"I can't believe it. I just can't believe this!"

Io said nothing. He had spent the last few minutes listening to Ryuu declare that he couldn't believe it, and it was wearing on Io's nerves.

Ryuu didn't seem to notice. He continued pacing the floor of their room, occasionally flinging his arms up or raking his hands through his hair. Finally, with a cry of sheer frustration, he seized a pillow and hurled it at the wall, then flung himself across the bed to bury his head in the remaining cushions.

"I'm having a hard time believing it, too," said Io quietly.

And he was having a hard time believing it. Well, not the part about Akoya having been a spy - he could believe that. There had always been something a little reserved about Akoya, a sense that he was hiding something. And yet... even if he knew it was foolish, he couldn't help but believe that Akoya hadn't been lying about changing sides. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe it was just the resolute way that Akoya had refused to give ground on the subject. He hadn't begged or cried or made a scene, and somehow that lack of drama in such a usually dramatic person made what he'd said seem more believable.

"I knew there was something wrong about that guy, I just knew it," said Ryuu. "What an actor, though. He was so good at everything... he seemed so natural..."

Io continued staring off into space.

"How likely is it, do you suppose," he asked carefully, "that he might have been telling the truth?"

Ryuu raised his head. "Huh?"

"How likely do you think it is that he really was planning to change sides?" Io asked. "What if he really was tired of working for Prince Kinshiro and wanted to make a break with him? Now would be the time to do it. He's been getting closer to us lately, and anyone can see he's been enjoying himself here. If Kinshiro sent him in with the expectation that he was going to be treated as a slave, and instead he got decent treatment, a good wage, and congenial company, it might have been enough to make him think he's getting a better deal here than he did back home."

Ryuu gave him a flatly disbelieving look. "Come on, Io. I know you were attached to the guy. I was too. But it's no good denying what was right in front of us."

"And what was in front of us?" Io persisted. "I've been thinking over what we heard the two of them talking about, and none of it suggests that Akoya wasn't telling the truth."

"He was talking to Prince Kinshiro," Ryuu pointed out.

Io shook his head. "He was arguing with Prince Kinshiro. As far as I can tell, the prince was reading him the riot act for not letting us die when he had the chance, and Akoya was defending his actions. That clearly suggests that there is at least some lack of accord there."

"I don't know." Ryuu chewed his lower lip. "It sounded to me like it could just be that the guy was thinking more about how to get us to trust him than about the bigger plan."

"But would he really put his life on the line just to get us to trust him?" Io asked. "We already trusted him, more or less. Besides, we know he's intelligent. It would only have taken a split-second for him to realize that all he needed to do was let that assassin slip by him and his job would be done for him."

"So you believe him." It was a statement, not a question.

"I don't, quite," said Io. "But I think it might be worth letting Akoya have his say. Come on." Suddenly galvanized, Io started for the door.

"Where are we going?" Ryuu was already scampering after him.

"We're going to talk to Akoya," said Io. "He might not have left yet. I did give him until tomorrow to get out of here - he might still be backing. If we can find him, we can give him a chance to explain himself. Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem."

Ryuu didn't say anything, but he fell into step alongside Io as he hurried down the hallways. Io felt a cautious lifting of his spirits.

He wants it to be true, too. He feels the same way I do.

They reached Akoya's room. It stood open, and there was no sound of movement inside. Io slowed his steps as he drew nearer.

"Akoya?" he called. "Are you still there?"

No answer. Io took a few more steps closer and peered inside.

"No one in there," he said, "but most of his things are here..."

Ryuu pushed past him and began making a methodical search of the room.

"Not all his things," he said. "Some of his clothes are gone, and one of his bags. Looks like he decided to travel light."

Io sighed and sat down on the bed. "So we've lost him, then."

"Looks like," Ryuu agreed. "I'm impressed. He didn't strike me as the type who'd leave without his whole kit with him. Look, he even left his jewel box behind."

"He probably took the jewels, though," said Io, with a touch of cynicism.

