AN: I'm back again! Thanks to reviewers renagirl, SarahE7191, Shang Leopard, twilightm00n, Eternityfalls, MaxCullen-Whitlock, Cymru na Alethaira, and KyrieofAccender, my beta. :D

Chapter 18

Trust

"How are you, Numair?" The black mage smiled at the sound of the voice of his old king and close friend. He replied into the speaking spell with a wryness that betrayed none of his gladness at finally speaking once more to Jonathan of Conte.

"Exhausted and bewildered and mildly worried," he answered. "I hope your pupil down there in the desert isn't turning half as many of your hairs white as mine are. My dyes' cost is rising steadily by the day, I'm afraid." Jon chuckled.

"What is wrong now?" he asked, and Numair's brow furrowed; he had to be careful, even when talking to Jon about his three students and their Kyprian friend… close friend he might be, but also a shrewd monarch to the bone, even after he abdicated to instate his son Roald as king of Tortall.

"They are on a mission, an unofficial mission that might save us from Scanra and their new allies- or destroy us, if the Chancellor plays his cards right." There was a very long pause, one that gave the seasoned mage a sudden urge to squirm like a novice in a master's class back in the university.

"Does Roald know about this?" Jon queried; Numair could almost see the knowing smile on the man's face. The mage sighed.

"Parts. Very, very small parts." Nothing of importance, really….

"I see." Jon was trying not to laugh.

"I am trying to protect him from liability," was the stiff retort. "Scanra could label it as treachery, and better that Roald know nothing-" It was Jon's turn to sigh.

"Numair, I know that everything you do is in Tortall's best interests-"

"He could mobilize his armies against us, and then the entire nation would be razed to the ground!" Numair exclaimed.

"I doubt that; we have the Dominion Jewel, remember?" But Roald cannot wield it like you can, Numair silently argued. "But a ruler must be able to answer for his country, and his subjects must accept that the king must be liable- You were my friend, as well as my strongest mage, Numair, and that meant I left many affairs to your own discretion… but you and Roald do not have the same relationship. How is he supposed to trust you?" Numair rolled his eyes. "If not all the details, my son must have an inkling of what you have planned."

"I will inform His Majesty at earliest convinence," he said dully. "Now, Jon, tell me about how these Bahzir have been treating you."

Deryne rolled off her cot as her eyes shot open- she was on her feet a second later. Her kestrel swept across the room.

Good timing, the Chamber said. The gates of the city will only be open for another hour before they are Sealed shut. We must leave now. Deryne shot him a look.

"Did you know about- what just happened?" she asked, referring to her dream. "You- well, Duskwing- was in it."

Frejonak is a pompous, showy ass, It replied primly. Wake Cyne. Sighing, the squire made her way across the room to shake her friend awake.

As she explained, the other girl frowned sleepily, turning to Damek.

"He's going to be asleep for a while longer," she said, worry in her voice.

Tell the watermage that help is on the way- she doesn't have to worry about her lover, but she won't be seeing him for awhile. Duskwing alighted on a rafter and shook himself. Deryne translated, making the message slightly less blunt. Cyne's gaze traveled back to Damek, and she sighed.

"I won't be able to wake him up," she whispered, approaching him.

"He's in a deep sleep," Deryne agreed, watching as the Kyprian reached for something around her neck, then pulled it up and over her head. Both girls saw the glow of the sea glass talisman as moonlight struck it- Cyne opened Damek's palm and put the glass in his hand. She ran a hand over his forehead tenderly, then stood.

You… are an idiot. The Chamber was addressing Cyne. Deryne rolled her eyes. That is power, Queenscove- her link to the Wavewalker!

She'll be fine. Damek will be on his own- the four of us will be together soon. Fleetingly, she thought of Rikash and Han, riding after Tezock. The Chamber snorted.

How sweet. I'm sure your sentimentality will crush all our enemies to dust. Deryne grinned.

"Good plan. And if that doesn't work, Rikash will blast them to smithereens. That ought to cover everything."

Merle and Brand walked several paces behind Kol and stopped as the boy walked up to the door of the safe house. He knocked, gingerly. A gust of wind tore around the two Kyprians as they waited; with a shiver, Merle stepped closer to Brand, forcing herself not to look at him as Kol banged on the door again. He glanced back at them, uncertain, then reached for the handle, which gave under his hand. He peeked inside, then looked back at the two others, face unreadable.

