I don't need to get paid, but a roof and a real bed over my head for a couple of nights would be wonderful."

"And it's no big deal to take you there, we were going there anyway," Keneith concluded.

"Maybe one of you guys could lend him a tunic while we get closer," Bellinda said then. "He can ride with any of you."

"Or you can lend him your mare and ride with me," Keneith suggested with an impish smile.

Hinrik wondered if they were a couple. They seemed to be really good friends, and quite intimate. Belfi watched them, amused.

"You should lend him your gelding," Bellinda retorted. "Only Belfi is man enough to ride a mare and be proud of it!"

Belfi burst out laughing. "She's right, Keneith, give up your horse to our guest, I'll give him some clothes!"

"If you can give me something to cover myself, I'll ride any horse available until we're close enough to Salamar and I can retrieve my things," Hinrik said shyly.

Belfi got to his feet and went inside the tent.

"You might want to follow him, unless you want to dress under my eyes," Bellinda said. "Which I might enjoy, but maybe it's not really what you had in mind." She winked.

Hinrik blushed and rushed inside the tent. Clothed but still barefooted, he climbed into Keneith's saddle and held on to his waist. The tent had been taken down and packed, the fire extinguished and they were ready to hit the road again.

"Don't worry, Salamar isn't far," Belfi said as they spurred their horses forward.

CHAPTER THREE

Salamar was a large town with wood and stone walls with few gates. It had been built around a central bridge on the River Ondan and a small part of the city was on the western shore. The palace and other main buildings were in the older part of town on the eastern shore.

It had a couple of big city parks and lovely fountains. The nearest tavern was halfway across town, on the other shore. The main craft being weaponsmithing, the economy was strong and growing now that the Varian threat had gotten closer and had started eating at the kingdom's borders.

The streets were paved with bricks and the buildings kept the windows shuttered. The guards at the gate looked like thugs, but they recognized both Belfi and Hinrik, so they grumpily let them through.

"Where should we go first?" Bellinda asked. "The royal palace or Hinrik's house?"

"I can take him to see the king," Belfi replied. "You may want to rest and use the public baths in the meantime."

"Oh, what a wonderful word you said!" She sighed in bliss, then coughed as the stench of a side road that was obviously used as a sewer made her gag. "Dirty town!" she said, disgusted, after catching her breath. "I hope the baths are clean."

"They are the best in the world," Hinrik said without looking at anyone in particular.

"Well, if a Waiora says they're fine, I'm going to trust him," she said, relieved. "Where do we find them?"

Hinrik pointed them to the public baths, sliding off Keneith's saddle and mounting behind Belfi instead.

"There's a tavern nearby, the Unlucky Bard," he said. "We can meet you there for dinner, and then we can go to sleep at my house. It's very small, but it has a roof and a couple of cots."

"It will do," she replied. "See you later."

She waved goodbye to Belfi and headed for the baths with Keneith. There was a stable service at the Unlucky Bard, so they left their horses there before heading for the warm pools of thermal water.

Bellinda washed away the dust of the journey in the women's room. It wasn't very busy at that time of the day, so nobody bothered her with questions or useless chatter. She hoped the king would release Hinrik from his duties and that the young man would go with them.

She wondered what his magic blood did. What kind of magic did water have? Maybe they should talk to his father before leaving the Ondan's shores, but Hinrik didn't look like he wanted to talk to the being who sired him.

He'll get over it, she thought, rinsing her long dark blond hair. She didn't like lingering in the baths, so she quickly dried herself and went to wait for the men in the tavern's main room.

The Unlucky Bard was medium sized and decently clean, but looked quite shady. The food was overpriced and of poor quality, but she didn't care. She wasn't a food person, as long as it was edible, anything would do.

As she nursed a goblet of hard cider, she observed the people around her. The healthy crowd was quite loud, with a few shady characters. Most patrons were sober and openly armed, but there were burly, threatening bouncers to keep the peace.

Only half of the dark corners were occupied and the most notable patron seemed to be a scar-covered adventurer who was obviously getting free drinks. The bartender played games with patrons during breaks.

Bellinda was happy they wouldn't have to pay for the rooms as well as the food. She wondered where Hinrik kept his spare horse, and what kind of house he had. And if he was ready to leave everything behind like she had done.

***

Hinrik followed Belfi inside the royal palace. The immortal half-blood seemed to know the way better than him! And even though Belfi hadn't been in Salamar for more than half a century, everybody seemed to know him.

And then they reached the great hall and Hinrik noticed a huge tapestry hung behind the king's throne and over the dais that represented Belfi and probably King Conon I confronting the Regent. On the throne underneath sat King Conon II, Conon's grandson, who looked surprised first and delighted immediately after when he realized who was sauntering towards him.

"Are you Belfi the Immortal Half-blood?" he asked, stepping off the dais to meet Belfi.

The king of Salamar was thirty and his heir, Prince Ronan, was still a child. Since Conon, they had passed those two names along, alternating between Conon and Ronan every generation.

"I am he," the androgynous being answered with a smile. "The artist who made that tapestry is really good."

"It was a workshop under the direction of Liana. She said she had met you and my grandfather in his youth. It took five years in the making and it's now forty years old."

"Very nice," Belfi said admiringly. Then he focused on the king again. "I've come to see how you're holding up against the Varians."

King Ronan's smile vanished. "We lost Moriana to them. And the Blackmore in the south east are threatening us as well. I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my grandfather's throne for much longer."

Belfi nodded, thoughtful. "I cannot help you with that. I can use a sword, but I'm not a general or a strategist. I've come to ask you a favor. I don't think you'll need this deeply scarred soldier in your army anymore, so please discharge him, so he can find peace of mind away from the warring realms."

Belfi waved towards Hinrik who gulped under the king's puzzled stare. He'd never been in the presence of King Conon before. His captain had dealt with higher-ups, he only obeyed orders.

The king motioned to a side door and led them to a smaller chamber. There was a table with fruits and wine, and they sat there, away from the courtiers' ears.

Hinrik had to tell the king what had happened in Moriana, how the army had arrived too late to save the sieged town and got such a beating that many had been left dead on the battlefield. He had seen his captain fall along with many of his companions – but he didn't mention the aftermath, only that he'd met Belfi who had helped him to reach Salamar.

King Ronan sighed. "So much blood wasted," he whispered, shaking his head. "I hope they don't march on Salamar."

"At the moment the tribes have stopped them," Belfi said. "Mameth Anak and Rota Anak fell, but the castles of the north won't yield. I don't think the Varians will cross the Ondan yet, but you might want to evacuate the other shore of the river and be ready to destroy the bridge, just in case."

King Ronan nodded, thoughtful. "I will do as you suggest. As for Hinrik, he is discharged with honor. I will send the discharge notice to his house tonight."

"Thank you."

Hinrik noticed Belfi didn't use any respectful title such as "Your majesty." The immortal half-blood must be used to royalty. No wonder they called him Kingmaker.

Hinrik waited until the king and Belfi finished talking, then he headed back out with the blond young man. When they reached the Unlucky Bard, Bellinda and Keneith were already there, waiting for them to order a light meal.

"Yes, I live nearby and my horse is at the tavern's stables," Hinrik said when Keneith asked him about it. "I hope the king will send my pay with the discharge note or I won't have enough money to pay to retrieve it."

"Why am I not surprised a half-Waiora lives next to the public baths..." Bellinda smiled at him. "I have some coins, I'm sure we can pay all the bills."

"How will we earn a living out there?" Hinrik asked, frowning with worry.

"That's an interesting question," Keneith answered. "I don't think we have figured it out yet."

"Let's get some sleep first," Bellinda added. "Things will look clearer in the morning..."

***

Hinrik's house was very small and squeezed between two bigger and taller buildings. One room was used as a living room and kitchen during the day with a creaky wooden staircase that led to the upper floor where there was a bedroom with two cots and basins to wash one's face and hands. The outhouse was in the backyard, and a ladder led to the attic, which was even smaller than the other rooms because of the slanted roof that made the corners unusable.

"If you bring a mattress up here, I'll be just fine," Bellinda said, looking around from the hatch door, standing on the ladder. The roof seemed solid and she loved attics.

"I'm afraid I don't have enough mattresses for everybody," Hinrik apologized as she stepped down.

"They don't need mattresses," she replied with a shrug while Belfi and Keneith took one of the cots and moved it to the attic with the help of levitation spells.

"They're used to sleeping on the floor?" Hinrik asked, incredulous.

She grinned at him. "You'll see."

Keneith and Belfi came back downstairs.

"My lady, your room is ready," Keneith said with a mock bow.

"Thank you, Ken. Will you be sleeping here or downstairs?"

"There is probably more room downstairs and I'm sure Hinrik values his privacy," Keneith replied. "We might push the table and benches against the wall, though."

A knock on the door meant they all went back down the creaky stairs. It was a messenger from the king. He had the discharge note and a purse of coins for Hinrik, but also a letter for Belfi.

"No need to wait, I'll send my reply to the king tomorrow morning," Belfi said, dismissing the messenger.

Hinrik looked relieved to receive his pay. "It's enough to get Shytur back," he said. "My horse," he added at Keneith's blank stare. "And I might buy new weapons and armor as well. I will need them, right?"

"It depends on how you intend to earn a living," Keneith replied. "I don't really use swords."

"But you're a wizard, I'm just a soldier."

"You're a warrior. Get yourself what you'll need to be a warrior."

Belfi had finished reading the king's letter and he sighed. "You'll have to continue without me," he announced. "Apparently Conon thinks my presence will protect the city and the kingdom from the Varians and the Blackmore."

"Oh, such a shame," Bellinda said. "At least you knew where we were going!"

"I thought you were out to explore the world anyway," Belfi replied with a smile. "Just follow the Ondan and reach the northern coast. I'm afraid down here the old kingdoms are reforming..."

"What do you mean?" Hinrik asked, jarred.

"The Gallian and Varian dynasties lived on the lands of the Genn kingdom of Appleyard. As for the Blackmore... they're slowly conquering what used to be my father's kingdom, Rayheart."

"Maybe we should reach the south," Bellinda mused. "Didn't you mention they're less of a warring kind down there?"

"Yes, and you can reach it by going around the coast. You might even embark on some merchant ship, if you're sick of riding. Sell the horses and buy passage to the southern towns."

"Or use a year or two to get down there with common means," Keneith added. "I don't want to use instant-transfer spells to go to unknown places."

"You should travel by land, then. I might meet you in Maxwetria or on the Kelvian coast in six months or so. Should give me time to do my pilgrimage and then continue east."

"You won't stay in Salamar to protect the king?" Hinrik asked, worried.

"I'll stay until I can be of use," Belfi answered. "I'm immortal but not invulnerable, and I already told him I can't do much for him."

"I guess we should follow the Ondan, then," Bellinda said. "Maybe Hinrik's father will give us some direction."

Hinrik's eyes widened in shock. "I don't want to talk to him!"

"You don't have to," she assured him. "We will. He might have gathered some coins from the river and give them to you for the trip."

"I don't want anything from him!"

"Hinrik, you're not the only one who lost a parent very early," Keneith said, a little too bluntly. Bellinda knew it was a sensitive topic for her magic user friend. "My mother dumped me and my father when I was still a toddler. She's the Fajrulo of the pair, I inherited her cold blood and lack of heart. You don't know why your father didn't stick to your mother, so you should at least give him a chance."

Hinrik glared at him and looked away.

"I think we're all quite tired," Bellinda said while Belfi folded the letter and put it in his travel bag. "Let's get some sleep, shall we?"

"Right, I still don't have mattresses for you, but you can use the benches or the table, since the tiles on the floor become quite cold at night," Hinrik said grumpily.

Keneith scoffed. He crouched and passed his hands over a piece of floor and an immaterial mattress gleamed in the room. Bellinda had tried his magic mattress and knew how comfortable it could be.

"Maybe eventually you'll be able to conjure water mattresses," Keneith said, rising.

Belfi made another mattress of Genn golden powder under Hinrik's awed eyes. "We'll be fine, Hinrik. Good night."

Bellinda shook their host from his surprise and he followed her upstairs. He still looked lost as he sat on his cot. She leaned to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Sweet dreams, Hinrik," she whispered before heading for the attic.

He cleared his throat before answering, "Good night, Bellinda."

Bellinda tried to hide her hilarity. Boy, was he formal! But he'd get used to the company...

CHAPTER FOUR

Hinrik didn't sleep well, and not because he had guests. Still, at some point he must have slept, because when he went downstairs he found all three around the hearth, preparing herbal tea. Keneith had even gone to the bakery down the road to get fresh bread.

"I didn't hear you coming down the ladder," Hinrik told Bellinda.

"You were sound asleep, so I tiptoed around you," she replied with a smile. "I'm sure you needed it."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"I'm going to the palace, do you need my mare to carry your things?" Belfi asked. "I won't need her anymore and a pack horse might be useful to you all."

"Yes, especially if Hinrik buys the full warrior gear again," Keneith said. "We could use her to carry the tent and his armor."

"Maybe I won't buy the full warrior gear, but I need a sword," Hinrik snapped. "I feel naked without."

"Of course, let's go to the market before leaving town," Bellinda said. "I might need a few things myself."

"Running out of herbs, Bel?" Keneith teased.

"I may not use them to heal, but I like drinking them and so do you," she retorted before sipping her herbal tea while he chuckled.

Hinrik watched them bicker with slight envy. Whether they were a couple or just friends, they had a relationship of some kind – something he'd sorely missed after his mother's death. He hadn't made friends in town and had taken the soldier job because he was well built and it was a job like any other. He had been very fond of his captain, who had believed in him and taught him everything, but now he too was gone and Hinrik was alone again.

He thanked Belfi for the intercession with the king and watched him head for the palace before taking Bellinda and Keneith to the main market. He stopped at a stall made of sacks and baskets that sold swords. The female owner was helpful and slightly overweight. There was no discount for a discharged soldier of the Salamar army, but her goods were of above average quality.

Bellinda and Keneith waited for him at the next stall, a kiosk with roof and no walls that sold religious icons. They both ignored the highly attractive female owner to check the various items as a pastime until Hinrik got his sword.

They passed by the shrine at the center of the square and headed for a makeshift structure that sold belts and fancy hats.

"My hooded coat was enough so far, and since we're going north, I don't want anything," Bellinda said, but Hinrik and Keneith both tried on a couple of belts and a few hats. Keneith bought a new belt and Hinrik opted for a hood, making the exuberant and gangly female owner very happy.

Next to it were several carts full of wares – reptiles, exotic armor and helmets. The owner was male, greedy and had many tattoos. The quality was very low and Hinrik decided not to waste coins on a helmet that would break with the first blow. As for the exotic armors, he didn't think it would protect him enough to buy any.

Behind the shrine there was a roofed and walled kiosk that sold enchantments, spell components and magical constructs. Hinrik watched as Bellinda and Keneith checked everything and haggled with the anxious male owner who completely lacked a sense of humor and therefore didn't get their jokes.

Hinrik found himself smiling despite himself, and Bellinda winked at him, obviously pleased.

"There are other shops, you know?" he told her while Keneith thanked the owner, saying they didn't really need anything.

"If you could take us to a place that sells maps and adventuring supplies, that would be great," Bellinda said. "Without Belfi we should really get a map to know where we're going..."

"Come with me, then. Daveth is the man you want to see."

Daveth's shop was rather small and smelled of incense. It was noisy and gaudily decorated. It specialized in potions but also provided poisons, maps and anything useful to travel out of town. Occupants included a druid, a beggar and another merchant.

Daveth was still incredibly skinny for a middle-aged man. He looked bored as he talked to a guard and raised his eyebrows at the sight of Hinrik. The shop owner was the father of one of Hinrik's companion-at-arms and had known him since childhood. Hinrik realized he had no idea of what had happened to Daveth's son.

"Hinrik!" Daveth said as the guard scoffed at the sight of him. "Loriss left you for dead in Moriana!"

"So not the whole company was slaughtered," Hinrik replied. "I fell next to Captain Irmos, but I wasn't killed, just wounded."

"Yes, not many came back from that disaster," the guard commented, shaking his head. "You're lucky. Are you going back out there?"

"I was discharged," Hinrik said proudly. "I've come looking for a map of the north and east."

"And traveling supplies," Keneith added, standing by his side.

The magic user ignored the stares of the guard and the shop owner. Bellinda was already looking through the folder of maps, which made Daveth gasp and rush to her side.

"My lady, those are precious maps!"

"I'm sure they are," she replied. "I should have asked my Genn father to provide me with one, since these look quite approximate." She put down the folder with a disgusted look on her face. "Human maps are awful," she told Keneith. "We should have asked Belfi to call a Sila for us."

"Why shouldn't we call a Sila ourselves?" Keneith shrugged. "Don't you have two Sila friends including a map-maker? We might be far from their nests, but I'm sure they could hear you..."

"True." Bellinda shrugged and turned to Daveth again. "So, no maps, thanks, what do you have for traveling?"

Again they dined at the Unlucky Bard. Hinrik was glad to have found someone who seemed to know more about travel than he ever would.

"We only need to follow the Ondan," Bellinda said. "We'll find better maps when we reach the next town, I'm sure. I'm surprised Salamar doesn't have more Genn-made maps, after all Belfi and other Genn come here every now and then."

"They probably can't be bothered to share their knowledge of the world," Keneith replied. "We should have bought one in Havenstock."

"We were supposed to follow Belfi..."

"Even if we get lost, who cares? We don't have a specific destination, as long as we get away from wars."

"True. And the tribes are on the other shore of the Ondan, so we should be fine."

Hinrik listened, a little worried.

"Do you think we'll be safe?" he asked.

"Hey, you're the warrior, you're supposed to be our bodyguard!" Keneith replied. "Don't worry, bandits usually don't attack wizards. Besides, this is the year of living dangerously. Weren't you on the verge of suicide anyway? What do you care of safety?"

"Keneith!" Bellinda chided. "Leave him alone! The only time he left home was to march with an army to his doom. This is definitely different." She looked at Hinrik again. "We'll be fine, Hinrik. Don't listen to that heartless half-Fajrulo with a wicked sense of humor."

Hinrik nodded since his voice wouldn't come out. Keneith had reminded him how he'd met them, what had happened before meeting them, why he was now ready to leave the house where he'd been born to go on an adventure.

There was no return to Salamar, and it was fine. He felt a lump in his throat, though. This was the last night he'd spend in his bed, in the house he had shared with his mother. But Keneith was right, it was time to move on. Leave the past behind and find a new place to call home.

He cleared his throat. "We should leave tomorrow morning," he said, finishing his ale and then staring at his empty plate. "You've seen everything there is to see in Salamar today. And I'm ready."

"Good." Bellinda smiled. "Then let's get some sleep and we can get back on the road on the morrow."

***

"Do you intend to bring the whole house with you?" Bellinda asked, raising her eyebrows, as Hinrik huffed and puffed trying to fit too many things in his travel bags.

"How do you manage to travel so light?" he complained, stepping back and staring at the overflowing bags in despair.

"Well, first of all, we're not going to no-man's land. You don't need half of that stuff," she replied, coming forward to help him sort things. "I mean, you should resell here what you don't need to carry with you, so you'll have some extra cash. That's what I did with my spare clothes. You can always buy new ones when the ones you have are worn out."

He watched her as she quickly divided things that would be useful from things that could be left behind. She had learned early to travel light, having no man to carry her bags. It had taken her a little longer to get rid of things that were close to her heart, but when she had realized she couldn't keep everything forever, it had become easier.

"Now, is there anything in this batch that you really can't live without?" she asked at last, pointing at the useless items.

He blushed and quickly retrieved a couple of scarves. "My mother's," he muttered. He must have kept them in memory of her. She nodded and put them in the travel bags again.

"Now, everything else along with the kitchen stuff and furniture, you can resell. Where is the closest pawnshop?"

"Wouldn't that delay our departure?" he asked, worried.

"We're not in a hurry, are we?" she replied. "Settle your business, you're not coming back to town anytime soon. Maybe never."

"Oh." That seemed to sink in at last. He nodded, thoughtful. "Then let's take these to the pawnshop."

He put the travel bags on the floor and wrapped the rest in the bed-sheet. Keneith helped him carry the rest of the things. By midday the house was empty but for their packs. At that point they headed for the stables to retrieve their horses.

Shytur was a sorrel gelding with a rust-colored coat and blond mane and tail. Hinrik said he'd had him as spare horse for five years already. He was probably still mourning his war stallion – and his loss of innocence. The siege of Moriana might have not been his first battle, but it had definitely been the worst, and Bellinda knew he still had nightmares about it.

They used Belfi's mare as pack horse and paid for all four animals' housing, then finally headed for the town gates. They had bought fresh bread and ate it as they headed along the river shore.

"Tonight you'll see how Ken hunts," Bellinda said cheerfully.

"I forgot to buy a bow and arrows!" Hinrik slapped his forehead.

"You won't need one. I told you, Ken has his own hunting methods."

"For small animals," Keneith added with a chuckle. "Not sure I could take down a deer."

"Now don't be modest. You can take down bipeds, of course you can take down deer!"

"I'm not too keen on magic battles, thank you. That's why I left Havenstock in case you forgot. It had become too dangerous with all those sorcerers around."

"And apparently it's worse at the Blackmore court. But we're not going that way."

"What is a magic battle like?" Hinrik asked, eyes wide.

"It's... messy." Keneith looked away. He didn't like to talk about it any more than Hinrik wanted to talk about being raped. Hinrik didn't insist.

They rode at a leisurely pace until they found a good place to stop and make camp. The horses had plenty of water and grass, and they had some protection among the willows.

At least with camping, Hinrik was as good as them. He could set up a tent and prepare the fire, but of course he gasped when he saw how Keneith lit it up.

"He's half-Fajrulo." Bellinda grinned. "He masters fire."

"And what do you master?" Hinrik asked.

"Ether," she answered. "It's everything in between. You should see if you can manipulate water."

"I know I can breathe underwater." Hinrik looked away and blushed.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," she replied. "I'm sure you could learn to control it, if you allowed your father to teach you something."

He glared at her.

"Yes, yes, I know you don't want to talk to him," she continued. "But it might be useful. For you and for us. Now, I'm not saying you should call him or anything, but if he shows up – and I think he will – at least listen to him."

"Fine," Hinrik muttered.

"Aren't you curious to hear your parents' story?" Keneith asked. "I mean, what do you know of the circumstances of your birth?"

"Not much." Hinrik shrugged, hugging his knees. "I didn't want to know anything. I was so despised and my mother was so left out of everything, disowned by her family and all... I really didn't care."

"It must have been a scandal, an unmarried woman having a baby," Bellinda commented.

"She was a washerwoman, not a lady," Hinrik grumbled. "They said she'd been spellbound and I was a demon's spawn."

"They were envious of your beautiful eyes," she replied.

Startled, he looked at her and she blew him a kiss. His lips trembled into a smile.

"You are a strange woman, Bellinda."

"And proud of it," she replied. "Took me years to be what I want to be without listening to other people's opinions. Now I hope I can help you to be like me. It's none of their business who you are or where you came from. Who do you want to be? That's the only thing that counts."

He nodded, thoughtful. "I will have to think about that."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Then there's plenty of time. You'll find your way, Hinrik."

CHAPTER FIVE

Hinrik was in the river again. The water was soothing and he could lie like this forever. Except it was just a dream, and reality bit him hard with the sound of birdsong. He opened his eyes, saw the tent and remembered he was on the road. With two strangers, not with the army.

Bellinda was still asleep, wrapped in her blanket, but Keneith was not in the tent.

Hinrik sighed and got up. Outside it was barely dawn and Keneith sat by the dying fire, looking at the sun rising on the horizon, his back to the river. Hinrik yawned and then shivered in the cool morning air. Keneith rekindled the fire and signaled him to sit by it. Hinrik gathered a few lose sticks and threw them in before sitting down.

"You don't sleep much, do you?" he asked.

"Not really. Bellinda is the dormouse." Keneith flashed a smile at him and looked at the sunrise again.

Hinrik smiled. "I must be a dormouse in your eyes too."

"Well, you're up, aren't you?"

"I... had bad dreams." Hinrik hugged his knees and stared at the fire. He was still cold.

"You should probably get in the water," Keneith said. "That's your element."

Puzzled, Hinrik looked at him. "I always feel good in the water. I think it has healing powers on me."

Keneith nodded. "It's probably regenerative for you. Go ahead, have a bath. I'm sure you'll feel better afterward."

Hinrik sighed, but Keneith was probably right. He got up and walked to the river shore. He left his clothes on the grass and walked in. The air might be cool, but the water was just perfect, as usual.

Hinrik sat so he was covered in water up to the neck and let the current wash around him. Now he was feeling good – warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes and played dead. He wasn't going to drift away if he kept a foot against a rock to avoid being grabbed by stronger currents. He could just float in the light and maybe doze off again.

