Tullon joined Mariva and me in our rooms just after we finished a light breakfast. The three of us stepped outside in the back of the castle, near the maze. Mariva and I exchanged a glance and immediately burst into laughter, while Tullon stood by looking bewildered.

"Never mind," Mariva said, patting her cousin’s cheek patronizingly. She was still laughing as she walked off to join Corln, who seemed to have a mysterious ability to find Mariva no matter where she was.

"So," I said, sitting on the edge of a fountain on the large castle lawn, "you wanted to test my magic." I drew my knees up to my chin and clasped my hands around them, gazing up at Tullon like a puppy. "I’m ready."

Tullon looked at my innocent pose and just shook his head. Before I realized what he was going to do, he tipped me into the water.

It was cold, and wet, as water is want to be, and I didn’t like it at all. Instead of standing there gaping like a fish or crying my eyes out, I launched myself at Tullon, determined that if I would be wet, so would he. His yelp was very satisfying as I knocked him down to the lawn.

"Not," he gasped as he finally managed to sit up, "very princess like."

"I was provoked," I said with my nose in the air, "by an action that wasn’t very prince-like."

We sat there, laughing. The lords and ladies walking past us weren’t sure what to make of the two youngsters dressed in expensive clothing, yet dripping wet. Tullon just waved to everyone who walked by. "All right," he finally said when the last pair of nobles had hurried away from us. He twisted so that he sat, cross-legged, across from me. "The first thing I want to do is measure your magic - determined how much you have, what kind it is. Here." He fished through a bag he had brought with him, and pulled out a perfectly round stone. I would have called it a pearl if pearls could be as large as my fist, and lavender. Tullon handed it to me, and I cradled it in my hands, admiring the light bouncing off it.

"It’s called a nafginian," he told me.

I made a face. "Not the prettiest of names."

He laughed. "My apologies. I’ll petition the High Mage Council to see if they’ll change it for you."

I sniffed. "Do."

The first thing Tullon wanted me to do was focus on the nafginian completely, concentrating all my thoughts on it, in it, for about ten minutes. "Hopefully, the stone will do the rest -"

"The stone? But it’s inanimate."

"Um . . . partially. Just, if you feel it pull you in, let it. Go along with it." He made a frustrated sound and face. "Sorry I can’t be more helpful. I can’t actually use a nafginian, so I’m just repeating what other have said."

"Can most people use one?"

He hesitated a moment. "Don’t think about that right now. After the nafginian pulls you in, let all your thoughts go. Rather - let the stone have them."

"Tullon . . ." I said skeptically. "It’s a stone. I’d rather just pawn it for a dozen silvers then try to put myself into it."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"I’ll just sit on the edge of the fountain, and you - concentrate."

I made a face, then looked down at the stone in my hand. Hello, rock, I thought, smiling slightly. Concentrate on it? How?

In the end, after wondering for five minutes or so, I just blanked my mind as much as possible and looked at the stone, letting thoughts drift in and out of my mind while focusing on the feel and look of the nafginian. In less then a minute, something clasped onto my mind. Instinctively I tried to pull away, before remembering Tullon’s words. I cautiously let myself go.

It felt - at first, like fingertips were being gently pressed onto my head at every point. Later, like hands were cradling my face, more gentle, as if they were holding me up on all sides. The nafginian was guiding me, I registered vaguely. It was shifting through various senses and scenes - a waterfall, the taste of cinnamon, a falcon flying, the feel of sand in my hands, the howling wind, a castle of crystal, the scent of roses, the feeling of a plush carpet beneath my feet. Some of the images stayed in my mind, while others slipped away. It was like the nafginian was tossing things at me, and some were recognized, finding something in me that matched with it, while others were unfamiliar, unrelated to me.

The castle of crystal; the smell feel of rain and fog and water; a shining cluster of jewels, the smell of something almost like saffron, but not. A girl - a girl that was me, but wasn’t. Dressed in a robe styled thousands of years ago, holding a staff, wearing a circlet. A princess. And someone behind her, someone I couldn’t quite see . . .

And lastly, something the nafginian didn’t throw at me, something that came out of me in response to it, a pull, a power that had everything to do with anything, but that I couldn’t understand. It whipped around me, pulling me every way. It was sights, and scents, and textures and tastes and sounds and it was none and all. In its purest form, it was choice, and it was mine alone.

A second later, I was thrust out of wherever I had been, back into the courtyard with Tullon sitting on the fountain, and several young servant children playing with noble children, probably against the wishes of both sets of parents.

The nafginian was still in my hands, but now it had shattered into dozens of pieces, little shards of what it had once been.

"Was that supposed to happen?" I asked, and discovered my throat was dry, like I hadn’t spoken in a long time.

Tullon started, seeming to only now notice I had snapped out of whatever trance I had been in. Slowly, he shook his head, eyes fixed on the shards. "No," he said, and when he looked at me again, he appeared a little wary. "What happened?"

In as much detail as possible, I described it to him. He took the remains of the nafginian and put them back in his pouch. "I think," he said carefully, refusing to meet my eyes, "that we shouldn’t try to determined anything about your magic again - at least until I can talk to someone about this. It would be best if you don’t tell anyone about this."

I nodded my agreement. Except for Mariva, of course, but I didn’t even consider myself lying when I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone, though that night I told his cousin everything.

"For now," Tullon continued, finally meeting my eyes, and grinning, "I think we should just work on your dancing and etiquette. You may have survived the Emperor, but the ball is in a week. We’ll want to work on that."

And so we did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"One two three, one two three, spin two three, drop two three," Tullon said as we spun around one of the palace’s empty ballrooms. This one was small and isolated; Lord Seer Corln had promised we wouldn’t run into anyone here. For the last week, Mariva and her cousin had been perfecting my court manners in preparation for the ball tonight. Aiven had joined us occasionally, when he could steal a moment away from the ever-increasing amount of Seer meetings and war councils. When he did, Tullon insisted he rest, not dance or teach. Aiven scowled, but agreed. I began to suspect these mysterious councils tired him out more then he was willing to admit. To my surprise, I wished Aiven was with us more often. I’d gone four months spending all my time in his presence, often even sleeping in the same room. Now, seeing him for less then an hour in an entire week, I was wishing he was there more often. I smiled a little sadly. Who else was I supposed to argue with?

"One two three, one two dip, one spin spin, one two right left."

I found myself muttering along with Tullon again, whispering the steps as we danced. Tullon glared at me and I immediately shut up. I had been muttering while I danced the entire week; it was the only way to remember the steps. My largest fear was not tripping in front of everyone but instead saying "one two three" under my breath while my dance partner was trying to speak with me. I loved to dance, but memorizing large amounts of foot work was far less fun then dancing around the city square in Cyri any way I wanted to, or performing a simple country dance.

"Quick!" Mariva called out from where she was watching, "What is the name of the Queen of Itsoli?"

"Um . . ." I stammered.