"Damek is here," he stated, and Merle's knees nearly gave with relief. She and Brand exchanged smiles, then followed Kol into the innocuous home. Damek was sleeping on the floor, a note by his side. While Merle wondered if she should pry, Brand crossed the room and snatched the paper up. As a sound of protest escaped her lips, her friend unfolded the parchment and scanned it with a businesslike air.

"Brand-"

"I would prefer to know what's going on," he said slowly. "According to this, Cyne and Deryne left- maybe an hour ago, or less." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kol frown, briefly wondered if the Tortallan shiphand was smitten with the Kyprian princess, and suppressed a dry chuckle. He gingerly placed the letter back next to Damek's cot. "They did not want to wake him-"

"So that leaves us to watch him," Merle grumbled, aq small smile playing across her lips. "I ought not be surprised she leaves us with beau-watching." Brand snorted.

"If you think we'll be bored, think again," he told her flatly as he sat down, kicking off his boots. Interlocking his fingers, he stuck his hands behind his head and lay down. "The gates to the city are sealed shut, and we're going to have to get out of this city as fast as we can."

It was dawn when Rikash pulled his exhausted mount to a halt. Han turned back, eyebrow raised quizzically, as the firemage dismounted and tugged his horse off of the path. He shot a dark look at his friend.

"I am not going to ride him to death," he said flatly, patting the horse's neck. "And I'll fall off of him in a few more minutes, anyway. And Tezock is getting further and further from us, even if we push, which we can't without killing someone." He waved a hand at their steeds. "We should wait for the girls." With that, he stalked off through the woods, trying to find a place to rest. A moment later, Han followed, and together they set up camp.

It took a matter of moments to collect a pile of wood, at which Rikash hardly glanced as it caught flame. The protective circle was another matter entirely; Han was left puzzling out a complex spell in which he was also attempting to leave a loophole for Deryne's magic.

"Forget it," Rikash growled as he plopped himself down by the fire. "Gods help the man or beast who tries to wake me up." Han suppressed a smile, then shook his head and turned back to the working. It was several more moments before he finally tapped the ground with a satisfied nod, and turned back to join Rikash.

"Can you hear her?" he asked. Rikash lay down on his bedroll with a scowl.

"Why should I be able to?" he asked.

"Perhaps you should try to reach out and call her," his friend answered mildly. "So that they can find us."

"Isn't that her job, the reaching and the calling?"

"Most of the time." Rikash turned away from the light of the fire, curling up in the blanket with a snort of derision. "The sooner they come, the sooner we finish this."

"How would I even try?" he replied, trying to sound dismissive and uninterested.

"I dunno- try thinking about her." There was a glimmer of humor in the earthmage's voice, a quiet laughter that made Rikash want to throw a fireball at him to silence him. Inexplicable good humor was rarely a good thing.

Deryne. The last time they had talked, he had warned her to be careful. And they had hugged. He had not wrapped his arms around her since Roger had possessed Malvyn and killed Inar. For months, she had been so upset, so unfocused- He could remember shouting at her for endangering Han's life when they fought Shadows, as they sought out every gateway into Chaos and Sealed them. It had been dirty, hard work, reminding him of the extermination of an infestation of insects, or rodents…. They exploited every crack between worlds, and they came in the thousands.

But she had reminded him more of her old self in Frasluk; sharp, witty, even if there was a hardness to the line of her jaw that he could not recall seeing before all those events of a year ago…. Or maybe it had been more time- ever since they had fought at Pirate's Swoop, and he had decided to enter the university, so that he wouldn't have to see her; he had been sick of her, afraid of her, ashamed of himself, angry at everyone he saw-

No, the last moment of their old friendship, of the old Deryne, he decided, was when they stood on the deck of the Swoop's tower and he had offered to help her control her gudruna…. And then he had asked for her to help him show the others a whirlwind of fire and wind, and Cyne had added her power to it.

He still shuddered at the memory of the sudden rush of power, that power that ripped his control away and threatened to take everything he had- it had not been his power, nor Deryne's, or Cyne's… it had been something much more archaic, much more fierce and uncontrollable. And, scared out of his mind, he pinned the blame on Deryne, and he had abused her until he broke her, until she snapped- until her good-humor vanished and the fury he now knew her for rose to the surface.