"I told you he wouldn't drown." Keneith's voice startled him. "He's half-Waiora after all."

"Then he should have stayed with his father underwater. I'm sure it's wonderful down there," Bellinda said.

Both stood on the shore and watched him with amused smiles on their faces. The sun was up now and the sky was all blue, having lost its orange and yellow hues that made it look on fire.

"Fancy some breakfast?" Bellinda said.

"Coming," Hinrik said quickly, shooing them away.

"Why can't I stay and watch?" Bellinda complained.

"Get back to camp!" Keneith dragged her away as she burst out laughing.

Hinrik exhaled. He quickly got out of water and slid his tunic on. He was pulling up his breeches when his father emerged from the water with a girl who wore the same nacreous fabric and sleeveless tunic.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Hinrik," his father said. "We have brought some fish for your breakfast."

Hinrik glared at him as he put on his boots. "I don't want your gifts."

"Maybe your companions would appreciate them. This is your half-sister, Dynine."

"Did you abandon her mother too?" Hinrik asked sourly.

"She's the daughter of a parigha nagho, or mating swim. No love-talk involved. As for your mother, it's her who refused to follow me. The Waiora would have welcomed her and you."

"And wouldn't the Humans welcome you if you had married her?" Hinrik rose, ready to leave.

"I doubt it. You saw how they treated you, and you're only half-blood."

"You don't look Waiora. You could pass off as Human."

"For a short time, yes. Not for twenty-five years. And, like I said, it was your mother's choice that we split. I kept an eye on you throughout the years, though."

Hinrik scoffed. "Not very effective," he said, turning his back to the river and the two Waiora.

"You could become stronger with water magic!"

Hinrik ignored him. He didn't want to become a magic user. He didn't want his father's inheritance, whatever that implied. He didn't care if he had a half-sister or not. Not now, not after twenty-five years as an outsider in his hometown.

He was free now, and he wanted to start from scratch, figure out who he was and what he wanted somewhere where nobody knew he was the son of an unmarried woman and probably a half-demon of some kind.

He sat by the fire again and took the mug Bellinda gave him.

"Good morning," he heard her say cheerfully, and she wasn't talking to him. He snorted. He didn't need to turn around to know the Waiora had followed him. "You must be Hinrik's father."

"My name is Woram, and this is Dynine, Hinrik's half-sister."

Hinrik sipped his tea as the Waiora offered the food they had brought and Keneith put it on the fire. He brooded while Woram repeated that it had been Kaline's decision to raise her son on her own.

"She had promised to tell him about me, but she obviously didn't do it," Woram said sourly.

"Maybe her son was a little stubborn and didn't want to listen to her?" Bellinda suggested with a smile.

"Ah, well, I hadn't considered that!" Woram sounded relieved, but Hinrik kept staring at his mug, frowning. "You are right, he's probably as stubborn as his mother!"

"Humans can be very stubborn," Keneith said. "What kind of magic do Waiora use – besides the obvious, water manipulation, of course."

"I think Hinrik already has hydrokinetic recovery," Woran answered. "He could learn liquid healing. We can cast spells of water manipulation – Dynine, here, is very good at it – and there's also ice magic, since you're going towards the cold weather. But it's all limited to manipulating already existing sources, not even I can create water from nothing."

"Maybe Dynine could come with us until the next Human town?" Bellinda suggested. "Or doesn't Hinrik want to talk to his half-sister either?"

Dynine giggled and Hinrik glared at her.

"He talked to us on the river shore," the young Waiora said. "I'll be very happy to teach him some water tricks," she added eagerly.

"I don't..." Hinrik wanted to snap at her, but couldn't. She had no faults of her own and looked sweet and nice. And he'd always wished he could have a younger sister. He snorted. "Fine!"

Dynine clapped her hands and then she hugged him, startling him. Her lips on his cheek were very soft. He glared at her, but that didn't deter her much.

"I will let her go with you up to Baes," Woram said. "It's the first town on the Ondan following the current."

"Sounds good." Bellinda grinned. "We'll take care of her!"

"Thank you." Woran squeezed Hinrik's shoulder. "Fare well, my son." He rose and left.

Hinrik heard a splash, then nothing.

"I will swim along," Dynine said. "I'm sure you'll camp on the river shore every night and before going to bed I can show some tricks to Hinrik."

"Are you sure you don't want to ride with us?" Keneith asked.

"No, thank you. I'll keep an eye on you from the river."

***

Bellinda awoke at the sound of Hinrik's moans, then realized they had come from his mind more than his sleeping body. The healer in her had been called upon by Hinrik's nightmares.

She knelt by his head and took it in both hands, putting her forehead against his and trying to dispel the bad memories that were still torturing him in his sleep.

"Do you need anything?" Keneith's voice came through the fog of the healing.

She raised her head but kept her eyes closed, still sending the golden powder into Hinrik's mind.

"Water. Throw water on his face."

Soon water splashed her, and Hinrik's bad dream dissolved in a mental scream.

Bellinda exhaled and pulled away, slumping in Keneith's arms.

"Take him to the river," she said before fainting with exhaustion.

When she woke up again, the sun was high outside their tent. Keneith was by the fire, keeping the water boiling for whenever she got up. He offered her a warm tisane, but the headache wasn't too bad.

"Where is he?"

"Still by the river. His half-sister is keeping an eye on him. He hasn't woken yet."

She nodded and sipped her warm beverage, then gave the mug back to Keneith. "Thanks, Ken."

He might be only a magic user, but by now he knew how to help her when she spent too much energy healing.

She went to the river shore and saw Hinrik lying on the grass with his head in the water. Dynine was holding his head and singing softly to him in Old Tongue – the language of the Magical Races. Small bubbles fizzled around Hinrik's head, and Bellinda recognized the Waiora healing power.

Dynine straightened her back as Bellinda crouched next to Hinrik.

"He's very hurt," the Waiora said gravely, her turquoise eyes full of sorrow.

"His body is fine, it's his mind that hurts," Bellinda replied. "Humans can be very cruel."

"He is also being cruel to himself by not accepting what he is," Dynine said.

"We'll work on that too." Bellinda smiled. "Wake him up, it's time we fed him."

Dynine nodded and took away her hands. Hinrik's eyes slowly opened and Bellinda offered him her hand to help him sit. His legs seemed to be a bit wobbly, so both Bellinda and Dynine helped him to go back to the camp.

"You should have called if you needed help," Keneith chided.

"I'm sure he'd be embarrassed if you carried him," Bellinda replied with a smile.

"Yeah, I wonder how he got to the river last night," Keneith retorted.

"How did I get to the river?" Hinrik asked, jarred.

"You sleepwalked," Bellinda told him, patting his shoulder. "Now eat and get back some strength."

Keneith shook his head but didn't add anything.

They didn't go any further that day, and soon Hinrik went back to the river shore with Dynine to learn some useful spells to keep himself fit with water healing.

Bellinda and Keneith stayed by the fire.

"He's messed up," Keneith said.

"And that's why I'd rather he thinks he sleepwalked than was carried by you."

"You're being overprotective."

"Ken, what part of he was raped didn't you get? I don't think he wants to be further humiliated by us."

Keneith snorted. "If he's so immature, it's also because he's been overprotected in the past."

"Why do you think he's immature? You're not a warrior, you don't know the consequences of war on men!"

"Bel, you're the only one who actually grew up with a real family and both parents supporting you and explaining to you what your mixed blood meant. I doubt Hinrik's mother knew anything about Woram, and the way the whole town rejected them both means Hinrik himself grew up as an outsider and has no idea of how to get back in the embrace of society."

"And what about you?" Bellinda stared at him.

She'd known him for ten years but he still had surprises for her. He didn't like to talk about himself and she didn't like to ask personal questions, which meant that for some things they were still barely acquaintances.

"I was an outcast. I was aware of my powers very early and I willingly stayed out of society. And then I left Kelvia and started looking for my mother, a long quest for which I don't see the end."

"You said you were a toddler when she left."

"Well, I was ten, which by Fajrulo standards is like being newborn. My father told me she was a witch, and I assumed I could be a wizard too, especially since I could so easily toy with fire. So at sixteen I went looking for schools of magic and then reached the west, where the Genn really helped me with my mixed blood, showing me how to combine both magic systems."

"Fire and Earth." She nodded, thoughtful. "Like they taught me Ether and Earth. Dynine is teaching Hinrik Water, maybe we should teach him Earth, since that's the Human magic part."

"Not until he gets rid of some of his angst – and the memory of the rape," Keneith said. "He'll have to stop feeling like a victim, and then I'll happily teach him anything he wants to learn."

"I don't know why you treat him like a spoiled teenager, Ken..."

"Maybe because I'm more than double his age and I can see right through him?" Keneith glared at her and she gaped.

"Ken, how old are you exactly?" she asked. She had always assumed they were more or less the same age.

"Fifty-five, and will live a lot longer than the normal Humans. And grow older much slower as well. That's what your father told me."

"Oh." She looked away and frowned.

She should have known. But Keneith had been the first half-Fajrulo she met, and she wasn't really prepared. She had Sila friends and even Waiora, since there were lakes and rivers near Havenstock, but Fajrulo were rare, and they didn't mingle with the other Magical Races. Only with Humans for some reason.

And then Hinrik and Dynine came back from the river with a whole basket of fish.

"We caught our lunch," Hinrik announced proudly. "Dynine brought some algae to spice this up."

"Thank you, Dynine, now you better help Bel to cook all that, because she's a hopeless cook," Keneith said with a grin.

Bellinda playfully slapped his shoulder and smiled at Hinrik. "Thank you, Hinrik. Sit down and let's make lunch!"

CHAPTER SIX

They traveled at a very leisurely pace along the Ondan. Hinrik was starting to like his travel companions, including his half-sister. None of them treated him as if he were different, and it was refreshing. He wasn't an outsider anymore.

The three half-bloods divided chores. Keneith and Hinrik set up the tent, Bellinda and Hinrik groomed the horses, Keneith gathered wood and lit the fire, Hinrik took care of water supplies and Bellinda made sure the horses were fine and healed their bruises if any.

Keneith, Bellinda and Dynine taught him how to feel the magic in his blood and channel it. Dynine took care of the Waiora side, Bellinda and Keneith advised him on the Human blood that apparently based its magic on earth.

Being busy experimenting meant he went to sleep very tired, since the magic was quite draining, and dreamed a lot less. Or maybe it was Bellinda and Dynine's healing spells. Or the days passing and slowly taking away the memories of the past.

Sometimes around the fire at night they told stories, although Hinrik mostly listened to them during those first days of travel. Even Dynine seemed to have a life more interesting than his, in spite of living underwater – or maybe for that reason.

Both she and Bellinda had a normal family and siblings, even though the Waiora didn't really have marriage ceremonies, while Keneith seemed to be more like him, an only child of a lonely parent.

"Actually, my father remarried at some point," Keneith said one night. "I even have a couple of half-sisters. That's when I left home, not because my stepmother was a bitch, but because I felt the need to find my own mother and figure out what my mixed blood meant."

"And have you found her?" Hinrik asked.

"No, not yet. But there's still a lot to explore. And I haven't met any other Fajrulo or half-Fajrulo either to ask them..."

"What will you tell her when you find her?"

"I don't know. If I find her, I'll improvise."

"I hope you will come back to the Ondan one day and visit us," Dynine said. "Father would be very happy to have you and show you around."

"I will come back... eventually," Hinrik promised her. He was growing very fond of her. "But first I need to figure out who I am and what I want."

"And when you know, you'll have to find the courage to prove your worth," Bellinda said. "But you must get used to your newly found independence first. And when you find yourself, you'll finally have the power to transform your life."

"And you might not need magic for that," Keneith added with a grin. "I'm a magic user, but what I want doesn't involve magic."

"And what do you want, besides finding your mother?" Hinrik wondered.

"That's a tough goal already." Keneith chuckled. "When I find her, I'll find another quest for myself."

"Quest for love?" Dynine asked. "Humans are usually obsessed with that."

"Maybe, but I'm half-Fajrulo. And I doubt the half-Genn here is looking for love either."

"I thought you might be a couple," Hinrik said.

"Only good friends," Bellinda answered. "We watch each other's back. And I don't think love is the solution to the world's problems, although a little more love in general wouldn't be too bad."

"What she means is she's not into romantic love," Keneith said. "And neither am I."

"So you didn't have anyone so far?" Dynine asked quicker than Hinrik.

"I had my teenage crushes." Bellinda shrugged. "Then I moved on. Healing people is more important than finding that special one who would stick by my side."

"I had my stories," Keneith added. "But none permanent. I may have sired a child or two as well..."

Dynine giggled. "I will soon have my first parigha nagho... and then we'll see if I find someone to spend my life with! Hinrik?"

"What?" he asked absentmindedly.

"Did you have someone?"

Hinrik blushed. "I had an unrequited love. She would have never looked at me. And that was a good reason to join the army and try to forget her."

"And get killed while you were at it." Bellinda smiled and shook her head. "Sorry we saved you."

"I was probably wasting my life anyway," he replied with a shrug. "Hopefully now I'll find a purpose."

"Fighting for your king and your country is a very good life purpose," Keneith said. "A lot of men live by that."

"But it's obviously not my real call," Hinrik replied. "I don't think I found that yet. I like the sword-dance, but real battles... not so much."

"I'm sure you could do some magic with blood," Keneith said. "It's liquid, after all."

Both Dynine and Hinrik stared at him, aghast.

"What?" Keneith said. "You manipulate liquids. Blood is a liquid, isn't it?"

"Magical Races are non-violent by their very nature, Ken." Bellinda chuckled. "You can't suggest a Waiora teaches her half-brother to kill!"

"He'll have to call on his Human blood for that," Keneith replied with a grin.

"I don't want to kill!" Hinrik protested. "Not if I can avoid it! I mean, self-defense is fine, but attack..."

"You're a trained warrior," Keneith said. "We'll see what happens when we reach the next town."

"Meaning?" Hinrik challenged.

"We'll see."

Hinrik was a little upset at the conversation, but Dynine sang him a Waiora lullaby that night. The melody had a soothing quality even if he didn't understand the words, and he slept soundly until morning.

"Baes is very close now," the Waiora said as they broke camp. "We'll have to part. I hope you'll keep your promise and come back."

"I will." Hinrik hugged her. "Thank you for everything you taught me."

"Stay safe in the Human world," she replied squeezing him. "You're in good hands."

And then she pulled away and gave him a small purse.

"This is what we gathered from the river. It should be a small fortune and keep you fed and clothed for some time, if you don't squander it," she said.

"Oh, thank you, but..." He was about to give it back to her, but she put a finger on his lips.

"We don't need Human coins. You do." She smiled. "We're happy to give them to you. Please accept this small gift from your Waiora family."

He nodded, speechless.

She grinned, gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran to the river where she dived, vanishing in a heartbeat.

Hinrik sighed, staring at the small purse. He opened it – it was full of gold coins.

"You're rich," Bellinda commented. "Hide that inside your tunic if you don't want to be robbed as soon as we get in town."

Hinrik gulped and quickly dropped the small purse in his tunic. He'd have to make an inner pocket, or maybe sew the coins in the hem or something.

He went back to packing, still a little upset by the gift.

"We'll sleep at an inn tonight," Bellinda said cheerfully. "A real bed at last."

Hinrik smiled briefly before saddling his horse. That was a nice thought.

***

Baes was an average town with stone walls and few gates. It had been built on the shore of the Ondan that was by now too wide to have a bridge crossing it, therefore there was a ferry service for whoever wished to go to the lands of the tribes.

The nearest tavern was a few blocks from the entrance, but it didn't have stables, so they were directed further down the main road to the Painted Harlot. The buildings were shoddily constructed and the streets poorly labeled, but the locals were friendly and helpful.

The Painted Harlot was medium sized and decently clean. The innkeeper was a matron who stared at them before grinning and welcoming them into her humble inn. Bellinda wondered if she was the painted harlot that had given name to the establishment, but kept the thought to herself.

The food variety was limited but decent and fairly priced. The rooms were small and mostly vacant, which meant Bellinda could have a single room all for herself. Keneith asked Hinrik if he wanted to share, though, and Hinrik nodded.

Bellinda had known since she'd left home that she'd spend a fortune on single rooms, but she also knew she could earn enough by healing people in towns. She could have asked Hinrik to pay for her room in return for healing him, but she had already decided that was a healing she'd have done anyway.

She got paid when she got paid. She was never going to refuse to heal someone who couldn't pay her. Rich sick people would pay for the poor. And since her healing powers worked on animals too, peasants and farmers could barter food for a healed cow or horse, which was fine with her.

She dropped her bag in the room and went back downstairs. The healthy crowd seemed mostly law-abiding and there were dancing girls in a corner. The noise was quiet but cheerful and she sat with Keneith and Hinrik to try the house roast beef.

The maid was very friendly, especially with the two men, so they got some information on Baes.

The town had one nominally elected official, thus it was more a city-state than part of any kingdom. It had a museum and beautiful new architecture on the southern side. The girl was particularly enthusiastic about the exceptional sanitation, probably thanks to the closeness of the Ondan.

They didn't have public baths, but they had local fighting schools and expansive markets. There was little crime and the guards were easily bribed. The guilds ran the city and the town's economy was based on farming and fishing.

"I would like to see the local fighting schools," Hinrik said, thoughtful.

"And then buy armor and all the warrior gear?" Keneith teased.

"You can win one!" the maid enthused. "There's the schools competition this week, and the grand prize is bronze plate armor and chainmail with a helmet, a battle-axe and a shield! If you can beat the local champions, that is."

Hinrik smiled. "I could try that!"

"So you are a warrior after all," Bellinda said, amused. "Games and championships are less dangerous than real wars, I guess. You might want to play in a gladiator ring if we find one."

"I don't know, we'll see how this competition goes," Hinrik replied.

The maid explained to him where he should go to sign up, then she was called to other tables and left with a sorry look on her face.

"I guess we're staying a few days in town, then," Bellinda said. "Before we go exploring, would you like to change your room arrangements?"

"Why?" Hinrik asked, puzzled, while Keneith chuckled.

"I don't mind sharing a woman," the wizard said, winking at Bellinda.

Hinrik gasped and looked away.

"I... I don't think I'm ready for that," he muttered.

"Then we'll keep her out of our room," Keneith replied. "I don't need to screw every being who smiles at me, you know?"

Hinrik exhaled. "Thanks."

Bellinda laughed. "How about we go exploring Baes, then? There may be brothels around."

"Why going for a brothel when we're at a harlot's place?" Keneith joked.

Bellinda noticed Hinrik's cheeks were still flushed red and shook her head with a smile.

"Let's go, I'm curious about the expansive markets."

"And my lady doesn't even like shopping, but she's darn curious," Keneith told Hinrik who smiled sheepishly.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hinrik slumped on the single bed with a sigh of relief. Keneith closed the door of the room and went to sit on the other bed, putting the oil lamp on the bed table between them.

"Thank you for doing this," Hinrik said, pulling himself up to take off his boots. "I don't think I could have spent the night with someone."

"I can tell you'll have to beat them away with a stick, now that they don't know who you really are." Keneith smiled. "Which might be good for your ego, and eventually you might find one you want to spend the night with."

"I don't know." Hinrik unbuckled the sword-belt and put it on the floor next to the boots. "I'm afraid I don't function anymore."

"Of course you function. Your body is healed. It's your mind that refuses most of what's happening to you."

Hinrik looked into those hazel eyes that seemed kind more than anything else. Keneith looked as if he really cared for him, in spite of having declared he didn't have feelings.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Keneith continued. "You survived for twenty-five years, it means you're tougher than you think. Stop blaming others for what happens to you, and everything will be all right."

"I'm not..." Hinrik stopped and pondered. That was exactly what he was doing – blaming his mother, his father, the people who openly despised him. Maybe it wasn't their fault, it was him. "I should probably start loving and respecting myself a little more," he admitted with a sigh. "But I can't find any virtue in me."

"We'll have to boost that self-esteem of yours, then. Do you think you can win those competitions? Without our help?"

Startled, Hinrik looked at Keneith's grin.

"Why, you would have helped me?"

"I don't like watching people get a beating. But prove to me you can win, and learn to love yourself. You're not the last of the down-and-out, Hinrik. You're young, handsome and strong. Believe in yourself and people will start falling all over you."

Hinrik had never thought that his not loving himself might be the reason why people didn't like him much in Salamar. He had indeed been complaining and playing the victim a lot in the past. His mother often scolded him because he couldn't stand up for himself.

"I never had a father figure to look up to," he said at last. "Can I come to you if I have doubts?"

"Sure." Keneith smiled. "I could be your father, but I'd rather be considered an elder brother, if you don't mind."

"Why, how old are you?"

Hinrik gaped at the answer. Keneith looked so much younger with his black hair and oval, clean-shaven face!

"Do you ever shave?" he asked shyly.

"No. Perks of being half-blood. You should know."

Hinrik scoffed and looked away. "That's why the bearded Varians did what they did. They said I didn't look like a warrior."

"And how many were they?"

"Five, I think."

"Talk about cowards... five against one. You're the warrior, not them. You'd have defeated them one-to-one."

"That's for sure!" Hinrik straightened his back proudly. "But they assaulted me all together. I was trying to help my wounded captain to get on his horse. They killed him and then toyed with me." His shoulders slumped again. "Everybody had run away and nobody came to help me..."

"But they didn't kill you," Keneith replied. "And Bellinda healed your body. You might want to go and look for them, but revenge sometimes is really useless. Just forget about what they did to you and move on. Learn to use your mixed blood also for protection, and you will never ever have to go through this again."

"Will you teach me?" Hinrik asked, hopeful.

"I'll do what I can," Keneith promised. "Now get some sleep. You want to beat them tomorrow or what?"

Hinrik smiled and nodded. Now he felt the tiredness of the day again. He lay down on the bed and stared at the wooden ceiling while Keneith put out the lamp. As darkness enfolded them, Hinrik rolled on his side and hugged the pillow.

"Thank you, Keneith. Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Hinrik..."

***

Bellinda didn't like watching men hurt each other – either playfully or hatefully – but she was worried for Hinrik, therefore she had to watch the competition. Luckily there was no tournament, only duels to prove swordsmanship and wrestling matches. And the duels were with blunt swords.

"He might get bruised, but not badly hurt," Keneith said, watching with her as Hinrik joined the students and teachers ready to confront each other in the courtyard of the biggest school. Younger students watched from the windows above the courtyard and the parents of the final year students lined the walls, leaving room for movement.

Bellinda and Keneith stood in a corner in the shadow of the building. The grand prize was set up behind the judges' table, with the helmet put over the pole where it hung and the battle-axe and shield on the wall behind it, probably attached to the iron rings that at night held the torches to light the courtyard.

"Which one is your son?" a plump merchant asked them.

"Our friend is the tall guy with strange blue eyes over there," Bellinda answered, pointing at Hinrik who was receiving his blunt dagger for the duel.

"I think he's going to fight one of the teachers," Keneith added. "What if he wins and they want to hire him?"

"Not everybody can be a teacher," she replied with a smile.

"Unless it's his true calling."

She nodded, thoughtful. She doubted Hinrik could be a good teacher. He was too much of an introvert to actually pass on what he knew.

The students dueled first, then the teachers showed off their skills. Hinrik stood his ground, although the swordmaster was more skilled. He couldn't win the duel, but when it was time to wrestle, he beat them all.

Bellinda had already seen his muscles, and now all the people in the courtyard whispered admiringly at the strong young man from Salamar – a city that for them could be at the end of the world, since most of them had never gone outside the walls of Baes.

"And it's only the first day," Keneith commented while a sweaty Hinrik joined them with his tunic on his shoulder.

"I need to go to the river," he said. "See you at the inn for dinner."

"What's the challenge tomorrow?" Bellinda asked.

"Archery." Hinrik quickly pulled on his tunic. "See you later."

He squeezed himself through the crowd and left.

"Don't you feel useless?" Keneith asked with a chuckle. "He went to the river to heal!"

"Of course, he's known water gives him strength for years." She shrugged. "Let's see if I can fix some of these bruised young men... Maybe some parents can even pay me!"

"Good luck. I'm going back to the Harlot, just in case Envana is there."

"I think she prefers Hinrik," she said, skeptical. The maid had drooled over the young warrior the night before.

"But Hinrik doesn't want her, thus Keneith scores." He winked and left too.

She rolled her eyes. Men! And then the pain from the bruised youth hit her and she forgot her travel companions.

***

Hinrik was quite happy with himself. He hadn't taken a beating on the first day of the competition and had won the archery contest on the second day. The maid at the inn kept staring longingly at him, but he wasn't sure he could do anything yet.

His body might be healed, but he still felt battered inside. Although the schools competition was boosting his confidence a little. Keneith was right, he needed to stand up for himself. He needed to trust himself more. He wasn't stupid and had had the same training as others.

