By going to Longmot, she might well trade her life, and her father’s, for King Orden’s—a man whom she’d always disliked. Yet even if she did not like the man, did not trust him, she couldn’t let him die.

Nor could she sacrifice her own father for Orden’s sake.

Her father sat now on his horse, staring dumbly into the stream, oblivious of all that was said around him. Raindrops spattered him, and he glanced this way and that, trying to discern what had hit him. Hopeless. Hopelessly lost to her.

Gaborn gazed down at Iome, as if worried at her health, and she realized he was oblivious of her dilemma. Gaborn hailed from Mystarria, from a kingdom near the ocean, where water wizards congregated. He had no knowledge of the lore of Earth Wardens. He had no idea that he’d been anointed to be King of the Earth. He had no idea that Raj Ahten feared him, would kill him, if only Raj Ahten knew Gaborn’s identity.

Wind gusted on the hill again; Gaborn listened as if to a distant voice. A few minutes ago, she’d wondered if Gaborn was mad. Now she realized that something marvelous was happening. The trees spoke to him, called him, for purposes neither he nor she understood.

“What should we do now, milord?” Iome asked. She had never called any man but her father by that title, never submitted to another king. If Gaborn recognized the sudden shift in their relationship, he did not signal it.

“We should go west,” he whispered. “Toward the heart of the woods. Deeper.”

“Not south?” Iome asked. “Your father could be in danger—more danger than he knows. We might help him.”

Gaborn smiled at her words. “You worry for my father?” he said. “I love you for that, Princess Sylvarresta.” Though he said the words lightly, she could not mistake the tone of his voice. He indeed felt grateful, and he loved her.

The thought made her shiver, made her want him more than she’d ever wanted a man. Iome had always been sensitive to magics, knew that her desire for Gaborn was born of the earth powers growing in him. He was not handsome, she had to tell herself. Not really more handsome than any other man.

Yet she felt drawn to him.

How could he love me? she wondered. How could he love this face? It was like a wall between them, this loss of glamour, her loss of self-respect and hope. Yet when he spoke to her, when Gaborn assured her that he loved her, she felt warm all over. She dared hope.