Moved by an impulse that was half curiosity and half not knowing what else to do, Io stood up and went to have a closer look at the jewelry box. Much to his surprise, it was still filled with jewelry. That was curious. Aside from the fact that Akoya loved pretty things, it seemed unlikely that anyone would depart on a long journey and leave most of his valuables behind. Io frowned, considering. Just as he and Ryuu had come into the room, he'd seen Akoya slam down the lid of this jewel box. Didn't that mean the mechanism he used to contact Kinshiro was in here somewhere? Very carefully, Io began taking out the contents of the box, and then, when it was empty, testing the pieces of the box itself. He was hardly surprised when the bottom section came out completely, revealing a hidden compartment with a single smooth stone at the bottom.

"Dare I?" he murmured.

Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the stone. It warmed in his hand, and he felt the thrum of magic against his fingers.

A moment later, a cold voice said, "Changed your mind already, have you?"

Io nearly dropped the stone. It took everything he had to stifle the cry of surprise that rose in his throat. He forced himself to stay silent and listen.

"Well, don't bother," Kinshiro continued. "There's no room in my kingdom for traitors. You've chosen your side, and I wish you joy of it. But remember this: if I ever catch you setting foot in my kingdom again, you are dead. Do you understand me? One foot inside this border and your pretty head is on a plate. I hope those idiots you fell for are worth it."

The sound cut abruptly off. Io set the speaking stone down.

"He was telling the truth, then," he said in a daze. "He was going to leave Kinshiro... because of us..."

Ryuu was hardly listening. He was staring at something on a shelf behind Io. Io turned to see what he was staring at, but the jumble of objects there looked the same as it always had. Akoya had magpie instincts, and his living quarters had acquired a lot of pretty odds and ends, so that his shelves were now a hodgepodge of colorful sparkly trinkets. Io frowned slightly. He had only been in this room a few times, and lately when he had come in here it had been for reasons other than to admire the decor, but he was almost certain there was something wrong, something missing...

"The glass rose," said Ryuu.

"Hmm?" asked Io, who had only half-heard the words.

"The first time I took him shopping," Ryuu explained, "I bought him a glass rose as a gift. It's not there anymore. Everything else on that shelf is just the way it always was, but the rose is gone."

"Hmm," said Io. On a hunch, he picked through the heap of jewelry on the table next to him. Now that he was thinking about it, he could remember seeing Akoya wear most of these pieces before. He had a keen eye for such valuables, and remembered them more clearly than the extravagant costumes Akoya wore. Just as he had suspected, two pieces were missing: the silver and lapis bracelet, and the mother of pearl peacock comb. Everything else, he'd left behind, but he'd taken the things that Ryuu and Io had given him personally. Almost, Io decided, as if he'd had a sentimental attachment to them...

"We really messed up, didn't we?" said Ryuu softly.

"We really did," Io agreed. Then his expression hardened. "But it isn't too late to fix things."

"What are we going to do?" Ryuu asked. "He's already gone."

"He can't have gone far," Io retorted. "I'm going to get the palace guard, and I'm going to get every soldier in this city looking for him, and we are going to find him."

A slow, faint smile appeared on Ryuu's face.

"Sounds like a plan," he said.

Kinshiro sat staring down at the crystal in his hands. It was quiet now, its magic dulled. He sincerely doubted that Akoya would be speaking to him through it again. Odds were, they would never speak to each other again at all. Akoya, who had been his friend for years, practically the last person Kinshiro would have ever expected to leave him...

With a snarl, Kinshiro threw the stone across the room. It smashed into a vase that perched on top of his wardrobe and shattered it to pieces. Kinshiro sat listening to the rain of broken pottery, hands clenched in frustration.

"Why?" he shouted at the empty room. "Why does this keep happening? Why do people keep doing this to me? Why does everyone I like even a little leave me for someone else?"