What if he didn't need to shave? He was twenty-five, he was adult by Human standards. He shouldn't let anyone take him down only because of a lack of facial hair. And when it came to games and playful fights, he was stronger than many.

In Baes they didn't know he was the son of an unmarried woman and a magical being. They only saw him fight like a pro. And he was a veteran after all. He wanted to win that plate armor and chainmail, the helmet, shield and battle-axe, and he set out to reach that goal.

He accumulated points through the various games and eventually made it. The armor became his on the fifth day. He proudly wore it to go back to the tavern where the innkeeper, the maid and the dancing girls surrounded him and spoiled him for the evening.

He managed to leave the women outside of the bedroom, though. Keneith's amused stare made him blush as he undressed and put the armor and weapons in his travel bag – except the shield that stayed against the wall.

"We should leave tomorrow," he said. "You can pretend to be a lord and lady and I'll be your bodyguard."

"If you want," Keneith replied. "But we don't really need a bodyguard. Since you look so impressive in that armor, though, you might keep bandits and robbers away from us. That would definitely save me the energy to raise magical protective shields!"

"Is that what you did up to now?" Hinrik asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I have this bad habit of surrounding myself with a magic shield when I sleep. And it usually encloses my travel companions." Keneith grinned.

"Oh. But it's invisible."

"It wouldn't be a magic shield if it were visible."

"Right. Well, thank you for protecting us."

"In the wild, not in town, of course."

"Of course. Thank you."

"I did it for myself, not for you. Get your beauty sleep, champion, tomorrow we leave this town!"

Hinrik nodded and lay down on the small bed. "I like being on the road," he said as Keneith put out the oil lamp.

"And the adventure has just begun."

Hinrik grinned in the darkness. He looked forward to continuing his travels. He should have left as soon as his mother had passed away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They left Baes soon after breakfast and headed east on a road that crossed the forest. The horses had brand new shoes and seemed eager to be out of the cramped stables. The travelers had some fodder with them, but they'd better not tally until they reached the next town, Louxara. There wasn't much grass growing under the trees and the animals would fare better in a stable.

There were marshes and meres close to the unpaved road, so water wasn't a problem. Finding a dry clearing to pitch the tent and make a fire proved to be a little more challenging, hence the more hurried pace of the next leg of the journey.

"If we're going towards the coast, how are we going to keep the horses fed between towns?" Hinrik asked as they camped somewhere along the forest road. He glanced worried at Shytur.

"That's a good question," Keneith said. "I traveled on foot from Kelvia, so I only had myself to care for."

"Maybe we should resell the horses in Louxara and buy a wagon instead," Bellinda said, thoughtful.

"You'd still need an animal to move it," Keneith said.

"Why, can't you move it with your magic?" She batted her eyelids at him with her most innocent smile. He burst out laughing and shook his head.

"No, Bel, I'm not wasting my energies on moving a wagon," he said leaning towards her and winking.

She pretended to pout. "You're mean, Ken." Then she realized Hinrik had taken everything literally and stared at both of them wide-eyed. "We're joking, Hinrik. Do you think you could be a warrior without a horse?"

"Shytur isn't a war stallion anyway," Hinrik replied, relaxing. "But I'd miss him."

"You should really cut your ties with the past if you want to start a new life," Keneith said. "You were just a soldier in the Salamar army. Now you're the winner of the Baes fighting schools championship. And there was no horsemanship in those competitions."

Hinrik nodded, thoughtful, but didn't look happy.

"You don't have to sell him if you don't want to," Bellinda said. "He's your horse. But I guess our money will last longer if we don't have horses to feed besides ourselves."

"Should we go back to Baes's expansive markets?" Hinrik asked.

"Nah, I'm sure there's a market in Louxara too..."

***

Louxara was a small town built on the coast at the mouth of a river. It had wooden walls with weak gates and the nearest inn was near the entrance. The streets were in disrepair and the buildings had small backyards, including the Howling Mug Tavern that had stables in its own backyard.

Being on the coast, the economic base of the town was fishing and the main catch halibut. It was on all menus, either boiled, deep-fried or grilled. Hinrik wrinkled his nose, since he preferred salmon or freshwater shrimp, but the cook of the inn served it with an interesting sauce that made it almost good.

The inn was large, decently clean, but of rotten quality, with limited drink variety – to which Hinrik was very happy to prefer water – and poor food variety – nothing besides the halibut and a salad.

The rooms were fairly small and Keneith suggested they all took single rooms. Hinrik wondered if Keneith wanted company for the night, and then decided it was a good thing they took separate rooms. He was used to sleeping alone in his own house, but had shared tents and quarters when in the army.

The main room was crowded with many shady characters and most patrons were drunk and openly armed, which made him keep the armor on at all times – just in case. It was a good way to deter people from picking fights with him if he walked around in his armor with a sword by his side.

The innkeeper had a foreign accent, but seemed quite hospitable.

"Welcome to the town of rangers and thieves," he said upon seeing them. "How long do you plan to stay?"

"Not long, I'm afraid. Our horses need new shoes, do you provide that service too?" Keneith answered.

After lunch – the grilled halibut with the strange sauce – they went looking for the local market.

"How are we going to carry the tent?" Bellinda asked. "If we sell the horses, we should at least buy a donkey."

"Or a handcart. I could move a handcart with a simple spell," Keneith answered. "Of course someone should pretend to pull it."

"And one could sit on it when tired?"

"Yes, of course. Or we get rid of the tent too and simply sleep under the stars. It's the summer, we should be fine. And then we'll spend winter in some bigger town."

"And if it rains?" Bellinda wrinkled her nose.

Hinrik thought he wouldn't mind being soaked. But then, he was half-Waiora.

"Gee, Bel, you have a hooded coat, use it!" Keneith snorted.

"Why, won't you put a little magic shield over me if it rained?" she asked innocently.

He rolled his eyes. "You are trying my patience, Bel," he warned.

Hinrik stiffened, then relaxed. He should get used to the bickering. Those two obviously had some form of relationship. Not love, not sex, but still a relationship. It was both fun and frustrating watching them argue.

"Oops, we've cut out Hinrik again. Sorry, Hinrik." Bellinda smiled at him. She seemed to always know when he felt left out. Might be because she had healed his body.

"It's fine, I'm the intruder on this trip," he said with a shrug.

"We're traveling companions now. You shouldn't feel an outsider, ever," she replied.

"I'm fine, really. What do you think is the best thing we can do?"

"I think I'm going to sleep on it," Keneith said. "Tomorrow hopefully I'll see clearer."

"Agreed." Bellinda sighed. "I don't think we can sell the horses here anyway. I haven't even seen a place that sells fodder, although we might ask someone at the tavern..."

The local market didn't have any horse dealers, but they saw a stall of fresh produce.

"There must be farms around here," Bellinda said. "The forest might reach the river, but not the sea – not everywhere..."

"If there are farms on the coast, we should be fine," Hinrik said. "Our horses are for riding, they wouldn't be able to pull a wagon."

"You obviously know more about horses than I do." Bellinda smiled at him. "But then, I started riding when I left Havenstock."

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

"I was sick of the warmongering king that wanted to conquer the whole west. I was tired of healing his wounded soldiers. Like you, I don't like war. Our magical blood refuses violence."

Hinrik nodded, thoughtful, then the smell of crab meat skewers reached his nostrils. He saw an open stall that sold them in a corner of the marketplace. He headed there, followed by the other two.

"This smells really good," Bellinda said. "What is it?"

"Crab skewers," he answered, checking the different sauces available. One seemed to be familiar, so he asked for that one.

Bellinda also tried them, saying it was time for a snack. "They're good!" she said, impressed.

Hinrik tasted them and tears filled his eyes. They were just like the ones his mother made when she found fresh crabs at the Salamar market. A forgotten taste that made his heart flutter.

Miss you, Mother, he thought, chewing the crab meat slowly and tasting every drop of that special sauce. If only he'd asked for the recipe! But then, there were so many questions he had refused to ask his mother. And now it was too late.

Another stall had some maps, and without buying anything, Bellinda and Keneith consulted some, while Hinrik still savored the skewer. He had to buy another while they drove the nearby stall owner crazy.

"I think we can keep the horses until the next town," Bellinda said as he licked his fingers after the second skewer. "There's a stretch of forest, but then it's farmland and a very thin stretch of beach, apparently."

"Great." He grinned. "I'm happy to ride Shytur for a little longer!"

"You really like those skewers, huh? I mean, they're really good..."

"It's the sauce, just like my mother made them."

"Ah, I see." She smiled. "Well, you can have that for dinner and avoid another meal at the tavern. Those are much cheaper anyway."

"Let's have a look at the harbor, they might have more cheap food there," Keneith said.

Hinrik gladly followed them. He'd remember Louxara for the lovely crab skewers!

The harbor wasn't really a harbor. Hinrik wasn't too keen on setting foot on the ships he saw there. They were fishermen's ships, not merchants' ships. Louxara was probably far from the normal sea trade routes.

"Are you considering sailor life?" Bellinda asked him.

"No," he answered. "I grew up on dry land, albeit near water. I'm not ready to travel the oceans."

"And you're half-Waiora," Keneith commented. "So we'll have to keep going on horseback, I guess!"

"It's fine with me," Hinrik replied.

Bellinda groaned, but nodded.

***

The next morning they left the town. It was too small for any of them to find something to do, so they just hit the road again. The first stretch was through the forest, like Bellinda had seen on those maps.

She had a good visual memory, thus she didn't buy the maps in Louxara because she still remembered a Sila-made map her father had shown her that was much more detailed. She should have brought that, but she still hoped to find another one similar somewhere. Maybe in the bigger towns.

Then the road was blocked by a fallen log.

"An ambush," Keneith muttered as Hinrik looked around among the trees.

As if on cue, six men armed with battle-axes and nocked arrows surrounded them.

"My lords and lady, give us your money," the one-eyed bearded leader ordered with a smirk.

Bellinda raised her eyebrows. She looked forward to seeing their reaction when their arrows bounced off Keneith's shield.

Hinrik had obviously forgotten the magic shield. He unsheathed his sword and grabbed his shield. Before Bellinda could stop him, he slid off the saddle and attacked the closest outlaws with a war scream.

"Oh, drat," she muttered as Keneith rolled his eyes.

She grabbed Hinrik's reins before Shytur ran away at the sound of the battle. Keneith passed her the reins of the pack horse and she led the three horses to a thicket. She made sure they were tied up and wouldn't wander off, or worse, run away as the fight got worse before going back to the road.

The bandits concentrated on the warrior and knocked him out with the flat of an axe. Hinrik slumped to the ground and at that point Keneith decided it was time to get rid of them. He slid off his saddle, attached the reins of his horse to a low branch and turned to face the outlaws.

Bellinda sighed when he started shooting balls of fire from his hands, burning down one after the other. She glanced at the horses, and then crouched near Hinrik. She couldn't watch when Keneith went into battle-mode. He was worse than a warrior with his magic.

She blotted out the screams of pain of the bandits and concentrated on the bruises on Hinrik's body and head. Luckily he wasn't too badly hurt, just passed out.

As he slowly opened his eyes with a moan, the fight with the bandits was over and Bellinda's head didn't hurt too much. She sat on her heels and exhaled in relief, staring at Hinrik so she wouldn't have to see Keneith drop the charred corpses away from the road.

"Where are they?" Hinrik sat too quickly and almost passed out again. She helped him to straighten himself as he looked wildly around.

Keneith emerged from the undergrowth and stopped next to them.

"Is he all right?"

"Yes."

"And you?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are the bandits?" Hinrik asked again.

"They met a half-Fajrulo's wrath," Keneith answered. "I told you we don't need protection. There's no need to actually play the bodyguard, I can take care of myself and my traveling companions."

"Oh." Hinrik blushed and hung his head. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine, Hinrik." She caressed his shoulder. "You did what you thought was right. You'll have to remember we're not common Humans – none of us are. We are all very special in different ways."

He looked at her without raising his chin. She put a hand under it and forced him to look up.

"You will have to unlearn a few things, but there's plenty of time," she said. "Just don't get yourself killed, will you?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't think."

"It's okay, they didn't want to ruin that armor of yours, they probably hoped to use it themselves," Keneith said. "But maybe next time you won't be so lucky." He offered his hand.

Hinrik took it and stood. "Thank you, Keneith."

"Let's get away from here," Bellinda muttered, as a whiff of blood reached her nostrils.

The two men followed her eagerly to retrieve the horses that were on the verge of panic. The riders had to calm them before being able to climb into the saddle again.

Hinrik gaped when Keneith lifted the log off the road and threw it on the side with simple hand gestures.

"I thought one should recite something to make a spell work," he said.

"Not really." Keneith shrugged. "Once you've learned to direct your energy, you don't need words."

CHAPTER NINE

As expected, the coast had some farms spread out along it as soon as the forest ended. The horses found plenty of grass to graze, but not always water, although there were springs or ponds every now and then. Hinrik always knew where the closest freshwater supply was, though, so it wasn't too hard on anybody.

They managed to sleep in barns, paying for the horses and themselves, until they reached the town of Inex. It was large, with wooden walls and several large gates. The forest around it had been cut down to make room for fields and meadows, and to build walls and houses, leaving only a dark green ribbon in the background.

The beach was made of cobbles and the town had been built around several springs, therefore didn't lack freshwater in spite of the closeness to the northern sea. It seemed to have lavish temples and city parks, and the buildings had slanted rooftops.

The streets were full of pigeons and seagulls, and the nearest tavern was just beyond the entrance. They asked the very hospitable locals for directions and were sent to The Cowardly Dagger that also had stables.

Most citizens had longbows on their shoulders and Hinrik deducted this city must be famous for its archers. And from the smells that came from both private houses, palace kitchens and taverns, even the cooks must be exceptional. He wondered if he'd find more crab skewers in Inex.

The Dagger was large, rundown and decently clean. Everything was overpriced, but half the rooms were vacant. They had two sizes, small and medium. Again Hinrik shared a medium room with Keneith, while Bellinda took a small single.

The female innkeeper looked quiet. She was bulky and could probably keep the peace in her establishment. The crowd had a few shady characters that were openly armed, but didn't seem out for trouble.

The food was disgusting, so Hinrik said he wanted to look for a marketplace and see if there was street food available at a cheaper price and better quality. Bellinda still had in mind to find a decent map, so they headed out again, leaving the horses to the stable-boys.

Near one of the main temples, they found a shop that specialized in trap components – archers went hunting in the faraway forest but sometimes also used traps – but also had maps and adventuring supplies.

The shop was cramped, the interior well lit, messy, noisy. It smelled of herbs and looked quite inspiring. The prices seemed reasonable and the variety very good. The shopkeeper was a very overweight woman who had called out to them and eagerly welcomed them to her humble shop.

"My name is Juliasam, how can I help you today?"

Other occupants included another merchant, a cleric, a young woman and a vicious guard dog. No apparent affiliation to any guild, the helpful shopkeeper kept fussing around them.

"Maps," Bellinda said. "We would like to see your maps."

"Ah, maps! Talullah, show them the maps!" the fat shopkeeper called to the young woman who nodded and guided them to a corner where shelves held maps and other documents.

"I think now we're talking," Bellinda said, staring at the maps.

Hinrik looked over her shoulder. The maps seemed to be much more detailed than the ones he'd seen so far.

"How can they be so precise?" he asked, puzzled.

"It's easy when you see the world from up above," Bellinda answered absentmindedly. "This one covers the east and west," she showed it to Keneith, "but maybe we should take something more specific."

"There's one from the Ondan to the east coast," Keneith said. "See, they even marked Kelvia here."

"I'm sorry, but how can one see the world from up above?" Hinrik asked them.

"Those are Sila-made maps," Bellinda answered. "See the difference?" She grabbed another map that looked more like the ones Hinrik had seen everywhere else.

"Oh, I see!" Hinrik stared at the more precise map. "But the writing is done with a different pen?"

"Sila don't have an alphabet. The writings are either Human or Genn."

Hinrik nodded. One never stopped learning!

"You know a lot about Sila maps," the young woman who answered to the name of Talullah said, amused. She had long black hair and brown skin, like the southern populations that lived beyond the central massif. Even her name sounded like she came from the southern kingdoms. She had big doe eyes and very white teeth in a dazzling smile.

"I'm half-Genn," Bellinda answered, still staring at the maps. "Which one do you suggest, Ken?"

Keneith picked the one that showed the east. There was Salamar and Xendaria and Maxwetria and Kelvia...

"This is it. This is the one."

Talullah grinned. "My brother did that one. Well, duonfrato."

"Your what?" Hinrik blurted out as Bellinda stared at the young woman.

"Half-brother for Humans," Talullah replied.

"You're Sila," Bellinda said. "What happened to your wings?"

Talullah shrugged. "Accidents happen. Some don't survive. I did. Even wingless, I'm still here."

"It must be a challenge for a female Sila to live among Humans," Keneith said, serious.

"One gets used to it. Reaching the nests is too complicated now, although my duonfrato carries me to the dankotago ceremony every year."

"Do you work here?" Bellinda asked, glancing at the shopkeeper who was closing a deal with the merchant and would probably join them soon. "Can you meet us at the Cowardly Dagger tonight?"

"Sure. What for?"

"We'll talk tonight," Bellinda said quickly as Juliasam approached with a big grin.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes! We'll take this one, thank you!"

Hinrik waited until they were outside of the shop to ask, "What was the fuss about?"

"A wingless Sila," Keneith said. "Probably nobody knows she's a member of the Magical Races, so we don't want to give her away. The Sila, like the Waiora, mate every ten years. So it's like you and Dynine for her and her brother. Who probably glides outside the town walls at night to carry her to those meetings."

"What are those meetings?"

"Sila things," Bellinda said. "They celebrate the day of thanks for newborns once a year, since those mating flights are always at the same time. I'm curious to hear how she's faring among Humans!"

"Especially since Sila eat very little of the food available on the ground," Keneith added. "They feed mostly on clouds nectar."

Hinrik stared at them wide-eyed. He really knew nothing of the Magical Races. Especially the elusive Sila, the winged children of Air. He tried to imagine Talullah with wings.

"What color would her wings be?" he asked.

"The same shade as her hair," Bellinda answered. "I'm sure the accident meant she was mistaken for a demon..."

"Why anyone would think feathered wings, albeit black, belong to a demon is anyone's guess," Keneith commented. "I look forward to hearing her story!"

Hinrik was very eager to learn more about Talullah too.

***

Talullah walked into the Cowardly Dagger with the confidence of a resident. She even greeted some patrons before heading for the corner table where Bellinda, Keneith and Hinrik waited for her. She wore a long gown in the local fashion made of green linen, with enough cleavage to capture men's eyes. She had braided her long black hair, which showed off her neck and bosom more than in the shop.

"Where is this group of half-bloods headed?" she asked, sitting on the bench next to Bellinda and in front of the two men.

Bellinda could feel the scars on her back where her wings had been. She almost touched Talullah's back.

"There's nothing you can do about it," Talullah said. "A healer has already taken care of them."

"Does the dress give you any discomfort?"

"No, I'm used to it by now. I've been like this for ten years already."

Bellinda held her breath as Talullah's doe eyes turned to look at Keneith and Hinrik who were obviously smitten.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Keneith snapped out of his trance-like state and leaned forward on the table.

"To answer your first question, we don't have a specific destination yet," he answered. "I'm trying to locate my Fajrulo mother and Bellinda is sick of her warmongering king and Hinrik has decided he needs to see the world. As for the second question, we are curious to hear your story."

Talullah smiled. "I don't need protection from Humans, if that's what you had in mind," she said. "Like I said, I've been like this for ten years, and I've gotten used to my sorto."

"What's sorto?" Hinrik asked shyly.

"Destiny," Bellinda translated for him. "Are we correct to think the rest of Inex doesn't know you're Sila?"

"Juliasam knows." Talullah shrugged. "And so does my husband, of course."

"So you have a Human husband?"

"Yes, I married the man who saved me. Even though Sila don't really marry, since I'm bound to Earth now, I thought I might as well follow Human traditions. It was important for him and it didn't change anything for me, so I agreed."

"Please tell us the story from the beginning," Keneith said. "Can we buy you something while you speak?"

"I have eaten with my family, but some water would be great," Talullah answered.

Keneith signaled the maid and ordered a jug of water and some snacks for the three of them. They'd dine when Talullah went home. As soon as everything was on their table, Talullah began.

"I was captured by a sorcerer on the slopes of the central massif. Rodech wanted to use me to get in touch with Manusia, mistaking me for a demon. You've heard of the King of Demons, haven't you?"

All three nodded, including Hinrik. Belfi's twin was confined to the demons kingdom, and often silly Humans hoped to take some power from him. Keneith's scoff showed what he thought of those sorcerers.

"He cut my wings and tortured me until his apprentice, Myckim, freed me and killed his master. We tried vainly to re-attach my wings, it was too late. Not even the Genn hiding underground could help me, and they were full-blooded healers."

She looked at Bellinda who nodded, thoughtful.

"So we went as far away as we could from the sorcerer's lab and ended up here, on the northern coast... Myckim gave up sorcery, of course, so now he is a blacksmith. If you came on horseback, you might want to see him before you leave town. We were married in the main temple and now have two children, neither of them with wings. Once a year, Myckim accompanies me out of town for dankotago and camps away from the city with the children as if they were on a family outing until Winged Ashras brings me back."

"And you work at Juliasam's shop and provide her with maps," Bellinda said. "Were you a mapmaker too?"

"No, I was a singer," Talullah answered. "That's why I often sing at the temple or during public ceremonies. My singing skills paid for the trip to Inex where Myckim was apprenticed to the old blacksmith and inherited his shop upon his death."

"I assume singing and map-making are the Sila art forms?" Hinrik asked. "Because you don't have an alphabet?"

"Yes, we have music and poetry, oral tradition only. And unlike Genn and Waiora, we don't build anything."

"Much like Fajrulo who dwell in natural caves." Keneith chuckled.

"The Waiora are also great glass-makers," Talullah said. "I've seen some of their glass sculptures in Appleyard."

"I've never been to a Waiora town," Bellinda said, glancing at Hinrik. "Maybe one day..."

"There is so much to learn about the Magical Races," Hinrik whispered, obviously awed.

"Who is your Fajrulo mother?" Talullah asked Keneith.

"From her Human name, the Genn told me she's Bluestar, the last daughter of Bloodfire," Keneith answered. "Do you think the Sila know where her lair is?"

"Fajrulo move around, although they do so every few centuries. Skywise came back from Maadre a few years ago, she spent a century there and gave birth to the first queen, Amazonia... who is still reigning, by the way... I think you can meet her full-blooded daughter Starblazer on the mountains down east. She had her with Runedemon, who is..."

"Bluestar's brother," Keneith finished. "I wonder if the full-blooded offspring can find their parents."

"I doubt it, Ken," Bellinda said. "You know how Fajrulo are. They like Humans but they stay away from each other except for the very rare mating flights."

"And that's why there's so few of them," Talullah said. "Especially after all the dragon hunting of the past centuries. They obviously hide now. In fact Skywise brought Starblazer along to Maadre where she knew they weren't organized enough to be a threat to her baby who couldn't shift shape yet."

She looked at Hinrik. "So you're not only ignorant of your own blood, you ignore much of the others as well?"

"I was raised in Salamar where there are no Magical Races that I know of," Hinrik answered, blushing.

"There are some Genn every now and then," Bellinda said. "Fajrulo are dragons in their true form, but they can take Human form."

"Oh, I see." Hinrik stared at the table, ears still red.

"Don't worry, I can't shift shape." Keneith elbowed him. "I concentrated on other gifts and powers, so shape-shifting is not among my spells."

Hinrik gasped and stared at him, aghast.

"Yes, you have chosen a dangerous traveling companion," Talullah teased. "Never trust Fajrulo, full-blooded or half."

"Aw, Hinrik, don't listen to them. You are perfectly safe with me and Ken," Bellinda said. "Please, Talullah, don't add to his discomfort!"

"I'm sorry!" Talullah laughed and leaned forward to take Hinrik's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. You're young, you will learn."

"How old are you?" he dared to ask.

"I'm fifty," she answered. "But I know I look younger. In fact my husband is younger than me, but since he ages faster, soon he'll look much older..."

CHAPTER TEN

Hinrik dreamed of the rape again. The bearded Varian soldiers attacked him after he saw Winged Talullah losing her raven wings to the evil sorcerer. It had been two and a half months since that dreadful day and the nightmares had almost vanished – until now.

He woke up alone and his heart still beat faster than usual. Hearing Talullah's story had obviously reminded him why he was on the road. He wanted to go back beyond the Ondan and look up the men who had hurt him.

He didn't put on his armor and went downstairs for breakfast, and then went to the stables. Shytur welcomed his touch and he noticed the gelding needed new horseshoes. Therefore he better take him to the blacksmith – Talullah's husband.

