Davinya still loved and hated this room. She loved the beautiful decorations on the walls, the ornately inlayed table, the way the windows would let a light breeze in, but not bring the stink of the docks with it.

  She hated what it represented now. Her father was dead. Her brother, the likely assassin, was king. Her sister was deathly ill, and Jor Bashi didn’t expect her to last through the winter. Her mother was gone. Her brother was missing. Aeolwyn, her youngest brother was on his way to the capital for the funeral. Davinya expected that Alfyn would see to it that the young general wouldn’t leave Teorton alive.

  If he did, she would flee with him.

  That left only Alfyn and her brother Wolfryn. All three here for the traditional family dinner. She never thought she’d miss her father’s barley soup. Not that she had suddenly liked it; she still hated it. She liked what it had represented. A family, united against the hatred of a simple soup.

  Now that family was destroyed.

  “What’s wrong, sister?” Wolfryn asked. She hadn’t realized that she had been crying.

  “This.” She gestured around her. “Everything about this room reminds me of what we’ve lost. Not just father, but mother. Ulfnar and Aeolwyn, too.”

  “Things change, Davinya,” Alfyn said. “At least no more barley soup, right?”

  She frowned. “That’s what you have to say? Our father is dead. Our brother is missing. Our brother! Wolfryn’s twin. Gone. Our mother, too, and now Filliya is sick with the same illness father had, and you’re worried about soup?”

  Alfyn’s eyes darkened, and she could see tightness in his jaw. He hadn’t liked any of those comments. At least she didn’t say that he was responsible for all of it. That had been on the tip of her tongue before she called it back.

  “Mother is with Aeolwyn,” he said calmly. “She will be here for the funeral. And like I’ve told you a hundred times, I have an army of men out looking for Ulfnar. He’s out there, and I’m sure he’s safe. Don’t worry, sister, we’ll find him.”

  “And Filliya? Are you going to fix that too?”

  Of all people in the family, why would he poison her? She was no threat to anyone. If he wanted her out of the way, why didn’t he marry her off to some noble on the other side of the kingdom? Or, better yet, someone in another kingdom. That would go a long way to ensuring an alliance.

  “We have the best doctors and mages in the kingdom working on it, sister,” he said.

  She knew that was a lie unless he meant that those doctors and mages were working on killing her. Filliya was helpless to stop it. She could hardly eat on her own anymore. After that, she’d be force-fed, until she spasmed herself to death like their father had.

  A horrible death for anyone, but especially for a young woman. Could Davinya do something about it? She suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about marrying her off. That would get Filliya out of the hellhole that the palace had become and get her somewhere safe.

  But there was only one way to do it: Davinya would have to play along with Alfyn. She would have to cozy up to him and convince him she was on his side. She might even have to share his bed. As disgusted as that thought made her, if it guaranteed Filliya’s survival, it would be worth it.

  “Apologies, brother,” she said, fighting the bile threatening to shoot its way out of her throat. “It’s my emotions making me speak like that. It was inappropriate to lash out.”

  Galafar waved off her comment, but she saw the hint of a smile on his face.

  They spent the rest of the dinner quietly eating, only making small talk about the weather and other safe topics while Davinya worked up the courage to do what she knew needed to be done. Could she even go through with it? She hoped so for Filliya’s sake.

  As the meal finished and they were prepared to go their separate ways, Alfyn took her hand as they walked out. She fought the feelings of revulsion and disgust, and instead, grabbed his hand and squeezed. She leaned in close to him. He smelled of sweat and smoke.

  “Brother, I’ve never had time to properly thank you for taking care of us all. You drive yourself so hard.”

  “It’s been hard on all of us, sister.”

  She smiled, trying to cuddle closer. “Yes, but it must be hardest on you. You’re the king now, in a way no one expected. None of us have even considered what you must be going through.”

  He let go of her hand and put his arm around her, pulling her close to him. “Thank you, sister. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve built up a lot of…tension without much opportunity for release.”

  She slipped her arm around his back. She wished she could plunge a dagger into it, but that would have to come later. For now, she might have to do the unthinkable.

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  Filliya, remember Filliya.

  “I pray our sister recovers,” she said. “Perhaps then we can marry her off to some far-away lord. As much as I love her, as I know you do, I don’t think the capital is the right place for her.”

  She tried to emphasize the right words so that he would take her meaning. Her mother had educated her in the subtleties of courtly communication, and she had learned those lessons well. She just hadn’t had the opportunity to practice them in a long time.

  “Indeed,” Alfyn said.

  “You must have so much on your mind,” she said, rubbing her hand along his arm. “It would be good for you to have a confidante. Someone on your side who you can share your troubles with.”

  He gave her a strange look out of the corner of his eye. Hopefully, she hadn’t overdone it. She would have to back off some and try something a little less obvious.

  “Would you like some wine, brother? That meal has left me parched.” She ran her finger along his hand slowly while smiling at him suggestively.

  He smiled back. “I would.”

  “Come, then.”