She had lost her temper. But he had lashed out right back- not in defense, because her magic pulled back as soon as she realized what she was doing, but in vengeance. He closed his eyes tighter, trying to picture her standing on the beach, laughing, but all he could see was her tear-stricken confusion. Other images poured into his mind- her disbelief that he defended Malvyn against her, her grief after Inar stepped between her and the death spell Roger aimed at her, her fury every time they sparred…

And her apologizing to him. Standing, in the midst of hundreds of courtiers, contemplating the night, and explained the particulars of the night Malvyn had betrayed him, and cried. And how his blood had boiled when Roger sought them out, interrupting her as they spoke. How he wanted to protect that moment of peace between them, keep that smile on her face, the light in her crystalline eyes-

And then they had danced, and the blonde had interrupted… and he had had the chance to let her into his mind. But he had not opened up to her… had not trusted her enough, not then and there.

Now, he relaxed, allowing his mind to reach out, linger on Frasluk- had she left yet? He could picture her riding, her grace present no matter what the occasion, her own mind, searching, wondering where he was…. He could almost hear her, slightly frustrated, muttering to herself as she sought them out.

Come on, Ri, where are you?

Here, he tried to say, not entirely certain where here was. He relaxed further, thinking of just one word, one face, one name…

Deryne, Deryne, Deryne- She was his friend, and it was time for him to trust her.

Ri? He could sense her, fleeting conciousness on the outskirts of his; she stayed back, barely skimming his mind as he ran through the path he and Han had taken. He felt as though she sat next to him, her presence close but not smothering; she had learned, since the first time she had tried it with him. All right. I see you. We're coming, Rikash- we're coming. He felt her smile, then sank into sleep as she disappeared.

Vanora's lips pursed as the arrow thudded into the target; it was close to the circular center… just not close enough. Determinedly ignoring the Crown Prince standing beside her, she picked another arrow and aimed.

"Your stance is off." In a swift motion, she whipped around to glare at Leoraed of Conte, who stepped back to give her lowered but still strung bow a wide berth. His face was blank when he met her gaze. Vanora's eyes narrowed marginally. She hated the inscrutable look- it waited patiently for her, inviting her to speak her thoughts. Right now, she was certain any comeback would fall flat; he would nod, or smile, like a ruler humoring a bad-tempered subject. He was already a king, in little ways- the gentle compassion he used with girls, the way he was always in control without demanding it- his peers fell respectfully silent, treated him with the reverence his position demanded… unlike her. Vanora winced inwardly- she felt provoked, whenever he assumed that regal air… which inevitably ended up with her saying something stupid.

"So?" was her sharp reply, shooting him a dark look. "I'm just better with closer, moving targets." Wonderful. She had just threatened the heir to the throne. Leo's lips twitched.

"Everyone has areas to improve in," he said in a light, ironic voice she recognized; he was laughing at her, in his quiet way. She deflated, sighing.

"At least I didn't say that in front of anyone else," she muttered. "Otherwise the spymaster would come put me under lock and key." Leo raised an eyebrow.

"I'd come rescue you." A soft laugh slipped from her lips. "Fight off all the guards and help you to a waiting horse for a quick escape." The mere thought made her shake her head, concealing a smile.

"Thanks." Then she turned back to the target. "Every lady needs a knight in shining armor," she said dryly, knowing that the comment would earn her an eye roll from everyone she knew. Still, it warmed her insides, to think that-

"And every man needs a woman with a lethal shot," he retorted. "I happen to be the one holding up my end of the deal in this case. Feet closer together." She shifted as she fixed her gaze on the target; he wasn't a knight yet.

"Yes, Squire. Remember to shine your master's armor for me when you leave." She snuck a quick look at him and was rewarded with the sight of a startled Leo staring at her. "After all, I couldn't bear to look at him if the plates weren't polished enough." She smiled smugly; no matter how many times she took a jab at him, she always managed to surprise him.

I should be insulted, she thought idly as she loosed; she was even further from the center than her last shot. But she wasn't- it delighted her, that she could set him off-balance, when he was someone who rarely showed strong emotion.

"I suppose you'll have to look at me instead," the youth at her side said slowly, and Vanora froze as a wave of heat spread across her. Her eyes shot up to meet the prince's level gaze, but then she ducked her head. Then she winced; that made her look guilty, didn't it? Well, she couldn't look up again now-

Guilty of what?