"Quick, quick!" Mariva called, snapping her fingers.

"Something that sounds like toad!" I called across the room to her. She mock glared at me and I stopped dancing. "Well, I don’t know," I said defensively. "There’s only so much a mind can hold."

"Queen Taiynode," Mariva said, biting back a smile. "And when introduced to her, you’ll say . . .?"

"My, what large jewels you wear. I don’t suppose you would miss them?"

Mariva snorted, and it was my turn to scold. "Tsk, tsk, Mariva of Cillyon, that’s not very lady like." I dropped down next to her on a velvet bench, with Tullon standing before us. "Why don’t we use the rest of the afternoon for something fun?"

"No fun," Tullon said with a smile. "The ball is tonight, goose. We might be done with reviewing, but you’ll have to spend the rest of the day preparing for the actual thing."

I chose to ignore the second sentence, as if that would make it go away. "I’m not a goose," I muttered darkly instead, slouching down in my seat. He had taken to calling me that when I did anything he found amusing, after I had tried to free the geese caged in one of the gardens.

I thought it was a mistake, all right? Why would anyone want to cage geese?

Tullon smirked, and continued, "You do know Aiven and Corln will meet you in the Waiting Chambers six hours past noon?"

"Of course," Mariva said, then looked at her cousin mischievously. "And just who are you escorting to the ball?"

"No one," he said with a glare. Mariva and I glanced at each other, then sat up, interested.

"What’s her name?" I asked innocently. Tullon continued to glare, his arms crossed.

"You know," Mariva said, turning to me, "we could just ask Corln and Aiven to scry for us. I’m sure they’d be more then happy to . . ."

Tullon groaned. "I’m sure they wouldn’t." He sighed deeply, then rolled his eyes upward. "Her name is Princess Tivette. I met her three days ago."

"And what’s she like?" Mariva asked with a grin. "I don’t think I’ve heard of her," she continued with a frown.

Tullon shot a superior expression. "That is because she wasn’t born a princess. She was recently widowed."

"Tullon!" I gasped, clasping a hand to my heart, "I’m shocked!" I feigned a faint, collapsing to the floor and sprawling out limply. After a moment I looked up. "Widowed?" I said in a normal voice. "How old is she?"

"Seventeen. She was married two years ago to the prince of Clait."

"Clait," Mariva and I murmured together, exchanging glances. There was something familiar about the name.

"How did the prince die?" Mariva asked.

Tullon looked a little uneasy. "Murdered."

"Recently?" Mariva asked in surprise, and Tullon nodded. "Tull! Now I really am shocked."

"Clait!" I called out, remembering. Aiven had told it to me weeks ago — the crown prince of Clait had been murdered, and there was something about a corrupted Seer and a group of unhappy countries. I focused on Tullon, standing up off the ground. "All right, Tullon, explain."

"Explain?" Tullon echoed, but he looked a little sheepish. Mariva looked confused.

"Clait’s prince was killed by . . . a rival country. But their war was to be fought in the kingdom between them . . ."

"Sarlainth!" Mariva finished for me, her eyes flashing as she remembered. "And the old Sarlainth seer became corrupt and invited the darkness there, and — now it’s being used as a battlefield?"

Tullon nodded, giving in. "Yes. All true."

"So are you escorting the princess or protecting her?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "What need is there for protection at a ball?" he asked, but the question had gotten to him.

"At least it’s less scandalous," Mariva said sadly. She couldn’t keep back a small smile. "And here I was, looking forward to the drama."

"My family hates me," Tullon grumbled, and Mariva and I were laughing as we walked back to our rooms.

In the back of my mind, however, I made a note to ask Aiven about Clait as soon as possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were letters for us on a silver platter when we returned to our rooms.

"Why," I asked, frowning, "would anyone waste a silver plate on holding letters?"

Mariva laughed. "Be glad there aren’t gold inlays. Look," she said, scanning the pile, "these two are for you."

I was delighted and surprised that anyone had written to me. I picked up the first one, dropping down into an armchair. Lady Damslae of Cyri, it was addressed, in curly, elegant letter. When I opened it and glanced at the bottom for the signature, it read Lady Jainalii of Korins.

That was kind of her, I thought as I folded the letter up. It was a little strange to have an adult actually caring about what happened to me, but not, I decided, a bad strange. I looked down at the flat, inch wide strip of silk, about nine inches long. It was a gorgeous shade of blue that didn’t really match me at all. I couldn’t see the charms supposedly sewn in, but didn’t really care. Smiling, I pushed up my sleeve and tied it around my forearm.

The second letter was thicker, with no name on the front; when I opened it a strand of diamond drops on a silver chain fell into my hand, the type meant to be worn across my forehead in a V and tied into my hair. I held it up to the light, deciding it was not diamond after all; though clear, the crystal shone with bright colors when lights hit it. The note was short:

Your circlet hasn’t been found yet . . . It might be appropriate to wear this instead, if you like.

This took a little more though then Lady Jainalii’s gift.

Aiven may have just been being polite and giving me something fit for a princess to wear. It may not have even been from him at all - he might just be the messenger. For all I knew, it came from the Mage-King Sair.

Oddly, I was almost wishing it came from Aiven.

Then there was a circlet part. First: I had no desire to where one. Honestly - a circlet? It would probably slip off, hit my nose on the way down, and then some crystal goblet which would most likely be right in front of me. The wine - I decided it would be red - would fly from the goblet and soak into all the important royals’ (white) clothes that were standing around me.

I blinked the scenario from my mind. No circlets. Bad idea.

Second: find my circlet? I already had one? That is, there was one already made for the Princess of Lahtorli? Wouldn’t it make more sense if the circlet was in Lahtorli? Or did they just expect it to show up at the Bastian Palace?

Shaking my head, I carefully placed the strand of near-diamonds on my bedside table, then started to get ready for the ball.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It ended up taking us four hours to get ready for the ball, mainly because Mariva and my underdresses had been ruined when one of the servants had brought her four year old nieces in, and they had used our clothes to make big, beautiful tents.

And, all right, because Mariva and I couldn’t resist playing in the ripped dress tents for half an hour. Giggling, we fed each other grapes and felt like desert princesses, with all our cushions and tapestries strewn about below the draping underskirts.

"I never noticed how much fabric they were made out of," Mariva commented as we sprawled beneath them, right before one of the maids hurried us out to get ready. I wore what my seamstress - sometime this week my retinue had expanded - assured me was a masterpiece. I had assured her that it better be, considering the amount of times pins had been thrust into my flesh.

Mariva was the one that had convinced me to wear this style, one from the southern continent that would stand out. It was black with lots of red trimming and ruffles, circling my shoulders and lying in layers on my skirt. When I asked if it was exactly princessy, Mariva laughed at me. "You’re a princess. Whatever you wear is automatically princessy."

"At least I’ll stand out," I said a little dubiously, draping the near-diamond circlet over my forehead. At the moment the bright colors it was reflected were only reds, matching my hair and gown. That was all I needed - a style conscious rock. "Maybe a little too much . . ."