There was no answer. He sat there for a few moments, breathing heard, feeling his pulse hammering in his ears. All his training and instincts told him that he needed to calm down, to look at the situation rationally, but his emotions weren't having it. Disgusted with himself, he pushed back his chair and went to pick up the shards of broken vase. Never mind that there were servants to do that sort of thing for him. He needed something productive to do with himself, before he was reduced to kicking his feet and bawling like a child.

At least he'd never liked that vase very much. It had been a preposterously expensive but preposterously ugly gift from some diplomat or other, which was why it had been relegated to the top of his wardrobe in the first place. If he'd had any sense, he'd have found a way to "accidentally" break it years ago. Now he patiently used a handkerchief to sweep up all the bits of broken pottery and dump them into a trash bin. Then he climbed up on a chair to collect the base of the vessel and any other shards that might not have made it to the floor.

He came face to face with the box. He stared at it, going very still. It had been years since he had been so close to this box. Most of the time, he tried to forget it existed. Any other time, he might have simply let his eyes slide over it, pushed the thought of it away, and gone on with whatever he had been doing. But today he was hurting, and that pain left cracks in him through which other feelings could slip through. He wanted comfort, companionship, and all the other good things that the letters in that box had once represented, and even knowing that it would be a false comfort wasn't enough to stop him from gabbing the box and carrying it to his desk. In one swift motion, he had opened the lid and poured out its contents. On top of the pile was the first letter Atsushi had ever sent him. With shaking hands, Kinshiro gently unfolded it and began to read.

They had written so many of these letters, in the short time they'd known each other. So much of their time had been caught up in court activities - Atsushi with his duties as prince, Kinshiro in his role as visiting diplomat - that they'd not had nearly as much time together as they would have liked. They compensated by sending notes back and forth to each other. No matter where they were or what they were doing, there was always a page or runner nearby who would pass the notes along. They might go through two dozen in a day, sometimes, everything from short observations on what they were seeing and doing, on up to multi-page letters written during long dull meetings. It hardly mattered what the words were, because the underlying message was always the same: I care about you, and I want to share everything with you. Kinshiro had managed to forget just how many of these notes there were and just what a range of subjects they covered, but having them here in front of him brought it all back.

And the strange thing was, the more Kinshiro read, the harder it was for him to keep in mind the idea of the cunning, deliberate betrayer. How could someone who was planning to put a knife in his back feel moved to share with him these childhood recollections, these laughing anecdotes about funny things the more eccentric courtiers had done, these wistful dreams of a life outside the confined courts of the Arborean palace? Would someone who was planning treachery really care enough to write things like, I'm so sorry, I should have warned you how much spice they put in the mushroom soup! or fill paragraphs with recollections about his favorite childhood pony? It all seemed so pure and innocent...

Could I have had it wrong? No, that's not possible - I know what I heard. Even so, it's strange...

At the bottom of the pile - what had been the top before he'd turned the box upside-down - was a stack of letters that were still sealed shut. One had been left in his room the night Kinshiro had packed to leave, and he'd just shoved it in his bag without bothering to open it. The rest had been delivered later, after he'd gotten home, and he'd shoved them in the box with the rest without looking at them more than he could help. They were all still sealed, waiting. He looked at them with a mix of longing and trepidation. There was no point in opening them. That part of his life was over for good, and there was nothing in them that would make him feel any better about it. And yet, in the hour or so it had taken him to read the rest, he had felt almost like nothing had gone wrong and he and Atsushi were still together. He felt like a relapsed drunkard after a long spell of abstinence, knowing what he was doing to himself was hurting him and unable to resist. He ripped open a letter and scanned it hungrily.

At first, it was just like all the others, full of friendly chatter, recounting the day's events and responding to comments Kinshiro had made in his previous letter. It wasn't until nearly the end that Kinshiro read something that made him sit up and stare. He read the paragraph again, very slowly.

