her thoughts. These soldiers had fought under Erius’ banner and fallen for Ero. How many would have fought for her? And how many would serve under her now?
Reaching her old chamber at last, she said, “Keep guard out here, Tharin, please?”
Ki hesitated, thinking she meant to leave him, too, but she dispelled his doubts with a sharp glance and Ki followed her into the ransacked room that had once been their home.
As soon as the door was closed she slumped back against it and let out an unsteady laugh. “Free at last! For now anyway.”
That voice still sent a shiver through him. Tobin wasn’t yet sixteen, and hadn’t lost his high, boyish voice. Still hoarse from battle, Tamír sounded just the same. In the gathering gloom, she even looked like Prince Tobin, with her warrior braids and long black hair falling forward around her face.
“Tob?” The old name still came too easily.
“You can’t call me that anymore.”
Ki heard the echo of his own confusion in her voice and reached for her hand, but she brushed past him and went to the bed.
Nikides lay as they’d left him, still unconscious. His sandy hair was plastered to his cheeks with sweat and blood, and the bandages around his side were crusted with it, but his breathing was even. Tamír’s little page, Baldus, was curled asleep at his feet.
Tamír rested a hand on Nikides’ brow.
“How is he?” asked Ki.
“Feverish, but alive.”
“Well, that’s something.”
Of the nineteen original Companions, five were dead for certain, and the rest missing, except for Nik and two squires. Tanil would be lucky to survive the brutal torture he’d suffered at the hands of the Plenimarans. Lynx still seemed recklessly intent on not surviving his fallen lord, Orneus, yet he’d come through every battle without a scratch.
“I hope Lutha and Barieus are still alive,” Ki murmured, wondering how their friends would fare without them. He sat down on the floor and ran his fingers back through his tangled hair. It had grown long over the winter. The thin brown braids framing his face hung to his chest. “Where do you suppose Korin went?”
Tamír sank down beside him and shook her head. “I still can’t believe he’d abandon the city like that!”
“Everyone says it was Niryn’s doing.”
“I know, but how could Korin let that bastard sway him like that? He never liked him any more than we did.”
Ki said nothing, keeping his bitter thoughts to himself. From the day they’d met, Ki had seen the weakness in the Prince Royal, just as clearly as Tamír had seen the good. It was like a streak of poor alloy in a fine blade, and had already betrayed him twice in battle. Royal or not, Korin was a coward, and that was unforgivable in a warrior—or a king.
Tamír shifted over, leaning against his shoulder. “What do you suppose Korin and the others thought if they’ve heard news of me?”
“Nik or Tanil can tell us that when they wake 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?”
