Merlin bowed his head as his tears fell freely, and Morgana cried with him, but Bo wasn't able to share their grief yet; she was still stuck on disbelief. Against all odds, after all these years, Merlin had found his father, and unlike her own long-lost parent, Balinor seemed like a decent guy, the kind of dad you might actually want to have around – and now he was dead, before they'd even gotten to spend a whole day together? No, she thought, her numbness rapidly giving way to outrage, it can't end like this. At least one of us deserves a happy ending to our crazy family drama.
She started to stand up, the better to rail against the injustice of it all, and something shifted in her boot, reminding her that there was one last remedy they hadn't tried. "Wait a minute – I've got something else!"
Reaching into her boot, she pulled out the tiny crystal bottle Trick had given her before they set out to retrieve the egg. "Isabeau's life essence; Trick said it'll cure practically anything, even stop me from devolving, so maybe…" Fumbling slightly in her haste, she broke the vial's seal and, not being entirely sure how this was supposed to work, poured half of the iridescent liquid over Balinor's wound and the other half into his mouth.
Merlin wished she hadn't done that; inexpressibly grateful as he was for her determination to save his father, Balinor was already gone, which meant Bo had given up her last, best defense against devolution for nothing. After losing his father just as they were getting to know each other, he couldn't bear to lose her too.
He opened his mouth to tell her as much, only to be interrupted by the sound of someone drawing in a slow, raspy breath. His gaze was automatically drawn downward, and his own breath deserted him in a rush when he saw Balinor's eyes open, roving dazedly for a second before settling on his face. "Merlin?"
"Father?" he whispered, scarcely daring to trust what his senses were telling him. "You're alive?"
"I don't believe it," Morgana breathed. She looked back at the wound exposed by Balinor's torn shirt just in time to see it close fully, leaving behind a stretch of bloodied but unbroken, unmarked skin.
As they watched in wide-eyed amazement, Balinor sat up and tentatively probed the site of his vanished stab wound with his fingertips before looking around at them with an expression of astounded bewilderment. "How…?"
"My grandmother's life essence," Bo explained in a hushed voice. Although she had desperately hoped her grandparents' gift might be able to help him somehow, she wasn't sure whether she had really expected it to – she wasn't exactly thinking clearly when she administered it, after all. Even if she had known it would work, there was still something deeply affecting about seeing a dead man come back to life right before her eyes. "Trick gave it to me to hold off my pre-Dawning devolution."
"And you used it to save me instead? You truly are Isabeau's granddaughter. I don't know if there's anything that can equal the sacrifice you made for me, but I swear I will not rest until I've found a way to repay this debt."
"Stop it; I didn't do it so you'd owe me," Bo said uncomfortably. "Just be a good dad to Merlin and help us hatch the dragon egg, and we'll call it even."
###
They remained on guard for the rest of their time on the road, but their mysterious assailants never reappeared. They didn't know whether their enemies had all been killed by Merlin's grief-fueled magical shockwave or simply frightened off, but were grateful for their absence either way. Then Kilgharrah arrived at last, and they all breathed sighs of relief as they watched him approach, knowing they wouldn't need to worry about being attacked in the air.
He landed a short distance away and walked up to them, lowering his massive head to peer closely at Balinor. "It has been many years, my old friend. I am sorry that they have not been kinder to you."
"At least I didn't spend them chained beneath Uther's castle," Balinor rejoined with a laugh that came out in a short, harsh bark; it had been so long since he'd had anything to laugh about that he was quite rusty. "My only prison was of my own making."
"Not entirely," Kilgharrah rumbled with what looked shockingly like genuine remorse in his large golden eyes. "I regret that you have suffered for my mistakes when your only crime was attempting to help me right past wrongs."
"Perhaps it will be different this time," Balinor said, trying to sound more hopeful than he felt. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on Kilgharrah's scaly snout. "Whatever the outcome of this adventure, it's good to see you again."
"And you as well. Now come, all of you – the rebirth of my race awaits."
Kilgharrah crouched down, and Balinor climbed onto his back, then realized something was amiss. Looking around, he saw that Merlin, Morgana, and Bo were still standing a short distance away, staring at him and Kilgharrah with varying degrees of astonishment. "What's the matter? Aren't you coming?"
"Sorry," Bo replied, shaking off whatever torpor had taken hold of her. "Our brains just short-circuited for a minute trying to process the fact that there's someone on this planet that Cranky McScaly-Pants here actually likes."
