The Queen’s servant brought the meal Mist had requested. She snatched the main platter and ate with her fingers as the King led her out into the castle’s drafty halls. A few queries about Varthlokkur led them to the small castle library.

The wizard glanced up as they entered. He half stood, dismayed, when he saw her face. He made a sign against the evil eye.

She launched into her tale before he could speak. His dismay became despair. She could imagine the emotional storm inside him. Usually he was a man of stone.

His face hardened. “Enough, woman. The answer is no. I won’t touch it. Find another way.”

“But…”

“I’m not going to let Nepanthe see what he’s become. She’s too delicately balanced. She thinks he’s dead. Leave him in his grave.”

“What are you going to tell her when his dead men get to these parts?” the King demanded.

“Mist is exaggerating. His armies will fall apart.”

“You are sticking your head in the sand,” Mist snapped. “They’ve held up against the finest we could put in their way. He made mistakes in the early going. He’s still a child. But he’s learned. He’s bottomed out. From now on he’ll only get stronger. Unless the three or four people who mean most to him emotionally shatter the chains of hatred binding him.”

Anger reddened the wizard’s cheeks. “You speak with conviction and passion, but you don’t know what you’re asking. The answer has to be no.”

Bragi suggested, “Then don’t go yourself. Send the Unborn. Make the lie truth.”

“Lie? Truth?”

“Have Radeachar kill him.”

“No. Listen. You don’t understand. I can’t help. It’s your problem, Mist. You deal with it. Bragi, I told you before, if you tell Nepanthe about this….”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. I won’t. Even though I think you’re wrong. Totally, insanely wrong. I won’t.”

“You’re behaving irrationally, Varthlokkur,” Mist said.

“Try to understand. I want to protect my wife.”

“You don’t give her enough credit,” Mist said. “She looks neurotic, but she’s a lot tougher than she pretends. She’s had to be.”

And the King: “I don’t think you’re protecting her at all. I think you’re protecting yourself. From your own insecurities. You’re just scared of change. Change might alter your relationship…”

“Be still!” the wizard snapped. And, “Just remember what the Thing did to you the other day, with the succession. Recall how the vote went? You understand what it means?” He smiled evilly. “You can’t afford to lose me now.”

“Wizard, I get nasty when people try to twist my arm.”

“Better get used to it.”

“We’ve been on opposite sides before. I can live without you.”

“You’ve been warned. Stay away from my wife.” Varthlokkur shifted his gaze to Mist. She rocked under the impact of his glare. “The Deliverer is your problem, woman. Ethrian is dead.”

She sagged, defeated. The King took her arm. “We’re wasting our time here. He’s gone goofy. Maybe the Brotherhood will help. You have friends there.”