Bond

Aliandra waited in the trees surrounding the grounds upon which the Palace of the Prophets stood. She had never before been in the old world.

She didn't like it.

The portal, the magical barrier or whatever it was the ancient wizards had done to separate the old world and the new interfered with the Rahl bond. Aliandra could feel the pull of it, urging her back toward D'Hara and the Lords Rahl. It was wound tight as a harp string, like it might snap any moment under the strain of the distance.

When she drew her Agiel, it seemed the magic that fueled it was weakened. No doubt because she was so far from anyone bearing the blood of the Rahl line.

She dismissed it. She was Mord'Sith, and used to the piercing kiss of the red leather rod in her hand. The Sisters of the Light within the palace before her would fall to their knees screaming all the same.

Aliandra shifted, cutting her red eyes to the places along the line of trees where she knew her Sisters to be hidden, along with the enormous Fenrisulfr. A fragile ghost of a smile, pale as her skin, graced her lips as she gave the signal to begin their assault.

All around her, wolves began to howl, chilling the blood, though Aliandra was expecting it.

I need a source of power. I need you to capture the Prelate. Who better for such a task than the Mord'Sith?

That was what the woman who called herself Freya Kate had said. The price of the lives of the Mord'Sith, she had said, was the old sorceress.

A rather good bargain, considering the alternative, Aliandra thought as she left her hiding place, boldly walking up to the front gates of the palace. A dacra flew at her from the wall.

Aliandra deflected it with a lazy flip of her wrist.

-l-

Darken sat bolt upright in his chair by the fireplace in Mason's nursery, taken with a sudden foreboding. There was an uneasiness, a sickening thrum along his senses as if someone had struck a discordant note among the lines of power that tied him to his subjects. Zedd looked at him, brows raised in question, but Darken disdained to explain as he rose from his seat.

Exhaling, he turned his gaze inward. He sat like a great spider at the center of a bloody web. Lines of deep red flowed outward from him, each of them representing his tie to one of those who recited the devotional every morning. Some lines were thick, taut, pulsing with a loyally beating heart. Those lines Darken could trace back to their originator, running along the thread with the nimble feet of his spirit self, finding those the most closely bound to him.

He could feel Cara, a few doors down the hall of the royal wing. There was a shiver along the tie that bound him to her, and he knew she felt him there, teasing along the bond.

Richard's line was next, made stronger because it flowed both ways – Richard's bond to him and his bond to Richard irrevocably twisted together. Having not yet explained the sensation of the Rahl bond to Richard, Darken knew his brother would be scratching at the back of his neck and looking over his shoulder, thinking someone watched him.

Darken turned his mind from the close bonds, instead focusing on those that were long and slack, some of them coiling in loops. But it was a futile endeavor. While he at times was given forewarning of something amiss with his subjects through their connection to him, the only time he could truly know which subject and where was when one of the more powerful bonds snapped, either through death or defection.

Having spent most of his life being the Master Rahl, Darken was able to examine the bond in only a few seconds. Realizing the futility of his efforts after a cursory inspection, he opened his eyes, still plagued by a feeling that something was not right.

Immediately he went to Mason's bassinet, where the prince slumbered, securely tucked into a blanket of crushed red velvet, embroidered with the Rahl crest. His golden hair made a halo around his head. Darken was glad of that, that his son looked like a proper Rahl.

It had always bothered him, as a child, being dark haired like his mother.

"Darken, what is it?" Cara asked as she entered the room. It was her turn to stay with their son, while he slept.

Until the Listener arrived, until Darken could be sure that there were no more traitors lurking within his palace, he would not leave Mason alone. There were always Mord'Sith present in the nursery, for they could not be entranced by the unicorns by virtue of the power of their Agiels. But that was not enough. Denna, and even Cara had proven to Darken in the past that the Mord'Sith could betray him.

And so either himself or Cara, and often both of them, stayed in the nursery as well.

He wouldn't let another son die.

It wouldn't be his actions that led to another son's death.

"Nothing," he answered Cara, looking up at her and then staring back down at Mason intensely.

"Jennsen is going to scold you if you pinch him again," she observed dryly, going to take her own seat by the fire.

"It is difficult to know if he is breathing at times," Darken protested, putting a stinging bite in his voice to avoid looking sheepish.

Cara waved her hand at him and rolled her eyes. She wasn't impressed.

Darken's lips twitched. "Becoming queen has made you insolent."

"Or perhaps taking a queen has made you more foolish," she returned, insolently.

"I could have you whipped for that."

"Do try. Please."

Zedd looked up from the book he was reading in the corner to inform them he was still in the room.