###
Everyone came out to greet them when they finally made it home. It was obvious from Trick's stony expression that he wasn't especially thrilled to see Balinor again, but Elaine must have had a talk with him while they awaited Bo's return (possibly several talks), because he said nothing as the four travelers climbed down from Kilgharrah's back. Bo appreciated this; after such a long journey, the last thing she wanted was to deal with their baggage.
Marching up to Elaine, she declared, "Okay, I got your dragonlord," in an almost belligerent tone that said there had better not be any more last-minute twists in her final quest.
"Yes, you have indeed brought a dragonlord," Elaine acknowledged as her gaze roamed over Bo's companions, "though not the one I expected." Walking over to Balinor, she raised a hand to his chest, her fingertips hovering over the place where the fatal stab wound had been. "You have been touched by death."
Recognizing from her bearing and the ageless quality of her piercing aquamarine eyes that she must be a priestess of the Old Religion, and a powerful one at that, Balinor bowed his head respectfully. "Yes, my lady."
"Yeah, he died, but just for a minute," Bo elaborated. "What's that got to do with him hatching the egg?"
"Everything." Elaine's gaze lingered on Balinor a moment longer as she spoke before turning to Bo. "I do not know if he explained this to you, but a dragonlord's power only lasts until his death."
"When I saw Kilgharrah again, I thought something felt different," Balinor admitted, "though I wasn't certain how the laws of magical inheritance would apply to a dragonlord who was revived from death. As far as I know, that's never happened before."
"Are you saying he's not a dragonlord anymore?" Bo demanded. "All this was for nothing? Except for Merlin getting his dad back, that is." That was some consolation, she supposed; if she was doomed, at least he would still have his father. At least she had done that much.
"No, it wasn't. When a dragonlord dies, his power passes to his son, if he has one." Balinor turned to his own son, who now looked quite shell-shocked. "It's you who must call the dragon forth, Merlin."
"Me? But I don't know how!"
"I will teach you – but first, we need the egg."
Dyson, Vex, and Gwaine were dispatched to fetch it – though after making one too many jokes about juggling with it, Gwaine wasn't allowed to actually hold the egg – and brought it outside so Kilgharrah could witness the hatching, along with Trick's entire court. In fact, it seemed that every last one of the castle's inhabitants, down to the lowliest staff members, had come to observe the momentous event.
Feeling the weight of all those eyes on him, Merlin's stomach twisted nervously. "Father," he whispered urgently, "what should I do?"
"To awaken the dragon, you must give it a name."
"That sounds simple enough," Morgana remarked, "but what sort of name does one give a dragon?"
"And how's he supposed to know if it's a boy or a girl before it hatches?" Bo wondered.
Ignoring their chatter, Balinor counseled Merlin, "Look inside yourself – find the part of you that is now kin to all dragons. Let your instincts guide you, and you will know the right name."
Eyes fixed on the egg in an effort to tune out the huge, excited audience, Merlin turned his focus inward, just as he did when casting a particularly difficult enchantment. His magic was there, as always, a vast reservoir that almost seemed to be waiting eagerly for him to tap into it, but he pushed past it this time, searching for something new inside himself. At last, as he looked up into Kilgharrah's golden eyes, he found it – something that wasn't quite magic, at least not any kind of magic he'd ever felt before, something that was ancient and inhuman, yet undeniably part of him.
As he tentatively explored this new facet of his innermost self, it seemed to whisper to him, indistinctly at first, though the whispers soon coalesced into a single word, a name: "Aithusa."
The name left his lips in a voice unlike any that had ever come from him before, a timbre deeper and more powerful than his usual tone, but he didn't have time to be startled as cracks immediately appeared on the egg's surface, driving everything else from his mind. The cracks spread rapidly, and in less than a minute the shell shattered, revealing a small, spiny creature whose white scales glistened damply in the sunlight. The hatchling lifted its head, peered around with eyes that almost seemed too big for its face, like a kitten's, then uncurled itself and rose up on its hind legs, fanned out its bony wings, and chirped at the crowd.
"Well done, Merlin," Balinor said quietly as cheers and applause erupted all around them. Even as he clapped a hand to his son's shoulder, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the hatchling, who was now preening for the audience, seemingly enjoying being the center of attention. "In the dragons' tongue, you named her after the light of the sun."
"A fitting name," Kilgharrah opined. "No dragon birth is without meaning, but a white dragon holds a special significance. I believe her arrival bodes well for the future of Albion."
