v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Maps
Chapter 1: Rain on the Roof
Chapter 2: A Timely Offer
Chapter 3: Seregil and Alec Go to Court
Chapter 4: Sails and Tales
Chapter 5: The Sacred Isle
Chapter 6: Madhouse
Chapter 7: Mirror Moon
Chapter 8: Micum Goes to Town
Chapter 9: Wizard’s Work
Chapter 10: Dreams and Arrivals
Chapter 11: Menosi
Chapter 12: The Oracle’s Caves
Chapter 13: Tears
Chapter 14: Night Visitors
Chapter 15: Detour
Chapter 16: Rhazat
Chapter 17: The Grey Land
Chapter 18: Ghosts and Shadows
Chapter 19: Lost
Chapter 20: Old Magic
Chapter 21: Kordira Lends a Hand
Chapter 22: Zella’s Return
Chapter 23: Beyond the Help of the Four
Chapter 24: Taking a Gamble
Chapter 25: Secrets, Salves, and a Spade
Chapter 26: Old Sorrows
Chapter 27: Despair and Hope
Chapter 28: Hard Choices
Chapter 29: Respite
Chapter 30: Mourning Night
Afterword
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Other Books by This Author
EARLY-SPRING rain lashed against the windowpanes next to Alec’s chair and drummed on the inn’s roof slates overhead. With a fire crackling on the hearth, a good supper just dispatched, and an interesting tome borrowed from the Orëska House library open on his lap, Alec was looking forward to a peaceful evening. His companion, however, had other ideas.
Sprawled in a pile of cushions in front of the fire, Seregil had thumbed through a succession of apparently uninteresting letters, discarded several books, and now lay staring up at the ceiling and whistling a sad tune softly—and rather annoyingly—through his teeth. Alec guessed he was composing some new song, as he maddeningly kept repeating phrases and tapping time against the ash shovel with one bare foot. Even Ruetha and her kittens had lost patience with him and had retreated to their basket in the corner.
But as distracting as it was, and as melancholy as the tune sounded, Alec felt a certain amount of relief, too. It had been difficult for both of them, losing more people they cared about—Myrhichia, Lady Kylith, Duke Malthus—the previous year. They’d nearly lost Micum Cavish’s daughter Illia, as well. Alec had felt the losses deeply, but Seregil was always one to hang on to pain, tinged as it was with guilt.
This was the first time Seregil had shown any interest in composing in months, so the interruption was almost welcome, even if it did mean Alec wasn’t going to get any reading done.
He closed his book. “That’s a pretty tune you’re working on. Play it for me?”
Seregil glanced up at the Aurënfaie harp hanging on the wall. “It’s not done yet.”
“So play me what you have.”
Seregil cast him a sidelong glance. “I’m annoying you.”
“Just a little.”
With an apologetic half smile, Seregil marshaled his long limbs and resurrected himself from his nest. Taking the harp down, he plucked at the strings, tuned them a little, then played a few bars of what sounded like a lament.