"Glaring furiously," she muttered, tongue clumsy. She wasn't guilty of anything… except being as stupid as every other young noble lady at court. She was Leo's friend- he was helping her train so that she could be one of his mother's ladies-in-waiting! That was more valuable, more special, than- "How about glaive practice?"

"You did that this morning." Vanora tensed as she fumbled for another arrow.

"You seem to know everything about my life," she said, trying to be light-hearted.

"You train at the same time as my mother. She and her ladies were on the courts this morning." Twice a fool! Vanora's eyes fell shut as she simmered with humiliation. Of course he knew because his mother had had glaive practice since before he was born! Goddess, stitch my mouth closed!

"I should see how Cor is doing," she said softly.

"Cor is fine." Leo reached out and took the arrow from her hand. "Stop running away, Vanora." A thrill ran through her as the second meaning hit her- but he clearly meant stop avoiding archery practice, didn't he? She closed her eyes.

"I'm not running away," she said feebly as he unwrapped her fingers from around her bow so he could take it himself.

"Aren't you?" he muttered as he drew it in one graceful, practiced motion. She watched with a twinge of envy and admiration as he sighted and released. His face was smooth, the Conte nose distinctly marking his profile as that of royalty. Vanora bit her lip; he was handsome, and he looked older than he was- she suspected it was the burden of everything demanded of him… but he seemed like any other youth in the yards now, in his practice clothes, as dirty as anyone's. His face was relaxed, despite the cool focus; she would like to think that was because he was comfortable with her, that he trusted her and liked her… which of course he did; they were friends. Good friends. He frowned. "Huh." Vanora tore her eyes from his face to look at the target. Then she raised an eyebrow.

His arrow was as far away from the center as hers. She glanced at him with suspicion; was he trying to make her feel better? Did he think she had no pride? She was the daughter of Lady Keladry….

Leo was testing the bow, brow furrowed.

"No wonder," he said with a small chuckle. He looked up at her, eyes glittering. "You need a new bow." He raised an eyebrow at her, and Vanora couldn't help it- she burst into a fit of giggles. "The balance is off."

"You never should have doubted me." Leo watched her for a moment, then laughed, raising a hand to rub the back of his head- he was sheepish, amused- and endearing. It wasn't fair! Vanora ranted inwardly despite her mirth. It was a small wonder that every girl fell in love with him- not that she was in love. Her mother had once had a soft spot for her best friend, Neal- but she recovered, soon enough, to marry Domitan of Masbolle. She would get over this, soon enough- as soon as she found another youth who-

"Never," he agreed, brilliant smile making her legs tremble. Doubt suddenly filled her; another youth, quite like Leo? No, never- there was no one who could come close. She groaned inwardly, wondering how her mother had survived without making a complete fool of herself. She might need a few pointers… "I'll be right back with weapons worthy of you, my lady-" He leapt down the stairs, black hair whipping around in the breeze. Vanora rolled her eyes.

"Hurry back, valiant sir," she called, and he turned, still grinning.

"Your wish is my command," he answered before starting off. Vanora furiously berated herself as her heart beated a little faster.

"Leo!" The voice came from behind Vanora. Both the prince and his friend turned. Queen Shinkokami was there, walking, very quickly, towards her son. Leo's face instantly recomposed itself; he took several steps back to meet his mother, and Vanora descended the stairs to stand by his side, concerned. "I have to speak with my son, Vanora," the woman said once she had reached them, and the girl noticed the brightness of her queen's eyes with a surprised jolt. She curtsied deeply, but before she could move, Leo's hand snaked out to grab her wrist.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked quietly. "Does she have to- can she listen?" He had a sudden sense of forbodding- he didn't want Vanora leaving now. The queen took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her.

"Your Majesty, I-" Vanora fell silent when Shinkokami nodded once.

"Stay, then-" She took a deep breath. "Leo, it's-" She paused, then started again. "Your squire duties have been postponed- you will serve here, at the castle, among other duties- royal ones-" Leo's brow furrowed- there were tears in her eyes.

"What are you trying to say?" he asked, worry choking his voice- he had not let go of Vanora yet. His mother's eyes fell to the ground.

"We need you to begin your royal duties as Crown Prince. As heir," she said, voice wavering. Then she locked gazes with him. Her voice was gentle but level when she next spoke. "The old king- your grandfather- is dead."