"White dragons generally are good omens," Elaine agreed, "and with her hatching, the third task of the Dawning is complete. The initiate, Isabeau of the Clan Fin Arvin, has proven worthy of entering the Temple."
At that pronouncement, Merlin and Morgana joined in the cheering, Trick beamed proudly and congratulated Bo, and even Balinor cracked a smile. Elaine smiled as well, then closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, as though listening to some faraway sound only she could hear. When she opened her eyes again, her expression was serious once more. "The doors will open for you tomorrow night, at the stroke of midnight. Come – there are preparations to make, and not much time."
###
Elaine led Bo and her entourage into the castle, to a parlor where they could discuss these preparations in private, after summoning Bo's maid to get Aithusa settled. Aithusa squawked in protest as Olga scooped her up, wanting to stay where the action was, but Olga had dealt with too many youngsters in her time to be swayed by such antics, even from an adorable baby dragon.
"Don't look at me that way, little one. I'm taking you to the princess' chambers, and you will stay there," she said sternly, and the hatchling's squeaks faded as she was whisked away.
"Looks like that little cutie's going to be a handful," Vex observed, smirking. "Good luck, Merlin."
"What do you mean? I'm not going to raise her…am I?" Merlin asked with a slightly panicked look at his father.
"Well, you are the last dragonlord," Balinor replied, not unsympathetically. "I'll help you in any way I can – provided that I'm allowed to stay, of course," he added with a wary glance at Trick, who had yet to speak to him, or acknowledge his presence with anything more than a few tight-lipped looks.
Bo looked from one to the other, gauging the simmering tension between them, and sighed impatiently. "Do we have a problem here? Look, Trick, I know how much losing Isabeau must have hurt – I can't imagine how I would feel if anything happened to Merlin or Morgana…" Her throat tightened as she looked at the two sorcerers who had come to mean so much to her, choking off her words; the loss of either one would leave a hole in her heart that could never be filled, and if there was a specific person on whom she could pin that loss… She might not go about exacting retribution the same way Trick had, but she understood his desire to make everyone involved pay. Shaking off those dark thoughts, she continued, "But you know Balinor didn't mean for that to happen. He didn't kill her."
"I'm aware of that, which is why he still draws breath. He did, however, present her as a target for others. Before I wrote the Blood Laws, the conflict between Light and Dark had reached a fever pitch, and there were people on both sides who would have happily seized the chance to strike at me through my family; Isabeau knew this, so she would not have left the safety of this castle if he hadn't convinced her to meet with Kilgharrah!" Scowling, Trick addressed Balinor directly for the first time. "No doubt he spun a tale of woe to persuade you to plead his case, painting himself as an innocent victim, and did you ever think to question him in greater depth about his role in the underfae rebellion, about the fae – and yes, humans too – who lost their lives because of him? Or did you blindly accept everything he told you, as his kin did then?"
"Aye, perhaps Kilgharrah did deserve your condemnation," Balinor agreed. "Perhaps the other dragons were foolish and gullible as well, but I know many of them came to regret their actions in the centuries that had passed since the rebellion, and that Kilgharrah felt true remorse for the terrible fate he brought upon them."
When Trick didn't respond right away, Bo sighed and said, "Can we just agree that maybe both of you made mistakes that've cost you both enough already, and move on? And Trick, can you please cross out what you wrote about him in your burn book of blood? I don't want Merlin getting hurt because Balinor's supposed to lose what matters most to him."
"Undoing a blood curse is not that simple," Trick said with a slight frown. While he believed his granddaughter had certain skills and attributes that could make her a great queen one day, there was still a great deal about the complexities of magic that eluded her.
"Well, whatever you need to do, then."
"Actually, in this case I don't believe I need to do anything at all. Having anticipated that I might be asked to revoke my previous sentence as a condition of securing Balinor's assistance in hatching the egg, I reexamined the curse I placed on him and found that I named its subject as 'the dragonlord Balinor'. In light of recent events, it seems the dragonlord Balinor is no more."
"Seriously?" Bo asked, her eyebrows shooting up. "That's it? No more curse?"
"Since the person I applied it to technically no longer exists, no."
"Thank goodness for overly precise wording," Morgana murmured as Merlin turned to his father, his face glowing with happiness.
"You know what this means, don't you? You're free!"
"I suppose I am," Balinor mumbled, looking almost dazed by the abrupt change in his fortunes.
"You can go back to Ealdor and see my mother again."
