Serenity's knees trembled something terrible. "I — what?" She had heard the elder perfectly (he was standing quite close enough), but she was loath to think of the punishment she'd receive for poisoning, potentially killing, the king, especially if strangers could end up dead just for trespassing.

No, Serenity needed no clarification, but it certainly bought her time. She really didn't like the earnest look in Solomon's eyes or the curious glances the boys sent her. She took a fraction of a step backwards, away from robed men she was sure would kill her.

Solomon sighed. "Where are my manners?" His frown dissolved into a playful little smile. "Welcome to Chatenoire. I'm sure you must be hungry. Follow me."

And with a wave, Serenity's anxiety evaporated, leaving a telltale emptiness in its stead. She followed Solomon, and the boys followed her, through an archway adjacent to the throne room. At the end of the corridor was a spiral staircase, which they descended into a large mess hall. The tables were already filled with teens dressed in robes similar to Tristan's and Joey's. They were all eating from large serving platters and chatting excitedly. Those who noticed the group's entrance nodded reverently to Solomon before returning to their companions. Serenity felt like she was back in school, and she smiled.

Solomon led them to an empty table in the back of the room and beckoned for them all to sit. Immediately, a man and a woman rounded the corner to set two platters on the table. They bowed to the elder and left as suddenly as they came.

The group fell into a forced silence, each focused on his plate as though it would disappear. Serenity kept busy by naming the colorful foods she saw. The blue game bird would be Dreams, just so she could say things like Dreams fly and she was eating Dreams — not to mention the meat was so tender, so succulent, with flavors she could only dream of — and the red tangy sauce would be Carmine Surprise for its spicy after taste. Or maybe the whole ensemble would just be Dreams a la Carmine. And those soft, salty white rolls would be Clouds —

"I can't just sit here," Joey declared at last, all but slamming his fork down. "While we eat, Yug — I mean, His Majesty — gets weaker. There's gotta be something we can do."

Solomon closed his eyes and sighed. "It is beyond our power," he said. "We must be patient."

Joey fell to mumbling, but Tristan spoke up. "But, sir," he said like an insistent child to his father, "don't you think it's strange that you send me out to find herbs and I find an Otherworlder instead?"

"I do, but —"

"And you said yourself that there's no such thing as coincidence. Which means she's gotta be here for a reason."

"Everyone's here for a reason," Serenity piped up, more out of the desire to contribute than anything.

Solomon thought hard before speaking. "I will admit," he began carefully, "that I was hasty earlier." He looked at Serenity. "We can't be sure that you really did give His Liege anything."

"But he hallucinates, just like I did," she replied. "What other symptoms does he have?" (She was really proud of that word, symptoms. It made her sound professional and grown-up. She tried not to giggle at the thought; this was serious.)

"He gets chills, especially in the night."

Serenity almost shuddered just thinking of the unbearably cold nights that no thickness of blankets could fix.

"When he's not cold, he complains about numbness."

She never fully had control of all her senses at once, not like she used to. And unless she concentrated really hard, she could end up forgetting about an entire limb. It made walking too bothersome to attempt for even a little while.

"And his headaches come and go."

Serenity snorted. That sure wouldn't last long. Oh, sure, the headaches come and go, lulling you into a false sense of security by almost promising to be temporary. But, little by little, they get longer, duller, tighter, until they melt into one giant constant throb.

"I take it you went through a similar experience?" Solomon asked.

"The same, actually." She felt immensely relieved that those days were behind her, or at least beside her until she woke up.

For when she woke up, the headaches would crush her, and the chills would set in, and the hallucinations would start over. She would lapse in and out of consciousness until her fever finally broke…whenever that day came.

Serenity didn't want to return to that. It made her feel helpless and icky. And then it hit her that the magician king was probably thinking the same thing. Her relief turned into something stickier. It made tears prick at her eyes. Someone else was suffering because of her. The solemn faces of her new friends — it was all her fault.

"There's gotta be a way," she said softly.

"Like I said," Solomon replied, "it's beyond our power."

Serenity looked him in the eye. "Then whose power does it lie in?"

The old man leaned back with a smirk. "I underestimated you." He spared the boys a glance before returning his attention to the Otherworlder who was more and more starting to intrigue him. "The journey will be perilous," he said at last, "should you choose to take it. You would traverse each corner of the land and meet each Sorcerer in order."

Tristan tensed. "Meet the Sorcerers? Alone? Would they even see her?"

"Actually, the order matters little," Solomon continued, as though uninterrupted, "so long as you gather their items in one place. They will know what to do after that, and your duty to the king will be fulfilled." He nodded and returned to his food.

Serenity stared at Solomon a few moments longer before turning her gaze down to her food. She bit her thumb lightly in contemplation. What was she to do? She hardly knew this land, whether it was a product of her feverish imagination or not, but she owed the king, didn't she?

Meanwhile, Tristan and Joey exchanged confused looks and shrugs. They ate and waited for the elder or the girl to break the hush. When neither did, Joey spoke up.

"You know," he said to Tristan in a stage whisper, "I'll bet the king will be wanting to see who his soon-to-be rescuer is."

Tristan grinned. "Oh man, you're right. Besides, you can't go on a quest without the king's seal first, right?"

Solomon practically threw his fork down. "What are you two going on about?" When the boys opened their mouths to say something, he cut them off. "Never mind, I already know."

Joey's eyes lit up. "So?"

"So what?"

"You'll take her to him?" Tristan elaborated. Serenity peeked up at Solomon, hoping he'd consent.

