The play was a lighthearted comedy about the foibles of an absurd court fop who overdressed for every occasion, put on inappropriate airs, and believed he possessed amazing wit, to the dismay of his fellow courtiers. He wooed a succession of gentlewomen, but his true, if not yet recognized, romantic interest was a quiet, serious-minded lady who inexplicably loved him from afar. The clownish hero got into a variety of ridiculous situations and created general havoc, which the devoted lady repaired without expectation of reward. The plotline touched most of the clichés requisite for such a silly story, with the fribble discovering that his heart truly did belong to the lady. He swore off his pretentions, proposed to the lady, and the play ended happily, if predictably, with the two lovers marrying.

It was a type of story that had been done eight million times before. Ashura rather thought that Lumi Pahalaitar's talent was overrated, if this particular piece was a good representation of her works. The Lintukotoan guests applauded with enthusiasm, which made Ashura question their taste. He supposed such storylines became tired clichés because they were popular and so repeated endlessly. He tried to recall if his late wife had demonstrated admiration for such trite entertainment, and reluctantly acknowledged that she had. Even Kendappa and Sybilla appeared to have enjoyed the play. All the children had, as well, but that was only to be expected. It was the sort of thing that would appeal to young hearts and minds. With some melancholy, he admitted to himself that he no longer possessed either.

Perhaps he had enjoyed similar nonsense many years ago, when his life had been normal, not weighed with concerns about the fate of Seresu and knowledge about how that would affect the rest of the universe. He was the one who had changed, not everyone else. Or, he thought with self-deprecating humor, maybe he was simply too worried about Fai to have appreciated some light, fluffy amusement. That seemed likely to him. After the earlier disruptions, Fai was much on his mind.

Fai had not reappeared in court. As musicians took their places and the court prepared for the evening's dancing, a maidservant came to Ashura. She warned him that Fai had awakened, but still didn't feel well and so would remain in his quarters and read. That, Ashura felt, was probably for the best.

He told the maid that Fai could stay up a little later than usual if he wished, but no more than an hour past his festival bedtime. She curtseyed and departed.

Ukko and his family did not remain for much longer. Out of courtesy, they participated in a few of the dances. Tancred and Kyllikki both acquitted themselves well. Ashura accounted the day a success, as they had not taken a furious dislike to one another after a more prolonged exposure than the brief, secret meeting two days earlier. Though that might be due to how well chaperoned they were, in the midst of so much royalty and nobility that they could only exchange courteous words.

At the end of the third dance of the evening, Ukko and Rana came to Ashura, Kendappa, and Sybilla to bid them farewell. "It is well into the evening, and we have tarried too long from our own court," Ukko said. "My nobles will feel neglected should we dally here much longer."

Queen Rana said, "We thank you for your most excellent hospitality, Your Majesty. Truly, it was a splendid day."

"Oh, and thank you for the use of the fine chambers," Ukko said to Ashura. "We had a chance to inspect them while we were waiting for the play to begin and you were absent from court. Your cousin and sister by marriage were kind enough to take us to see them. They were quite adequate. A pity we never needed them, but your consideration was appreciated."

Ashura bristled a bit at hearing his chambers referred to as "adequate," but gave no outward indication of his irritation. He only smiled serenely, a façade he knew would annoy Ukko.

Kendappa said, "It was our pleasure to show them to you."

"Gracious lady," Ukko said, kissing her hand. "You never set a foot amiss." He bowed to Sybilla. "I have never spent such a fine evening, in the company of two such delightful princesses."

Ashura said, "We are glad that you have enjoyed your visit. I hope relations between our two countries continue to be amiable."

Ukko nodded. "In a year, we shall again have a strong blood bond between our houses. The future looks bright, indeed."

After a few more pleasantries, Ukko's party gathered in the center of the Great Hall. His three wizards worked together to create a large translocation spell. With a final farewell, the Lintukotoans vanished as they had arrived: in a flamboyant display of magical sparkles and swirling, billowing streamers of light.

Ashura heaved a deep, exasperated sigh. He was quite relieved that Ukko was finally gone, and didn't care who knew it. Seeing his expression, Kendappa hid a smile behind one hand.

Sybilla looked insufferably pleased and said, "That went quite well, all things considered."