He checked the other horses as well. Keneith and Bellinda obviously weren't that used to riding. Snorting at himself for having been so short-sighted, he went back to the inn. His travel companions were in the main room now.

"The horses are badly in need of horseshoes," he announced. "We'll have to find Myckim's shop soon."

"We will take them there today," Bellinda said. "Why are you so grumpy this morning? Talullah's story bothered you?"

"Yes. No. I'm just..." He snorted and sat down, but his stomach was clenched shut. "I had nightmares again."

"Finding them and killing them won't help," Keneith said, serious. "Trust me. I took my revenge and found it useless. Moving on is the only way."

Hinrik glared at him but nodded. "Let's go take care of the horses," he muttered.

His mood improved as he kept his mind busy with normal chores, like taking care of Shytur and the other animals. Myckim was a tall, bulky man with a tanned and clean-shaven face and a gentle smile. His blacksmith shop was under his home, so Hinrik saw Talullah again and met their children, which also helped improve his mood.

Watching the family of four interact made him feel out of place again, but he wasn't the only one. Bellinda was as serious and thoughtful as him, as if she were studying them but didn't really want to be like them.

Hinrik was confused again. If he only had to think about how to survive and what to do next, he was fine. If he tried to figure out his future, he got lost. He couldn't see himself doing anything useful or enjoyable.

Maybe he should really go visit his Waiora family, or dive in the oceans and see the underwater cities at the bottom of the sea. He was almost certain that there weren't cities in the Ondan or in freshwater lakes, but surely the ocean was something else.

"Why don't we go to the beach while Myckim works on the horses?" Keneith suggested. "Watching him work is boring."

Hinrik nodded. Luckily the forge was on the sea side of the town and the beach was only a short walk away.

There were fishing boats and small wooden piers on the first stretch of gravelly sand, but they walked down the sea shore, leaving the town behind.

The pebbles rustled under their feet. Bellinda started collecting nice round stones and empty shells, but Hinrik's eyes stayed on the waves. He could feel the ocean breathe. He wanted to dive in there and lose himself.

"You know it won't kill you, don't you?" Bellinda said as he stopped and stared. "But you could try its healing powers. It might help you to overcome the bad mood."

"The water is cold," Keneith said. "I wouldn't bathe in it."

"You're not half-Waiora, are you?" she replied with a smile.

Hinrik hesitated, then decided Bellinda was right. The ocean would heal him. He took off his boots and his sword-belt, then his tunic and breeches. He kept his underwear for modesty, but he could have dived naked if it weren't for Bellinda's presence.

He ran towards the highest wave and let it wrap him and take him down. He lost track of how long he spent between waves and currents, but the sun was much lower on the horizon when he finally emerged and walked back to the beach.

Bellinda had brought his cloak and a towel, so he was able to dry himself before dressing. Keneith was gone, probably bored by the wait.

The tide was gone too, and the pebble expanse was doubled. Near the town, the boats were now on dry land, leaning on their sides like after a shipwreck.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"I'm hungry," he admitted.

"Let's go back to the inn, then. The horses are all set, tomorrow we can resume our journey..."

***

A few more days along the coast, then the forest ended completely and the slopes of the mountains almost reached the sea. The pebbled beach gave way to cliffs and small stretches of sand. Cows and horses were substituted with sheep and goats.

There was still enough grass for the travelers' mounts and freshwater every now and then, but since the terrain was often rough, the horseshoes were quickly worn out. Luckily for the travelers and their horses there was the town of Mevy to replenish the food supplies and find a blacksmith.

A very small town with stone walls and very few gates, it had been built on the ruins of a much older city. It had well-stocked merchants and lots of sculptures and the buildings were mostly made of stone taken from the nearby mountains.

The nearest tavern was closed, but there was one not far away that had the stables they badly needed, including a blacksmith. Bellinda was really tired of having to care for her horse after spending the day in the saddle. She was really considering selling it and continuing on foot, or buying a closed wagon and new horses to reach Maxwetria.

But Mevy didn't look big enough to have horse markets, therefore she'd have to keep going until the next town. The streets were full of stray dogs and Bellinda hoped some of the roasted meat sold in open-air stalls wasn't actually dog meat, since there were no forests around the town.

The Rude Harpy Inn was large and decently clean. Of good quality, it had overpriced gut-rotting drinks and slightly overpriced rooms, both small and medium sized. Since most rooms were occupied, but the smaller ones were mostly free, they took three single rooms.

The food smelled good enough and was fairly priced. The main room was crowded with many shady characters that occupied most of the dark corners. The noise level was quite loud, but almost all patrons were sober, many being busy playing dice for money.

The innkeeper looked nervous and glared in their general direction as they entered. He wore expensive jewelry and looked more like a bandit than an innkeeper. But after they told him they wanted single rooms and accommodation for four horses, he became nicer at the sight of their money.

They had a quick meal of fried seafood and vegetable soup, then headed out again to explore.

"We really should buy a wagon, guys," Bellinda said. "I'm tired of the saddle."

"We'd still need to look after the horses," Keneith replied. "Unless you'd rather buy an ox."

"No, horses are better, but maybe we can deal with only two instead of four," she said, feeling frustrated.

"I want to keep riding Shytur, but a wagon would be better if winter comes," Hinrik said. "Sleeping in a tent is fine, but with rougher weather a wagon offers more protection."

"The winds are quite strong on the coast, and sometimes we've had trouble setting up the tent," Keneith admitted. "I'm sure we can exchange three riding horses for a draft horse and a small closed wagon. If not here, in Flean."

"And Hinrik can keep Shytur, of course." She nodded, thoughtful. "So let's see if we can find a bargain."

They were admiring some sculptures in the main square when someone stopped by them.

"My, isn't this Hinrik Kalineson?"

Startled, Hinrik turned around. Bellinda saw a pretty brunette of about her age who smiled openly at Hinrik.

"Lenore?" he asked with a shaky voice. "You haven't changed at all..."

"I'm impressed that you remember me," she said. "I thought you saw only Verena."

"You were my mother's friend," Hinrik replied, glaring at her. "Why would I look at you?"

Lenore burst out laughing. "True. I saw you grow up from scrawny boy to handsome teenager that promised to become a gorgeous young man, and then I left, because I was sick of watching you drool over Verena. Who, I'm sure, never saw you and married someone else."

Hinrik blushed and muttered something under his breath that must have been acquiescence. Then he looked at her again. "How come you're exactly like the last time I saw you, probably ten years ago?"

"I'm a witch, remember?" Lenore winked. "How is Kaline?"

"She passed away five years ago."

"And you're not a witch," Keneith said. "You're Starblazer."

Surprised, she focused on him. "My oh my, I have a half-blood cousin! My aunt and my mother seem to enjoy Human lovers so much, I wonder if I should try them!"

Keneith scoffed. "You mean you haven't yet?"

"I'm not even one hundred and fifty, and I'm not sure I can keep Human form throughout the act, so no, I haven't tried them yet," Lenore retorted. Then she looked at Hinrik again. "Although I'd love to do it with Hinrik if he stopped being obsessed with that silly girl."

"Uh, Lenore, you better leave Hinrik alone," Bellinda said, seeing Hinrik stiffen both in fear and surprise. "He's here because bad things happened in Salamar and I don't think a Fajrulo lover can help him at the moment. You might want to try someone else first."

"Is that so?" Lenore stared at Hinrik, but he refused to meet her gaze.

"Starblazer, do you know where my mother is?" Keneith asked, a little bluntly.

"No, I don't. I don't even know where my parents are for that matter." She shrugged. "Where are you staying and for how long?"

"Not long," Bellinda answered. "We need too refurbish our supplies and get new horseshoes on our mounts, then we're out of here. Do you know a place where we could find a wagon and a draft horse?"

Lenore stared at them, thoughtful. "I can't really ride horses, they're afraid of me, so I have a wagon to carry around my Human things... If I want to pass off as Human, I need to look like a peddler or a nomad of some sort..."

"You mean you didn't just vanish from Salamar to reappear here?" Keneith asked.

"You're funny, cousin. No, I didn't resume my real shape when I left Salamar, although I do resume it quite too often for my own good. So I hired a wagon with a driver and told him I would stay in the wagon and he shouldn't disturb me ever – then vanished like you say and flew forward to wait for him."

"That's a smart way of traveling." Bellinda chuckled.

"Pity the stupid driver was killed by bandits who also preyed on my things." Lenore shrugged. "I retrieved everything, of course, except the horse and the driver... and brought everything here by night."

"So do you still need your wagon? We may find a draft horse in town..."

"Not in this rat-hole, no. Get to Flean and you can buy a horse and wagon and trade yours and make a good deal."

Bellinda sighed. "Fine, thanks..."

"Will you have dinner at my house tonight?" Lenore asked, brightening again. "I'd be delighted to have you."

"We have rooms at the Rude Harpy," Keneith said.

"Oh, I cook better than that wretched Lydia! Come and try my roasted boar with baked potatoes!"

"Where will you get a boar?" Hinrik wondered.

"Up in the mountains there's plenty. It will be ready by sunset."

"How will you go to the mountains, hunt and cook by sunset?"

She caressed his cheek. "Honey, I'm Fajrulo," she whispered. "I'm not Human."

"Dragon," Bellinda added, making him gasp. "Her true form is dragon."

Lenore chuckled and nodded. She told them where her house was and repeated the invitation before waving them good-bye.

"Now it's up to you two," Bellinda said, grabbing both men's arms. "Ken, do you want to dine with your cousin? Hinrik, do you want to hear more about your mother's friend?"

She waited, but neither seemed too keen on answering, so she led them away from the busy main square so they could think in peace.

***

Hinrik was upset again. Seeing his mother's friend unchanged and so far away from home, and learning she wasn't Human was not a good surprise. Running away from Salamar and trying to leave the past behind wasn't really working either.

He frowned, trying to decide if he should go to Lenore's house or not. He also waited for Keneith to speak, since the magic user was older. He should probably make up his own mind, but for now he was still prone to following others, be it his captain or his travel companions.

Keneith sighed as they reached the harbor of Mevy. They sat on a deserted wooden pier, away from prying ears with their feet dangling over the water. Hinrik stared at the waves lapping at the logs of the pier and wished he could jump in and come back the morning after, when dinner time was long past.

"I guess we might as well see where she lives," Keneith said at last. "She won't help in my quest, but she's a relative, and at least my Human side is curious about her."

"I think I met her father," Bellinda said, thoughtful. "He calls himself Aedwyr the Minstrel and often showed up to sing and tell stories at the Varian court."

"Looking always the same?" Keneith asked, amused. "How often?"

"I don't think anyone noticed. You know how charming Fajrulo can be when they want to entertain. I was told in previous centuries he posed as a court wizard instead."

"Mm, yes, the wizard of Ker Eziel, the father of the King Sorcerer Kariel Bonecrusher, must have been all before Starblazer's birth."

"How do you know all these stories?" Hinrik asked, still uncomfortable at the thought of such long-lived beings that could shift shape.

"I must thank the Genn still hiding in the forest of Appleyard." Keneith grinned. "They told me a lot about my mother's race and helped me understand my own nature."

"So you were taught more by Genn than Fajrulo," Hinrik said.

"Yes, well, Fajrulo are hard to find." Keneith shrugged. "And even for me, they're not immediately recognizable. I had to concentrate on Starblazer to read through her. Luckily she was busy talking to you or she would have deflected me."

"So do you want to have dinner with her?" Bellinda asked, staring at Hinrik who sought the comfort of the waves again to lay his eyes on.

"I don't know," he grumbled. "Keneith said I should forget the past, but I guess one meal with a person who knows who I am won't really take me back in time, will it?"

"I know some Fajrulo can send you forward in time," Keneith said. "Back? I don't think so. Unless your mind falls for the memories again, but your body will definitely stay in the present."

"You mean Fajrulo could send my body forward in time?" Hinrik stared goggle-eyed at Keneith who chuckled.

"So I've heard," the magic user answered. "But what use would it be for you? Just to make sure you won't meet anyone who knows who you are? That would mean losing your Waiora family, and you said you don't have Human ties in Salamar anyway..."

"No, no, I don't want to go forward in time, I was just..." Hinrik couldn't believe the members of the Magical Races had such powerful magic. He shook his head and gulped, staring at the sea again. "I think I already cut all the ties with my past. Lenore was always kind to me and my mother, so she's not bringing bad memories back."

"Except for the teasing about your crush," Keneith commented.

"Well, she's right, Verena never looked at me and married someone else. She was the daughter of the lord that gave work to my mother. I was only the washerwoman's son, she was destined to marry a nobleman."

"Maybe if the washerwoman's son became a war hero, he could have hoped to marry a young lady?" Bellinda asked.

"I'm not a war hero," Hinrik replied somberly. "And I don't want to get married yet."

"Great!" Bellinda grinned. "So, are we going to the dinner or not?"

"I guess we're going," Keneith answered with a grin. Hinrik nodded.

They went back to the inn to wash and change clothes, then headed out again. The sun was setting and the tide came in, giving strength to Hinrik even if he wasn't close to the shore.

Lenore welcomed them with a smile. Her small house was only one room and it was filled with the smell of roasted meat. A whole boar was on the fire, almost ready to be served with a big bowl of baked potatoes.

They sat at a square table and Lenore served them the meat. She apologized for not having any wine in the house, but she'd rather drink water. Bellinda and Keneith weren't drinkers, so they were all happy with just water.

"You are a good cook," Keneith said after tasting the meat.

"I had a good teacher." Lenore grinned.

"Let me guess, Kaline?" Bellinda asked.

Lenore giggled and nodded. "What do you think, Hinrik?"

Hinrik had been waiting to taste the dish, but after the prodding he did cut a piece of meat. It melted on his tongue and again tears came to his eyes. His mother's recipe! Why were all his memories of his mother tied to food? Was she only his feeder that he couldn't remember anything else?

He looked at Lenore, chasing down the tears. "It's perfect," he said.

They ate almost in silence – Lenore might look like a woman, but she obviously had the stomach of a dragon, since she ate three quarters of the boar, while the one quarter for her guests filled all three of them – and then relaxed around the table with a fruit salad.

Lenore rose and went to a chest, coming back with a booklet that she put next to Hinrik's bowl of fruit.

"You can give this to your wife," she said, patting his hand. "I wrote down all the recipes Kaline taught me. I don't need it anymore, since I know it by heart by now, so feel free to pass it on."

"Thank you!" Amazed, Hinrik took the booklet and quickly went through it. Lenore had neat handwriting... and then he gasped, recognizing his own mother's handwriting in the midst.

"Yes, Kaline helped me fill it while I was in Salamar," Lenore said, amused. "I took it with me when I left as a memory of my friend."

Hinrik closed the book and pressed it to his chest. "Thank you," he repeated, touched.

"You're welcome." Lenore smiled. "You're Kaline's son, you deserve it more than I do. I wasn't there when she passed away... what happened by the way?"

Hinrik put down the book and hung his head. "A very harsh winter. She had to break ice to wash clothes and ended up with a bad cough, chest pains and fever that took her to the grave."

"Pneumonia," Bellinda deducted. "I guess Human doctors don't know how to cure it yet."

"There are no Genn healers in Salamar," Hinrik confirmed, eyes still low.

Lenore sighed. "Humans are so fragile... and so short-lived..."

"And that's probably why it's better not to attach oneself to any of them," Keneith commented.

"Fajrulo pride." Lenore smiled. "We're not as heartless as they picture us to be, Keneith."

"That's what I keep telling him," Bellinda said. "Thank you for the marvelous dinner, Lenore. Any suggestions for the rest of our journey?"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Flean was relatively small with no walls. It was built on the coast around three main roads, the one that went up to a pass and the two that went along the coast. It had beautiful ancient architecture and a gladiator ring.

The buildings were mostly made of stone, both to resist the strong winds and because there wasn't much timber around. The slopes of the mountains had fir trees, but no real forest to speak of. The streets were very wide and there were two open air markets, one for animals and livestock and the other for goods.

"I think we can find a wagon and a horse and trade ours here," Keneith said as they dismounted in front of the Drunken Star that boasted the best stables in Flean. "And Hinrik can earn some money in the gladiator ring."

Hinrik smiled and nodded. Bellinda was glad to see he had gained enough confidence to decide to accept another challenge.

The stables might be the best, but the inn itself was medium-sized, and had almost all the rooms occupied. Bellinda managed to squeeze herself in a very small room, and Hinrik and Keneith had to share again.

The food pricing was fair but of poor quality and limited variety, so Bellinda suggested they looked for something outside. The band played good music in the main room, but the healthy crowd was loud and rowdy and all three decided a breath of fresh air would do them good.

They needed to explore the city and figure out if they could do their trade or would have to find another blacksmith and continue to Aludin.

Flean thrived on trade both from the sea and from the main roads. Locals seemed very happy to con outsiders, but they were wary around a healer and a magic user. Keneith made sure to juggle with a couple of fire balls in the open to warn the locals that he could be dangerous, and Bellinda checked the suspicious illness of a seductive merchant who seemed to have many allies.

"It's nothing, just food poisoning," she assured him. "Did you attend a banquet last night?"

"Ah, my lady, I did! That blasted socialite... Thank you for healing me!"

"You're welcome. Can you give us information on the gladiator ring?"

"They fight every five days," the merchant explained eagerly. "You will often find our obnoxious guard captain who has been talking of changes among the fighters there. She seems to have little trouble with obvious enemies and likes to confront them in the ring. Rumors say that she strongly dislikes traders."

"And can we bet on someone?" Keneith asked.

"You sure can! See that extravagant trader over there? He's suspiciously free with money and likes to bet on lost causes. Rumors say that he has plans involving priests."

"So the religious influence is above average here," Bellinda said. "Too bad we're not too keen on any religion."

"You should stay for a few days! A festival is coming! Even if you don't care about our gods, there will be dancing and singing and more fighting in the ring than ever!"

"What does one win at the ring?" Hinrik asked.

"I'm not sure. Prizes change every time. Depends on who sponsors the fights."

"You won't be sponsoring this time?" Bellinda smiled at the stocky merchant. He sold pastries from a handcart that opened to display wares.

"I will be selling snacks to the audience," the man answered, bowing at the waist.

"We better go check the rules and whether you need anything for the fights," Keneith told Hinrik who nodded.

"The young man will fight?" the merchant asked. "He looks well built, he probably has very good chances!"

"Thank you." Hinrik smiled. "I will try."

"I will come and cheer for you," the merchant said, waving them good-bye.

"Do we have enough money to stay for a few days?" Hinrik asked. "If there's no money prize, I won't stay until the fights."

"I have enough for the room and food, and we still need to find the other market to see if we can trade in our horses," Bellinda answered. "What about you, did you finish all your coins?"

"No, I still have some hidden among my things. Dynine's gift is still mostly untouched. Let's find the ring and the market and decide what to do next."

"Sounds like a plan." Bellinda smiled fondly at him. He was definitely gaining confidence. He even stared pensively at a brothel's sign.

"We could go there tonight," Keneith said.

"I'll go there to celebrate if I win something at the gladiators ring," Hinrik replied. "Not wasting money on something I can probably have for free anyway."

"I bet you could!" Bellinda grinned. "Maybe the maids at the Drunken Star will happily keep you warm at night!"

"Maybe, and only one at a time." Hinrik smiled.

"The only way to have two women in your bed is if they let you watch as they make out," Keneith said.

"Keneith!" Bellinda and Hinrik exclaimed at the same time. Then all three burst out laughing.

***

"I'm betting on your victory, so you better kick some ass," Keneith said, patting Hinrik's shoulder.

The sky over the arena was gray and everybody hoped it wouldn't rain so as not to spoil the fun. There had already been a quick summer shower the previous night that had spoiled the singing and dancing in the streets.

The audience sitting around the ring had some form of protection from sun or rain, but the arena was in the open and the ground would become muddy and slippery. Which could be an advantage for a half-Waiora, Hinrik thought.

He had donned his chainmail and bronze plate armor, his conical helmet and his round shield, but he'd been given a mace instead of the sword. Hits were supposed to go on the protected parts or shields, but sometimes accidents happened.

Bellinda sat by the judges, ready to help any badly injured fighter. Next to them there was a table where bets were taken, and Keneith stood right there, watching over the shoulders of the bookie.

Hinrik joined the other fighters in the ring. They all stood in two lines facing each other almost randomly and at the signal they charged the man in front of them. There were also two women – the  guard captain and a warrior woman from the tribes' lands – who fought each other at first.

The clang of maces on shields and armors was deafening, but Hinrik managed to take down a couple of opponents. As soon as one was down, each fighter looked for the next challenge, always one-on-one.

The guard captain scowled at him before attacking. She had great muscles for a woman and exceptional strength. Maybe she also had some kind of magic blood – possibly demonic from the viciousness of her attacks.

Hinrik had to retreat a little, and then she swung her mace and made his helmet fly.

"You should surrender," she challenged. "You can't keep fighting bare-headed."

"Why not?" he replied. "You're not supposed to hit me where I'm not protected."

She bared her teeth and attacked again with a war cry. He raised his shield and blocked the blow, while swinging his own mace and hitting her breastplate from below, taking her breath away. It was her turn to back away to catch her breath.

"Change partner," she muttered.

He nodded and went to look for another opponent. He found a bulky fighter who pounded his shield so hard he had to let it go. A blow on his plate left him breathless and he collapsed, panting. He needed to take off the dented armor or he couldn't breathe.

He had only his chainmail left, and the mace. The shield badly needed a blacksmith, and so did the plate armor. He wondered if he should retire and apologize to Keneith for not winning. His muscles ached from the exertion and he was feeling like outside the walls of Moriana – a lost battle of some kind.

And then it started raining.

***

"I think you've lost your money," Bellinda said, leaning towards Keneith. And then the few drops turned into a downpour and Keneith grinned.

"I think I've just won my bet." He fished a gold coin from his purse. "Everything on the victory of Hinrik Kalineson," he told the bookie who gaped at him.

"It's your money," he grumbled, writing down the bet.

The arena was soon soaked. Bellinda watched as Hinrik looked at the sky, then closed his eyes and opened his mouth, drinking the rain.

Soon he was back on his feet, energized by the cold shower, and went back to fight in spite of having lost most of his protection. But what made other fighters clumsy, made him faster and stronger, and he took down the remaining combatants with well-placed blows.

He screamed in victory, raising his arms and shaking his mace, again drinking the rain as the last man standing. Bellinda smiled seeing the rain dance around Hinrik as if to celebrate him.

"Did you just help him?" the bookie asked, staring suspiciously at Keneith.

"I'm a fire wizard," Keneith replied with a smile. "It's raining. How can my magic help anyone?"

"Right." The bookie muttered under his breath and started counting coins.

Bellinda and Keneith exchanged a smile. They were very proud of Hinrik.

The champion sauntered to the judges' stall under the pouring rain with a dazzling smile. Bellinda had never seen Hinrik smile like that. He seemed to be finally happy, finally himself. Even the bruises he had suffered during the fights seemed of no importance.

"Well, young man, you're a fine fighter," one of the elder judges said. "Where are you from?"

"Salamar."

"They teach you to fight under the rain in Salamar?"

"No, not really. It's not as rainy as here down in the plains."

"Well, congratulations, champion..."

The prize was a purse of silver coins that would pay the blacksmith and more. Hinrik joined Keneith who showed him an even bigger purse.

"We're almost rich now," the magic user said with a grin. "I had no doubts you could win this game."

"Thank you, Keneith. But I was about to retire when it started raining..."

"Glad you didn't and let's thank the god of weather." Keneith put one arm around his shoulder. "How do you plan to celebrate?"

"I have so much energy still coursing in me..."

Bellinda could see it, the adrenaline had not faded. Water had given him a high that wasn't fading yet. She could tame that energy with her healing touch or let him give vent to it in a more natural way.

"Ken, take him to the brothel. I'm sure he'll make lots of women happy. I'll take care of the wounded here."

"Get your armor and shield, Hinrik, we'll drop them at the blacksmith on the way to the brothel..."

Hinrik nodded eagerly. Bellinda watched them go and sighed. Hinrik was healing. Maybe soon he'd be on his own again. Or maybe not. She really hoped he'd stay with them a little longer.

***

Hinrik was very happy. The brothel treated him to a luxurious bath chamber where three young women kept him company. He never had sex in water before and it was wonderful. He could never tire of it, since his element gave him back his strength.

At some point hunger drove him out of the pool and into a bedroom, where more young women fed him and spoiled him until he was naked again on the big mattress with soft sheets. He crumbled to sleep well after sunset, finally exhausted by the long harsh day.

He dreamed of Verena. They were on the shores of the Ondan and she pouted when he told her he loved her. Then Dynine emerged from the water and told him he should come and meet other Waiora.

Hinrik dived and water wrapped around him like a blanket. He saw his parents meet and mate on the shores of the Ondan. He saw his mother washing clothes and singing with her big belly. He saw himself as a child with her. Water was making him live his life again in quick waves that washed everything away.