"You look gorgeous. That’s all that matters," Mariva said, sitting confidently in her classic Imperial style gown, split skirt and elaborate high bodice. "Everyone else will be trying to outshine each other with dresses in some variation of this style, while you’re wearing a completely different type." She grinned at my in the mirror. "I still think you should have gone with the Torish-desert style."

"The one with floaty scarves as a shirt and a stip of gauze as a shirt? No thank you," I said wryly.

"But it would be so much fun to wear something like that," Mariva said wistfully.

"Then you should."

She snorted. "And I would - if I wasn’t only a duke’s daughter as opposed to a princess with no relations to reprimand you, or if I wasn’t betrothed to the influential Seer of the Bastian Empire."

"You have a point," I conceded, and we laughed.

We were showed down to an antechamber by one of the servants - one of the Waiting Chambers, the rooms specifically designed to be waited in until ready to descend to the Grand Ballroom. We stood there nervously, glancing at the tall grandfather clock every five seconds.

"They should be here now," I said, pulling at an annoying piece of red lace.

Mariva nodded. "And the ball starts in just a few minutes. Or, that is, the ballrooms already full and we’ll be descending in a few minutes."

In unison, we glanced towards the doors again. This time, they swung open, and Aiven and Corln entered. Like usually at Court functions, they wore sweeping silvery robes. And like usual, I started breathing a little faster when I saw Aiven. I resisted reaching up and touching the near-diamonds.

Corln took Mariva’s hand and led her to a corner, leaving Aiven and me staring at each other.

"That’s . . . different," Aiven said after a second.

"Different in a good way or a bad way?"

"Different in a southern way."

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Aiven," I said sarcastically, feeling a little hurt.

"But I like it."

"I am overjoyed," I said sarcastically.

Though just because something’s said sarcastically does not make it less true.

Aiven just bowed sardonically.

"Thank you for the . . . " I trailed off, unsure of what to call it, instead touching my fingers to the jewels strung across my forehead.

He shrugged. "If I had known you were going for exotic I would have given you a peacock’s feather."

I took a deep breath to yell at him before I saw his mouth twitching and realized he was teasing me. "Oh, leave me alone," I told him. "I’m perfectly happy without any feathers."

"Are you sure? I could wear one too. We would match." He was fully smiling now.

For some unexplainable reason, my heart twisted suddenly, flipping in my chest, as Aiven’s warm honey colored eyes stared into my own. My breathing was coming a little faster, and again, my heart flipped.

Take up acrobatics some other time, I told myself harshly. I forced my gaze to somewhere behind Aiven’s head. "Well? Are you ready?

"Are you?"

I snorted in the most un-princesslike manner possible. "Is that ever going to happen?" I watched as Corln and Mariva, arm and arm, heads tilted together, slipped through the curtains covering the doorway. I turned back to Aiven, sure he could see the pathetic panic racing across my face. He offered me his arm, and his other hand slipped a feather into my hand resting on his arm.

"Conjuring now? Careful, Aiven, or you’ll turn Mage like."

He only smiled again, and led me through the curtains into a long hallway. Mariva and Corln had already gone this way. At the end were the doors leading to the Grand Staircase that descended into the ballroom. Each door was made completely of one plank of dark wood. They were inlaid with swirling patterns of mother-of-pearl, and jewels sure to catch the light of the Grand Ballroom and reflect it in dazzling colors back at the ensemble.

"Breathe," Aiven whispered to me as we faced the doors.

"Actually, I was planning to hold my breath until I suffocate," I sniped, my nervousness plainly showing.

"You’ve faced the King and Court of Sontái, you’ve been housed at several noble homes on the trip here, and your closest companions are royalty and Seers. There is nothing to be afraid of."

"Except tripping and tumbling down the lovely grand staircase."

"I would go down with you."

"While that would normally make me feel better, I think in this case all the guests would take you falling as some sort of prophetic sign, while if I fell I would just look stupid."

"Walk," he ordered, and I had no choice to do so or be left without an escort.

My first view of the Grand Ballroom was obliterated be the blinding lights flashing in my eyes. Once I had passed that, I was able to see huge chandeliers, ten feet in diameter, multiple rings of crystals reflecting and tossing the light from the candles back and forth. The walls were hung with flags of every visiting kingdom.

The room, large as it was, was full. Mariva had said there were five hundred countries being represented, mostly by the highest-ranking Mage or part of the royalty with Mage Powers - occasionally the reigning monarch. There were at least ten thousand people in the room. She had also been right on the style of dresses, all Imperial style except for mine. And the jewels . . . Even the clumsiest thief would walk away with a bagful of unmissed rocks, they were in such abundance.

When the horns started playing, it took me a moment to realize they were playing to announce me. And Aiven - but he was mostly just my escort. I shivered as the last notes rang out in the otherwise silent ballroom, and the herald announced:

"Her Serene Royal Highness, Princess Laeliena Ellenviete of Lahtorli, Jewel of the Radiant Glories, Blooded to the Kin of the East -"

"I was wondering about that," I whispered to Aiven, "they said those when I was introduced to the Emperor, too. Who’s the Kin of the East and what’s jewel of the Radiant Glories?"

"Be quiet," Aiven answered.

"-of the Eternal Lahnay’in, Empress of the Stars -"

"These are all really just empty titles aren’t they?" I asked.

"I said, be quiet. You’re being introduced."

"I already know who I am. I shouldn’t have to listen."

"Start walking."

"What?"

"Start walking." He practically dragged me along with him as he began to descend the stairs. I hadn’t even realized they had finished introducing me.

"All right, all right, I’m walking," I hissed, forcing my feet to step down each step. Lightly, I rehearsed to myself. Gracefully move from stair to stair. You are a butterfly. You are a butterfly.

Aiven’s snort of laughter made me turn my head. When I met his gaze, he whispered, "You did realize you actually said ‘you are a butterfly,’ outloud?"

Kill me now, I thought to whatever deity was listening. "So?" I muttered, feeling my cheeks flush.

Aiven was still grinning when we reached the floor.

The guests pressed apart, allowing us to walk to the center of the ballroom, standing on the golden center that marked it. Aiven placed one hand on my hip and took the other in his hand, and waited as the orchestra played the introductory chord to the Opening Ballad. Around us, all the other dancers paired up as the first song started.

"Remember," Aiven said as we took our first step, his eyes gleaming, "you are a butterfly."

I couldn’t help but burst into laughter that was only fueled when Aiven gave me a chiding glance. "I can’t help it," I was finally able to mutter. "Honestly, Aiven, if I’m supposed to be acting princess-y you shouldn’t make me laugh in the middle of the first song."

"Well, pardon me if I was being inappropriate. I was just trying to give you useful advice."

"Liar," I sang softly, and a slow smile spread across his face.

It was about then that I realized we were actually dancing together. We hadn’t ever danced together before.

