up, I guess.”
“What would you think, in their place?” she fretted, scratching at a bit of dried blood on the back of one hand. “How do you suppose it will sound to anyone who wasn’t there to see?”
Before he could answer that, Arkoniel slipped in without knocking. Unshaven, one arm in a sling, he looked more beggar than wizard.
Ki could hardly bear to look at him. Arkoniel had been their teacher and their friend, or so they thought. But he’d lied to them all these years. Even knowing the reason, Ki wasn’t yet sure he could forgive him for that.
Arkoniel must have read his thoughts or his face; the sudden sadness in his eyes betrayed him. “Duke Illardi has offered his villa as a headquarters. The grounds have strong walls and there’s been no plague in that ward. It’s a safer place for you than here. The fires are still spreading.”
“Tell him I accept his offer,” Tamír replied without looking up. “I want Nik with me, and Tanil, too. He’s at the camp we overran yesterday.”
“Of course.”
“And we should save what we can of the royal library and archives before the fire spreads.”
“Already seen to,” Arkoniel assured her. “Tharin’s placed a guard on the Royal Tomb, as well, but I’m afraid there was some looting.”
“Seems I’m always saddled with caring for the dead.” Tamír rose and walked out onto the broad balcony that overlooked the palace gardens and the city beyond. Ki and Arkoniel followed.
This part of the Old Palace was hardly touched by the destruction outside. Snowdrops and banks of white narcissus glowed in the failing daylight. Beyond the walls, smoke hung heavy over the city, lit from below by flames.
Tamír gazed up at the red-stained sky. “One of the last things my uncle said to me before we rode for Atyion was that if Ero is lost, Skala is lost. What do you think, Arkoniel? Was he right? Were we too late?”
“No. It’s a terrible blow, certainly, but Ero is only one city among many. Skala is wherever you are. The queen is the land. I know things look grim to you right now, but births are seldom easy and never clean. Rest a bit before we ride. Oh, and Iya’s spoken to some of the women in your guard. Ahra or Una can stay with you tonight.”
“Ki is still my squire.”
The wizard hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t think that’s advisable, do you?”
Tamír rounded on him, pent-up fury blazing in those dark eyes. Even Ki took a step back in the face of it.
“It is advisable because I say it is! Consider that my first official proclamation as your queen-to-be. Or am I just a wizard’s puppet after all, like my uncle?”
Arkoniel looked stricken as he pressed a hand to his heart and bowed. “No, never that. I swear on my life.”
“I’ll remember you said that,” Tamír snapped. “And you remember this. I accept my duty to Skala, the gods, my line, and my people. But right now, I warn you—” A quaver crept into her voice. “Don’t cross me in this. Ki stays with me. Now just—go away!”
“As you wish, Highness.” The wizard quickly retreated, but not without a sad look in Ki’s direction.
Ki pretended not to notice. You put her here. You can damn well suffer the consequences along with the rest of us!
“Prince Tobin?” Baldus stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Tamír’s valet, Molay, had hidden the child in a trunk during the final attack. When Tamír and Ki had found him afterward, he was too exhausted and terrified to notice the change in her. He looked around in confusion. “Where’s the princess you were talking to, Lord Ki?”
Tamír went to the child and took his hand. “Look at me, Baldus. Look closely.”
The boy’s brown eyes widened. “Highness, are you bewitched?”
“I was. Now I’m not.”
Baldus nodded uncertainly. “An enchanted princess, like in the bard’s tales?”
Tamír managed a pained smile. “Something like that. We need to get you someplace safe.”
Chin trembling, the child fell to his knees, clutching her hand and kissing it. “I’ll always serve you, Princess Tobin. Please don’t send me away!”
“Of course I won’t, if you want to stay.” Tamír pulled him to his feet and hugged him. “I need every loyal man I can find. But you must call me Princess Tamír now.”
“Yes, Princess Tamír.” The child clung to her. “Where’s Molay?”
“I don’t know.”
Ki doubted they’d see him again on this side of Bilairy’s gate. “Get some sleep, Tamír. I’ll keep watch.” To his surprise, she didn’t argue. Stretching out beside Nikides on the bare mattress, she turned on her side and surrendered at last to exhaustion.
Ki pulled up a chair and sat with his sword unsheathed across his knees. He was her squire and he would do his duty, but he studied that shadowed face with the heavy heart of a friend.
Darkness had fallen when Tharin came in with a lamp. Ki blinked in the sudden light. Tamír sat up at once, reaching for her sword.
“Everything’s ready, Tamír.” Tharin stepped aside to make way for the litter bearers who’d come for Nikides. Lynx followed, carrying Tamír’s discarded armor.
“I’ve assembled an escort for you in the front court and Manies has gone for your horses,” said Tharin. “You’d best wear your armor. The streets are far from secure.”
Ki took the Aurënfaie hauberk from the other squire. Lynx understood. This was Ki’s responsibility, and his honor.
He helped Tamír put on the supple mail hauberk, then buckled on the breastplate for her. These pieces, as well as what Ki, Lynx, and Tharin wore, had all come from the Atyion armory. Wrestling with the unfamiliar buckles, he wondered what had become of the armor they’d left behind in Ero that night. Lost with everything else, Ki thought with regret. His had been a gift from Tobin, one of her own designs.
Tamír, he thought, catching himself. Damnation! How long before that came naturally?
The rest of the royal guard was mounted and waiting for them in the courtyard. Beyond the wall, the Palatine was as bright as day from the fires still burning there. The hot breeze was against them, and ash had drifted over everything like a grey killing frost.
There were at least a hundred riders assembled, many of whom held torches to light the way. Most of the horses had shorn manes, Ki noted. Mourning for the king, perhaps, or lost comrades. The few remaining men from the Alestun guard were at the forefront, still keeping together as a group. Aladar and Kadmen saluted him and he returned it with a heavy heart; too many missing faces there.
Lady Una was there, too, with Iya, Arkoniel, and the ragtag collection of wizards Iya had gathered. The rest were soldiers still wearing the baldric of Atyion, Captain Grannia and her women foremost among them.
Lord Jorvai and Lord Kyman, Tamír’s first allies among the nobles, waited with sizable contingents of their own riders.
Left-handed Manies hoisted Tamír’s tattered banner aloft. It still showed the blended coat of arms of her parents, Ero and Atyion together. A long black ribbon was tied to the top of the staff, out of respect for the dead king.
“You should ride under the royal banner now,” said Tharin.
“I haven’t been crowned yet, have I? Besides, Korin took that with him, too.” She leaned closer, whispering, “So many? It’s less than three miles to Illardi’s house.”
“As I said, the streets are still dangerous. A lot of Erius’ men have refused to join us. They could still be out there