"All in good time. For now, I want to get to know my son. There is still much for me to teach you about the powers and responsibilities of being a dragonlord." Merlin accepted this justification without question, and in fact seemed pleased that his father would be staying with him a while longer, but in truth, Balinor had only given half of his reason for not immediately setting out for Ealdor.
While he had secretly been glad to hear that Hunith had never married, even though he knew it was a selfish sentiment, Balinor wasn't sure how she would react to his sudden reappearance after all these years, and the realization that he had unwittingly left her to raise their child alone, with all the hardships and stigma that entailed, only increased his misgivings. At the very least, he knew he needed to reaccustom himself to living among people before he could even consider presenting himself to her and pleading for her forgiveness, because he would probably be more of a burden than anything else in his current state. Besides, after all the years that she had been solely responsible for Merlin, it was only fair that he took his turn.
Trick accepted his decision to stay without objection and summoned a servant to prepare a room for him, after which the discussion turned at last to the final preparations for Bo's Dawning ceremony.
"Ordinarily, a different selection of weaponry is offered to each initiate depending on their allegiance, but you are neither Light nor Dark. Unless you wish to choose a side now…"
"No," Bo said firmly.
Elaine merely nodded, having expected as much. "Then you will enter the Temple unarmed. You may also choose one person to accompany you as your Hand. Once inside, this person will act as an intermediary between you and the forces that govern your trials, to guide you through the ordeal. Choose carefully – your Hand must be someone you trust unconditionally, someone who will sacrifice everything to ensure your success. They must also be fae. A pureblooded fae," the priestess added as Bo's eyes automatically darted toward Morgana.
"A pureblood, huh? Well, Trick, you know I love you, but…" She spun around to face the only other person anyone in the room could have possibly expected her to pick once Elaine explained the criteria. "Dyson, you've been with me longer than anyone here except Merlin and Morgana; you risked your life to help me before you even knew who I was, and you believed in me enough that you put up with Uther for me and traveled across Albion to save me. I hate to ask you for another favor on top of all that, but there's no one I trust more. Will you be my Hand?"
"It will be an honor, your highness," Dyson replied with a deep bow.
"An excellent choice," Elaine said, smiling approvingly. "Dyson, you will come to me at first light tomorrow so that I may prepare you for what you must do, but the rest of this day is yours. Go, all of you – enjoy what time you have left before Bo's ultimate fate is decided."
###
Although it wasn't quite evening yet, when Dyson, Gwaine, and Vex entered the royal guards' dining hall, they found the celebration of Bo successfully completing all three of her tasks already in full swing. Drink was flowing freely, and there were games of cards and dice underway, as well as a knife-throwing contest in one corner.
As Bo's closest compatriots, the three were immediately offered mugs of ale and commendations from their comrades in arms on their role in helping her get this far. After they accepted the drinks pressed on them by their exuberant colleagues, Dyson sat down with Esperanza, while Gwaine drifted off to flirt with some of the more attractive unattached guards (the armed forces' equal opportunity employment policy was one of his favorite things about Trick's kingdom, especially since the warriors of both sexes tended to be very athletic and typically wore form-fitting leather armor), and Vex found a quiet corner where he could watch the revelry from a distance.
Although his prestigious position as part of the princess' personal guard meant that no one dared to treat him with open hostility, it was obvious that some people were still uncomfortable with having a mesmer in their midst. Their attitude didn't bother him too much – it was better than being a total outcast, after all – until Gwaine came along. A human should have been an even less acceptable addition to their ranks than a mesmer – his kind may have been feared because of their powers, but at least they were still fae – yet somehow, whether it was due to Merlin and Morgana softening them toward humans or his own irritatingly effortless charm, the former vagabond had almost instantly assimilated into his new environment, seemingly with no resistance at all. In fact, judging by the number of women (and a few men, too) clustered around him, it seemed highly unlikely that he would go to bed alone that night.
Before retiring with his chosen companion for the evening, however – or possibly plural companions – Gwaine (who by that point had consumed several drinks) decided to leap onto a table and toast Bo for the dozenth time, to raucous cheers from the other guards.
"That's not all, though," he continued once they quieted. "Our mate Dyson here- Where is he anyway?"
"I'm right here, with both feet on the floor where they belong," the wolf said dryly. "Why don't you get down from there before you fall and break your neck?"
"In a minute," Gwaine replied dismissively, flapping a hand at him as if to wave off his concerns. "As I was saying, Bo picked our mate Dyson here to be her Hand!"