"Do Seers have to take etiquette classes?" I asked lightly, to break the silence that surrounded only us.

His smile widened. "Yes."

"You’re joking!"

"No, actually I’m seriously." He expertly whirled me around, then drew me back into his arms. Not an uncomfortable place to be, if I thought about. I was, however, trying my best not to think about it. Instead I concentrated on the steps, though I hardly needed to. Even if I forgot them, Aiven was such an expert dancer, he would be able to get me through.

"Why didn’t you ever help me learn to dance?" I asked casually. "You’re just as good as Tullon."

"My pride thanks you," he responded - but it wasn’t an answer. And, all right, he had been incredibly busy with the Seer meetings, but he had said in the Royal Maze that he had originally planned to teach me. And I rather wished he had. He tilted his head to one side, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. "You’re not half-bad for a girl off the streets, either," he teased.

"Someday, Aiven, I’ll take you into my world and see how you fair."

He laughed. "The back alleys of a dark city? I’m afraid I like my neck too much to lose it to an outlaw’s knife."

"Like you wouldn’t be able to defend your self," I scoffed.

"Of course I could," he said calmly. "By not going in the first place." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Coward," I whispered tauntingly.

The smile suddenly and unexpectedly died. He stiffened, holding me away - I flushed slightly, realizing how close we had been in the first place. Aiven had blocked his face, and I knew that coward had been the absolute worst thing to say. Warrior, they called him. What knight wanted to be called a coward?

The Opening Ballad finished before I could gain the nerve to apologize. Aiven bowed stiffly, and I curtseyed. Then I was conveniently handed off to Corln, who had been dancing nearby.

For the first measures, both Corln and I watched Aiven and Mariva dance before we almost hit another couple.

"Oops," I muttered, peeking up at Corln, who was grinning widely.

"Slightly lovesick?" he asked, spinning me around.

"Slightly dizzy," I responded, glaring. "I don’t like Ai - anyone like that."

"Of course you don’t." He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I’m the only lovesick one here." He glanced at Mariva.

"The two of you seem perfect together," I told him. I hadn’t spoken more then a few words with Corln, but Mariva was a common subject I could talk about forever. I just hoped he didn’t feel like talking about his best friend as much as I could about mine.

Corln looked pleased, and began to talk about Mariva in such glowing tones I knew he had to be madly in love with her.

"But you, Highness - " he said, and I winced at the title, "have you decided to stay and work with us?"

I would have shrugged if we weren’t dancing. "There’s nothing else in life for me."

I saw a sharp glimmer of intelligence in his eyes. "There is Lahtorli."

"I don’t know anything about running a kingdom."

"Not consciously," he countered. "But you are the reincarnation of a girl who lived and died for her kingdom’s sake. I’m sure some of her knowledge is in you."

"Somewhere," I said, slightly bitterly. "I doubt I’ll ever find it."

"Don’t doubt yourself," he said, then bowed as the song ended.

The third song I danced with Tullon, and then there was a feast. I wasn’t sure the point of having a feast in the middle of a ball — it seemed designed to slow you down after eating food. Most of the ladies seemed to see it that way as well; most of the food eaten was fruit, small pastries, and wine.

It turned out I was one of the guests of honor, which no one had felt the need to tell me. I sat at the Emperor’s right hand, listening to him talk about the kingdom and trying not to act like a fool or ask how he kept his crown from falling off.

I suppose that would count as acting like a fool.

Afterward, there was an hour before the dancing began again, where literally thousands of people were introduced to me. I smiled, nodded, and promptly forgot their names even before they had turned away. The only one that stuck in my mind as the Queen whose name sounded like toad, and the princess Tullon was escorting.

Her name was Tivette of Clait — which I had completely forgotten to ask Aiven about — and she was beautiful in the way that made every other girl feel big and ungainly.

Well, I didn’t. Then again, I don’t have much in the way of self-doubt about my beauty.

She was very thin, and very blond, and very white, and very blue-eyed, and instead of looking like a fragile flower looked instead like a winter rose that refused to wilt. She didn’t say much, only smiled uncertainly and curtsied to me. Like always, I felt uncomfortable. I still found it hard to consider myself ranking anyone.

When the songs started up again, I danced with princes and Mages and Seers whose names I had all forgotten and manners all seemed the same. I had to stifle a yawn more then once. Balls certainly weren’t all they were supposed to be. I glanced around to find Mariva and share my opinion, but changed my mind when I saw her. She was dancing with Corln, her entire body radiating happiness. I looked away. If you had someone to share it with, I supposed the balls were more interesting. I saw a group of young ladies laughing and flirting with some youths. Or, I mentally added, if you had friends to share it with. Mariva and Corln were too wrapped up in each other — not that I blamed them — Tullon seemed absorbed in his widowed princess, and Aiven was ignoring me.

Was it my fault he was sensitive?

"Can I have this dance?" yet another faceless, nameless person asked, and I wanted to scream, No! You can’t! Though tempted, I didn’t, instead allowing my present partner to pass me into the arms of a new one.

"Hello, Princess," he said, his voice on the verge of laughter. When I looked up, I started. "Remember me?"

I did, and flushed, a little embarrassed. "Lord Seer Tyron," I said. I hadn’t seen Aiven’s rival since that day in the garden, when I’d acted like I only vaguely knew Aiven, and hadn’t introduced myself until Mariva reached us.

His blue-gray eyes stared into mine. "So formal now?" he teased. "Last time there was no ‘Lord Seer’ or ‘Your Excellency.’ In fact," he continued, spinning me as expertly as Aiven had, "I believe you found Seers and royalty boring. They all blend together, don’t they?" He was grinning wickedly.

I raised my head. "Indeed they do," I told him steadily. "Not a single one stands out from the others."

He winced. "Do you include Seers in that mob of royals? Or yourself?"

"Seers," I said in mock disgust, as if I could not bother wasting my breath on them. "As for myself?" I teased, "I am no simple princess — I am Laeliena of Lahtorli, daughter of the Eternal Lah’nayin — beautiful as Annoia."

His eyes were appreciative, but laughing. "Do you even know who Annoia is, Your Highness?"

"No, but if doesn’t change the beauty of either of us, does it?" I shot back.

He laughed. "Does Aiven appreciate how lucky he is to have found you?"

I allowed my recent anger and hurt to at Aiven ignoring me to color my words. "No, but he has expressed how much of a burden I am." Or something along those lines.

Lord Seer Tyron’s eyebrows shot up. "Then he does not deserve you. But I suppose he would rather be fighting then staying safe, even for the Daughter’s sake."

"I’d be nicer if I were him," I said lightly. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, knowing I was acting like a spoiled child but not particularly caring. In the back of my mind I registered that I was even being ridiculously insulted over Aiven ignoring me. I still didn’t care. "Otherwise he may find me picking the enemies side to win just to be spiteful."

Tyron’s eyes widened slightly, focusing on something behind me. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, and closed my eyes.

