The following morning, Rook bowed as the princess Abriana Arsyde opened her door to him. Her lips twisted in a sharp smile beneath her too-dark eyes. As usual, Rook tried not to pay attention to her aura. She put her hands on her hips.

“I asked for you yesterday.”

“My apologies, Princess.”

She pulled him inside shutting the door behind them. Then, she turned on him.

“Did you know that my idiot brother brought Tynan Amaya – Tynan Amaya – into the castle? What am I talking about, of course you knew. I can’t believe he thought father actually missed her.”

Rook raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes.

“I know you’re fond of him. Men are all stupid, even you. Take a look at this wretched body for me, would you? The last necromancer was so unhelpful while you were away.”

He examined her with his magesight. Her aura buzzed angrily in the confines of the body she wore – and she did wear it, for it was not hers. He considered it a moment longer before turning his conscious thought away from it once more.

“It will last a while longer, I expect. Likely to the end of the year if you take care of it.”

She pouted.

“You promise you’ll hang around time to care for it yourself? I don’t trust it with anyone else. That silly little cabal of yours can’t be so important, can it?”

He let her kiss him. She was teasing him, she knew. Abriana was cunning. He was quietly confident that she wasn’t certain of the existence of ‘the cabal’ as she’d named it. He had no intention of confirming her suspicions.

“You’ll take that wretched girl away from my father, won’t you? Ether knows nobody wants him to live forever.”

Rook covered her lips with his own, ending the line of questioning. Her eyes danced wickedly and she pulled herself away.

“My, my, Rook, I do believe you’re avoiding the question.”

Rook pulled her closer.

“If I’m not mistaken, it would be treason for the king’s spymaster to answer that question.”

She giggled and they fell to lovemaking. Rook glanced surreptitiously at the morning sun. He had time to kill.

*

When Rook left the princess’ bedchambers, he marched to the great hall to confront the king. King Bryant had gone to fat in his middle age, and his hair had begun to thin many years ago. He, and the smattering of nobles that surrounded him, looked up at Rook’s arrival.

“I have uncovered a rebel plot, Sire,” he announced.

The king spluttered. The men around him wore a range of expressions, from shock to calculated interest. At least there were no academy men present at this time.

“Do not speak without leave, Mage,” said Lord Eldon, one of Apera’s wealthier nobles, “This is a war council.”

Rook glanced at the map spread over the table before them. It represented Apera’s fight with Arku. Rook felt a fresh rush of irritation that the king had spent money on a homecoming festival for Kiernan, who would cheerfully have gone without. The prince’s great battle had consisted mostly of skirmishes with green warriors. He pulled his attention away from the old information and cleared his throat.

“I apologise, but this is urgent. I believe there are rebels in the castle as we speak, looking to abduct your young guest, Sire.”

“Mages are all the same,” spat Eldon, “Insubordinate–”

Bryant held up a hand to silence him.

“Are you certain?”

Rook nodded decisively, “Yes, Sire.”

It was easy to be sure, when one had invited them in.