Kendappa said, "Yes, we did pull off a miracle, didn't we? We arranged a spectacular royal gala with just two days' notice."

Sybilla agreed, "After this, Tancred's wedding will be a simple matter. There is plenty of time to plan that."

Kendappa's expression fell. "I will help while I can, of course."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot." Sybilla managed to look contrite, though Ashura was certain that she was pleased that Kendappa would not be much involved. With a solicitous look, Sybilla said, "But your own wedding will be amazing, I'm sure. You have such excellent organizational skills, and you will be a queen. Your resources will be limitless."

This thought cheered Kendappa. "True. I understand my future husband has a fine, fat treasury. I shall make good use of it. But I suspect I will be required to follow the traditions in Thule. That is all still to be negotiated," she added with an arch look at Ashura.

At least those financial expenditures would be King Jarilo's problem, Ashura thought, and not his. "What is to be negotiated now?" he asked wearily.

"I want to help plan my own wedding. You will make certain of it in your negotiations with Thule's ambassadors, won't you? Of course you will," she said without waiting for a reply.

Tancred broke in a bit belatedly, "You're already planning my wedding? But won't Kyllikki want to help plan it? It's her wedding, too."

Kendappa and Sybilla both raised an eyebrow. "I suppose she could be involved," Sybilla allowed, "but she will be in Lintukoto during most of the planning activities."

"But Lady Kendappa just said she wanted to plan her wedding, and she's marrying a king! Won't she be here, in Seresu, until she goes to her wedding? Why can she help plan her own wedding, but Kyllikki can't?"

"We'll talk about this later, Tancred."

Ashura tuned them out. He gestured to the musicians, and they began another dance set. Then he bowed to the two royal ladies and his nephew. "I believe I shall retire and check on Fai."

Kendappa said, "I do hope he's feeling better."

"By now, he should be in bed like the other children. Enjoy the rest of the evening, ladies, Tancred." He swept out of the court.

Partway to the royal family's wing, he recalled that his own apartment was probably still rearranged for Ukko. It was late, and he didn't want to deal with legions of servants bustling about and moving his possessions back. Then he shrugged. The Lintukotoans had not made any use of his quarters. The linens were clean, the chambers freshened and spotless. After he saw Fai, he would return to his own rooms. He would lack personal belongings, but at least he could sleep in his own bed, and not a cot.

His back would thank him for that consideration.

When he entered Fai's quarters, he was surprised to find them filled with light and bright as midday in high summer. He stopped in the doorway. The common room overflowed with magelights that bore Fai's unmistakable magical signature. Bright, white magelights, large and small, everywhere. Magelights in the wall sconces and lamps, magelights in every corner, magelights by each piece of furniture, magelights along the floor, clusters of magelights hovering in the middle of the room like eerie, levitating chandeliers.

"What is this?" he asked, bewildered. Magelights were a large part of the winter Festival of Lighting the Night, but the big light show wasn't until the end of the festival. "What is in Fai's mind?"

A young maid came rushing up to him and dropped into a wobbly curtsey. "Your Majesty," she said breathlessly. "Thank goodness you're back."

Ashura stared at her, trying and failing to recall her name. "What's wrong? Why did Fai create so many magelights?"

"The young Lord Wizard did not want to sleep in darkness, Your Majesty," the maid explained. "He lit magelights everywhere. He also did not want to sleep alone. There are two servants in his bedchamber to keep him company."

That wasn't good. Fai had not feared to sleep alone for almost two years. "Why didn't someone call me, or at least tell me Fai was upset?" Ashura asked sharply. What a dismal lack of common sense. He thought his servants knew better.

"Lord Fai ordered us not to trouble you." The girl trembled. "He said you shouldn't be interrupted while you were entertaining the King and Queen of Lintukoto."

Ashura scowled, but it wasn't the maid's fault. She had been following the orders of her youthful master, however idiotic those orders had been. The maidservant, still posed in her curtsey, shook and nearly fell over at his foul expression.

"Please, Your Majesty, please do not be wroth," she pleaded. "The Lord Wizard was most insistent."

"Oh, get up," Ashura snapped. "I will see to Lord Fai."