"That would be foolish."

Aiven’s voice was angry. That was all right; I could be angry too.

"It was a joke, Aiven," I said scathingly. "Learn to recognize them."

"You consider murdering thousands a laughing manner?" he said scornfully, making my cheeks burn.

"Leave the princess alone," Tyron said, jumping to my defense. He glared at his rival. "It’s a ball. People are supposed to have fun, not be serious."

"Have fun somewhere with someone else," Aiven said, also glaring.

"Aiven, you’re not my keeper. I can talk to whoever I want," I said stubbornly.

"Yes, and you can walk on hot coals, but that doesn’t make it a good idea."

Tyron looked pointedly at the people dancing around us, glancing at us curiously. "We’re in the middle of a set, warrior," he said coldly. "If you want to dance, come back later. If the princess will have you." He smoothly pulled us back into the rhythm of the music, twirling with all the other dancers.

"The two of you really don’t like each other," I commented.

He laughed dryly. "That’s an understatement. The two of you don’t seem to get along that well either."

I made a non-committing sound.

"Did he tell you-" Tyron began, glancing in Aiven’s direction — and then stopping. He completely froze where he was, hands tightening on my arms painfully, then falling slack to hang freely. His eyes glazed as I had seen Aiven’s do, and he started to shake. I glanced around to get someone to help, then stopped in astonishment. Every other Seer in the room looked like Tyron, all several hundred. In unison, they turned to the west, gazing out the huge windows at the setting sun. An inhumanly cry rose, and it was almost impossible to believe it came from the bodies of the Seers — in fact, I was not sure it did. What I was certain of was that every single Seer started to glow, and at the same instant slipped into unconsciousness, falling to the floor.

My first glance was not for my dancing partner, but a frantic search for Aiven. He stood alone, the only Seer who had not fallen. His wide, colorless eyes focused on mine — then he, too, collapsed.

No one moved, caught in the horror of the simultaneous collapse. My mind went blank for a moment. I wasn’t scared; I was uncomprehending. I hesitated another moment as I allowed everything to sink in. Unsure of whether to check the fallen Seer at my feet or rush over to Aiven, I took a hesitant step towards the latter, then looked back at Tyron. He lay sprawled on the floor, dark hair strewn across his pale face. All the color had drained out of it as all the motion had from his body. Around the room, people had started moving, bending over, calling things through the air. With a last glance in Aiven’s direction I saw a wall of people surrounding him - presumably caring for him. I turned to Tyron, kneeling down beside him.

His hand was freezing; what’s more, it hurt to hold. Lancing bolts of pain shot through my hand like icicles when I touched him. Carefully I brushed his hair away, for that at least didn’t hurt. I checked for his pulse quickly, rubbing my fingers as I took them away. It was slow and faint, and I could barely tell he was breathing. His chest didn’t seem to fall or rise, and I could feel only an almost indiscernible bit of air coming out of his mouth or nose.

People were beginning to panic around us. "Send for a Healer!" I heard shouted over and over. Guests were milling about, sobbing, yelling. I saw uniformed people enter, soldiers trying to keep order. Some of the men were hoisting the fallen Seers, carrying them from the room. Healers had entered, surrounding people, their green robes standing out brightly as they snapped orders. I looked towards Aiven, but he was lost from view in the swarm of people. I clamped down on the urge to panic, to tear through the crowd and find him.

Half a sentence floated from memory as I stared down at Tyron’s limp form. I had mocked Aiven, once, about being choosing to be difficult, about leaving, then had been curious about what would happen if I did. We lose the protection, the healing. We lose the assurance that no matter what happens there will be some safety.

Safety? I thought now, forehead scrunching worriedly. As for healing . . . Desperately I grasped Tyron’s hands, shutting out the cold knives attacking me. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I hadn’t when Tullon gave me that nafginian earlier either. I tried to pull the feelings back into my mind, trying to recapture whatever there was in the hope something would help.

Castle of crystal; rain and fog and water; jewels, shining brightly; the saffron that wasn’t -

I latched onto the scent, which threatened to overpower me if I didn’t do something with it. A tight tension was gathering in my lower neck and collarbone, but I mentally pushed right past that, picturing the odd smell traveling through my arms and hands into Tyron as the Healer’s described their craft. To my delight, the pain in my hands was gone. Unfortunately, Tyron was still lying prone.

I kept trying to push the healing, for lack of a better word, into him, but he wouldn’t accept it. It seemed like it could almost be right, like if I just fixed it a little, turned the jigsaw piece a little to the left, it would lock into the puzzle. I pushed harder, wishing I knew more about what I was doing, rather then making it up as I went along. With a harder push, I lost control, and the power seemed to flip away from me, becoming stronger then I could hold by myself.

Then I felt it latch onto Tyron, locked in like I had been unable to force it to of my own accord. Not a puzzle piece, then, but a magnet. It was like pushing two identical sides closer, and feeling them rebound, not touch, when all you had to do was flip one over and they would attach.

The near-saffron scent was suffocating me, and a hint of almost-clover came as well. Idly, I wondered if this was a good or a bad thing. As it was, I was too busy pushing all the energy into Tyron, now that he would accept it.

His bluish-gray eyes snapped open, a look of bewilderment on his face that would have made me laugh any other time. Now I couldn’t even manage the upward tilt of my lips; instead, I keeled over sideways.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Your Highness? Your Highness, can you hear me?"

Who? I thought dreamily. I ignored the voice, concentrating on the inside of my head rather than outside. I was bouncing lazily over rooftops, just bouncing -

"Your Royal Highness? Are you awake?" A cold, clammy hand shook my arm briefly, then disappeared. I was preparing to burrow deeper into my blankets when something suspiciously like smelling salts was shoved directly underneath my nose. I began coughing violently and shoving backwards, desperate to get away from the salts that reminded me of the overwhelming not-saffron.

I was in a room that was definitely not my own. It was decorated in the same way my room in the Calvashri Tower had been designed, and for an instant I thought I was back there and the past week had been a dream.

"You are awake," someone said in a satisfied voice. I tuned my attention to a short woman in a green robe, wearing the irritating expression all adults share when they’re patronizing anyone more then thirty seconds younger than them. "I am Healer Gelsia. You have undergone severe shock, Your Highness. You must rest now, and soon someone will be along to explain." She curtsied. "Would you like some tea, Your Highness?"

Words tripped through my mind before I was able to force anything out. "I shouldn’t be in bed," I finally said. "I need - I need to speak with the Seers. They’ll want to see me," I said with sudden certainly, wanting to share whatever I had done, and to make sure Aiven was fine.

She curtsied again, her smile a little forced. "I am sure you are very worried about the Seers, but that will be explained soon. Don’t worry, some of the most capable Healers are with them now. You should just lie back -"

"No, you don’t understand," I broke in. "I need to see them. I can help."

