Lilias the Sorceress pulled herself away from the cavern wall and stood upright to acknowledge him, summoning her dignity and the might of the Soumanië she wore. “Greetings, Kingslayer.”

He flinched at the title, straightening as though his back pained him, pushing dark hair back from his brow. “Greetings, Sorceress.”

A quiet voice, low and husky with exhaustion. He spoke Pelmaran well, with only a trace of a southerner’s accent. It was not what Lilias had expected; and yet it was. Calandor had known as much. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as the stories made him, when he had ridden to battle on the plains of Curonan, wearing the Helm of Shadows. A Man, nothing more, nothing less.

“Your Lord has sent you.”

“Yes.” The Soldier bowed, carefully. “He would beg a favor, my lady. You know that Dergail’s Soumanië has risen in the west?”

“I know it.” A mad laugh rose in Lilias’ throat; she stifled it. It tasted of despair. “I have known it these many weeks, Tanaros Blacksword.”

His eyes were weary. “Shall we speak, then?”

Lilias inclined her head. “Follow me.”

She was aware of him on the stair behind her, his steps echoing hers, following at a respectful distance. The skin of her back crawled and her throat itched, when she remembered how his wife had died.

He offered no threat.

Even so.

“My lady!” Her Ward Commander, Gergon, was waiting at the top of the stair. He took a step forward, frowning. “You should have sent for—” Her stalwart, grizzled commander forgot what he was saying, staring in hushed awe. “General Tanaros!”

“Commander.” The Soldier bowed courteously.

Gergon’s gaze slid to the hilt of the black sword, hanging inconspicuously at Tanaros’ side. He blinked, his mouth working, no words emerging. Behind him, a pair of junior warders clad in the colors of Beshtanag, forest-green and bronze, jostled one another and craned to see over their commander’s shoulder.

Always the blades, with Men.

The dragon’s voice sounded amused, by which token Lilias knew there to be no danger. She sighed inwardly, and exerted the power of the Soumanië. “Commander Gergon, I thank you for your concern. I will summon you if there is need.”

Gergon stood aside, then, having no choice; his junior warders scrambled to fall in beside him. Lilias swept past them, leading Tanaros Blacksword to her private chambers. He followed her without comment, more patient than she would have guessed. His hands hung loose at his sides, and she tried not to think what they had done.

I have killed, little sister. I have eaten Men whole.

“None that you loved,” Lilias said aloud.

Tanaros looked quizzically at her. “Sorceress?”

The dragon chuckled. What is love?

Lilias shook her head. “It is nothing,” she said to Tanaros.