Khyber readjusted their hands so that Aphenglow’s were open, palms up, and her own were resting lightly on top of them, palms down. “Look at me, Aphenglow. Look into my eyes and do not look away.”

“I hate this,” Aphen said in response.

“Keep looking at me. Think about the vision. Any part of the vision. Don’t think of anything else but that. Let your mind relax and drift from one image to another. Keep remembering. Look at me. Look at me.”

Aphen obeyed, feeling the first twinges of the expected invasion, a sort of tingling that began in her hands and slowly worked its way up her arms, through her neck, and finally into her head. She forced herself not to move, not to react, just enduring it, letting the skiving happen. The presence of the Ard Rhys was unmistakable, the feel of her moving around in her mind, touching here and there, prowling. Aphenglow wanted to scream, to throw her out, to stop what was happening and erase its memory as the tide might erase all traces of passage on a sandy beach.

But she could not do that. She had given her word. She must hold fast.

Then, without warning, it ended. The presence of the Ard Rhys vanished, the invasion was over, and her mind and body were hers again. She felt Khyber’s hands withdraw, moving up to grip her shoulders.

“That was very brave of you,” the Ard Rhys whispered and kissed her on the cheek.

Aphenglow closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Just don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

There was no response. When she opened her eyes, Khyber Elessedil was gone.

Shadows everywhere. Darkness all around.

Drust Chazhul worked his way cautiously down the deep gloom of the hallway leading to Edinja Orle’s chambers, already questioning the wisdom of his decision to visit her in this manner. He had wanted to speak to her somewhere private, somewhere their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. He knew he had no hope of persuading her to come to his own chambers, so he had decided on the bold approach of asking to come to hers. Surprisingly, she had agreed without a moment’s hesitation.

But she wanted him there after dark when he would not be seen and she could be certain of his intentions.

She could never be certain of that, he had thought at the time, but he admired that she believed she could. But then he, too, was risking something by coming alone to her, when he would be most vulnerable to whatever harm she might choose to inflict on him. So when he had agreed to her terms, he had mentioned casually that he would tell Stoon and his other retainers that they would not need to accompany him—just to advise her that someone would know where he was going, lessening the chances of her attempting anything unpleasant.