  She would ply him with as much wine as he would take. Hopefully, he would pass out before she had to do anything. She could then tell him how magnificent he was later and hope that he believed her. He was a man, of course he would believe her.

  She smiled inwardly. This would be so easy.

  ***

  Jor Bashi’s study looked much cleaner than Davinya was used to. Many of the hanging pots and vials had disappeared, and the mess of books, dead animals, and other detritus on the tables seemed to have vanished. The floor even looked swept.

  “You have come a long way, Davinya,” Jor Bashi said to her. “You can hear the gods. You can feel their Essence flowing through you. You have begun to learn how to weave those Essences into spells. I have grown immensely proud of you.”

  She smiled, knowing that was a difficult thing for the old wizard to say. He was gruff and distanced on his best days. Even when her father was dying and they were trying together to discern what ailed him, the study was cold and impersonal.

  “Thank you, Master Bashi.”

  As good as it felt that she was making progress in her study of magic, she was disgusted with herself. No matter how many baths she had taken, she still felt unclean. At least the gods hadn’t turned their backs on her for the foul things she had to do to protect her sister.

  Pretending to like Alfyn was one thing. Getting drunk with him was completely acceptable and had happened on numerous occasions. What had happened after? She tried not to think about it. It was foul and unnatural.

  But she had already made inroads on convincing the new king to find a husband for Filliya. While he hadn’t admitted that he had been poisoning her, he did suggest that there was more that could be done for her.

  One thing that she learned was that Davinya hadn’t been the only one Alfyn had expressed interest in. Outside of the view of the rest of the family, he had been grooming Filliya. Because Filliya mostly kept to herself, she had not told anyone about it.

  Except Ulfnar. Alfyn, deep in drink had admitted that before their brother vanished, he had told the then crown prince to stay away from their youngest sister. Ulfnar said in no uncertain terms that it would be a simple matter to arrange the crown prince’s death. All Filliya had to do was ask, and Ulfnar would make Alfyn disappear.

  She wondered if that was why Ulfnar had been the one to disappear? Perhaps the heat had grown too hot for him, and he fled before Alfyn could kill him? Or had he someone discovered that the crown prince was planning to poison him? Either was a likely scenario.

  And the fact that Filliya hadn’t been receptive to their brother’s advances told Davinya all she needed to know about Alfyn’s motivations to poison her. Perhaps she was planning to go public about what the prince had been trying to get her to do? If so, that would not be good for her. There was no way Alfyn would let her out of the palace if she was planning to tell the world how disgusting Alfyn was.

  “You have made great progress in learning the delicate art of mind manipulations, Your Highness,” Jor Bashi continued. “I but wish that I was able to see your lessons to completion.”

  “What?” she asked, suddenly alarmed. Was he going to stop teaching her? Why? Had she done something wrong? “I don’t understand.”

  He gestured around at his study. “Have you not noticed how empty it is here? Haven’t you wondered why?”

  “I just thought you were tired of the mess.”

  Jor Bashi threw back his head and laughed, the joy creating deep crevasses in his face, but not reaching his eyes. “No, highness. There was no mess here. Everything was placed exactly as it should be.”

  “Then why clean?”

  His laughter vanished as quickly as it had come. His face took on a dark, somber expression. His eyes suddenly had a vacant, ominous look. “I am afraid that my days in court are numbered. With King Llarwyn leaving us for the next world, it is King Alfyn’s right to choose his advisors. The new king’s predilections are quite different from his father’s. I am certain that I will be replaced with someone…” he paused, sadly looking around his study. “A mage who is, shall we say, of a darker persuasion when it comes to magic.”

  “No!” she said. “I wish to keep studying with you. Please, Jor Bashi. I can speak to my brother. If he chooses someone else, I will pay for you to keep a residence in the city. I will do anything that’s required!”

  The mage smiled again, this time sadly, with great longing. “I wish it could be so, Your Highness. But you would have more success stopping a boulder rolling downhill than you would stopping the wheels of fate. I have consulted the runes on this, and their answers were quite clear.”

  He walked over and took her hands, looking deep into her eyes. “You have enormous potential, Princess Davinya. You will continue your studies. Just not under me. Your brother will wish it so. Do as he says, and you will become a great mage.”

  “What will you do, Jor Bashi?”

  The mage smiled; this time the smile reached his eyes. “I am an old man now, and yet I still find myself wondering about the magical mysteries of Gavinholm Isle. Maybe I will go there and see what I can learn,” he said. “If the Magicians of the Isle will have me, of course.”

  He let go of her hands and sat down hard on the old stump that made for a seat. He held his hands out at the scattered runestones on the once crowded and cluttered tabletop. He looked up at her again with haunted eyes.

  “On your future, the runes were mixed, princess. You walk a razor thin path with pitfalls on all sides. Beware my replacement. He will encourage you to take a darker path. For the benefit of all those you love, resist!”

  If she couldn’t study under Jor Bashi, then she would study under no one. She had all the practical knowledge she needed, and a library full of books on magic in her rooms in the palace. If Jor Bashi was to be replaced, she would simply refuse to study under whoever her brother chose to replace him.

  She would not take the dark path.