"Out of the question!" He shook his head vehemently.

"Aww, come on," Tristan moped.

"I bet some company would do him good," Joey persisted. "Besides, he's probably dying of boredom."

"He's barely lucid half the time, I doubt he's —!"

"Please!" both boys begged.

Solomon narrowed his eyes at them for a few long moments. At last, he sighed. "Fine. But," he added quickly, "for only five minutes. And you are not to disturb him."

Serenity didn't exactly know how she was expected to visit the magician king without disturbing him, but before she could ask, she was whisked away by the others back into the throne room.

The group walked softly up to the door Solomon had come out of earlier, padding footsteps echoing in the stillness.

"Remember," Solomon whispered, bracing his hands on the door, "five minutes." He hesitated before pushing the door open.

The door opened into a living room lined with oddly shaped sofas, all of them either purple or golden yellow. A soft breeze played with the sheer yellow curtains in the windows on either side of the room. A dark brown, almost black coffee table rested in the center, covered in water stain rings and half open scrolls. A spiral staircase stood off in a corner.

On the longest sofa, furthest from the door, lay a small figure dozing. A saucer with a half-eaten roll rested on his stomach, falling and rising with his breaths. Dangling over the side of the couch was a golden inverted pyramid that the boy wore around his neck. It was an odd fashion choice, to be sure, but Serenity tried not to stare. A purple cloth covered his eyes, forehead, and part of his hairline.

"What is his Majesty doing in the parlor?" Joey whispered harshly to Solomon.

"He refused to lie down in his bed," Solomon whispered back. "He insisted he get some work done. It was useless arguing with him, so I cast a sleeping charm on him where he sat."

The boys gaped. "B-but it's forbidden to use magic against the king!" Tristan spluttered.

Solomon crossed his arms. "I did what was best for him. And he knows that." He walked over to the sleeping form and bent down so they were eye level. He removed the cloth and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, large purple eyes opened. The boy recoiled from Solomon and looked as though he would sit bolt upright, but Solomon placed a firm hand on his shoulder to still him. Once he could read recognition in the boy's eyes, Solomon let go.

"Oh," he said timidly, "it's you." He sighed and eased back down. "It's a good thing you pulled me out of the tub. They wanted to stab me with — oh. Hello."

He waved to the teens by the door.

"Your Majesty," the boys said in unison with their heads bowed. Serenity quickly did the same.

"Solomon, look!" the king cried, pointing at Serenity. "It's a Muse. Devonne promised me one, and here she is." He beckoned Serenity closer. Tentatively, the girl complied.

"Muse," he said regally — or, as regally as he could lying down with a plate of half-finished food on his stomach — "won't you sing to me?" He turned to Solomon. "That's how Devonne said to address my Muse."

"Actually, sire," Solomon said, clearing his throat, "this young lady has business with you. Why don't you sit up — there's a good lad — and listen to what she says?"

Serenity watched with awe as the magician king sat up. As he did so, his wild, tricolored hair spiked up and cascaded down his shoulders. The sunlight danced in his blond hair, but hid from the black and purple. He truly did look like a king.

And yet, he looked more fragile than Serenity would have imagined. His cheeks were flushed with telltale signs of fever, his body was slight, and he shivered uncontrollably.

"I'm listening," the king said moodily.

"Y-your Majesty," Serenity began shyly. She opened her mouth, but didn't know how to continue.

"Your Liege," Joey said, "Serenity here is an Otherworlder. She came to make you better, but she needs —"

"Better?" he asked. Serenity nodded fervently. "What does 'better' feel like?" He leaned back into the sofa. "I don't remember."

Serenity knelt down before the king and looked earnestly into his eyes. "Better feels like only one voice in your head."

His Majesty was silent for a long while, regarding Serenity as though he had seen her somewhere before. In a dream now forgotten, perhaps. But it was not like Devonne to lie; why would she now? Was this girl, this Otherworlder, not the Muse he was promised? He had half a mind to return to that desert and tell the Jinn what-for, just as soon as he found the portal and – oh, Gods. He was doing it again. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear it of all the fuzzy, superfluous, and utterly ridiculous thoughts. It proved harder than he realized. He opened his eyes and looked at Serenity again.

"Okay," he said simply. In what would probably be his last lucid action in a while, he thought ruefully, he took his ring off of his finger and gave it to Serenity.

Tentatively the girl took it. She gave the king a meaningful look and stood up.

"Tristan, draw up the documents," Solomon said. "Joey, see if you can get his Liege to lie down in his chambers. And I'll take that," he said, taking the ring out of Serenity's hands. Armed with their duties, the men hurried off, leaving Serenity standing in the middle of the room. She shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking around for something to occupy her while she waited.

She decided to peruse the documents on the table, not letting the fact that they may have been classified deter her. She took in the strange writing, admiring the fancy loops and curls that filled each page. After a while, she started to pick up the cadences of the language; she knew when a question was posed, an exclamation made, or a statistic demonstrated. She could not describe the process by which this occurred, but began reading with more vigor, hoping to completely understand it by the time one of her companions returned.

"Excuse me," Solomon's voice rang out, stern and clear. Serenity thrust the title deed she had been inspecting back on the table in her surprise and looked up at Solomon. If what she had been doing were wrong, he did not show it on his face. Instead, he held out a rolled up piece of paper, tied with a purple tassel, to her. She stood and took it just as Tristan and Joey re-entered the room.

"Now," Tristan said with relief, "it is done." He smiled.

Joey shook his head. "No; it's only just begun."