"Your Highness," the Healer said, looking like she was reaching for patience and it was slipping out of her grasp. "Don’t worry. Everyone’s all right. The Seers’ will be fine. You - like a good deal of the other queens and princesses and ladies - should just rest. Fainting is a terrible ordeal."

The woman looked like she was about to roll her eyes at the high strung court ladies, and sarcasm was just an inch away in her last sentence. She smiled again brightly, as I belatedly registered that she thought I was just another visiting princess that had passed out at the shock of the Seers collapsing. My mouth twitched. If I had been in her place, I wouldn’t have been able to keep from making a crack on fainting being remarkably fashionable all of a sudden.

My door swung open, and two imposing figures walked in. The woman was elderly and pushing it; the man was completely gray haired but didn’t look much past fifty. They nodded to Healer Gelsia who curtsied and left, and made more proper bows to me.

"Your Highness," the man said as soon as he straightened up. "We are aware of your position and your use of power concerning the Lord Seer Tyron." He scowled, and I swallowed my smile and request to see the Seers. "That was supremely foolish of you."

Apparently I was going to swallow my expectations of being praised as well. "But -"

"You spent all of your considerable power on one man, when it would have been far more effective to only loosen the bindings and allow a low-ranking Healer to take over. While you have the capacity to bridge the bind without exhausting yourself, if you insist on the follow through as well you will drain yourself, as you did last night. Doing such, you have wasted half a day before we can easily begin reviving Seers, as none of the regular Healers have the amount of power you do to breach the binding."

I turned to the woman. "Do you have any idea what he said? Because I lost him about as soon as his bow ended."

The woman smiled softly. "I believe you have been rebuked, Elmun." She nodded to me as I began to blush with embarrassment at my childish retort. "I apologize for my son, Your Highness. He is rather excitable when we find a new talent, and to have your insurmountable one discovered, only to have you unconscious for the rest of the day -" she shook her head. "It tends to make even the most patient of people upset."

I looked up at her pleadingly. "I’m sorry. But I don’t actually know anything more about my - ability - than you do. Please - can I see the Seers? I need to know what’s going on."

The woman’s lips compressed into a thin line, but she wasn’t directing her anger at me. "It was an attack," she said heavily. "Everything known about it is being kept secret for now - the High Council is meeting, though the Seers belonging to it are not yet able to attend. Lord Seer Tyron is awake, and the powers you invested in him are being siphoned off and used to awaken others. We don’t think the attack was meant to kill, at all - with regular healers working, they could be awakened in under a week. However, that anyone was actually able to command power that knocked out hundreds of Seers . . ." she shook her head. "Your Highness," she said more formally, "we are here because you have been asked for. You are wished to join the High Council as soon as my son and I pronounce you fit to walk."

"Oh, I’m fit to walk," I exclaimed, swinging my legs off the bed, standing up, and promptly sitting back down. "Just . . . a little dizzy," I admitted sheepishly. A moment later I was able to follow them out the door.

The High Council had convened in one of the many halls throughout the palace. Everyone rose and bowed respectfully when I entered. Emperor Sair addressed me in the silent room, as I felt the combined gazes of the ten highest Mages amongst the nobility, the strongest ten Mages in the land, and ten members or representatives of the highest courts in the land. Twenty Seers were included on the council, but none of them were here.

"Your Highness," the Mage-king said, meeting my eyes, "Please, have a seat." Nervously, I took the one he indicated, between a man I didn’t recognize and a white haired woman I thought had been introduced to me as a Mage. We sat at an enormous round table made of polished mahogany. At the emperor’s prompting, I lifted my chin and told exactly what I had done to Tyron. The people shifted, muttering, and I caught the word Seer more then once. I had the impression they would rather have the Seers there, as they were the ones who knew the most about me.

Come to that, I would rather have the Seers there as well. They knew more about me than I knew.

"Princess Laeliena," Emperor Sair said, gesturing for silence. He favored me with a weary, sad smile. "We must apologize for this catastrophe as you have only just claimed your heritage. We assure you, our kingdom will offer all the support it can during this war. As for now - you are so young to be so burdened already. I wish it were not so," he said sadly, dropping the royal we for a second. "The only good news I can offer at the moment is that Lord Seer Aiven is awake. If you would care to see him . . .?"

It was obviously a dismissal; the king and High Council stood, and a soldier led me out. I realized for the first time that I was the only one there under twenty, too young to be considered ready to hear about war. With the title of "princess" I was classified as a delicate female as well. Irritably, I wondered if I still would have merited such patronizing treatment, had I just been known as the Daughter of the Eternal Lah’nayin.

Probably, with my luck.

Though the rest of the High Council hadn’t been filled with youngsters, the Seers were nearly all twenty-five or younger. I vaguely remembered Aiven mentioning that the older Seers stayed at home in their city, odd as that seemed. I would have thought each Seer would stay at his respective court . . .

"Your Highness? We’ve arrived."

What we had arrived at was a short hall, lined with twenty makeshift cots. The Seers of the High Council, at a guess. Not all the cots were filled; perhaps some were healthy enough to be able to leave. Healers walked around with iridescent balls floating after them, muttering and bending over patients. Most seemed to be stirring; Tyron was the closest to me, and wide awake.

"Feeling better?" I thought, cursing the good manners that seemed to have attached to me while spending time with Mariva. I would have given anything to ignore him and look for Aiven.

"Definitely not," he said almost jokingly. "The Healers have taken away most of the health you magiced into me. As it is, I still feel perfect. If I felt any better, it would be painful." He smiled. "I’ve never met a princess who can make me feel so wonderful when still wearing all her clothing."

I couldn’t bite back a smile. "Isn’t it a little too early to be flirting?" I asked archly.

He gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. "My lady," he protested informally, "It is never too early to flirt. Without that, how would you know I was in good health?"

"With any luck, you wouldn’t be," a dry voice came from behind me. I nodded courteously to Tyron, as I had the suspicion I wouldn’t be turning around to talk to him again. Trying not to look concerned at the least, I turned to face Aiven.

To my relief, he didn’t look sick. He looked irritated. He had discarded most of the robes and was clad only in silvery white trousers and the same colored billowing silk shirt, along with the necklace.

"Hello," I said a little nervously, walking over to his side. The cot was knee level, and I hovered beside it, not sure whether to kneel or stand. Aiven was sitting with his back against the wall, arms crossed, and legs hooked at the ankles. He was sitting on an untouched cot, and I was glad. I don’t think I would have been able to deal with him tucked in like an invalid.

Oh, stop worrying so much, I thought in disgust. Unceremoniously, I dropped down beside him. "I don’t suppose you’ll explain what’s going on," I mused, glancing up at his half-lidded eyes.

"I’m recovering," he said shortly, staring straight ahead. We sat in silence for all of ten seconds before he swung his legs over and caught my gaze. "Are you all right?" he asked, searching my eyes. "I heard you fainted." He glanced over at Tyron, as if blaming him for that.

