“What in the Creator’s name were you thinking?” Avoca asked as she pulled Cyrene away from Dean and back toward The Lively Dagger. “You could have been captured or killed or worse! We are bound, Cyrene. I’ve traveled very far from my homeland, from my family, to fulfill a debt to you, but how can I protect you if you will not let me? Does that mean anything to you?”

“You said yourself that you couldn’t feel a pulse in the city. How did you expect me to?” Cyrene countered.

“That wasn’t an open invitation to leave the city, alone, with no means to protect yourself. I said that we would work harder once we were out of the city. You shouldn’t have left.”

“I couldn’t stay inside any longer, and I didn’t think that I would actually find a pulse anyway!”

“But you did! Or at least you touched your magic. Since the only way you’d done that was when you were in life-or-death situations, I had to assume the worst.”

Avoca dodged a man who looked like he wanted to say something about them walking alone. She gave him a venomous glare, which actually was pretty fearsome, and he kept walking.

“I know. I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously! Sometimes, I wonder if Ceis’f is right about humans. You’re so selfish.”

“And he isn’t selfish?” Cyrene demanded.

Avoca’s lips thinned, and she picked up her pace. “Fine. Yes, he is. But you scared me, Cyrene. I am glad to find you all in one piece. Imagine if you were not! What you did was careless and inconsiderate. We have all been working to get out of here, and then you disappear.” She shook her head, like she couldn’t even form the words for her frustration. “Not to mention, I found you with a strange man. Who was he?”

“I don’t know. No one. He found me in the woods.”

“He found you in the woods?” Avoca breathed out heavily. “I’m going to have to stay in the room with you, aren’t I?”

“What? No. I’m not going to go back out there. Avoca, don’t you know what happened? I found a pulse.” Cyrene looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Fire.”

“Fire?” Avoca asked in surprise. “Your first element was fire?”

“Yes, it was a heartbeat.”

“There hasn’t been a Leif with their first element as fire for two thousand years,” Avoca said. “Are you sure? What did it feel like?”

“It’s a strange story,” Cyrene said. Then, she recounted what had happened in the woods up until Dean had wandered in to retrieve his fallen buck.

Avoca stopped dead in her tracks. “You felt the actual heartbeat of the buck?”

“Yes. I think I picked up the pulse because it was so frantic. It drew me to him, and then I felt the pulse weaken and die just as he did,” Cyrene explained. “It was wonderful and painful. I’ve never cried like that before.”

Even thinking about it still hit her head-on. She had felt the life drain out of the buck. It was something she would never forget.

“No, no, no. That’s not fire,” Avoca said contemplatively. “I mean, it’s partially fire because there is a spark of fire in life. But it’s also water and air and earth. If you were strong in just one element, you would be able to feel them individually, but you’ve not mastered any. And you said it was overwhelming.” By this point, Avoca was speaking fast, as if trying to get all her thoughts out at once. “I’ve read about this. I’ve heard about things like this before. Things Leifs aren’t able to feel. Things long forgotten, long lost with the death of the Doma. So much loss.”

Cyrene put her hand on Avoca’s shoulder. “Slow down. What are you saying? I didn’t feel fire? That wasn’t the pulse?”

“No. I believe you felt spirit, the fifth element though not an element at all. I’ve not done enough research in the area to know for certain. I never thought I’d encounter a Doma, after all. But spirit is the essence of a thing. You effectively touched the deer, the essence of the deer.”

“That can’t be right. Can it?”

“I don’t know,” Avoca admitted. “Spirit users are rumored to be able to touch all four elements equally, as strongly as a normal user. I don’t know if that’s true. It is an inborn ability, an old ability, something I could never touch.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Neither do I,” Avoca said softly. “It gives me something to think about though.”

Avoca continued down the street, muttering to herself. At least she wasn’t yelling at Cyrene anymore, but Cyrene didn’t know what to think about this spirit thing. All she felt now was a renewed need to get to Eleysia and find Matilde and Vera. They had to be there. They had to know how to help.

Avoca and Cyrene rounded the corner to the inn and walked in the front door to complete and utter chaos. Orden, Ahlvie, and Ceis’f were standing there with their swords drawn, facing off with half a dozen Aurumian soldiers. Madam LaRoux was fluttering her hands about and shrieking. The serving girls were all huddled in a corner, crying.

Avoca quickly obscured Cyrene from view of the guards in case they were here for her.

“What in the Creator’s name?” Avoca whispered.

“Put down your swords,” a soldier commanded.

“You storm in here with swords drawn and expect us to lower ours?” Ahlvie asked. He snorted and cocked his head to the side, as if they were stupid.

“What is the meaning of all of this?” Orden demanded.

“We have a summons from King Iolair himself,” one man said. He took a step back from the other soldiers and sheathed his sword. He pulled a rolled parchment from a pouch at his waist. “I, Creighton Lanett Cavel Iolair, King of Aurum, Arrow of the Huntress, Guardian of the Eagle, do request the presence of Lord Barkeley Iolair of the Asheland Moors and keeper of the Halstedt provinces and his companions in the Draydon castle upon receipt of this summons.”

Lord Barkeley. Why did that name sound familiar? It was the estate they had first traversed when they left the boat from Strat. Orden had claimed he was not to be messed with. Why on earth would these men be looking for him?

“We don’t know of any Lord Barkeley,” Ahlvie cried. “So, you can all withdraw immediately.”

“Actually,” Orden said, lowering his sword and stepping forward, “we do.”

“What?” Ahlvie asked.