This announcement was met with a fresh wave of applause, as well as a lot of back-slapping and congratulations aimed at the wolf…from everyone except his lover. Her cheerful expression had frozen as she listened to Gwaine, and now she was watching him with a tightly controlled yet somehow brittle look, as if she was struggling to hold back a wave of emotion. Recalling their previous disagreement about what she perceived as him going above and beyond the call of duty in his service to Bo, Dyson had a feeling that he was in for a scolding as soon as she got him alone.
Sure enough, when they excused themselves a short time later at her request and went off to his room, she slammed the door angrily before whirling to face him with a look that was somewhere between outrage and sheer disbelief. "Dyson! Tell me you haven't really agreed to be Princess Bo's Hand."
"Of course I agreed. It's an honor to be asked."
"An honor?! You'll be risking your life! You know as well as I that if the princess fails, your life will be forfeit."
"I trust Bo. She won't fail."
"How can you be so certain?" Esperanza demanded. "She's much younger than most fae are when they go through the Dawning, and she didn't even grow up among our kind – most of us have centuries to prepare for this, but she hasn't even had a decade!"
"All the more reason why she needs every advantage she can get," Dyson said logically. "If I can increase her chances of success in any way-"
"But what if you can't? What if her lack of training is too much for her to overcome, and you're throwing your life away for nothing?" Dyson didn't respond, and as she took in his stoic expression, the fox's dark eyes slowly filled with tears. "You don't care, do you?" she whispered. "You're just fine with sacrificing yourself for her."
"I would do the same for anyone I care for," Dyson said quietly but with a new intensity, "including you."
She just shook her head, her shiny black hair rippling with the movement. "I don't want you to die for me; I want us to have a life together. But that isn't going to happen, is it? Because your life belongs to her. Nothing else will ever be as important to you as she is."
Dyson didn't answer immediately, considering his next words carefully before speaking. "It's like I told you before," he said at last, "everything that I have now, I owe to her. She gave me the life I have now – and when someone gives you a life, it's never truly yours. Sooner or later, the debt must be repaid."
Esperanza shook her head again and let out a short, sharp laugh that reminded him of breaking glass. "Well, that's that, isn't it? I care about you, Dyson, but I can't be with someone who'll always put somebody else first. I'm sorry." Wrenching the door open, she hurried out. The door rebounded off the wall and swung shut, though not before he heard the soft gasp of her hastily stifled sob.
###
Balinor couldn't sleep. It wasn't that his new bedchamber was uncomfortable; on the contrary, it was too comfortable. After years of sleeping on the stone floor of his cave, his new nightclothes and bed with its down-stuffed mattress and pillow were disconcertingly soft. Additionally, while the palace wasn't noisy at this late hour, it was a different kind of silence than the sort he was accustomed to.
Finally abandoning the squishy bed with an exasperated sigh, he dressed in his old, familiar clothes and left the room, hoping a walk would settle his mind. He had no particular destination in mind, but his aimless wandering eventually brought him to Trick's study, where he was surprised to find the door open, several candles still lit, and the king himself at his desk, poring over various papers.
Balinor edged back from the doorway, hoping to slip away undetected, but before he could make his escape, Trick's head popped up. "Balinor?" he called out, frowning.
Cursing his luck – he'd known all along that he would need to have words with the Blood King sooner or later but had hoped to put it off until he knew the lay of the land better – the former dragonlord stepped into the room. "Your majesty," he said stiffly.
"What brings you here at this hour?" Trick inquired, his frown deepening. "Are your chambers not to your liking?"
"They're fine. Bit of an adjustment after ten years in a cave, that's all."
"A cave?"
"It was too dangerous for me to be around people. Didn't want to get too close to anyone in case your curse brought them trouble," Balinor explained, a hint of accusation creeping into his voice.
Trick nodded. "I can see you have suffered a great deal since last we met. Perhaps now you understand something of the pain I felt when Isabeau was taken from me."
"I think I do."
Silence fell between them, thick with past grievances and losses for which each blamed the other. Remembering Bo's advice about how clinging to old grudges would only cause more pain, both men felt as if they should say something conciliatory, but neither knew where to begin.
"I understand Merlin's mother is still alive and well," Trick ventured at last. "I'm glad."
Balinor accepted the sentiment with a brief dip of his head. "And your granddaughter has returned to you, as my son has to me. Perhaps it isn't too late for a second chance, for both of us."
"We can only hope. The Goddess knows I've made plenty of mistakes I need to atone for."