"I - used healing. I think." Suddenly irritated far past reasonability, I glared at him. "By the Lady, Aiven, when’s someone going to teach me how to control this? I was already scolded by a Healer about not rationing my power, about how I should just have loosened the "binding" - I had no idea what he was talking about! And then all of you collapsed, just like that - You didn’t see yourself, Aiven. You didn’t see yourself go all pale and wobbly, and your eyes completely colorless like eyes shouldn’t be, and then collapse. You looked dead, Aiven! For a moment I thought you were."

Then I was shaking. I couldn’t seem to stop the tremors that wracked through me. I felt like an absolute fool, practically kneeling at Aiven feet and shaking badly long after the actual event that caused the shudders. But I couldn’t stop. To my absolute horror, my eyes started to tear, and I could feel the tension behind them. I closed them tightly, swallowing over the inconvenient lump in my throat. I wrapped my arms around my body - and then there was another pair of arms.

Aiven had knelt down in front of me, carefully folding his arms around me, lightly holding my back with one hand. Another came up to hesitantly brush my hair back from my forehead. He didn’t say anything - if I had been paying any attention I would have sensed he was afraid to move. I clenching his shoulders tightly in my hands, and let the tears fall, the ones I couldn’t block no matter how hard I was trying. I buried my head in his shoulder, and he continued to slowly stroke my hair.

Tyron’s voice interrupted my half-formed thoughts. "No wonder our warrior didn’t put up more of a fight with being the Daughter’s protector," he said lightly to the room at large.

It was enough that Aiven and I instantly separated. Aiven spun and stood, facing Tyron. I was only an instant behind. "Lord Seer Tyron," I said with a tight smile, before Aiven could begin, "I don’t like being startled." I opened my hand to reveal the knife I’d automatically flicked into it at his voice. "And I didn’t ask for your opinion."

He raised his eyebrows, then inclined his head. "Forgive me. It seems you don’t even need a protector." His smile was charming. Mine was withering.

Aiven and Tyron locked eyes for a long moment, then both looked away. I wondered if I should be adding telepathy to the list of Seers’ hidden talents. I sincerely hoped not.

"Sit down," Aiven said firmly, taking my arm and pushing me down on the cot. "You’ve worn yourself out."

"No I haven’t," I protested automatically. I opened my mouth to say more, but was caught off guard by the unexpected look in Aiven’s eyes.

And caught off guard by the Healer who effectively maneuvered herself in front of Aiven and caught my hands. "Your Highness," she said, and I immediately knew I was about to be treated like a small, needy child. Or a princess, which amounts to the same thing.

"Your Highness," she said again. "I am Healer Veilenne. If you are rested, we’d like you to try infusing another Seer with healing again. That way, we can catch the power and transfer it more easily to other patients."

She were speaking of me using magic like I was pouring water onto someone, and they’d hold out cups and catch some of it. I stared at her in disbelief.

"It won’t take that long, and then you can go back to resting -"

"No."

Healer Veilenne and I both turned to look at Aiven, who was glaring at the woman. "But Your Excellency -" the Healer began.

Aiven shook his head. "Princess Laeliena is too exhausted to use any more of her powers."

"But Princess Laeliena is the only one -"

"Princess Laeliena has done enough for today. She’ll return here once she is more rested. Good day."

After watching the Healer curtsey and stalk off, I turned to Aiven with a half smile. "Princess Laeliena can speak for herself," said princess said.

"Threaten, yes. Speak - debatable."

I laughed, and allowed him to pull me off the cot. "Damslae," he began with a sheepish grin - something I’d never seen on him - "I have to contradict myself. Could I have a little of your healing?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Really, Aiven," I said archly, "How -" I searched my mind for the right word, then scowled when it didn’t come. "Well, you know what I mean," I muttered, as Aiven tried and failed to muffle his laugh. "Besides," I continued irritably, "I don’t actually know how to use it."

"I can - make an educated guess. There are several different ways to transfer healing power." For some reason his eyes slid away from mine, then caught them again with an odd smile. "Give me your hands."

Slowly, I did. His were warm and much bigger than mine, and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to leave my hands there or yank them away.

He locked his fingers through mine, holding them up inbetween us. "I’m not a Mage, Damslae," he said softly. "I can’t take any of your power from you, I can’t help it, I can’t influence it in any way. This has to be you. All I can do is talk you through it." He took a deep breath, then instructed me to close my eyes and did the same.

"Try to feel the place where you took your power from the last time, when you healed Tyron. A pool of power. Find it . . . reach for it . . . is it there?"

"Um, no."

"That was helpful," he said sarcastically. "Look again." He calmed his voice. "Follow the magic you find within yourself. Maybe you associate it with something - a sound, a feeling, a memory -" the scent of something that wasn’t quite saffron "-and follow that to the center of your power. Surround yourself in it. Wrap the magic around you."

"Aiven, I don’t know who told you about this magic pool thing but they were wrong." I opened my eyes so I could stare at him in annoyance, to find he had beaten me to it.

"It’s been recorded by all the philosophers on magic, and confirmed by all the Healers and Mages I know," he argued. "It works for everyone."

"What about Seers?" I countered. "Where’s your magic come form?"

"It’s different for us."

"Well, maybe I’m more like you."

He laughed, which only served to make me angry. I glared and continued, "There’s no magic pool for me. It’s everywhere and it’s not something I can just harvest a strand of. It’s like being aware of your skin - or more like your blood, because you’re not really aware of it, but it’s inside you and flowing through you and this - this is like that."

He released my hands and stepped back warily. "You sound too sophisticated on that. I thought you didn’t know anything about your magic."

"I’d hardly call that knowing anything," I scoffed. "It’s more like general knowledge."

His he frowned, then his face smoothed. "Or like a distant memory," he said distractedly, looking around the room.

"Exactly," I said triumphant that I had made him understand.

He refocused on me. "And where do you think the memory came from, Laeliena?" he asked, brown eyes pinning my own.

I blinked. "I don’t know, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me."

"It came from her - the Princess Laeliena of Lahtorli. The girl who you once were. Whose memories everyone expected you to have completely."

I frowned. "I really wish you would stop saying things like that. It’s a little nerve-wracking being told I had another life."

He drove his fingers through his hair, and took a deep breath. "Trust me, you’re not the only one who finds it so. Look, just - try, all right? I’ve just been hit by one of the strongest waves of magic in centuries that has left most of my friends still unconscious. Despite that, I have to be able to speak at High Council and help reassure all of Court that we are safe. I’ll have to be able to walk without collapsing."

I gestured at all the other Seers in the room - the awake ones were politely pretending not to watch us. "Then wouldn’t I have to help the rest of them, too?"

He stared at me in amazement. "You really have no idea what you did, do you?"

I blinked. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Damslae, when you filled Tyron with your healing, you pushed in more power than he could hold. The Healers took the extra healing, and some of the healing that wasn’t extra, but not necessary to Tyron, with them. They can put that healing into the other Seers and encourage it with their own Healing to bring them back to health. It will take longer then if you personally put the healing in, but it will work.