He saw the drops of water draw for him on the windowsill. He felt the energy of water inside him. He understood how he could manipulate mud and any liquid near him. His angst and loneliness slowly faded out and finally he slid into a dreamless sleep.

***

Hinrik lay belly down on the big bed, naked. Quite a sight, Bellinda thought. The ladies who had kept him company were gone and so were all the silver coins of his prize – half gone to the blacksmith and half to the madam.

Bellinda closed her eyes and leaned to pass her hands over Hinrik's body. She could feel all his curves and sent her golden powder to a cracked rib and a big blue bruise on his thigh.

"Wouldn't you like to actually touch him?" Keneith asked. He'd been watching her as usual.

She opened her eyes and straightened to glare at him. He shot her an impish smile and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Should we wake him up?" he asked again.

Hinrik stirred at the sound of his voice.

"Maybe he needed more rest," she chided.

"He caught up on the past three months in one night, but I'm sure he's perfectly fine," Keneith replied as Hinrik's eyelids fluttered open.

Hinrik propped himself up on his elbows and stared sleepily at them.

"What time is it?"

"It's the morning after," she answered. "Your prize money is gone. But you have a brand new armor and shield, and made a lot of women happy."

"Do you remember any of it?" Keneith added, amused.

"Yes, I do remember." Hinrik shook his head to clear his mind. "Give me a moment, I'll be with you soon."

"The madam said you can go to the pool one last time before leaving, and you'll be alone," Bellinda said. "We'll be at the Drunken Star."

"Thanks." Hinrik hugged the pillow. "Did you get my armor as well?"

"We sure did," Keneith answered. "When you're ready, we can leave Flean with honor. And I can lend you some of the money you made me win, if you need anything."

Hinrik guffawed and hid his face in the pillow. "I'm fine. I still have money. See you at the Star."

"Bel, I think he won't get up while you're in the room, so let's get out of here, or we'll wait all day."

Bellinda raised her eyebrows and stared at Keneith's grin, then looked at Hinrik who was also smiling, still clutching the pillow.

"Men!" She rolled her eyes. "One heals them and they won't even allow a glimpse of their bodies!"

"Thank you, Bellinda." Hinrik's voice was shaky.

She shrugged and headed for the door. "See you later."

She liked his modesty more and more. She should have joined the women who had enjoyed his company the night before. Although sharing him was out of the question. Ah, well, there were more days ahead...

CHAPTER TWELVE

Hinrik left Flean feeling at peace with himself and the world. He thought he knew what to do with himself now. He had sold the armor and shield, and kept only the sword. He wasn't made to fight, not even in games and championships. He didn't think fighting was fun.

He had felt the power of water. He remembered what Keneith had said, about channeling the energy without reciting any magic spell. He could manipulate water and maybe do something beautiful with it. Like ice objects, that wouldn't last, but would be nice to behold.

He hadn't said it out loud yet. He was still pondering. He was riding Shytur next to the small wagon they'd bought in Flean that looked like two attached cubes on wheels with a door at the back and a place to sit at the front to drive. It was pulled by a big draft horse that had more strength than the three animals they'd left behind.

They might be slower now, but they were in no hurry to go anywhere. And traveling with a wagon meant they could be itinerant entertainers. Keneith could juggle his balls of fire, Hinrik would do the sword-dance and his water tricks and Bellinda... well, they needed a woman to catch the attention of a male audience, so she could be there too.

"My, aren't we quiet, oh champion!" Bellinda sat at the front of the wagon with Keneith. "Still thinking about your victory? Or still tired from the night that followed?"

"I've been thinking," Hinrik answered. "I think I found my calling. I mean, I felt so alive under the rain... it was invigorating!"

"And then you sold your armor, which means you won't do it again," she said with a chuckle.

"No, I don't want to fight anymore, whether in war or in an arena. I've been thinking about manipulating water instead. You know, like Keneith's tricks with fire."

Bellinda raised her eyebrows, skeptical. "So you want to be an entertainer instead of a warrior?"

"Why not? If it pays for food and shelter..."

"I'm not sure I want to play the jester," Keneith said. "But I'll be glad to keep betting on your victories." He shook his still jingling purse with a grin.

Hinrik rolled his eyes. "No, I don't want to fight anymore," he grumbled. "I joined the Salamar army because I thought I had no other option. But it wasn't my true calling. Now, you don't have to do what I do, I just thought I'd try something different to make a living."

"We'll think about it," Bellinda promised. "I'm not too keen on shows myself, but if I can find a deck of divination cards that I like, I can try to read people's futures. Probably by reading their body's health, I can predict how long they have to live."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Bellinda the fortune teller," Keneith proclaimed.

Bellinda rolled her eyes and Hinrik smiled.

"It was just an idea," he said. "We can think about it, of course."

Keneith scoffed and shook his head, but Bellinda nodded, thoughtful.

That night they camped in the open. Not having to set up a tent was a welcome novelty, but they still had two horses to take care of. And possibly catch a hare or some other wild animal for dinner, unless they wanted to start using their supplies.

Inside the wagon there was barely room to lie down side by side. Actually Bellinda lay on a long chest that could be used also as a bench and contained all their things – spare clothes, winter cloaks, cutlery and pots neatly stashed inside.

"I kind of like this house on wheels," she said as they sat around the fire, trying to figure out what to eat since no animal had come near them.

Night was coming quickly and at least there was still light around the fire. And warmth. They had found a place protected from the gale that came from the sea and the bulk of the wagon had practically closed the small clearing, allowing them some respite.

"If it rains tonight, Hinrik can sleep outside," Keneith said.

Hinrik smiled but shook his head. He could sleep in the water, but he'd rather be in the wagon for now. He watched the water boil in their pot and wondered if he should go looking for fish in the nearby stream.

"We have dried meat and dried vegetables," Bellinda said, rummaging in their supply pack. "And some herbs to season everything."

A voice speaking in a foreign tongue startled all three. Hinrik gasped as someone stepped into the light of their fire, holding two dead hares by their ears. Obviously male, but not Human, the newcomer had brown skin, pointed ears and big bat-like wings. He wore a loincloth and was barefooted. One might wonder if he were a wild thing, but since he spoke and didn't have a threatening stance, one could assume he was an intelligent being of a never-seen-before race.

Hinrik's hand went to the hilt of his sword, but this time he waited for Keneith to make the first move. Bellinda was very still and stared at the newcomer with a confused look on her face.

Keneith answered in the same language and Hinrik could tell Bellinda understood them since she asked a question and then signaled the being to pass on the hares.

Hinrik relaxed and let go of his sword-hilt as Keneith gestured to newcomer to sit with them. Hinrik assumed some kind of introduction was made, but couldn't understand a word. The newcomer looked young and so alien Hinrik wondered what he actually was.

As the other three spoke, Hinrik quickly skinned a hare and gently nudged Bellinda.

"Who is he?" he whispered.

"Ken's half-blood cousin," she whispered back. "Half Sila and half Fajrulo. His name is Raykim."

The half-breed was grinning, but then his shoulders slumped at a comment from Bellinda.

"He could be part of the show," Hinrik said.

The newcomer looked even more lonely than he'd been. And he knew what Raykim was going through, obviously cast out by everyone because of his strange looks. It wasn't just the eye-color, or the unknown father, it was all of him that screamed different.

"Why don't we set up something and travel like some sort of itinerant circus?"

"I'm not a jester!" Keneith repeated, snorting.

"Of course you are. With your Fajrulo humor," Bellinda teased.

Keneith glared at her. "Not funny, Bel." And then he translated for his cousin who looked hopeful again.

"What language is that?" Hinrik asked Bellinda.

"The Old Tongue spoken by the Magical Races. Having been on his own until now, Raykim hasn't learned the Human dialects yet." She stared at him. "And you have never learned the Old Tongue because you never spent enough time with your father."

Hinrik blushed and passed her the skinned hare.

Raykim startled him by putting a hand on his cheek.

"Speak," Keneith said. "He might be able to get your thoughts."

"Well, we have a wagon, so you could hide in there during the day," Hinrik said hesitantly. "And then at night you come out and take part in the show. We can come up with something. We'll say it's props, it's your costume, and nobody will fear you. We could do a short play with four characters and..."

"Now we're becoming actors?" Keneith shook his head, incredulous. "Hinrik, are you out of your mind? What happened to the shy and grumpy half-blood that left Salamar with us?"

"He is gone," Hinrik answered proudly. "It was just an idea, like I said, you can always come up with something better!"

"It's good to hear you having some initiative," Bellinda said, amused. "We can work it out, I guess."

Raykim's joy and hope at the prospect of traveling with them were so obvious to all, that Hinrik hoped Keneith wouldn't be so heartless to refuse his cousin's company.

***

Under the sunlight, Raykim's hair was cobalt blue like his wings. So the Sila trait of having hair the same color as wings had been translated into the Fajrulo dragon wings, giving Raykim blue hair. He had yellow eyes under the blue bangs and no fangs to speak of. The blue hair covered the pointed ears and his neck.

If only he could get rid of his wings, with a hooded cloak he could easily mingle with Humans. Unfortunately even folded, the wings would make such a hunchback on his tall and slim frame that he'd still look like a freak. And his face was clearly young, therefore even more strange to accept.

Bellinda thought he looked a lot like Keneith, in spite of the obvious differences. He had the same shape of eyes, albeit with a different iris color, and the same shape of lips. His skin was slightly darker only because he probably spent a lot of time outdoors and the sun had tanned it. And he was much younger, boyish in all his body shape.

Raykim was only twenty, therefore he was the youngest member of the mismatched group. And being half-Fajrulo and half-Sila, he grew up slower than Humans, therefore he sounded a lot like an excited teenager who had finally caught the attention of his elders.

He was very sweet, but Bellinda wasn't surprised Sila and Humans feared him based on his looks. The dragon wings were impressive, especially when he opened them to fly off. After only one day confined inside the wagon, he had decided he'd rather ride on the flat roof if they were away from towns and lone farms, squatting down if they happened to cross someone so he wouldn't be seen from the road.

When they reached Aludin, though, he had to hide in the wagon again to get into town. The stone walls had few gates and there were some guards who let them in without fussing. Aludin was average-sized, with lavish temples and gardens. The buildings were close together and the streets were slightly overgrown with weeds.

The economic base was of course fishing. The town was governed by an elected council, and the elections were open to all, although the major influence was the criminal element. Aludin was famous for its wizards' schools and its assassins, but the overall corruption was below average.

The nearest tavern was a dozen blocks from the entrance, but since they now had a wagon, the travelers asked where they could camp and were directed to the public park behind the main temple.

They found a spot where the door of the wagon was hidden behind bushes, so Raykim could get out as soon as the sun went down, and the horses had plenty of grass. There was even a stream running between the temple and the park.

"Should we challenge the local wizards?" Keneith asked before they set off to look for some real food. "That could earn us some coins and Hinrik could practice his magic."

"Why not?" Hinrik replied. "I mean, is there such a thing?"

"Magic schools tend to have challenges much like fighting schools," Keneith answered. "Maybe we should first figure out what kind of magic they teach here."

"If it's Human magic, it's no match for any of you," Bellinda said. "Although there might be some other half-bloods around."

"Let's go to the nearest tavern to gather information," Keneith said. "Raykim, wait here."

His cousin sighed but nodded, closing the wagon's door. Luckily sunset was only a couple of hours away.

The Hungry Snake was large and somewhat grubby but decent. The drinks were limited, gut-rotting and low priced, the food was very limited but decent and dirt cheap. Bellinda wondered if she should get herself a room to have some privacy after a few days on the road, since the prices were low and most rooms were vacant.

The main room had only a few customers with some shady characters. Half were drunk and half openly armed, and the bartender looked quite irritable. He glared at them because they interrupted his games with patrons.

They pacified him by ordering the house special, a dark brown drink with green swirls and a grape floating in it. They sat at a table with a scar-covered paladin who scoffed at the sight of their goblets.

"You know, the recipe is rumored to include dog hair," he said.

"It smells like the sea," Hinrik said, sniffing the liquid.

"And tastes like an explosion," the paladin replied.

"Hinrik, why don't you try to turn this... thing into water?" Bellinda suggested, not too keen on tasting the strange drink.

Hinrik frowned at his goblet and concentrated. The liquid stirred and swirled, then stilled. Hinrik took a sip and grinned.

"Water for the lady," he said, offering his goblet and taking hers to do the same. Keneith quickly passed him his own goblet too as the paladin stared at them wide-eyed.

Bellinda drank the cool water and sighed in relief. "Would you like some?" she offered the paladin who quickly shook his head.

"Are you wizards?" he asked, wary.

"Probably," she answered pleasantly as Hinrik passed the second goblet to Keneith. "Drink before you do the third," she told him offering the still half-full goblet of water.

Hinrik downed it, grateful, before transforming the third beverage into water and pouring half to refill Bellinda's goblet.

"What can you tell us about the local magic schools?" Keneith asked the paladin.

The paladin took a deep breath and touched a small white gold charm, with a dragon and an arrowhead on the front and nothing on the back, that hung from a chain around his neck. He had bright blue eyes and a tall, solid build.

"Since the young man over there turned the gut-rotting drink into water, I thought he could be one of the new students of the smallest school of the city," he said. "Madness, water and offensive spells are strongly associated with this craft. It uses runes in spellcasting and practitioners suffer from frequent illnesses."

"I'm a healer and I can assure you Hinrik is perfectly fit," Bellinda said. "And did you see him use runes? No. Because we don't need them."

The paladin stared goggle-eyed at her.

"Now you sound like the practitioners of the second school! They have farseeing, healing and curses as specialties. They use astronomy to access power. They usually learn by pilfering the spellbooks of other practitioners and are unusually long-lived."

"Um, no, I don't use astronomy to access power and I didn't learn from spellbooks," she assured him. "And I might be unusually long-lived, but that's because I'm a half-blood. We all are. So you have two magic schools in this town?"

"Three actually." The paladin gulped, but his goblet was empty. Keneith offered his water and the paladin downed it. "The third school is actually the most dangerous. Fire, chaos and control are strongly associated with their craft. Practitioners study for years. They use spoken spells and sacrifice to access power."

"Sounds like they're trying to get in touch with the Dark Lord, Manusia," Keneith said, thoughtful. "Although I don't feel his presence much on this side of the world. Maybe they'd be more effective if they moved to the plains."

"And then Belfi would close the school immediately." Bellinda chuckled. "Is that all, sir paladin? Would you like me to take care of your scars?"

"No!" The paladin looked horrified. He grabbed his empty goblet and stormed to the farthest table of the main room.

"You scared him!" Hinrik said as she burst out laughing.

"We all did," Keneith replied, amused. "You too, Hinrik. How dare you turn a disgusting beverage into plain water?"

Hinrik smiled. "So, what do we do? Challenge the schools or just set up our own little show?"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When he was finally allowed out of the wagon, Raykim raised a good point. In the past few days he had showed his non-Human nature by absorbing the language from Hinrik and learning it so quickly it felt like magic. Hinrik despaired he'd ever be this good with the Old Tongue, but then Bellinda had told him that all the Magical Races could speak the Human dialects – even the Sila who mostly avoided dealing with Humans – therefore he didn't need to learn it and should concentrate on other things instead.

"What tricks can you do with water?" the young half-breed asked Hinrik. "Besides the happy dance of raindrops and changing gut-rotting drinks into water, I mean."

All four sat on the grass by the wagon under the stars. Keneith had put a small ball of fire into a bowl and its light flickered on their faces. Raykim had eaten on his own and had been eagerly waiting for them to come back with news about the schools of magic.

Hinrik pondered. "I was thinking of doing ice objects by freezing water and shaping it, but I've never tried it, so maybe I should practice a little, first. What tricks will you do, Raykim?"

Raykim patted his lips with his index finger as he thought. "I don't know, what would amuse and not scare the Humans?" he asked at last.

"You can play with fire and air," Keneith said. "Except air, much like ether, is invisible. I will let you be the king of fire if you want."

"So what will you do?" Bellinda asked.

"Like I said, I'm not too keen on showing off my skills," Keneith answered. "People tend to dislike me, when they see what I can do. Wannabe magic users want to destroy me and normal people fear me."

"What can you actually do?" Hinrik asked.

"Things that most people study for years come naturally to me. The teachers in those schools can probably do only half the things I can do. You've noticed I don't recite spells – because I don't need to. I have an energy in me and I use it, much like you're going to do with your natural gift for manipulating water. But let me warn you that this won't make you more loved. Envy is the Humans' greatest sin. Envy and jealousy, because you're handsome, young and can do effortlessly what those people study for years to barely master. If you think creating cute little ice objects will endear you to the world, you're sorely mistaken."

Hinrik was speechless. But Keneith was probably right.

Raykim was frowning too.

"Is there no way to earn Humans' love or respect?" he asked, voicing Hinrik's doubts.

"If there is, I haven't found it yet," Keneith answered with a shrug.

"I think Ken is a little cynical," Bellinda said, thoughtful.

Keneith scoffed. "Bel, you didn't have it as hard as we did," he said sourly. "Your parents stayed together. They were respected both in the Genn and in the Human community. And your healing power is not threatening. But us? I can burn things and people. Hinrik could drown them or freeze them. And Raykim isn't Human at all. We're freaks and condemned to be feared and avoided at all costs."

Hinrik felt a lump in his throat and gulped. "So we'll never find our place in the world?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"It depends on what you want, Hinrik," Keneith answered. "Do you really want to be part of the Human society? Personally, I couldn't care less. That's why I'm always on the move and don't stay for more than ten years in the same place. Usually a lot less, actually, but when I met the Genn, I spent a lot of time with them."

"I hear they hide in underground cities in the central massif and under Mount Flora," Raykim said.

"Or in the forest of Appleyard, where their kingdom used to be," Bellinda added. "Have you tried them or did you just stay around here?"

"I admit I was a little fearful at the thought of traveling on my own. I tried to follow Sila, but they always chased me away. So I stayed here, mostly. I'm very grateful that you allowed me to go with you."

"You're welcome, little cousin." Keneith ruffled his blue hair and smiled.

Hinrik understood Keneith wasn't as heartless as he pretended to be and had spoken because he cared for them all. Being so much older and having seen so much more of the northern kingdoms, he probably knew what he was talking about. He had said something about being an outcast, aware of his skills that didn't allow him to be part of society.

Hinrik pursed his lips. Maybe he could become an outcast too. He wasn't sure he wanted to be like everybody else. He had tried, by joining the Salamar army and fighting for its king, but he had always felt out of place – until he'd met the other half-bloods.

"We could be a small family," he said. "Not blood family, but because we choose to live together, wherever that be."

"Would that make me the mom?" Bellinda asked with an impish smile.

"How about all siblings?" he replied.

She might be older than him, but he didn't see her as a mother. Maybe a sister. Maybe. He wasn't sure. Now that he'd been traveling with her for three months, he started to see her in a different light.

"Well, I always wished I had an older brother who could introduce me to his friends so I could have a boyfriend, but Ken doesn't have any friends, so that's a failure," she said. "As for younger siblings... I have two, and it's enough."

"Yes, who needs a family when one has friends and traveling companions?" Keneith added. "I'm surprised you're not sick of our company yet, since you're a single parent's only child."

"You're actually very nice company," Hinrik replied, smiling fondly at him. "Dad," he added teasingly.

Keneith glared at him, and then he smiled. "Don't try my patience, Son..."

Bellinda chuckled. "You're both cute when you play like that!"

"I have siblings, but they ignore me," Raykim said. "You three are the first people to actually talk to me."

"Welcome to the family," Hinrik said. "Can we figure out a way of putting up a show that is non-threatening for our audience? I'd say to leave the local schools of magic alone..."

"Why do we need to put up a show?" Raykim asked. "Can't we just keep going?"

"You've obviously never dealt with so-called civilization, little cousin," Keneith said. "In towns like this one, you need to pay for a lot of things. Therefore you need money. I'm guessing you lived off the land until now and didn't have to deal with merchants or innkeepers."

"Oh. No." Raykim looked disappointed. "So how does one get the money?"

"By working or by entertaining people, like Hinrik suggested. Or by winning in gladiator rings after a rainy day." Keneith smiled fondly at Hinrik who smiled back but shook his head.

"I don't want to fight anymore," he said. "That much is sure. So I need to find an alternative to earn a living."

"Barter?" Raykim suggested, puzzled.

"Doesn't work everywhere," Keneith replied. "We should get you some clothes, you'd look less... wild in shirt and breeches."

"I had clothes on my back when I left the Nest," Raykim said with a shrug. "But I outgrew them. I stole a towel to make my loincloth for practical reasons."

"Yes, you don't want to fly around with the family jewels out." Bellinda chuckled.

"Exactly," Raykim said. "I guess I need to find a way to get new ones... you're telling me I need money, how can I get some?"

"I guess you could scare travelers into giving you their money, but that would make you a bandit and an outlaw." Keneith chuckled.

"He already stole a towel to cover himself," Bellinda replied. "Maybe one of you could lend him your spare breeches!"

"You can give him yours, since you now travel on a wagon," Keneith retorted. "He's so skinny that yours would fit perfectly!"

"I have spare breeches," Hinrik said. "Aren't you cold, especially during winter?"

"No, the air around me is always warm," Raykim answered.

"The Sila cover their bodies out of modesty, not necessity," Bellinda commented.

"In fact the Waiora show much more skin!" Keneith added, amused. "Anyway, I'll buy my little cousin new clothes in Kelvia, where I know a dressmaker who won't fuss about his appearance."

"Oh, thank you, Keneith!" Raykim beamed. "Who is it?"

"My stepmother. She knows who my real mother is, even though she never saw Bluestar in her true form."

"But she knew her in Human form?" Hinrik asked, curious.

Keneith nodded. "Like Lenore and your mother. Bluestar called herself Cynnamon the Ginger-headed Poet, like a previous generation Fajrulo called Starblazer who died before she was born. But she had heard so much about the female who had passed herself off as a goddess for Humans that she used some of Starblazer's Human names for herself."

"So she looked like a redhead?" Bellinda asked. "And she wrote poetry?"

"Yes. And Lura made her clothes and she secretly loved Darhon, my father, who was totally smitten by the Ginger-headed Poet... and you can guess where this is headed. When Cynnamon vanished, Lura offered herself to fill the empty spot in the house. She's a very sweet woman, but soon I was old enough to leave my father's house and try to find my Fajrulo mother."

"This first Starblazer must have impressed a lot of females," Raykim mused. "Skywise called her daughter Starblazer and went to Maadre to be a Goddess... Are Humans still so credulous that a Fajrulo can be seen as a god by them?"

"Let's stay that if a man suddenly turns into a dragon, they're going to be impressed," Keneith answered. "Who wouldn't? Do you remember your Fajrulo parent in his true form?"

"No." Raykim admitted. "I grew up with my mother. Until she couldn't stand my looks anymore and the Sila sent me away from the Nest."

"I haven't asked your half-sister Starblazer to show me her true form, but I'm sure it's impressive," Keneith continued. "She earns her living among Humans playing the witch. Fajrulo are greedy, and they probably have treasures in their lairs. Except of course, you better not touch that wealth if you want to live."

"And what happens to those hidden treasures when they die?" Hinrik asked. "Do you think you could find one abandoned by its owner?"

"Dragon lairs are not easy to find," Keneith answered. "But I do have flair for finding them. If I feel there is one in the vicinity, I'll let you know."

"There are none in these mountains," Raykim said. "Only a couple of Sila nests on the highest peaks."

"There are more mountains in the south. I'm sure you can find those lairs as easily as I can, little cousin. Don't worry, I'll lend you some money until we find a dragon lair..."

"And then you could move to a Genn community, you'll be welcome, probably," Bellinda said. "The rock-shapers could carve you your own lair, and you could start accumulating riches by taking it from travelers who are bold enough to get close to your lair!"

"We'll see," Raykim replied with a smile. "I look forward to seeing more of the world!"

***

The sun was up and they were ready to leave Aludin when a group of people surrounded them. Three elders with tunics that had stars or runes embroidered at the hems and a dozen students with tunics of different colors, probably the uniform of the school they belonged to.

Bellinda raised her eyebrows at the sight of the wizards and their apprentices. The paladin must have been really scared or too drunk to keep last night's prodigy to himself and word had reached the schools of magic.

I guess the confrontation is inevitable now, she thought with an internal sigh.

Raykim was already in the wagon and luckily the paladin didn't know about him, so they had an advantage there. Maybe the simple sight of the non-Human half-blood would scare away the mages and their acolytes.

Keneith scoffed and confronted them with his arms crossed over his chest. "Yes, gentlemen?"

"Are you the magic users who scared Emewor at the Hungry Snake last night?" asked the oldest of the lot, who had long white hair and a long white beard and wore a conical hat that actually made him look more funny than threatening.