Something good is happening tonight. My old friend En is coming home from university. Do you remember the friend I was telling you about before, the one who made that so-called philosopher so angry by pointing out all the flaws in his logic? That was En. He's been away at school learning to become a wizard. Everyone says he's really talented, but I think he only started learning because he's so lazy - he doesn't want to have to walk across a room if he can just make things disappear and reappear when he wants them! Somehow I always ended up looking after him. I hope he's been doing all right at school without me - sometimes I don't know how he survived before I met him. I know, I'm kind of making him sound awful, but he's not like that at all. He's really smart and kind and loyal, and always willing to listen to me. I know you'll like him once you meet him. That's why I want to ask - do you think when we're married, you could give him a place in your court? A wizard is always a useful thing to have around, and it will make me feel better about moving to your place if I have a friend with me...

Kinshiro's heart seemed to stop. The phrases seemed to burn on the page: "I don't know how he survived..." "Moving to your place..." This letter had been delivered the night Kinshiro had seen Atsushi embracing the tall sleepy-eyed blond - a man he now realized wasn't a secret lover, but an old friend just returned home from school. When the man had said "I don't know how much longer I can get by without you," he hadn't been talking about a passionate affair. He'd just been a lazy man missing being taken care of by his best friend, and the only "place" he'd wanted was a position in Kinshiro's court, where he could live in comfort without too much effort like the rest of Kinshiro's courtiers.

If only I'd asked...

With a sinking heart, Kinshiro scanned the rest of the letters. The next was much like the ones before - cheerful, full of news, recounting the details of En's visit without a trace of guilt. Then came notes of increasing unhappiness and worry, wondering why Kinshiro wasn't answering his letters anymore. Was Kinshiro very busy getting settled back into court? Had the letters perhaps gone astray? Atsushi had tried a few different methods of getting mail to him, even going so far as to beg En to send one magically - had any of them gotten through? Then, most heartbreaking of all, came the resignation. For whatever reason, it was obvious that Kinshiro wouldn't or couldn't respond. Atsushi would miss him, but he hoped that whatever was going on, Kinshiro was safe and happy...

Kinshiro couldn't read any more. He lay down on his desk, face buried in his arms, and let despair wash over him. He had gotten it all wrong. For one glorious moment, he had been within days of marrying his one true love, and he'd let it all fall apart because of his paranoia and stupidity. All he'd ever needed to do was confront Atsushi and ask for answers, and he would have gotten them. He should have strode into the room and asked what was going on. He should have collared Atsushi at breakfast the next morning. He should have read that letter, or any of the ones that followed. He'd had so many opportunities to set things right, and he'd stubbornly let them all slip past him. Now it was too late to turn back. What could he even do? Send a message to Atsushi saying, "Sorry I haven't spoken to you in over a year, but I thought you were plotting my death, can we get back together?" Not even someone as generous and kind as Atsushi could forgive him for that level of distrust. How could anyone expect to have a relationship with someone who was that ready to believe the worst of them on such slender evidence? They couldn't, and even if Atsushi could, so what? By now, he'd probably found someone better than Kinshiro - maybe even the selfsame wizard Kinshiro had been so suspicious of - and settled down happily.

Kinshiro would never see him again. He'd never hear him laugh again, never hold his hand or kiss him under the stars, never admire the way the sun glinted off his hair. He could never make up for the way he'd hurt him and left him alone. Kinshiro lay there feeling his eyes burning and wishing that the castle would collapse and bury him.

The castle didn't collapse. All that happened was that someone knocked on the door. Kinshiro raised his head to glare at it.

"This had better be good!" he snapped.

The door opened, and Arima leaned in.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," he said, "but there's something I thought you'd want to know."

Kinshiro narrowed his eyes. It was no good snapping at Arima, no matter how bad Kinshiro might be feeling at the moment. He was running out of friends as it was.

"What is it?" he asked warily. In the mood he was in, he was certain it couldn't possibly be good news.

"Our scouts just sent the word in," said Arima. "The Arborean Empire is sending an embassy to Golden Springs to discuss diplomatic relations with the new king."

"So?" Kinshiro demanded.

"Well," said Arima, and for once his voice was uncertain, "one of the people in the embassy is Prince Atsushi."