"The Seers that got the most of the power were woken up, and actually able to walk easily - like Corln, and Lauten, so that they could go speak with the Emperor. Tyron’s being kept here so that more of your power can be siphoned off him."

"And you’ve obviously gotten all the power you need - you’re awake, you’re standing. Why do you want more? Wouldn’t it make sense to help the other Seers?" I wasn’t trying to be difficult; I was sincerely interested.

He shook his head. "You’re wrong. You will have to help them later, but right now it’s more important that I’m awake and alert. Because of you."

That took a moment to sink in. "Oh," I said finally, giving him a disdainful look, "because you’ve been appointed my keeper."

He smirked slightly. "That’s one way to put in. And just so you know, I’ve received the least amount of your healing."

I rolled my eyes. "Which would explain why you look completely healthy, of course."

Aiven opened his mouth to respond, then snapped in shut and glared around the room. The other Seers became instantly interested in the walls, the blankets, and each other. "Come on," Aiven said, scowling, and I followed him out into the hall.

"I didn’t need as much healing," he told me as soon as we were alone, "because my body was more resistant to the attack then anyone else’s."

I was surprised, and showed it. "Why?"

His eyes locked with mine. "Because of you. Because you bleed off magic. The Healers were very certain of this. Regularly, you let off small magic."

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you telling me I sweat magic?"

His mouth quirked. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes. And when you’re in high emotion, you radiate more. Whoever’s around you absorbs it." He shrugged, as if in was no big deal. I, on the other hand, was staring at my arm in amazement, as if I’d see magic flecking off it. "I’ve been around you for months. Constantly, excepting this last week, and I seem to have absorbed a lot of the magic. Especially since you’re always-" he smirked, "-in high emotion." I narrowed my eyes at him, but he ignored me as he continued. "I can’t use it, I can’t seem to touch it at all, but it seems to have warded off most of the attack. Why do you think I was the last Seer standing in the ballroom?"

I took a moment to process this. "So - the magic you took from me -"

"I didn’t take it, you gave it."

I glared at him. "Trust me, I wouldn’t hand any of my magic over to you willingly." I refocused. "My magic warded off the spell, mostly, and with a little of the power siphoned off Tyron you were awake - but you don’t really have enough to bring you back to full health."

"No, I don’t. The Healers didn’t thing that they needed to give me very much - oddly enough," he said in an ironic tone, "they seemed to think that I would be the first person you would want to revive to health, so they wouldn’t have to help me much."

"It’s not my fault Healers make stupid assumptions," I told him. "But I told you, I don’t understand this magic I have. I’ll figure it out after breakfast." I hadn’t eaten at all today and last night I had only eaten lightly. I started walking down the hallway, assuming Aiven would follow, assuming he would lead me back to my rooms or someplace else we could eat. I didn’t expect him to call after me, voice weary, and turn around to find he hadn’t moved a step. For the first time I noticed he was leaning against the wall, and his face was unusually pale.

"Damslae," he said again, "I’m exhausted. I’m not going to be able to walk you back to your rooms. Either give me some healing or refuse - just pick one. Otherwise you’ll soon find yourself with an unconscious Seer on your hands." When I stared at him in disbelief, he just raised his brows mockingly.

"You wouldn’t really be unconscious," I protested. "You just spent all that time talking about how my magic warded off the attack from you."

If possible, his brows arched higher. "Would you care to wait and see?"

"No, and you know it," I muttered, stomping back towards him. "What’s the easiest way to transfer energy?" I asked, looking up at him.

To my surprise he looked away, opened his mouth and snapped it shut. "Just try what you did with Tyron," he instructed.

"Easy to say when you’re not the one doing it," I said, taking both his hands between mine. Closing my eyes, I tentatively recalled the scent of near-saffron, a little afraid it would overwhelm me as it had last time. It came quickly, and I didn’t have to concentrate on it anymore; it just lingered about me. I tried to send the magic into Aiven through our hands, though not as forcefully as I had with Tyron. That hadn’t worked til I lost control of it. I pushed at it in several different ways, until one of them seemed to latch onto part of Aiven, and easily as that my magic flowed into him.

The only problem was I couldn’t stop.

I kept sending my magic as both of our eyes snapped open. Neither of us tugged our hands away; I tried, and it didn’t work. Instead, our eyes widened as the pull became stronger, stronger than seemed right. Then it snapped, like an elastic, leaving us staring at each other in surprise and feeling slightly light headed.

"By the Lady, Damslae, you have got to learn how to control yourself."

"It’s not exactly like I signed up for this," I said hotly. Not attempting to sound contrite, I asked, "Do you feel better?"

"Yes - and no."

"That clears everything up."

He glared at me. "I have my health back, but I also feel - strange. Don’t you?"

"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. I met his eyes to see him struggling not to smile. "What?"

"You always sound so sad when you have to agree with me," he said, smiling. I smiled back, and for a moment we stood there silently, sharing a private joke.

"Your Excellency!"

Of course, in the next moment, a clerk joined us. "Your Excellency," he repeated in a relieved voice, bowing deeply to us. "The Emperor requests all of the able High Council Seers to immediately attend the meeting."

"Lord Seers Corln, Paitre, and Lauten have already gone in," Aiven said, sounding slightly irritated at the interruption. "I will be a moment."

The clerk looked at me, then looked at Aiven, then gave a disapproving sniff. "It is a Council of War, your Excellency." He stood there, apparently waiting for Aiven to grovel for forgiveness and go with him.

Aiven looked down his nose in a rather Tullon-esque manner. "A moment alone."

"Your Excellency," the man murmured, and bowed away.

"How come I didn’t rate a ‘Your Highness’?" I asked, amused. "Maybe I should wear a circlet."

Aiven’s smile was slight and his eyes distant. When he finally gave his attention to me, his face was serious. "If you follow this hallway, you’ll run into any number of servants able to take you to your rooms. Stay in them until I or Corln come for you - I’m sure Mariva will be there already." He turned as if to go, but I caught his wrist.

"What’s going to happen?" I asked, searching his face. Everyone had been talking about a war for so long, but I had never really thought of being involved in it - of perhaps losing people I cared about in it."

His eyes were dark and clouded. "Our men are already in position at Sarlainth, where the battle between Clait and Tharlin will occur. The battle between the enemy and us will be just more bodies piling up there — so the ordinary people will not be aware or anything for at least a little while longer."

"Who are the people in Sarlainth? I thought all the fighting Seers were here."

"Not all — some of our people — and that includes Mages and knights — are there. The rest of us will not join the battlefields for a month at least. Until then, the High Council Seers will control our people from Bast."

"Will you always?" I asked, uncertain. "Stay in Bast, that is. Because you can’t go into battle?"

He held my eyes for a long moment before turning to stare beyond me. "No," he finally said. "When most of the Seers go to war, you and I will be going to Jayklin, the Seer’s city-country."