"If he's a paladin who lingered at the tavern last night, yes, that's us," Keneith answered, undaunted.

"So you say you can do magic?" Another elder pointed a gnarled finger at them. He wore a turban over a probably bald head and had runes drawn all over his clothes.

"Can you?" Keneith smirked.

"Keneith, we decided we don't want a confrontation," Hinrik said. "It would scare the horses. Let's just get away from here."

Bellinda climbed onto the wagon and took the reins. Keneith shrugged and joined her. But the group of wizards actually closed in on them.

"You're not going anywhere," the third dean threatened. "Or I will throw a ball of fire at you."

"Please, do," Keneith said with a mock bow. "And be ready to get it back as fast as you throw it."

Bellinda couldn't see it, but she could feel Keneith's shield. Hinrik held Shytur still, but stared wide-eyed at Keneith.

The mage made a show of reciting an incomprehensible spell and a small ball of fire slowly formed in his hand. He threw it, but it bounced back off Keneith's shield, forcing them to jump backward to avoid being hit.

The turbaned one screamed a curse, which only made the shield visible for a moment, a glittering bubble that encompassed the wagon, the draft horse and Shytur and Hinrik who slowly smiled as he realized how far Keneith's shield reached.

"Are you sure we don't want a confrontation?" Keneith asked Bellinda.

"No, Ken, nobody will get hurt. Now let's go." She shook the reins and the horse started pulling the wagon.

"Can I come out?" Raykim called from inside. "I'd really like to see what's going on!"

"Not much, little cousin," Keneith replied. "A bunch of wannabe Human magic users."

"I want to see them!"

"Suit yourself!"

"Ken," Bellinda chided. "Raykim, no confrontation!" she said out loud, leaning towards the back of the wagon. She heard the door open and the little crowd gasp.

"Hello there," Raykim said. "So you can do magic? Show me! I'm curious about Human magic!"

The students ran away screaming first. The three deans soon followed suit with slightly more dignity.

"Did I scare them off?" Raykim asked with an innocent smile, flapping his wings.

"Get back in the wagon, we're out of here," Bellinda said, trying not to laugh out loud.

Raykim chuckled but obeyed. Hinrik was grinning. Keneith looked at her and shook his head.

"Healers," he muttered, trying not to smile.

She passed him the reins. "Shut up and drive, you bloody half-Fajrulo!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

For a few days they avoided populated places. They kept going along the coast at a leisurely pace, camping in the open and avoiding the small villages and lone farms on their way. Raykim was very cheerful and Keneith seemed grumpy, but Hinrik was starting to see through his rough exterior.

Raykim had brought the rain that had allowed Hinrik to win at the Flean gladiator ring. He'd been watching them with his keen Sila eyesight from the mountains and had decided to interfere by making the clouds pour rain over the ring. When he told Hinrik, his yellow eyes sparkled with mischief.

Bellinda had wider hips than Hinrik, thus he ended up lending Raykim his spare breeches – "only up to Kelvia" – and the young half-blood still had to use a belt to keep them up.

One day Shytur was having colic and they had to stop so Bellinda could help the poor horse to expel whatever was blocked. And then she had to rest and wait until her headache receded. Hinrik admired her more and more because she was sweet but strong and showed she could stand up for herself among three men.

She also suggested he tried water manipulation every time they stopped and camped near a stream. The first ice figurines turned out quite ugly, but soon he got the hang of it. He could create a blade of ice, or even armor. Not that he needed an armor anymore and he still had his sword, but it was fun experimenting.

And then they reached Maxwetria, the bustling metropolis with walls of wood and stone with many gates, built around a harbor and at the estuary of a big river. It had both ancient and new beautiful architecture and lavish temples and it was famous for its courtesans and horse training.

Its economic base was trading – by land, river or sea – and the main trade was herd animals. The nearest tavern was a few blocks from the entrance, but Keneith led the wagon more towards the river shore.

The buildings were shoddily constructed and the streets were full of rats. Bad smells came from everywhere – rotten fish, animal and human shit, blood when nearing the slaughterhouse. Hinrik wrinkled his nose since the inhabitants didn't seem to bathe much.

There were public baths in the newer and nobler part of the town, but no place to park the wagon and the horses, so they were directed to a suburb that spread along the river shore and outside the town walls.

Bellinda frowned at the sight of the sickly looking inhabitants. After touching a few, she said there was a problem somewhere. Probably lack of hygiene or the rats were bringing the plague. It could spread quickly if that was the case.

Hinrik crouched on the river shore and stared at the water. It was muddy and smelled of decay. Dead algae floated on the almost still surface. That part of the river was narrow, since there was an islet covered with log houses and tied to the mainland with rickety wooden bridges.

"This water is stagnating," Keneith said, crouching near him. "Maybe they blocked something either down or upriver and now they have dirty water to drink."

Hinrik nodded, frowning at the ugly-looking liquid. It didn't even feel like water anymore.

"I can clear it, but if we don't find out why it's like this, it's useless," he said.

"Let's have a look." Keneith rose and he followed him.

They went upriver first, but the water was clean before the islet. They crossed to the other side and came back down slowly, keeping their eyes on the current. They took the last bridge back to the islet and at the edge of the houses on the other shore they found an open air sewer that had completely blocked the flow of the river.

"How do we get rid of all that shit?" Hinrik wondered. It was solid, not liquid.

"I think it's time you started feeling your Human blood," Keneith answered. "Human magic is based on Earth. Like you feel Water, you should be able to feel Earth. I will support you, but you must find a way to mix earth and water manipulation to take down that dam of trash and allow the river to just follow its natural course."

Hinrik nodded, worried. He sat on his knees in the mud of the shore and put both hands down. He could feel both earth and water now. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Clear water. Flowing freely. Ground liquefaction came naturally next, moving rocks and boulders and other solid objects blocking the river.

His energy was fading quickly and he felt Keneith's hand on his shoulder. The warmth of the other half-blood's touch gave him strength, especially in the earth manipulation part.

"The dam is gone," Keneith said softly.

Hinrik exhaled. The mud had dried under his hands, he needed water. On all fours he moved to the river where the current was slowly picking up speed again.

"See you on the other shore," Keneith said. "Swim back to the wagon and you'll be fine. I'll tell Bel to wait for you."

Hinrik nodded before going underwater. He let his element envelop him and give him back his strength. When he emerged, he saw Bellinda seated on the shore, waiting.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "I'm fine. I will get my spare clothes and change in the wagon."

"Good. I'm going to sleep at an inn tonight, so see you tomorrow morning..."

***

Bellinda had taken a room near the public baths. It had been a hot day and seeing all those sickly people hadn't helped. She couldn't heal them all, but hopefully the fact that Hinrik had cleared their water might help them to recover their health.

She went to wash away the sweat and then went back to the room. She lay down for a moment, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling she'd had since they'd set foot in Maxwetria. The room smelled funny. It had only a very small window and it soon felt stuffy and too hot.

She opened the window, trying to get a breath of fresh air, but by now anguish had gripped her heart. She had trouble breathing and wanted to cry. Sometimes when she was tired she could easily burst into tears. But this looked like a full-fledged panic attack like she hadn't had in years.

Being alone in the little stinky room didn't help this time. She had to get out of it. It didn't matter if she had already paid for it and she'd lose the money, she couldn't spend the night in that rat-hole. She could either go back to the wagon and lie on the usual chest-bench, listening to the men's breathing or she could try to find a better room.

Except she didn't know the big metropolis and couldn't really ask to see the room. This one had looked okay when she had paid for it, but now she found she couldn't bear the thought of spending another moment in it.

She grabbed her bag and with tears running down her cheeks, she went downstairs and gave the key back, trying not to sob too hard in front of the innkeeper.

"I'm so sorry, it's the first time I've had such a bad panic attack, I will go sleeping at my friends' house, thank you, good-bye!"

She almost ran out of the inn. The sun was setting and she quickly found her way back to the wagon. Hinrik was already inside, probably sleeping after the magic he'd done. Raykim and Keneith were seated around a small fire, cooking something that made her want to retch.

The anguish was probably still there and her stomach was clenched into a tight knot.

"Are you all right?" Keneith asked, frowning in worry.

"Yes, I am now. That place sucked. I will lie down inside if you don't mind."

"I like sleeping on your roof," Raykim assured with a big grin. "Don't worry, sweet dreams."

"Do you want a herbal tea?" Keneith asked as she opened the wagon's door.

"No, thanks. Good night."

Hinrik was lying on the floor, asleep as she expected. She moved around him so as not to wake him and lay down again.

Finally her heart slowed down. The smell of the wagon was more familiar. Wood, spices and herbs coming from under her body, hidden in the chest. Hinrik didn't have any body smell, probably because he bathed every day – or at least every time he had a chance. And she was used to Keneith's scent.

Tiredness overcame her. Her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

***

Hinrik awoke hungry. He hadn't eaten much the previous night because he'd been too tired from cleansing the river. Luckily Keneith, who was always the first up, had prepared a big breakfast. Apparently Bellinda hadn't eaten either and had given up her inn's room to come back to the wagon.

"I didn't hear you come in," Hinrik said, wolfing down a flat-bread.

"You were exhausted, you slept like a log," she replied, taking another piece of bread. She must be famished too.

"You both slept like logs," Keneith said, making Raykim chuckle. "You didn't even hear us coming in."

"You mean Raykim slept inside?" Hinrik asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I curled up in a corner. It looked unsafe to be outside, even lying on the roof of the wagon. This town has a bad feeling to it."

"I felt it too, that's why I had a panic attack," Bellinda said, thoughtful. "We should leave immediately."

"And we'll leave, as soon as you two fill your bellies," Keneith replied with a smile.

The wagon covered them from the houses around them, but not from the other shore of the river. Someone had spotted Raykim's wings and a small crowd was gathering opposite them.

And then Belfi came around the wagon and sat with them.

"Good morning!" he greeted cheerfully. "Good to see you again!"

"Belfi, how did you find us?" Bellinda asked, surprised.

"I was walking towards Maxwetria when some Waiora upriver told me a half-blood had cleaned this part of town." Belfi smiled fondly at Hinrik who blushed. "I knew it must be you. You have made progress since I last saw you."

"I'm still learning," Hinrik answered shyly.

"We were supposed to meet you here, but I'm not sure we can stay for much longer," Keneith said. "This is my cousin Raykim, and as you can see, he's been spotted, so we'd better get out of here as soon as possible."

Belfi nodded to Raykim who smiled back. "Belfi the Immortal Half-blood?"

"I am he. Nice to meet you, Raykim."

"You're known everywhere," Hinrik said admiringly.

"I've been around for almost four centuries, after all." Belfi winked. "I was coming here to warn the people they were headed to self-destruction with all the pollution in the river, but now you've cleaned it and they might survive for a little longer. Nobody will thank you, though."

"I did it because I felt it needed to be done for the creatures in the river," Hinrik replied.

"And they are very thankful indeed. Humans... much less. This city is doomed if they don't start having better sanitation and a sewer system."

"There is a dark aura here," Bellinda said, thoughtful. "I had a panic attack last night. I tried to sleep at an inn and had to run away."

"Yes, it's that bad." Belfi nodded, thoughtful. "Why don't we get out of this town so I can tell you all what happened in the east during these months?"

***

Bellinda was glad to see Belfi. With all the panic and bad vibes, she had forgotten they were supposed to meet him. Although they had said in six months time and it had been only four and a half months.

Belfi sat with her at the front of the wagon while Keneith levitated to the roof and sat with his feet dangling between Bellinda and Belfi with Raykim crouched behind him. Hinrik had Shytur and the draft horse soon pulled the wagon outside the walls of Maxwetria on the other shore of the river and headed south, towards Kelvia.

"So, how was the trip to the north?" Belfi asked.

Bellinda and Keneith took turns to tell him of Hinrik's victories and his acceptance of his magical blood, the meeting with Talullah, Starblazer and then Raykim. Keneith's cousin seemed excited by the presence of the Immortal Half-blood, but he remained quiet, much like Hinrik.

"And what happened in the east?" Bellinda asked at last. "Did you manage to make your pilgrimage to the destroyed capital of Rayheart?"

"Yes, I went there after Salamar fell to the Blackmore king," Belfi answered, looking at Hinrik. "I had told Conon I wasn't really the right person to help him keep his throne, but sometimes one's name means more than the actual truth. I guess they'll stop calling me Kingmaker now." He grinned.

Hinrik didn't look upset. He must have realized his true calling had nothing to do with Salamar and its king or its army. Good. He must be completely healed, then. He didn't have nightmares anymore and using water magic had cleansed even his soul. Bellinda was very happy for Hinrik's recovery.

"So both the Blackmore and the Varians reached the Ondan somehow," Keneith said, thoughtful.

"Yes, the Varians have Moriana, the Blackmore have Salamar. Raddanmor also fell to the Blackmore king along with Rothilnelm and everything in between. The Varians are pressing the Gallians against Amrendra, I'm afraid soon that will be another kingdom gone. And when the Varians will have access to the coast, the Blackmore will do the same. They will either expand towards Ilitan or towards... Maxwetria. I told you that city is doomed anyway. If it doesn't fall to the plague, it will fall to the Blackmore."

"So it's really time to leave the northern kingdoms," Keneith said. "We will go south through Kelvia."

"It might take years," Belfi said. "The Gallians are putting up as much resistance as the northern tribes and the Genn aren't really helping the Varians in their conquest. But one day they might, and then who knows what will happen. Maybe a Varian empire will cover Varia centuries from now."

"I'm long-lived, but not that long-lived." Keneith chuckled. "I doubt I'll ever see it!"

"Hopefully none of us will see it." Belfi smiled. "It will mean years of war, centuries maybe. The southern kingdoms are quieter at the moment. You should probably go there if you want to live in peace."

"I think I need to go back to Appleyard," Bellinda said. "And Hinrik should see his Waiora family."

Hinrik nodded, staring into space. If he was even ready to talk to his father, he was really healed.

"Then we will drop you near the Ondan's source and head south, what do you say, little cousin?"

"I will miss them," Raykim said. "Is Belfi coming south with us?"

"This wagon is becoming too small," Bellinda grumbled. Especially since she was the only woman.

"Don't worry, Bel, I will get off soon, I have other places to go and other people to see." Belfi elbowed her with an impish smile. "You go back home safe and sound. Joyrise misses you I'm sure."

"He's the one who's been wandering for fifteen to twenty years before settling with my mother and starting a family!" She sighed. "I hoped I had gotten some of his nomadic blood, but obviously I prefer to stay at home!"

"At least you have a home," Hinrik said softly, staring straight ahead.

"Would you like to go back to Salamar?" Belfi asked him.

Hinrik looked at them. "No." He smiled briefly. "I'll find home, eventually."

Bellinda smiled. For a moment she wished she could lean forward, grab his head and kiss him on the lips. Her cheeks were on fire as she stared at the draft horse and the reins in her hands.

"I think you can have him," Belfi whispered in her ear. "He is healed. He will open his heart to you."

"I don't think I'm ready, Belfi," she muttered nervously. She had a lump in her throat.

Keneith gently kicked her shoulder and she looked up at him.

"What?" she mouthed, frowning.

"Get him," he mouthed back. "Go for it."

She stuck out her tongue at him and shook her head. Not ready. Not yet. Although maybe... No. Not yet.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Belfi got off before night came and Keneith resumed his seat at the front of the wagon, next to Bellinda, while Raykim remained on the roof. When his muscles ached from the saddle, Hinrik considered moving there with Keneith's cousin, but that usually meant it was time to stop and let both bipeds and animals rest.

After crossing another river that formed a border with the lands of the Kelvans, they entered the forest that would be a shortcut to reach Kelvia. Having had enough of coasts, they decided that another forest with animals they could hunt and feed on would be better for all. They wouldn't meet too many people and Raykim wouldn't have to hide inside the wagon.

Five months after leaving Salamar they reached Kelvia, capital of the Kelvan Kingdom. The city was built around the castle of the king. Eight strong, square towers dominated the skyline of the massive castle and were connected by strengthened, thick walls made of golden stone. Stylish windows were scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern, along with huge crenelations for archers.

A moderate gate with massive metal doors and a moat guarded the inhabitants of the castle that could easily house everybody in case of siege. Various large houses were scattered outside the castle gates, and surprisingly the rich were comfortable with living outside the gates as well.

This castle was relatively new, but so far it had stood its ground with ease and it would likely do so for ages to come. Another river brushed the houses on the southern side and there was good sanitation all over the area. The water was kept clean both in the town's wells and at the castle.

Kelvia was built on gentle hills and surrounded mostly by vineyards. The forest was half a day's ride from it, and the king often organized big hunts with his nobles and courtiers.

Keneith wasn't noble, of course. His father had been a blacksmith and his stepmother a dressmaker. He hadn't considered that even though time seemed still for him, Lura and Darhon were only Human. Both had passed away, since they were Humans, but the house still belonged to Keneith's elder stepsister, Kelikana, and her family.

Keneith had left Kelvia after the birth of his second stepsister, Loriana, when he was sixteen. Kelikana had been barely three, so they didn't really recognize each other. Keneith knocked on the door and asked for Darhon and Lura, and Kelikana told him they'd been dead for almost fifteen years.

She was over forty herself and a grandmother, it was her son who now ran the house and the blacksmith's shop attached to it. Her eyes were failing her and her hands had arthritis, therefore she couldn't make clothes anymore. She told Keneith that Loriana had continued in their mother's footsteps, therefore if he needed a dressmaker, he should visit her instead.

Which he did, if only to give his cousin the promised new clothes. Although his stepsisters had never really met his mother, they knew he was different from everybody else. Loriana's brown eyes widened at the sight of Raykim, but she agreed to make him something to cover the human body. Her daughter would help her to make new clothes for the winged being.

They camped in the outskirts of the city again, by the river shore, so Hinrik could have his daily baths and the horses all the water and grass they'd need. Unlike Keneith, who was very businesslike with his stepsisters, Hinrik was happy to meet their grandchildren.

Kelikana had two lovely boys who seemed to like him immensely, especially when he toyed with water in front of their awed eyes. On Loriana's side there was a girl and then twins, boy and girl, and they also liked to watch Hinrik or Keneith play with their favorite element – away from adults' eyes.

"You're great with children," Bellinda said one night. She looked impressed. "Do you want your own family?"

"I don't know," Hinrik admitted with a shrug. "My priorities have changed a lot during the past five months and keep changing every day."

They both sat on the river shore under the stars. Keneith and Raykim had gone to Loriana's to get Raykim's new clothes. Unfortunately Keneith's cousin could only get safely into town after sunset.

Bellinda and Hinrik had let the camp fire die out as they watched the moon's reflection in the water. Hinrik thought the voice of the river was very comforting. Wherever he decided to live, there needed to be running water close by. Lakes or ponds weren't the same thing.

"Do you think you'll fall in love again?" she asked after a moment.

"Was it love?" he wondered. "I mean, it was definitely an unrequited crush, the one I had for Verena. But I was young and lonely and..."

"And you hated yourself and it probably showed," she said with a smile. "You're much more likable now that you have some confidence. And very sweet. As soon as you find a place to call home, you'll have dozens of girls falling at your feet and begging you to marry them!"

He smiled but shook his head. He doubted it. He wasn't that popular yet. And he wasn't sure he wanted a family either. He was getting used to the company, but still...

"How about you?" he asked her. "Do you think that after this trip you'll find someone to spend your life with?"

"I don't think I'll ever find anyone. I've had a couple of calls and just let them go." She shrugged.

"Including Keneith?"

"Including Ken. He moved to Havenstock to be with me and things started falling apart soon after the move. We were both too busy in town. While in Appleyard, in the much smaller Genn communities, things had looked so easy, so... eternal! I guess we're not made to be together forever, none of us, I mean."

"I don't know about that," he said, frowning in concentration. "My mother didn't want to stay with my father. Keneith's mother abandoned him and his father. I'm not sure I know anyone with a functional family besides you. So I don't really have a role model to look at."

She nodded, thoughtful. "You should probably spend some time with the Waiora side of your family. It's Humans who are obsessed with weddings and closed families. The Magical Races are very open and usually children are raised by the whole community."

"Unless they're different," Hinrik said. "Like Raykim who was chased from the Nest where he was born. I guess that's the same everywhere."

"It depends on the mixed blood. Genn and Sila cohabit peacefully. The Fajrulo are loners, so getting along with their half-bloods is harder. The Waiora get along fine with the Genn too."

Hinrik sighed. It was all very complicated. He lay down on the grass and crossed his fingers under his head, staring up at the sky. The Sila belonged to Air, to the winds and the sky and... could they reach the stars? Probably not.

"What do you think there is beyond our world and our sun?" he asked.

She lay down next to him and stared at the night sky for a moment. "I don't know," she admitted. "The Immortals never told us what's out there."

"Have you actually seen or felt those Immortals?" he asked, curious. He had heard about them enough by now. Air, Water, Ether, Earth and Fire were immaterial, shades of lights of different colors who took on a body only to speak and interact with Humans.

"No," she answered. "I don't think that even Belfi ever saw them. They like to watch and usually don't interfere, unless you call upon them."

"I will have to learn to pray to Water," he mused. "I was mostly an atheist up to now. I never believed in any of the gods that others worshiped."

"Me neither." She chuckled. "Most gods and goddesses worshiped by Humans don't exist. And if they do, they might be Fajrulo in disguise. And I'm not worshiping a dragon, that's for sure!"

Hinrik smiled. "And have you ever seen a Fajrulo in his or her true form?"

"Not yet. I doubt Keneith or Raykim have either. And they were sired by a Fajrulo..."

***

Bellinda liked talking to Hinrik. He was still quite shy and didn't speak much, but when prodded, he did talk. Much like her. Too many things in common. And she often thought the woman who would get to his heart was darn lucky.

He asked if she'd met winged children of Air – she did, she even had a couple of Sila friends. She mentioned Winged Elsa and Winged Monia, her best Genn friend Goldmoon – without saying that Goldmoon's brother, Silversun, had been her first boyfriend – and then Wioleta, the Waiora who lived in the river that ran near Havenstock.

And then louder splashes came from the river and two Waiora joined them on the shore, under the stars.

"Since you're talking about us, we thought we might as well show ourselves," they said.

"I'm Emewor and this is Werika," the male said. "We know Wioleta, Woram and Dynine, even though we never really met them."

He had short dark hair and the usual Waiora tunic. Werika was blonde and probably a magic user – they called them Deivas in the ocean, but Bellinda wasn't sure it was the same for freshwater Waiora – or a ruler, since very few Waiora had blond hair. Again, in the oceans, where they had underwater cities and kingdoms, the blond ones were usually kings or queens. In freshwater they were less organized like Humans and more like communities with no real ruler.

"We wanted to thank you on behalf of our cousins of the Achmeld," Werika added. "It's a shame you didn't get to Xendaria, apparently that part of the river badly needs some cleaning too."

"You mean Xendaria, the capital of the Blackmore Kingdom, is on the same river as Maxwetria?" Hinrik asked, since he had never bothered to check Bellinda's map. He had followed them without question, totally oblivious of the look of the land on a map.

Emewor chuckled. "Yes, and that's probably why the Blackmore kings will get Maxwetria to have a harbor and a fleet. They only need to march downriver and capture the city."

Hinrik shivered and not because of the cool breeze of the night.

"Sorry to remind you of Moriana's siege." Werika put her white hand on his shoulder. "Humans are a violent lot. I'm glad you decided to give up fighting for them."

"It wasn't my true calling." Hinrik straightened his back, staring proudly ahead. Bellinda could feel his sadness at the memory, but hopefully he wouldn't have nightmares when they would finally get some sleep.

"Glad you figured it out." Emewor grinned. "Woram will be very proud when you get to the Ondan again. You're going back, right?"

"Yes. For now."

"Don't worry, none of you will have any trouble in crossing rivers," Werika said. "Or did you think you had a flair for finding fords?" She smiled impishly at Hinrik who now looked puzzled. "We held the waters for you so you could cross with your wagon. That's why you found so many small rivers instead of the big ones. Where there was no ford or ferry, we held back water to allow you to pass."

"Like when you want to cross this river and head for the next," Emewor continued. "Unless you want to try yourself."

"Try what?" Hinrik asked.

"To part waters so you can just walk through."

"But wouldn't that upset the creatures who live in the river?" Hinrik asked, worried.

"You're a true Waiora," Werika said, touched. "Yes, it would upset them. You can stop the flow for a moment, though, the same way you fastened it while you cleansed the channel."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that," Hinrik said.

"We were thinking of taking the ferry this time," Bellinda said, amused. "If there's one, why not use it..."

"Of course." Emewor grinned. "We're just passing on some tips to Hinrik. Just in case he needs it."

"Thank you." Hinrik nodded. "I know news swims fast. But please, don't warn my father of my coming. I want to surprise him."

"We won't tell where you're headed," Emewor promised. "Have a safe trip."