Relieved, the maid straightened and backed away. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Ashura passed her by without another look. Fai's bedchamber was every bit as bright as the common room, with magelights glowing in profusion. The embroidered bed curtains were pulled wide open, letting in floods of light. The two servants, a man and a woman, had been dozing in chairs set on each side of the great bed. At their king's arrival, they jumped to their feet with identical gasps of surprise and dismay. Ashura's attention, however, was only for Fai.

Or rather, his attention was for the lump under the layers of blankets and furs that he assumed was Fai. He moved quickly to the bedside, gazing down at the blond hair peeking out from beneath the covers. "You're dismissed," he quietly told the servants. "Wait out in the common room." He barely noticed them leaving the room.

The lump quivered. A sniffle escaped the thick blankets.

Ashura sat on the edge of the bed. "Fai?" he queried, and pulled back the covers. Fai was curled up and turned away. Ashura put a hand on his son's shoulder and gently tugged him over. He wanted to see Fai's face.

Fai kept his eyes closed, but his rigid muscles betrayed his wakefulness.

Ashura touched Fai's throat, then placed the back of his hand upon the child's forehead. Fai's temperature was normal, but his pulse raced. Ashura shifted his hand to Fai's hair. "I know you're not asleep, Fai."

The blue eyes slowly opened. Fai sniffled again, but that was all. His eyes were reddened, but dry.

"What is wrong, Fai? Are you still upset about earlier? You should have told me."

"I didn't want to bother you," Fai muttered. He pushed Ashura's hand off his head, and sat up. "You were doing important things."

"Nothing is more important than you."

"Not even the treaty with Lintukoto?"

"Not even that," Ashura confirmed. He observed the dark shadows beneath Fai's eyes, the way the child's shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly, as though Fai were unconsciously trying to protect himself. "Fai, I am so very sorry about what happened earlier. I had no idea Queen Rana's headdress would bring up old memories for you."

"It's okay. It doesn't bother me anymore."

Then why can't you sleep? Ashura wondered but did not speak aloud. Why do you fear the dark so much you filled your chambers with light? Fai's unhappy memories had been reawakened, with dreadful results. Ashura wanted Fai to move beyond his past, but he didn't even know what else might trigger Fai's memories. He'd had no idea a simple headdress could cause Fai so much pain and make him regress to the frightened child of two years past. Who knew what other insignificant item in Seresu might remind Fai of old horrors?

Ashura supposed he and Fai had just been lucky to have avoided such pitfalls so far.

"If you like, I shall outlaw crispinettes," Ashura offered, outwardly deadpan and serious, but with his tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "I will make it illegal to wear them in public and in private. In fact, it will be illegal for anyone to so much as own one, even as an heirloom or costume piece. Any that still exist will be ferreted out and destroyed. None shall be spared," he proclaimed with regal grandiosity.

Fai stared at him incredulously. "That is so silly," he declared. "That's probably the silliest thing I've ever heard you say."

Ashura dropped the pompous façade and grinned at him. "Yes, I suppose it is."

It was such a ridiculous idea that it might distract Fai from his morass of renewed grief. Any other child would have giggled at the absurdity of outlawing antiquated headgear. Ashura knew it was too much to expect a smile, let alone a laugh, from Fai. But Fai calling him "silly" was a step in the right direction.

"Fai, do you think you could remove some of the magelights," he asked gently. "It's terribly bright in here. Surely so many are not required to light the room."

Fai shifted, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "I like the light."

"Just banish a few," Ashura coaxed. "The room will still be lighted."

Fai sighed and nodded. Though he didn't make a move, half the magelights went out. "Is that better?"

"Much better." The room was not as painfully brilliant to the eye, but still bright as day. Ashura doubted he could convince Fai to put more of the lights out. Not tonight. Perhaps Fai would not require so many in another day or two. He stood up.

"Where are you going?" Fai asked. A hint of panic tinged his words.

"Just outside the room. I will sleep on the cot tonight." Upon witnessing Fai's state, Ashura had resolved to stay in Fai's quarters again. His back gave a little twinge of protest at the thought of another night in the cot, but there was no helping it.

"You're leaving me?" The panic became more pronounced.

"I told you, Fai, I will be just outside your bedchamber," Ashura said as soothingly as he could.

