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“And all my friends are much older than me.” She picked up her pace, but the youth matched it.

She stopped suddenly and he overshot her. He turned back and looked around. “Where are your friends?”

“What is your name?” she demanded.

“Pirem,” he said quickly. “What’s yours?”

“Leave me alone,” she said.

He held out his flask. “Your cup is empty, Leave-Me-Alone. Would you like some more wine?”

“I’ve already told you what I’d like.”

“Oh, yes. The midden.” He giggled.

“You’re drank.”

He considered the question then shook his head. “Not yet. Not truly, absolutely stonkered.” He blinked. “Well, maybe a little.”

Before she could say anything more, someone called out her name. Her friends appeared, including Amrin, who was as big as a bear. “These are my friends. The big one likes wrestling.”

Amrin scowled at the youth. “Are you being bothered?” he asked.

“Not at all,” the youth said quickly. “She’s delightful.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Amrin said forcefully.

“So, are you all magickers?”

“Students,” Jenrosa said. “Now we have to go and study.” Her friends looked at her strangely.

“Umm, yes,” Amrin said doubtfully. “We have to go and… study…”

“Are you sure you all wouldn’t like more to drink?”

Jenrosa turned on him suddenly. “I don’t want to be in your company, Pirem. Nothing personal, but…” She shook her head. “Yes, it is personal. I’m sorry, but I find you annoying.”

The youth appeared suddenly crestfallen. Jenrosa groaned inside.

“I see. Well, if that’s the way of it…”

“That’s the way of it,” Amrin said, scowling again. He pointed to his theurgia’s star symbol of on his tunic. “So if you don’t want us to practice our magic on you, scuttle away!”

The effect on the youth was instant. His expression turned as cold as ice, and he met Amrin’s gaze with suddenly clear brown eyes. “I carry a magic symbol, too,” he said evenly.

Amrin guffawed. “Of course you do, little mouse.”

The youth reached into his jerkin and pulled out an amulet on a silver chain. He held it up for them all to see. The students stared at it for a moment, then blinked. They all knew what it was. And Jenrosa knew what it meant. “Oh, God,” she breathed weakly. “You’re name’s not Pirem.”

“No.”

There was a stunned silence among Jenrosa’s friends. After a moment one drifted away, then a second and then a third. Jenrosa and Amrin were left to their own fate.

“I… your Highness…” Amrin was not sure what to say.

“You were only defending your friend. You have done no wrong. But you had best leave now.”

Amrin nodded and melted into the crowd.

Jenrosa swallowed. “Your Highness, if I have given you offense—”

“I took no offense.” He was starting to smile again. It had taken all his concentration to act sober.

“—then you got all you deserved.”

Lynan’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he laughed. “Other than my own siblings, you’re the first person I’ve met today who hasn’t tried to fawn their way into my favor.”

“A bit late for that.”

“To the contrary. What’s your name?”

“Jenrosa Alucar, your Highness.”

“Of course, your manners must not go completely unpunished.”

Jenrosa said nothing.

“You must present yourself to the guard at the door to the inner palace when the wake is finished. That should be about sunset. He will instruct you where to go.”

Lynan started to leave, but Jenrosa called after him. “What punishment?”

Without turning, he said, “You’ll see.”

Chapter 9

Jenrosa considered fleeing the palace, grabbing what she could from her dormitory at the theurgia, and trying to stow away on one of the merchant ships in the harbor. Or even better, stowing away on one of the ships of the foreign dignitaries who had arrived in time for the queen’s funeral; then, at least, she could run away in relative comfort.

But then she used the same arguments against the plan that she had used to convince herself to stay with the theurgia: she had a home here in Kendra, she had a future as a magicker, and nowhere else could offer her that.

At sunset, accordingly, she presented herself to the guards at the entrance to the inner palace. One of them ordered her to follow him and led the way through a series of narrow corridors and flights of stone steps into one of the towers that ringed the monarch’s own chambers and the throne room.

Well, at least I’m not being led to a dungeon, she told herself, but the thought did little to ease her apprehension. What sort of punishment had the prince in mind for her? Was he going to throw her off the tower? She knew in her mind that the idea was ridiculous; all the same, her anxiety was beginning to make her legs feel weak.

They eventually arrived at a narrow wooden door that looked as old as the roughly shaped stones that framed it. The guard knocked once with the butt of his spear, opened it and pushed Jenrosa through. The door closed behind her. She found herself at the foot of a set of stairs worn with ancient use.

The prince’s voice said from somewhere above: “Come up, Jenrosa Alucar.”

She hesitantly ascended into a circular chamber filled with the smell of dust and old books. The prince was standing in the middle of the room. He had changed into less formal clothes, and was without his sword and knife. His Key shone dully in the little light shining between the wooden shutters of the room’s only window.

“You are still smiling at me, Your Highness,” she said. “I hope that is a good sign.”

“I’m glad you came,” he said sincerely.

“It wasn’t as if I had a choice,” she pointed out, and looked around her.

The walls were lined with shelves inset into the stone, and each shelf was crammed with books that looked as old as the tower itself. “What is this room?”

“Kendra’s first great king, Colanus, was part magicker. He made the Keys of Power. Some say that is how he gained the throne. This is his study. No one uses it anymore.”

Jenrosa pulled one of the books from its shelf. She carefully opened the leather cover and looked in surprise at the writing on the first page. “What language is this?”

Lynan shrugged. “No one knows. Which explains why no one uses the study any more.”

“The malefici would commit murder to get their hands on these volumes.” She meant it jokingly, but the words seem to hang in the air between them.

“The malefici have already tried,” the prince said lightly. “You know any history?”

“Very little, unless it is to do with the study of the stars.” She was starting to get impatient. She wanted to be given her punishment so she could get back to her dormitory, away from the palace and away from this strange prince.

“Three hundred years ago a band of powerful magickers conspired to get their hands on the contents of this room. Their plot was discovered and they were thwarted by the king. He executed the ringleaders. Do you know what he did with the rest of the magickers?” Jenrosa shook his head. “Let them into the room to study the books on the condition they submitted to his will.”

“But if he didn’t object to the magickers seeing the books, why did he kill their leaders?”

“Because they conspired against him, of course. After several years of unsuccessfully attempting to read these volumes, the surviving magickers gave up.”

“And what was the king’s will?” Jenrosa asked, curious despite herself.

“That they form into the five theurgia with a ruling prelate elected from their own ranks who consults directly with the monarch.”

“He got them under his thumb.”

“In other words.”

“Is that what you want to do to me?” she asked.