“I am Lord Barkeley,” Orden said. “Put away your weapons at once. You are causing a scene.”

The shock on Ahlvie’s face perfectly matched what was written on everyone else’s in the room.

Orden is a Lord? And not just a Lord…an Iolair? Related to the King? What alternative world did I just step into? This surely had to be a joke.

“A Prince?” Ahlvie spat. “You’re a Prince?”

Cyrene couldn’t believe this. This man had helped her when she had passed out from a Braj, trekked across Aurum with her, saved her from arrest, broken out a prisoner, bribed a sailor, and all the while, harbored a wanted fugitive and allowed himself to be seen as a kidnapper. This man was a Prince!

“We’re ready to head out,” the soldier said. “You will bring the rest of your party with you.”

“No. They will stay,” he said.

“The summons requests your party as well,” the soldier said.

“They’re not necessary. Just some people I traveled into the city with,” Orden said.

“A summons from the King is a summons. I cannot leave without the party as well.”

Orden ground his teeth and then nodded. He turned toward Cyrene and Avoca. “Perhaps the women should freshen up first.”

Avoca grabbed Cyrene’s arm and hurried her toward the stairs. “We’ll only be a minute.”

Cyrene waited until they were upstairs before unleashing. “A Prince! By the Creator, how did I not see it before? The man is the most infuriating person I’ve ever encountered, and I thought Ceis’f and Kael were high up on that list. Now, he is dragging me into the castle to meet the King while Kael is up there!”

“Would you be quiet?” Avoca said. “I want to slaughter him as much as the next person, but we have got to get you out of these Byern clothes and do something about your hair. You can’t stroll into a castle, looking like a fugitive. When my mother issues the equivalent to a summons, she never sees the whole party unless it’s for a specific reason. So, let’s just use this opportunity to scope out the area for Maelia and try not to be seen.”

“If I get the opportunity, I’m going to punch him in the face,” Cyrene grumbled.

“Allow me to do it for you.”

Cyrene acquiesced, and then they went to work, changing her clothes into proper Aurumian clothing—a dark green dress with huge overlapping skirts and enormous long sleeves that tightened around her biceps. Avoca plaited Cyrene’s hair and then hastily pinned it up into a bun.

“That’s going to have to do. Look at me quick.” She used her earth skills to paint Cyrene’s face.

Cyrene’s lips turned a fuller red, her eyes changed from their vivid blue to a dull brown, her cheeks tinged with red rouge, her nose appeared thinner by the makeup, and her cheekbones were severely accentuated. She hardly even recognized herself.

Cyrene touched her cheek in awe. “You will teach me how to do that?”

“Eventually,” Avoca said. “It won’t last forever. I’ll have to touch you up, but it should last through the summons. If I had more time, I could change your hair color, but we have to go.” She produced an Aurumian hood, which was in fashion at the time. It was rounded at the top with a dark veil to cover her bun, obscuring most of her hair from view. After securing it in place, Avoca nodded. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”

“Ladies,” Madam LaRoux called from the other side of the door as she banged on it. “You have an appointment with the King. You should not keep him waiting.”

Avoca swung the door open and walked briskly past Madam LaRoux without saying a word. Cyrene grasped her cloak in her hand and followed after Avoca.

The soldiers ushered them outside. Their horses had been saddled while the girls were upstairs.

As Cyrene looked around for Ceffy, Orden walked right up to her.

“This is yours,” he said quietly. “Your dapple is too recognizable in the city.”

She nearly cursed but nodded. “You lied to me…to all of us,” she said softly.

“And you were always so forthcoming?” Orden asked. “My past is my past. Lord Barkeley is as much me as the meek girl who tripped over the soldier’s boots in Strat is you. It is a part I play. Now, the most important part that you will play is an invisible one. Your disguise is good but not perfect. Do not, under any circumstances, draw King Creighton’s attention. He has a habit of keeping pets around.”

Cyrene arched an eyebrow. “Pets?”

“Beautiful young women. He goes through them weekly. We cannot afford the delay that would bring or the chance that you would run into Prince Kael while there.”

“No, we cannot.”

“Up you go,” he said.

He hoisted her up into the saddle, and she adjusted her skirts to fit on her perch. She would have killed for her divided riding skirts from back home.

Orden hurried into his saddle and then rounded on Avoca, sitting on her horse. She glared at him while he spoke but eventually nodded. Clearly, he had gotten the same information into her head because she kept shooting furtive looks back at her.

“Formation,” the soldier called.

Then, the men formed up around them.

Cyrene heeled her horse into line next to Ahlvie. He gave her an easygoing smile that he always had plastered on his face. She could tell, underneath it all, he was anxious for her, but he kept up a stream of jokes the entire way through the city and up to the royal castle.

“So,” he asked, leaning over toward her, “has she asked about me?”

“Who?”

Ahlvie gave her an exasperated look.

She returned his look with a coy wink. “Oh. I think I know who you mean. Didn’t I tell you to steer clear of her?”

“Do I ever listen?”

“No.”

“And you said that our good friend Roran would kill me if he knew my intentions. There have been no deaths.”

Cyrene rolled her eyes. “Don’t think I’m dense. I’m sure it is only because our good friend Roran has not learned of your intentions yet.”

“You never show your hand to your opponent,” Ahlvie said with a smirk.

“Of course not. You just cheat.”

“Now, you’re getting it.”

She shook her head and tried to put thoughts of Ahlvie, Avoca, and Ceis’f out of her mind. She had too much else to focus on as they trotted up the massive hill to Draydon Castle.