Both Waiora waved good-bye and dived back into the river.

"Did you just have visitors?" Keneith's voice startled both Bellinda and Hinrik.

"Yes, the local Waiora came to say hello," she answered. "My oh my, Raykim, you look great!" she added, looking at Keneith's cousin.

Loriana had made a sleeveless top that stayed up by tying it behind the neck. The back was open to allow for the wings' movements and the lower part could be wrapped around he waist and knotted either at the front or at the back. And the breeches finally fit Raykim, covering his legs to the ankle. He even had boots now.

Raykim handed back his spare breeches to Hinrik – washed and repaired – and then turned around to let her see everything, beaming. "Isn't Loriana the greatest dressmaker that ever was?"

"Indeed." Bellinda chuckled and stood. "Don't you think it's bedtime, guys?" She stretched her limbs and then she yawned. "It's getting late, I guess."

"You dormice can get your sleep," Keneith replied. "I'm staying out here for a little longer. Loriana's house is stuffy."

Hinrik had risen too and tried to hide a yawn behind his hand. "Good night, Keneith."

"Sweet dreams, Hinrik," Raykim said cheerfully. "I'll be watching over you all!"

"I don't need you to watch over me," Keneith snapped.

Bellinda smiled. The cousins' bickering was funny. But she was happy to go inside the wagon and lie down. She fell asleep listening to Hinrik breathing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

They had left Kelvia behind and were following the edge of the forest that grew at the base of the mountain range that separated the Blackmore Kingdom from the lands of the Kelvans and the Sannish.

The unpaved road wasn't very busy, so Raykim happily rode on the roof of the wagon and sometimes scouted ahead to find a place to stop for the night. His powerful dragon wings allowed him to cover miles in moments, but he seemed to enjoy being carried by the slow-paced horse trudging on the ground.

Hinrik thought that living outside of town was more relaxing. No expectations from other people, no noisy or quarrelsome neighbors, no gossip and no bullies. No rules except respecting the nature around them and taking care of the animals who carried them around. No need to find work either, since there was nobody to buy things from.

But sometimes he missed freshly cooked bread or some special cakes or other dishes that could be found only at inns – or in a home with a loving mother who cooked for her only beloved son. They did meet some lone farms or castles, and did spend some time with people, but mostly it was the four of them, traveling at their own leisurely pace and getting to know each other in the process.

A month later they stopped for the night on the shore of the umpteenth river. They found a nice clearing where it was worth staying for a couple of days so the horses could rest properly. Hinrik and Keneith went hunting and Raykim seemed to enjoy cooking more than Bellinda did.

Hinrik had his daily baths in the river but didn't try to get in touch with the local Waiora. He hoped none of them would warn his father of his coming. By now he was actually eager to see him again and show him what he'd learned.

Maybe Woram could teach him even more tricks, like finding water in the desert. Not that there were any deserts around, but still. Maybe the sea Waiora could show him how to take out the salt and drink the ocean's water. There were so many things he could learn about his favorite element, he was actually happy he was sort of heading home.

Not to Salamar – Salamar wasn't home. But a place where he could be himself and wouldn't have to pretend to be something else to please the people around him. Often he wondered if Raykim would be accepted too in the Genn community or even in a Waiora community – although probably his wings would hinder him underwater.

He came back to the camp from his bath to the smell of roasted boar. Keneith had taken down the big animal with a fire ball and both he and Raykim had skinned and prepared it for their lunch.

"Mmm, this smells great," Hinrik said, sitting by the fire next to Bellinda.

She stared at his naked torso and raised her eyebrows. "Young man, do you mind covering that body of yours?"

"Why?" he asked innocently. "Is it too much for you to behold?"

"You could say that, yes. Please, have mercy." And then she smiled.

He smiled back, shook his head, and put on his tunic moments before Raykim passed him a piece of perfectly roasted meat.

"Why don't you tell me to cover myself?" Raykim complained. He had taken off his shirt and had only his breeches on.

"You're too young to be interesting," she replied.

"And you shouldn't be bothered by these things yet," Keneith added. "By Fajrulo standards, you're a newborn. By Sila standards, you might start feeling the call for your first mating flight, but since Bellinda doesn't have wings, you shouldn't even look at her."

"What do you mean, that Raykim will have sex only with winged beings?" Hinrik asked, puzzled.

"No, but his body is still not ready for sex," Keneith replied. "He might have lived twenty years already, but it's as if he were a ten-year-old Human. Did you have sex thoughts at ten?"

"Um... no." Hinrik blushed and bit the meat to keep his mouth busy.

"Why are we even discussing sex in front of a child?" Bellinda rolled her eyes. "No offense, Raykim, but really, did you feel that pull to take to the skies and find a mate? Or did you mate while scouting for us?"

"No, I didn't," Raykim grumbled. "I was just wondering what the fuss was about. You should have said it had to do with mating."

"Sorry, dear." Bellinda smiled fondly at him. "I do realize you're young but obviously hadn't realized how young you were."

Raykim shrugged.

They ate more or less in silence, then lay down on the grass to look at the few clouds overhead. They liked to see things in the clouds' patterns and Raykim had promised not to tamper with them. But then he jumped to his feet and gasped, staring at the sky.

"What is it?" Bellinda asked him.

"There! Fajrulo mating!" He pointed at a tiny dot in the sky that seemed to move against the white of a cloud.

"I can't see a thing," Bellinda said. Hinrik squeezed his eyes, but couldn't see anything either.

"Don't bother with your Human sight," Keneith said, unmoved. "Raykim, stop staring, that's not a sight for you. Didn't we just say you're too young?"

"But that's... my father, I think!" Raykim replied, still staring at the dot. "I need to check!"

"Raykim, don't!"

Keneith tried to grab his cousin, but Raykim was faster. He opened his wings and took off, headed for the sky. Keneith cursed in the Old Tongue and Bellinda glared at him.

"I can levitate, but not that high!" Keneith snapped. "He'll get in trouble!"

"So? You don't care, do you?" she replied.

He scowled at her. Of course he cared.

Hinrik smiled briefly then looked at the sky again. The dot that had been Raykim had stopped a certain distance from the other dot, since they looked the same size. Now, two dragons mating must be much bigger than a single half-breed, therefore Raykim must have kept some kind of safety distance. But then he plunged back down and the other dot soon split in two.

"Oh, shit," Bellinda said as Raykim's shape came into view, followed by that of a big blue dragon.

All three jumped to their feet. Hinrik could feel Keneith raise the shield, but leaving an opening for Raykim to come through. Raykim's yellow eyes were wide in fear as he glided towards them. As soon as he touched the ground he stumbled against a root. Hinrik was quick to grab him so he wouldn't fall flat on his face.

Raykim panted and closed his wings, hugging Hinrik like a scared child.

"Incoming fire!" Bellinda screamed.

Keneith's shield held as the blue dragon spat fire against them. The Fajrulo had glided to shoot at them, then went back up, recharging for another pass. Hinrik passed Raykim's shaky form to Bellinda and turned towards the river.

He called upon water. And when the dragon opened his mouth to spit fire at them again, a huge splosh hit his head, extinguishing the flame before it left his throat. Spluttering and cursing, the Fajrulo lost its flying balance and plummeted to the ground a little further down the river shore.

Hinrik covered him with another wave of water, just in case, then Keneith put a hand on his shoulder and he stopped. He relaxed, watching Keneith walk towards the fallen dragon who was shaking his big horny head dry and glared at them with big yellow eyes like Raykim's.

***

Raykim's body trembled more out of fear than because he was hurt. Bellinda sent soothing energy to him and the bat-like wings slowly stopped shivering.

My father is an evil monster! The voice didn't come out, but the thought hit her at the same time that Hinrik's water jet hit the Fajrulo's head.

Seeing his big and powerful father crash sent Raykim into hysterical giggles. Bellinda pushed him towards Hinrik again and followed Keneith to the place where the Fajrulo lay.

"Greetings, Runedemon," Keneith said.

The dragon bared his fangs, his pointed ears twitching under the sun. The scales on the big body were mostly dark blue, like Raykim's wings, but they had nacreous reflections, especially after the unwanted bath.

"Do you by any chance know the whereabouts of your sister?" Keneith continued, undaunted.

"When will you wretched half-breeds learn to leave your parents alone?" the dragon roared. "There is a reason we abandon you! We don't want to have you around!"

"It's not really a good reason to try to kill us only because we are naturally attracted to be close to you," Keneith retorted. "Especially one as young as Raykim. If he were full-blooded, he'd still be with his mother!"

"Then he can blame it on his Sila mother for kicking him out of his nest," Runedemon retorted. "And now he knows better than to disturb two adults mating."

The yellow eyes glared at Raykim who was trying to hide behind Hinrik's wide shoulders.

"And who's that wretched young man?" Runedemon continued.

"Another wretched half-blood," Keneith answered. "Half-Waiora, hence you can thank him for the shower. You probably badly needed it anyway."

Runedemon roared again, but that didn't deter Keneith. Hinrik and Raykim stepped back a little – towards the river, since that was the safe place for Hinrik – but Bellinda didn't move.

"I should destroy you all!" Runedemon said.

"You thought the shower wasn't enough?" Keneith scoffed. "You're one quite powerful Fajrulo and we're four quite determined half-breeds. It's an interesting challenge."

"You are not setting fire to this forest." A group of Waiora emerged from the river very close to the grounded Fajrulo.

Big feathery wings flapped around them and a group of Sila glided around Runedemon. "You are outnumbered, Runedemon, leave in peace," the eldest said. She had almost white hair and white wings and the usual tight-fitting clothes of her people. Female Sila wore gowns only for the Mating Flight and she was obviously past breeding age.

"Winged Amalia, long time no see!" The Fajrulo sounded sarcastic. He didn't look like he was going to leave though. Then Bellinda noticed one of the big wings had an odd angle. He must have hurt himself when he'd crashed but was of course too proud to ask for help.

"Leave our son and his friends alone," the Sila insisted while Bellinda approached Runedemon and put her hands on the skewed wing.

She closed her eyes and felt the broken bone and ripped membrane. She sent the golden powder throughout the broken wing ignoring the rumbles and grumbles of the dragon. She knew he wouldn't attack her, not since she was healing him.

It wasn't a hard healing, but the body and wing were big and it took its toll on her. She collapsed breathless and felt Keneith take her in his arms. She passed out.

***

Raykim had gasped loudly when the Sila had landed in the clearing. As soon as Runedemon was too busy checking on Bellinda, he had rushed to hug the white-haired Sila. Hinrik watched them, wondering who she was. She had spoken in Old Tongue and he was still quite hopeless with it.

And then Bellinda fainted after her healing and Keneith took her and brought her back to the wagon to rest. The Fajrulo muttered a thank you and flew off without looking at anyone. The Waiora nodded at Hinrik and dived again in the river.

Only the Sila remained, with Raykim still holding the eldest tight.

"That's his mother," Keneith told Hinrik, noticing his puzzlement. "And those are probably his half-siblings. I'm assuming she knew he had left the mountains where he was born and she has followed him here to make sure he was safe."

"Oh, I see."

Hinrik observed the younger Sila and noticed how the feathered wings had the same shade of color as the hair – blond, brown, black, red. Some had quite dark skins, others were pale, probably depending on how much they went out. There was a dozen of them, of both sexes, clothed almost the same, and with no weapons whatsoever, but their numbers had obviously been enough to drive away the Fajrulo.

Finally Raykim let go of his mother and looked up with his face wet with tears. Hinrik watched as she said something to him very softly, caressing his blue hair. He nodded and pulled away, sniffling.

Keneith went to put one arm around his shoulder, probably promising the Sila he'd take care of the young half-blood. The winged woman nodded regally and soon the Sila were gone too.

"Let's go hunting," Keneith suggested, leading Raykim back to the camp. "Bellinda will need food to recover from healing a Fajrulo, and it will keep your minds busy."

Hinrik thought it was mostly for Raykim, who looked very upset, but nodded and went to get his bow and arrows.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bellinda was glad to wake up without a headache. She had fainted from exhaustion from healing the Fajrulo's wing, but obviously sleep helped her recover. She was hungry, though, and through the wood of the wagon she could smell food cooking. She also heard the voices of Keneith and Raykim bickering over which herb to put in the broth.

She slowly moved and stretched her limbs. She looked forward to sleeping in a bed again.

She opened her eyes and saw Hinrik seated on the floor with a mug of warm tisane right next to him. He immediately picked it up and offered it with a smile.

"Keneith said you might need this when you woke up."

She slowly sat and moved her head up and down to help her stiff neck. She was touched by the thought and happy to find him next to her upon awakening.

He offered the mug again as she stretched her arms, trying to hide a yawn.

"I'm fine, Hinrik. I have no headache. I only need to eat."

"I think it's almost ready." Hinrik looked both relieved and disappointed as he rose with her. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

She smiled, took the mug and sipped some tisane. "Thank you," she said as he opened the wagon door for her. As if he were a nobleman! But obviously his mother had taught him some manners.

"How are you feeling?" Raykim asked, his yellow eyes wide with worry.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Thanks for the tisane." She raised the mug at Keneith as if toasting and he nodded.

"Next time my little cousin pulls a stunt like this, I'm going to kill him myself," Keneith grumbled.

"I think he has learned his lesson," Bellinda replied with a smile, sitting by the fire.

She ruffled Raykim's blue hair, which made him purr.

"I'm sorry I put us all in danger," he said with a tiny voice.

"I'm sure Ken has already chastised you for it, no need to berate yourself any further," she replied. "Is your mother gone?"

"Yes." Raykim hugged his knees, looking sad. "She said I was better off with you guys, as long as I obeyed and did what you say."

"Eat." Keneith grumpily put a bowl of broth in her hands.

She knew better than to tease him when he was in a foul mood. She hoped he'd soon forget the meeting with his uncle and the strange battle. Hinrik and Raykim were also quiet.

"I think we should all head for Appleyard," she said at last, putting down her empty bowl. Her belly was full and she felt much better. "I'm sure you can all find a place to call home over there..."

***

The following two months of travel were mostly uneventful. The four half-blood stuck to secondary roads and avoided cities as much as they could. They crossed two more rivers and saw the sea again from the vast bay where the village of Hurlevent was quickly expanding into a main port.

Hinrik had gotten used to Keneith's sarcasm, Raykim's strange looks and Bellinda's chiding tones. They were a tightly-knotted, small, wandering community that acted like siblings with no real need for a leader. Each had their chores, usually tied to their element, and they rarely fought.

But the wagon was small and uncomfortable and Hinrik was looking forward to going back to some form of civilization – public baths, inns and taverns, real beds. He had earned enough self-confidence that he thought he could function in a town by now.

Not Salamar, though. He'd been too unhappy in Salamar. Maybe he could visit Bellinda's hometown, Havenstock. The cousins were thinking of exploring the southern kingdoms – that sounded interesting too.

And then they reached the Ondan again. In spite of being much closer to the source than Moriana or Salamar, Hinrik recognized its distinctive smell. The Ondan felt different from any other river and when he knelt on its shores, he thought he was home.

"Is this the Ondan?" Raykim asked, still perched on the roof of the wagon.

"Yes," Hinrik answered. He inhaled the scent he didn't know he had missed. "It's not as wide as it is downriver, but it's definitely the Ondan. I recognize the smell."

"I didn't know water had a specific smell," Raykim commented. "But then, I'm not half-Waiora," he added with a chuckle.

"We will keep an eye on Shytur while you visit your family," Bellinda said. "There is a Genn village nearby, we will wait for you there."

"Will you, really?" he asked, happily surprised. "I wouldn't want to delay your journey..."

"We're not in a hurry to go anywhere," Keneith replied. "And the Genn are more civilized than Humans. I look forward to trying their hospitality again."

Hinrik got back on his feet and reached out for Shytur's reins. The gelding was greedily drinking the clear water.

"So, where do I find you?" Hinrik asked.

"Get back in the saddle, it's not far," Bellinda answered with a smile.

The Genn village had been built on the shore of the Ondan in the middle of the forest. A nice little bridge crossed the river and took them to small houses with conical roofs. They looked like very short towers with a door and a few windows scattered around the perimeter.

Hinrik wondered if there was something under the cone roofs. Some had little windows, which probably meant there was some kind of attic room, but some had barely a chimney. The houses were built with local stone and merged with the forest with their colors. Vines grew on the walls, hiding further the once white-plastered walls.

There were a dozen of those houses, with neat little gardens in the front. On the river shore there were upturned boats, ready to be put to use. And the inhabitants were all blond and ethereal and with pointed ears.

The Genn were androgynous beings with long hair, usually to the waist for both men and women, of all the shades of blond, from ash to gold. Their eyes were usually green or blue and you could tell their sex because females had chest bumps, not as voluptuous as most Human females, and usually wore long gowns, while males wore breeches.

None of them looked shocked at the sight of Raykim. Even the small children looked curious and wanted to climb on him to touch his wings. Hinrik saw Raykim giggle nervously as Bellinda tried to keep the Genn children away from him.

Hinrik patted Shytur's neck and caressed his mane. "I'm sure they'll take care of you."

The horse snorted and seemed to nod. Hinrik smiled, then took off the reins and the saddle. A young Genn boy was already ogling the horse.

"Will you take care of him?" Hinrik asked. "His name is Shytur."

"Sure!" The boy came eagerly forward and offered Shytur an apple.

Hinrik chuckled as the gelding greedily tasted the fruit, and then looked at his saddlebags. He took everything inside the wagon. He wouldn't need any of that stuff. He took off the sword-belt as well. The blade would rust underwater and he didn't need a weapon to defend himself.

He approached Bellinda and Keneith. Bellinda was making the introductions and pointed at him.

"And that's Hinrik, son of Woram and Kaline of Salamar."

"And he's bidding you good-bye for now," Hinrik added. "I am long overdue a visit to my father."

"Do you have to swim for long or will the current take you?" Raykim asked, eyes wide in wonder.

"I don't know," Hinrik answered with a smile. "I'm sure my father will find me."

"You bet he will." Bellinda grinned. She gave him a peck on the cheek. "We'll be here when you're done."

"Thanks." He waved good-bye to Raykim and Keneith and headed for the river. He took off his boots as well, since he didn't really need to walk, and dived into the blue waters of the Ondan.

***

Bellinda was happy to rest in the Genn village, with a room to herself and all the amenities she'd grown up with. The forest around them was turning red and orange and yellow, including the ivy on the walls.

She pondered what to do next. Go back to Havenstock or keep going with Keneith and Raykim and Hinrik to the fabled southern kingdoms. They could go through the underground Genn cities of the Central Massif and visit those too.

But she wasn't sure she'd enjoy the southern climate. She was used to four seasons, so she could maybe reach Amrendra, but she'd rather avoid the other kingdoms that were swept by monsoon rains and had jungles with tigers and other wild beasts. She had enough with packs of hungry wolves in the northern winters.

Besides, she loved winter. She looked forward to seeing the snow cover the ground and muffle all the sounds, turning even a busy town like Havenstock into something eerie and magical. The months spent away from people had been sort of boring, since she didn't have much to do – except healing Shytur or the draft horse a couple of times.

Either she found something to do, or she accepted the strange little family as it was and kept wandering with them. But she missed her friends and the company of other people. She probably was less of a loner than she thought.

She wondered if Hinrik would keep going with Keneith and Raykim or if she could convince him to stop and make himself useful with the Varians. Not in their army, but as a water expert. He could help build aqueducts or better sanitation in Havenstock.

Her hometown was also by a river, so he wouldn't miss water. She could introduce him to Wioleta, her Waiora friend, and he might do a mating swim with her. She could help him to find a home – not necessarily with her.

She toyed with a fallen oak leave as she sat by the river, away from the neat little streets of the village. She was wearing a Genn gown again and had discarded her breeches for the time being, since she didn't need to climb into a saddle again. Unless Keneith and Raykim wanted to go south from there, then she'd have to convince Hinrik to take her on Shytur.

The rustle of leaves startled her. Keneith came to sit next to her.

"Am I disturbing you?" he asked with a smile.

"No, it's actually good timing," she replied. "I think we should talk. Consider our options and what we want to do next. We left together from Havenstock and now we're almost back there. What are your plans? I assume you don't plan to stay?"

"No, your king knows of my power and I wouldn't want him to get strange ideas," Keneith answered.

"Like what?" she chuckled. "Putting you at the front of his army to throw balls of fire at his enemies?"

"Something like that." He grinned. "I don't just throw balls of fire, you know?"

"I know, I was joking." She hugged her knees and kept flipping the leaf in her fingers. "So you're going south?"

Keneith nodded. "Through what's left of the Gallian Kingdom, Amrendra and then whatever there is further south. I'll have to find a map, and maybe it's easier to find one with the Genn than in Havenstock."

"Not in this village," she said. "I could ask Winged Elsa to draw one, and then you could jot down the names of the cities and kingdoms when you get there."

"That would be awesome, where can we meet her?"

"A little further east. She often visits my Waiora friend Wioleta with Winged Monia."

"So next river. The village where your father was born."

She nodded, thoughtful. Her father Joyrise, also known as Joris by Humans, had long ago moved to Human towns. It had been Salamar at first, then Havenstock. Joyrise would probably be very happy to meet Hinrik.

"Speaking of Waiora," Keneith continued. "Are you going to keep Hinrik by your side?"

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him, skeptical.

"Should I? He's younger than me and I don't think he's interested anyway."

"Have you asked him?" Keneith winked. "I think he's very fond of you, and not just because you healed him!"

"I don't know, Ken, the brooding beau is gone, but the new Hinrik might decide he wants to live underwater."

"You're scared."

"I'm not!"

"You're scared of falling in love, Bel. I hope it's not because it didn't work between us."

"No, you weren't my only boyfriend." She glared at him. "I've had both Genn and Humans, and the Genn are nicer, usually."

"Hinrik is half-Waiora, he might be nicer than a half-Fajrulo. You like him, Bel, tell him. Or are you afraid he'll refuse you?"

"I don't want to think about it," she snapped.

"You look great together."

"Stop pimping him! I don't think so!"

"Why not?"

"Because he's not hurt anymore and his sexuality has awakened and I don't think I could handle him! I mean, how many women did he have in Flean?"

"He was high after the shower and the victory and hadn't had sex for months!" Keneith rolled his eyes. "Did you see him frolic around in Kelvia?"

"We didn't stay long enough, and then we were far from civilization, so he didn't have any other occasion!"

"He's probably having his occasions in the Ondan. And you're taking him to Havenstock, where he will have other occasions. And if he loves you, he'll respect you and all that stuff."

"I'm not taking him to Havenstock! I don't know what he wants to do when he comes back! Maybe he'll follow you and Raykim to the south!"

Keneith elbowed her. "Or maybe he'll keep following you, since you're a woman and he's not interested in men," he whispered with an impish smile.

"Keneith!" She scowled at him, but he was probably right. "I only want the best for him," she grumbled. "I hope he finds someone in the Ondan."

"You're the best," Keneith replied. "If you stop being afraid of him."

She wanted to scream, "I'm not afraid of him!" but she knew she was. Hinrik was sweet and shy and everything she could wish for, but he still scared her. Because he was different and he was a man and she still had trouble with that. Because he was younger and she thought he deserved better and should have more experiences before settling with her.

If he wanted to settle with her. She wasn't so sure about that, unlike Keneith.

***

Hinrik mostly let the current take him towards Salamar. Soon the relatively small river grew wider and deeper, and he could see caves and crevasses that might lead to hidden underwater worlds but he stayed in the main current, letting the water carry him.

He was no longer scared to breathe underwater and didn't feel the need to swim, since he knew where he was going. He knew he'd recognize the Ondan near Moriana where he had dived, broken and bleeding, so many months ago, which would mean he had almost reached his father's home.

Woram wouldn't be the only Waiora in such a long river either. There must be other communities around. And in fact at some point a female joined him, swimming like an eel, with her nacreous sleeveless tunic and water-green eyes.

Hinrik stopped to look at her and they circled each other, studying and feeling the other with open curiosity. She was young and pretty, and he could tell she'd been following a mating call. Something that was now stirring inside him with a never felt before intensity.

His Human side wanted to ask her her name and have some form of preliminary, but his Waiora blood welcomed the call without question. Soon they were both naked, limbs entwined, cradled by water in a sexual intercourse much different from the ones he'd had so far.

Probably because he was underwater, because she wasn't Human, because a part of him he didn't know existed was awakened by her touch, he felt everything like in a dream or a magic spell, although the orgasm was very real.

"Was it your first parigha nagho?" she asked, gathering their floating and scattered clothes.

"You could say that," he answered, still amazed by how he felt. "What about you?"

"Same." She giggled and blushed, offering him his tunic and breeches. "I wasn't expecting to meet a half-blood, but you are great! What's your name?"

"Hinrik, and you?"

"Ashling..."

"I thought mating swims were just something physical that meant that afterward the couple just split and went their way, often not even exchanging names."