"I was sorry to hear about your daughter." Though he had only gotten the barest details regarding Bo's family history during their travels together, he'd learned enough to infer that Aife's fate was one of those mistakes, probably the one that haunted Trick the most. "And I've always regretted my part in the queen's death. I came to admire her a great deal in the short time I knew her."
"As did everyone," Trick sighed, inviting Balinor with a gesture to pull up one of the empty chairs scattered around the desk. "She desired peace above all else…so much so that I've sometimes wondered, if you hadn't come seeking her intercession on Kilgharrah's behalf, she wouldn't eventually have undertaken a similar mission in her efforts to end the Great Wars, and endangered herself without your assistance. As for Aife…" He heaved another sigh, deeper this time. "In the end, for all my power, I couldn't protect her from herself."
"That must have been terrible. To lose your child – I've only known Merlin a short time, but I already know I couldn't bear for any harm to come to him, which is why I must ask you…" Balinor slid his chair closer and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the highly polished desktop as he stared Trick squarely in the face. "What do you want with my son?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You've made no effort to stop his and the Lady Morgana's liaison with your granddaughter, your heir," Balinor said gruffly, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice but not entirely succeeding. "Why not?"
"Because," Trick replied bluntly, "whatever else you may think of me, I am not a complete fool."
Whatever response Balinor had expected, that wasn't it, and he sat back in his cushioned chair, startled. "What?"
"If there is one lesson I did manage to learn from raising Aife, it is that forbidding anything only makes it exponentially more desirable. When Bo arrived here with her paramours, I didn't know quite what to make of them, but I was certain that expressing any doubt or disapproval would only make Bo more determined to continue the affair. If, on the other hand, I allowed things to take their own course… Frankly, I thought she would have lost interest by now. None of Aife's lovers ever lasted this long, but it seems that in this, as in many other respects, Bo is very different from her mother." He shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of helpless acceptance.
Slightly stunned at the revelation that the Blood King's master plan for dealing with his granddaughter's unconventional romance was simply to let it blow over in its own time, Balinor took a moment to digest his words, then asked, "And if she doesn't lose interest? What then?"
Again, Trick could only shrug. "I really can't say. For now, though, I'm content to let this play out as it will; after all, Merlin and Morgana both possess powerful magic, so it would be extremely shortsighted to throw away such potentially valuable allies. I don't find their company unpleasant either," he added, though this was more of an unexpected bonus; as the most powerful fae ruler of all, he was used to dealing with people he disliked.
While Balinor was glad to hear that Trick considered Merlin an asset rather than an unwanted nuisance, this statement raised another concern. "If you're counting on their relationship with Bo to ensure their loyalty, what if it does come to an end? What if Merlin wished to leave?"
"Why do you ask? You think I would attempt to hold him against his will?" Trick surmised, eyeing Balinor shrewdly. "I assure you I would not; if he truly is the greatest sorcerer of all time, I'm not even sure that would be possible. Though I dearly wish it had not taken the loss of my family to teach me that even my power has limits, it's a lesson I have learned well."
"Painful experience is often the best teacher," Balinor agreed, with more sympathy than he ever thought he would feel for the Blood King.
"Indeed. Although…" Bending down to reach into the bottom drawer of his desk, Trick took out a bottle of honeyed mead that he kept on hand in case he wanted a nightcap after finishing his work for the evening. "I've found that a little of this can help to ease the sting of life's harsher teachings." He produced two small crystal glasses from the drawer as well, filled them, and pushed one across the desk to Balinor. "I daresay it's been too long since you've enjoyed a decent drink."
"You'd be right about that." Balinor took a sip, letting it wash over his tongue and slide smoothly down his throat, then let out an appreciative sigh. "Even before my years in the cave, I don't believe I ever tasted anything so fine."
Trick raised his glass in acknowledgment of the compliment, and though neither spoke again, the silence that now hung in the air between them was much more amiable than it had been earlier. As he slowly nursed his drink, taking time to savor its warmth and rich flavor, Balinor decided there might be some advantages to palace life after all.
Well, it looks like Balinor will be sticking around for a while after all, and he and Trick are even getting along – once the appropriate social lubricant was applied to their interaction. Everything's better with mead, or so I've heard. If anyone's wondering, the Dawning arc will be concluded in two more chapters.
Also, I don't know how much overlap there is with readers of my other Lost Girl crossover, but for anyone waiting for news on Blood Feud, the first chapter is halfway finished and I expect to publish it in the next couple weeks.