"Don't leave me," Fai whimpered. "Don't leave. Everyone always leaves. Don't leave, too."

The only people who had left were the two servants Ashura had dismissed. "The servants—?" Ashura stopped, suddenly understanding what Fai meant. The child was talking about his brother and his mother, the two people who had meant the most to him in Valeria. The two people he had mourned again, this very night, in the castle shrine.

Was this near hysteria the result of banishing a few magelights? Ashura cursed himself. He shouldn't have asked Fai to remove the lights. They seemed to have been a source of security for Fai, and now some were gone.

"I will have the cot moved in here, Fai," he said. "I will be in this very room. There is nothing to fear, Fai. I will not leave."

"You don't have to do that," Fai said quickly. "You don't have to go for the cot."

"I do not wish to sleep on the floor or in a chair, Fai." Ashura's back gave another twinge at the mere idea.

"You can sleep here." Fai patted the mattress. "This bed is gigantic. You won't be uncomfortable or crowded. A whole family could sleep here with room to spare."

Are you that insecure? Ashura thought, watching Fai carefully. It was true that the carved wooden bed was enormous, and could easily sleep five people. Many common families did, in fact, all sleep together for many reasons: for warmth against the cold, to conserve space, for security, for lack of the financial resources to have multiple beds. The practice was not unusual even in noble families. Siblings often shared a bed, and parents frequently preferred to keep young children close to watch over them.

It wasn't typical for the royal family, though. Money and space were taken for granted, watchful servants and guards were all but inescapable, and the royal castles were filled with light. Warmth could be a problem, as castles in general were prone to drafts, and bitter cold seeped through the stone walls. However, the private chambers of the royal wing were quite comfortable, with wood-burning hearths, heavy curtains, thick rugs, and ornate tapestries to shield the living space from chills. Fai's bedchamber was pleasantly warm, and the many blankets and furs on his bed kept him toasty.

Fai's eyes dropped, and he hugged his knees tight, as though bracing himself against rejection.

Ashura rubbed his face. "Very well. I admit a soft bed is far more appealing than the alternative."

At the acquiescence, Fai relaxed and looked relieved.

"Let me first take care of some things." Ashura turned toward the door.

"You said you'd stay!" came the immediate, childish protest.

"I will not leave you tonight, Fai," Ashura promised, "but I cannot sleep in this." He gestured at his elaborate, glittering court raiment.

Fai bit his lip, then nodded his permission for Ashura to go change. Ashura would have laughed if he hadn't been so worried about Fai's state of mind.

He slipped out of the bedchamber and ordered the waiting servants to assist him. He made quick work of washing up in the private bath and changing into a comfortable, linen nightshift. With a sudden burst of inspiration, he apported to him a book of fairytales. The stories were among Fai's favorites.

"I thought you might like me to read you a story," he said when he rejoined Fai. He held up the book, so Fai could see the title. "I recalled that you enjoy these tales."

"I'm not a baby anymore," said Fai, but his somber expression lightened. He looked like he wanted to be convinced that he really wasn't too old for childish amusements—at least, not this night.

"I enjoy reading to you," Ashura said truthfully. "Humor me." He got into the free side of the bed, fluffed the pillows, and opened the book. He had no difficulty reading the words in the bright light.

Fai shifted over. "Okay, I'll humor you," he said, snuggling in against Ashura's side. "If it makes you happy."

Ashura repressed a smile at the transparent ploy and wrapped an arm about Fai's shoulders. Fai felt so fragile to him, but Ashura knew that was just his imagination. Fai's build was naturally slight, but he possessed strength and skill, especially for a child his age. The sense of frailty came from Fai's brittle and oft unpredictable emotions.

Swallowing his worries, Ashura proceeded to read aloud a story that he knew Fai adored: An absurd fable about a foolish young man who tried to outwit a magical, shapeshifting fox. He kept his voice to a soothing drone, and was gratified to feel the even, deep breathing of sleep from Fai before the end of the tale.

He carefully set the book aside and shifted against the pillows, closing his eyes. Red glowed, the result of the brilliance in the room leaking through the thin skin of his eyelids. With a sigh, he apported a hand towel to him and used it to cover his face and keep out the light.