"Probably. I'm totally new at this. And I thought that since you're half-blood, you might want more."

"You know a lot about Humans."

"I have had Human lovers." She flashed a smile at him. "But it is my first parigha nagho, and I'm very happy I found a half-blood."

"Then you might never appreciate Waiora lovers," he chided.

"I don't know any interesting Waiora in my community," she replied. "How about I come with you to wherever you're headed?"

"My father's community is somewhere between Moriana and Salamar, I think."

"Hinrik son of...?"

"Woram."

"Oh, you're that half-blood! I'm so lucky I found you! I'll take you to Woram, Hinrik, don't worry!"

As they resumed swimming downriver Hinrik pondered how his feat in Maxwetria had made him famous among the Waiora. Maybe they'll happily have him among them and he wouldn't have to deal with petty Human envy or fear ever again.

But then, he wouldn't see his first true friends ever again either. He already missed Bellinda, Keneith, and even Raykim. But he had promised Dynine he'd visit her, so he wanted to keep his word.

By the time he reached the place where his father lived, he knew a lot more about the Waiora. He had made love to Ashling a couple more times, but neither spoke of spending their life together. Woram hugged him and said he was proud of him in such a heartfelt way that Hinrik almost burst out crying.

He had missed having a father. His mother had done her best, but he'd been quietly unhappy until something had forced him away from Salamar. And now he stopped blaming the past and simply reveled in his father's embrace.

There was a lot to catch up on.

***

"Do you think he'll come back?" Raykim asked. "We've been here for a whole week and..."

"Salamar is much farther downriver," Bellinda answered. "Didn't you see the map?"

"I flew there," Raykim replied with a shrug. "Took me a couple of hours to go there and back."

"Yes, well, you were flying, he has to swim," Bellinda retorted. "Although I'm sure he can be very fast even against the current."

"He's a water manipulator after all," Keneith said.

All three sat on the river shore, in what had become Bellinda's favorite spot. Where Hinrik had left his boots before diving and where she hoped to see him emerge from the Ondan again.

"Maybe we should have asked him how long he intended to stay there," Raykim insisted.

"Why, are you in a hurry to leave?" Keneith teased. "Aren't the Genn treating you well?"

"Yes, but I miss Hinrik!" Raykim complained. "What if he doesn't come back?"

"He'll send a Waiora to warn us," Bellinda said, hoping, no, praying he wouldn't. He'd come back himself, whether to stay with them or to leave forever. He didn't seem the kind of man who would send a message through a relative.

Raykim sighed and hugged his knees. His big blue wings shaded him from the sun's rays coming through the almost leaf-less trees.

Bellinda smiled and her eyes met Keneith's. She quickly looked away before he mouthed some comment about her missing Hinrik and wanting him back as much as Raykim. He knew her too well by now.

"I'm sure he'll be back before winter, so you can go south and avoid the snow," she said quickly.

"Winter is months away," Keneith replied. "And by the time we cross Amrendra it might be gone altogether."

Bellinda shrugged. She had seen a map of the whole of Varia now and didn't really want to go south. But Raykim seemed excited at the thought of visiting Amrendra, Gajendra, Lakeshi, Arquon, Rajendra and Akkora.

"Will you take me to Havenstock or just circle around the Central Massif?" she asked.

She knew Raykim wasn't too keen on exploring the Genn tunnels and preferred to be outside. For being half-Fajrulo – who dwelt in caves – and half-Sila – whose nests were high up in mountain crevasses – he was quite wary of caverns.

"Unless someone else takes you to Havenstock, I guess we'll have to take you," Keneith said with an impish smile.

"Who else might take her?" Raykim asked, puzzled.

"Hinrik, you ninny?"

"Oh, I thought you wanted me to take her there. It wouldn't take me long, you know?"

"She might be afraid of flying, Raykim, not everybody wants to be carried around by Sila or half-Fajrulo."

Bellinda smiled despite herself. "I'm not afraid of flying and thank you for your offer, Raykim. I might take you up on it."

Raykim grinned. And then he gasped and brightened, staring at the river.

Bellinda heard the splashing sounds too and turned to look, her heart in her throat.

Hinrik emerged from the river, followed by Dynine. He smiled at them as he climbed onto the shore and sat next to her on the leaf-covered ground. He wore a sleeveless Waiora tunic over his breeches that left his muscled arms bare. He had his Human tunic tucked in his belt, so he took it and put it on a low branch to dry in the autumn sun.

Bellinda refrained from sliding her fingers through Hinrik's wet her.

"Good to see you. How was the trip?" she asked, controlling her heartbeat.

"It was interesting. I met Ashling who took me to my father's and then stayed there..."

"Because she liked Nalach," Dynine added with a giggle. She crouched next to him, eyeing Raykim who stared back goggle-eyed.

"Who is Nalach?" Keneith asked.

"My cousin," Hinrik answered, amused. "And since I'm such a hero for the Waiora, she also had a mating swim with me before meeting my father and Dynine and everybody else. They have quite a nice underwater village down there."

"But you didn't find anyone worth staying there for?" Bellinda finally found her voice again. Of course he'd had a mating swim. In his native river, why not. Why was she so upset at the thought? Hadn't she been thinking he could do it with Wioleta?

"Not really and then Dynine wanted to meet Raykim because I told them of our travels and so here we are." Hinrik's smile dazzled her.

Keneith harrumphed and she realized she was staring too much at Hinrik.

"Is Dynine going home alone?" Keneith asked as Raykim got closer to the Waiora.

"Why not?" Dynine replied. "I went home alone from Baes... And there aren't that many dangers in the Ondan."

She rose and invited Raykim to sit with her.

"Shouldn't you worry about your younger sister?" Keneith asked Hinrik who followed them with his eyes. They didn't go far and immediately started talking in the Old Tongue.

"Are they flirting?" Hinrik asked, worried.

"No." Bellinda smiled. "Both are like children. They only want to play."

"Oh, good." Hinrik relaxed and smiled again.

"So what will you do next?" Keneith asked. "Are you coming south with us or will you take Bellinda to Havenstock?"

"Wait, don't put it like that!" she protested. "Ken and Ray want to see the southern kingdoms," she told Hinrik. "What do you want to do?"

"I haven't seen enough of the north yet to go exploring the south," Hinrik answered. "If you don't mind sharing the saddle, I'll happily take you to Havenstock with Shytur."

"Besides, I don't think the south is good for horses," Keneith said. "They have elephants down there! We might exchange the draft horse for something else once we are in Lakeshi."

"Or you could drop the wagon and fly there," Bellinda said. "Or are you afraid of flying?"

Keneith winced. "I'd rather use instant-transfer spells, thank you. Although transferring myself to an unknown place is tricky. Besides, we need a place where Raykim can hide, so we'll keep the wagon."

"Guys, are you sure Raykim is not flirting with Dynine?" Hinrik asked, staring at the youngsters.

"He's not, Hinrik." Bellinda said. "Not everyone is sex-oriented."

He stared at her, a little puzzled.

"Means that not everyone constantly thinks about sex," Keneith said. "And then there's people like Bel who never think about sex. Which doesn't mean she doesn't fall in love, mind you."

"Ken..." She glared at him.

Hinrik smiled. "After I was raped I was quite disgusted myself. I sure hope it's not because someone hurt you."

Bellinda exhaled before answering. "No, nobody hurt me, I just don't see what all the fuss is about. And Humans make a lot of confusion between love and breeding. It's slightly better with the Magical Races but sometimes I really feel like I don't belong anywhere."

"I think you're much loved and belong anywhere you want to be," Hinrik said with a sweet smile. "I look forward to seeing you in your hometown with your friends and loved ones."

Bellinda's heart started beating faster as she tried to ignore Keneith's chuckle.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After saying good-bye to the Genn and Dynine, the four went back on the road through the thick Appleyard forest. There was no real road to follow, but Bellinda seemed to know her way through the trees.

"I know which way west is, and that's where we're headed," she said whenever anyone doubted her.

Sometimes Raykim took flight and checked from up above. He usually confirmed that they were steadily going west and soon would meet another river.

"That's the river that leads to Havenstock," Bellinda said. "And it doesn't have rough passages as far as I know. Besides, with a water manipulator we could survive rapids and waterfalls!" She smiled fondly at Hinrik.

He wasn't sure he could actually stop a waterfall or make it go backwards, but it was an interesting thought. They'd have to find a way for Shytur to follow them, though. A barge or swimming or simply walking on the shore... Maybe a little of everything.

"How far downriver is Havenstock?" he asked.

Bellinda took out her map, unwrapped it and made some quick calculations.

"More or less like from the Genn village to Moriana. How long did it take you?"

"Not long, even with the stop for the mating swim," he answered, thoughtful. "But I didn't have a horse to slow me down."

Keneith burst out laughing. "Maybe you should let go of Shytur! We will take care of him if you want!"

"I don't want to let him go!" Hinrik replied. "He's my only old friend!"

"I thought I saw you talking to him," Keneith teased. "Does he answer?"

"Sometimes words are not necessary." Hinrik stiffened on the saddle. "He was always there when I needed him, and I won't abandon him."

"We'll take him to Havenstock," Bellinda promised. "Don't worry. It's a good riding horse, no need to get rid of him. You might need him again."

Hinrik nodded, still frowning. He still had trouble understanding Keneith's sense of humor, obviously. He'd miss cheerful Raykim, but not his grumpy older cousin.

And then they reached the river and parted from the wagon and the cousins. Bellinda took her travel bag and hooded coat and mounted behind him on the saddle. They followed the river shore until they found a small fishing village.

There was an old boat that badly needed repairing. The fisherman who owned it had passed away without heirs, so the rest of the village told them if they could make it float again, it was theirs.

Hinrik had seen many boats and ships pass through Salamar and, after a day's work, the boat floated again. It was very small, though, so they attached Shytur with a long rope and had him following them on the river shore.

It still took them a few days to reach the outskirts of Havenstock. The night before they camped on the river shore and another Waiora came to visit. It was Wioleta, Bellinda's friend, who of course had heard of him and stared admiringly at him.

Hinrik wasn't sure he liked all the admiration the Waiora bestowed on him. He'd never wanted to be a hero, for anyone. He wondered if the Waiora females saw him for who he was or as the half-blood who had cleansed the waters in Maxwetria.

It was frustrating, but it was the opposite situation he'd had in Salamar. Humans had shunned him, Waiora seemed to adore him. Was there no middle way? Anyone who didn't care who he was or what he'd done?

The new town was probably the only hope at that point. And then it appeared beyond the forest that opened up into a wide plain where the river flowed. A square stone keep surrounded by timber houses and timber walls that was obviously still expanding.

"In spring the lords bring their men here and plant their pavilions all around the town," Bellinda said. "It's very colorful, but at the same time it's very sad, because it's army colors and one knows they're headed for war, conquest and destruction."

Hinrik nodded, thoughtful. Maybe one day they'd be sieged too. Maybe he should have gone south with the cousins.

"Don't worry, I won't tell them that you're also a warrior when you want to be." Bellinda smiled and patted his shoulder. "We might want to leave the boat here and enter the gates on horseback. It's not far anymore."

He used the oar to push the boat ashore and they both climbed onto Shytur again. The guards at the gate looked bored and let them through without looking at them twice. Bellinda slid off the saddle and led Shytur through the dusty streets that must become very muddy in winter or after rainfall.

Hinrik looked around, but the Varian capital was much newer than Salamar or Moriana and didn't have impressive stone buildings or old architecture. The square keep towered over the little houses, but the smells were very much the same as Salamar – food, shit and sometimes decay.

Bellinda stopped by a two-story timber house. "This is my mother's house, but we need to leave Shytur at a stable. There's one down the road."

She resumed leading the horse to the stable where Hinrik made sure he'd be well taken care of. Then he followed her to the house.

"Why is it your mother's and not your father's?" he asked before she knocked.

"Because she's the Human of the couple, so she's the one who has property here." Bellinda smiled.

"Oh." Hinrik was about to ask more, but the door opened and an ageless Genn brightened at the sight of them.

"Bel!" He hugged her and dragged her inside. "Alina, she's back!"

Hinrik followed, a little unsure, and found himself in a living room with a table for six, a cooking stove in a corner and a wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, probably the bedrooms. Underneath was a back door that either led to the backyard or to the outhouse or both. It was a big but cozy room and Hinrik could imagine it filled with a healthy Human family.

From the back door emerged a woman with graying hair and brown eyes. She looked much older than the Genn, but she probably was much younger instead. This reminded him of Talullah the wingless Sila and her Human husband.

As Bellinda hugged her mother, her father turned to face Hinrik with a big grin.

"And you are?"

"Hinrik Kalineson."

"Bel's boyfriend by any chance?"

"Uh... no."

"Da-ad!" Bellinda snorted. "I'm not Cara, all right? I don't want to get married and breed and all that stupid stuff!"

"Yes, yes, I know, you're a great healer and you have better things to do than breed." Her father chuckled. "I'm Joyrise." He offered his hand. "But Humans usually call me Joris."

"And may I ask how old you are?" Hinrik shook the offered hand, genuinely curious.

Joris winced. "Not in front of my wife," he said with a wink.

The woman chuckled. "Come on, Joris, we knew I'd age much faster than you when we got together," she said, letting go of Bellinda to come over to Hinrik. "Welcome, Hinrik. Joris is over eighty, but since he's Genn, it doesn't show."

"Where do you come from, Hinrik?" Joris asked as Alina led Hinrik to sit at the table.

"Salamar. Bellinda told me you've been there."

"Ah, yes, I lived there for fifteen years... but that was fifty-five years ago. Twenty years later I was still in the Salamar Kingdom, but then I came west and... things changed. A lot."

"Joris spent fifteen years with a man," Alina said, amused. "Who eventually dumped him and got married, which made him refuse any form of long-term relationship."

"I've had lovers," Joris replied. "Nobody wants to be alone! Both men and women. Until Alina put a spell on me... Or maybe it's old age, who knows. When you're young, you're more restless and willing to explore, but at some point you're just sick of it all and stick to the person by your side."

"Oh. I guess my mother was young when she had me and she didn't want my father to stick around," Hinrik said, thoughtful.

He had never considered how old his mother had been when she'd had him. Maybe telling her parents she was in love with a Waiora was worse than not saying anything and raising the child alone.

"Hinrik is half-blood too," Bellinda said. "His father is Woram, have you ever met him?"

"You're the one who befriends Waiora and Sila," Joris replied with an impish smile. "Has he met all your Magical Races friends?"

"Only Wioleta for now. Winged Elsa and Winged Monia haven't shown up on our way here. We might try to meet them in the coming days." She looked at Hinrik. "Outside of town, of course. Sila would never land in a Human town."

Hinrik nodded. He couldn't blame the Magical Races for staying away from Humans.

"I hope you will stay put now," Alina said, holding her daughter's hand. "You've been almost a year on the road! Should I prepare the attic room for our guest?"

Bellinda chuckled. "Actually, I'll take the attic room," she said. "I have always loved it. He can sleep in our room." She stared at Hinrik. "I mean mine and my sister's room."

"I remember how you took possession of my attic room in Salamar," Hinrik replied with a smile. "With Belfi and Keneith laying their magic mattresses in my living room."

"Where did you drop Belfi and Keneith?" Joris asked. "Mostly that wretched half-Fajrulo... Although I liked him, I hoped you'd stick to him."

Bellinda rolled her eyes. "It wasn't meant to be."

"Tell me it was over before you left and you didn't dump him because I happened to like him."

"Yes, it was over when we left and no, I didn't dump him because you liked him. We had what we had and that was it. He's headed south, away from the warring northern kingdoms," Bellinda answered. "Belfi stayed in Salamar until the Blackmore took it, then we saw him in Maxwetria, then I don't know."

"Ah, yes, the Salamar Kingdom is no more." Joris sighed. "And soon Caer Nittak will be under Varian rule too..."

"His lover came from Caer Nittak," Alina explained to puzzled Hinrik.

"He's long dead." Joris shrugged. "He was only Human after all."

"Have you eaten?" Alina asked. "I will prepare something. Show the house to Hinrik, dear..."

***

Bellinda showed Hinrik the house and the city. The attic had been her younger brother's bedroom, since it was quite small, and she'd had to share sleeping space with Cara. Now both her sister and Massimo had moved out of the parental house to start their own families, and she was glad her parents hadn't turned her away, even though she'd come back alone – well, with a friend.

There were no public baths like in Salamar, but she showed Hinrik a nice place where he could use the river as his personal bath chamber. It was also the place where she'd met Wioleta the first time, so she warned him he might have company from time to time. He didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't very clear if he'd enjoyed his mating swim, or if it was just sex or what. She made sure he knew where everything was, brothels included, though. Since he'd followed her, she wanted to be certain he saw all the options to rebuild his life.

He spoke with the royal architect and the royal engineer about the possible works to bring water farther from the river or have a nice fountain in the main square in front of the keep and she was happy to see how seriously he took those works. He even made suggestions for the location of public baths or a specific fountain built for the washerwomen of Havenstock.

He might be a water manipulator, but he had no building skills, so he listened carefully to the masons and other builders when they started considering digging canals. He was very willing to learn another job as long as it didn't involve swords or other weapons.

She introduced him to her siblings, nephews, nieces, and then her Human friends, so that he could start to socialize in the new town. Her best friend Lucrezia, who supposedly was married, gushed all over Hinrik as soon as she saw him.

And then there was Fabrizio, who preferred men and couldn't refrain from drooling at the sight of Hinrik. Both were constantly around him, and Bellinda was getting nervous. Not because Hinrik looked interested in either, but because she didn't like the way they tried to get in his breeches.

She assumed sometimes Hinrik didn't react because he didn't understand what was going on. The languages of the northern kingdoms were very similar, having been unified under the Moren Empire, but in Maxwetria they had a very different accent and used different words compared to the Gallian capital further west, almost like a different language.

Salamar was closer to the center, but still sometimes the Havenstock slang must be as incomprehensible as Old Tongue for Hinrik. In work talks he politely asked for words to be repeated, and sometimes Bellinda translated for him, but in private conversations he usually kept his mouth shut, probably thinking they weren't talking about him.

If Fabrizio found all the excuses to touch Hinrik, he just brushed him off or moved away. If Lucrezia became too flirtatious, he looked puzzled or bored.

Until Bellinda had enough. Barely a week back in Havenstock and she already wanted to kill her Human friends, or at least get rid of them! She wasn't going to leave again, she had as much right as them to be in town, but maybe it was time she told them to leave Hinrik alone.

"Lucrezia, aren't you married to the former most wanted bachelor of Havenstock? Fabrizio, don't you see that he's not interested in men?"

She glared at both as she sat with them and Hinrik on the river shore for what was supposed to be a private picnic – except her friends had decided to crash in.

"Well, marriage isn't as they picture it!" Lucrezia rolled her beautiful blue eyes. She had long lashes and a very generous bosom. Her long dark hair was braided and she always wore the latest fashion. She was definitely more attractive than Bellinda, but that hadn't been a problem for either of them so far. "Besides, children aren't coming yet, so I'm thinking of trying someone else, you know?"

She smiled eloquently at Hinrik who raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"All men want someone to do unspeakable things to them, even though they'd never admit it," Fabrizio added. Bellinda had had a crush on him before realizing he'd never return her love. But at the moment she really hated him, even though he was still the most handsome man she knew – besides Hinrik.

"You wish!" Lucrezia scoffed. "I bet he doesn't want you to do what you want with his body!"

"Well, he doesn't want you either, honey," Fabrizio retorted. "So why are you still here?"

"Why are you both still here?" Bellinda fumed. "He's mine! Get out of the way, will you?"

All three stared at her and she felt her cheeks burn.

"Why didn't you say so?" Lucrezia shrugged and rose.

"I thought you'd made a chastity vow!" Fabrizio added.

"Come, Faber. I wonder how she finds all those hunks and then dumps them for no reason..."

Lucrezia took Fabrizio's arm and led him away.

"Yes, I kind of liked that Keneith too," Fabrizio was saying.

Bellinda clenched her teeth and her fists. Sometimes she really hated her friends. As they vanished behind the bushes that hid the sight of the town walls and the sound of bird calls slowly covered the gurgling of water nearby, Bellinda calmed down and finally managed to look at Hinrik.

He was smiling and looking at her.

"Sorry, sometimes my friends are really dumb," she muttered, looking away. "I don't know how they found us, we were supposed to be on our own today."

"I may have said something about it, but I wasn't aware there wouldn't be others," he said.

"Well, I thought we could talk about what you want to do next, if you like Havenstock and..."

"I like Havenstock."

"And you can find work and a house and..."

"A woman, yes, found that too."

"Good!" She exhaled and looked at him again. He still looked amused. "So you're not having trouble with our accents?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But I'll get used to it."

"Good. I'm glad you don't regret your decision."

"I don't. I would have appreciated if you had told me before telling your friends, though."

"Told you what?" She glanced at him, puzzled, but his stare upset her more than she cared to admit.

He slid closer to her so that his hand on the grass almost touched hers. He leaned to whisper in her ear.

"That I belong to you. Or was it just a way to get rid of them?"

Her heart jumped so hard, she thought it would come out of her mouth. She had really hoped he hadn't understood that part. She still couldn't believe she had said it.

"You don't belong to anyone," she said, unable to look at him. Her voice shook and she cleared her throat. "I mean, I wasn't sure you were aware that they were hitting on you or what..."

"I am aware," he replied. "I might be a wicked half-blood, but I know I'm handsome. And for some people it's a kink to have sex with me. Now, your friends might not know I'm a half-blood, but they behave exactly like the people in Salamar who knew."

"So, not to your liking," she deducted.

"No. That's why I didn't reply." He pulled away and sighed. "Thanks for ridding me of them, then."

Now he sounded disappointed. He stared at the river, thoughtful, hugging his knees. Maybe he was thinking of joining Wioleta and leaving the freaky Humans forever.

I should stop trying to second-guess him, she thought. I should just ask, or tell him how I feel.

"So you found everything you were looking for here?" That wasn't really what she wanted to ask, but she couldn't bring herself to ask the real question.

"I thought so," he answered absentmindedly. "But on one point I was obviously mistaken."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Woman. I thought I had found one. That she cared for me enough to claim me before even telling me she wanted me. Because she knew I'd be hers anyway. I must have misunderstood."

She gaped at him. "Wait a moment! Are you talking about me? Are you saying you followed me because you wanted to be with me no matter where I went?"

He looked at her and slowly smiled. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

***

Hinrik wasn't sure when he'd realized he'd fallen in love with Bellinda. The past eight months had been so intense... Recovering from the siege of Moriana, discovering his true nature, accepting the gifts Water had given him, finding his first real friends – lovely Bellinda, grumpy Keneith, cheerful Raykim – and seeing the world... He'd been overwhelmed!

No wonder he hadn't realized his feelings for the only woman of the group had changed, probably during the months they'd been on the road with Raykim without much Human interaction. At first he'd thought it was gratitude for her healing and taking him to a new life. Another reason to do the mating swim and try other women before making up his mind.

Havenstock was similar to Salamar, but nobody know he was the son of an unmarried washerwoman. The dialect was slightly different, but he knew he could learn it quickly if he kept interacting with the locals.

Bellinda was still there to help him, introducing him to people, translating for him, and he was glad he had stuck to her instead of following the cousins to the southern kingdoms.

And then Bellinda had sort of claimed him in front of her friends and had showed she cared about him, which had made him feel immensely happy. Stupidly happy. Even when she backed up and sort of denied everything.

She must have been struggling with her feelings for months too. Maybe she was still sort of attached to Keneith, even though they'd parted ways. Maybe she was afraid of the age gap, or of commitment.

As she stammered some other stupid excuse, he decided to take everything into his own hands. He gently grabbed her face and leaned to close her mouth with his kisses. He could tell he was taking her breath away and he let her go, panting for breath himself. Going underwater wasn't as breathtaking as this!

His heart beat faster as he lost himself in her eyes. There was no need for words. He had found a place to call home.

About the Author

Barbara G.Tarn had an intense life in the Middle Ages that stuck with her through the centuries. She prefers swords to guns, long gowns to mini-skirts, and even though she buried the warrior woman, she deplores the death of knights in shining chainmail. She likes to think her condo apartment is a medieval castle, unfortunately lacking a dungeon to throw noisy neighbors and naughty colleagues in. Also known as the Lady with the Unicorns, these days she prefers to add a touch of fantasy to all her stories, past and present – when she’s not wandering in her fantasy world of Silvery Earth or in her Star Minds futuristic universe. She’s a writer, sometimes artist, mostly a world-creator and story-teller – stories comprise shorts, novels and graphic novels. Her novella “The Hooded Man” has received an Honorable Mention at the Writers of the Future contest. Used to multiple projects (a graphic novel is always on the side of the prose), she writes, draws, ignores her day job and blogs every other day.

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