Anil wasn't entirely sure she believed the story the mysterious sorcerer told as they traveled on from Windwick, but when they stopped to water the horses he pulled a folded letter from a pouch inside his sword belt and handed it over.

"I know you don't believe me," he told her. "You can let Myri read it, too."

He stepped away to help Myri get Wildas from his horse. Though she felt a little uncomfortable reading something so personal, she carefully unfolded the letter and read the script that was starting to fade in the creases.

Dearest Coulta,

You may not remember my face, but my name is Markiel, and I am your father. You may have asked yourself for many years how I could have given you up, but believe me, I did it because I thought it was the best thing I could do for you. I have written you this note to explain things to you that I know I will never have a chance to explain in person.

I spent my boyhood in the farmlands of Berk, until I was noticed by a traveling sorcerer named Alion. I was a minor sorcerer myself, and he took me on as an apprentice. I went to live with him in Mariadok, one of Berk's many minor cities. I was with him for five years, time enough to master the basics of my abilities.

At the end of my apprenticeship, he sent me to the village of Cassel to find a young woman named Eline. He said that he had had visions of her, and that she would give birth to his son. Alion was old then, and she would not come back with me to be his woman. I had made a vow to Alion to bring her back to him, but I broke that vow when I fell in love with her.

Alion found us many months later, living with her parents. Eline was in the final days of pregnancy, carrying my child - you. Alion was understandably displeased, and dueled us both. We took his life, but Eline, a very powerful sorceress of rare abilities, knew that you, her unborn child, had been cursed by him.

She told me everything that she could determine from the old man's magic. It was her belief that, because I had broken a vow to him, you were cursed to be unable to break any vow or agreement made to anyone with power over you. I discovered the truth to this - you were a very obedient child.

Eline, your mother, went into labor that night, and being as powerful as she was, did everything she could to fight Alion's magic. Just before you were finally born, she told me that someone would save you, that she had found the soul that would have the most power over you. She told me that you would find someone within a city in the country of Phelin, someone who lived in a great castle, who would love you despite your curse, and who would understand you and care for you enough to never make you enter into any agreements that would hurt you.

It took the last of her energy to find this connection and to bind it. Moments after you were born, she died, having given everything to save you.

I do not know how to explain those markings on your skin, I only know that they are either a sign of your curse, or that they were created by the conflict between Alion's magic and that of your mother as she fought to find a way to free you. But I can tell you why I brought you to Phelin, and why I left you as I did. I was doing what your mother needed me to do, I was trying to find the city or the castle she had foreseen. I don't know if I chose the right one, but I know that what is meant to happen will happen. I only pray that I have not caused you more suffering by giving you the chance to be free.

I did not give you up out of hatred, but out of love. I pray that whoever finds this letter on you will keep it for you until you are old enough to understand my words, and have been taught to read them.

-Your Father.

By the time she had finished reading, Anil felt tears slipping down her cheeks. It was all so terrible, but she knew he would never appreciate sympathy. She wondered for a moment about the marks on his skin that were mentioned. He appeared very normal to her, so she wasn't sure what that was about.

But her greatest concern was that she wanted to help him, despite only just having met him. Somehow, she could just tell that he was a good man who faced misfortune that wasn't of his own doing. But what could she do for him?

Myri didn't believe anything Coulta told her until she read the letter after Anil. Feeling the dark magic had made her reluctant to completely trust him, but his actions in the short time she had known him were starting to wear down her doubts, especially after she read the letter.

He had taken a short nap on the back of Quiver before dusk, then rode in a lead position through the night while Myri and Anil took turns resting. The night was uneventful and they stopped to rest the horses for a while in the dawn light. As soon as they stopped, and he helped them get Wildas from Silverblade, Coulta settled down under a tree and appeared to fall right to sleep.

"Do you trust him?" Anil asked as she and Myri sat watching over the sleeping horses and men. They'd placed Wildas under the same tree Coulta slept under, more to keep all of them together than for any other reason. The prince was sleeping far more fitfully than Coulta at the moment, if he was even sleeping at all.

Myri nodded, surprising herself. "He's not dangerous. He has the potential to be, if he wanted it. I think he's more dangerous to Varin than to us, or anyone else."

"I think so, too. He stopped me from being raped, back in Windwick. And he told me to come along. He could have just asked where the tack was and left."

Myri glanced over at the other woman, someone who had become something of a friend in the last few months, and tried not to think of what could have happened to her had she not come along, or what had likely happened to her own mother. "But he didn't," she murmured.

"That letter he showed us," Anil went on after a moment, "about the curse... do you think the person it talks about is the prince?"

Myri glanced over to the tree when she heard a groan. The prince was rolling back and forth in agony, clawing at his face. The only thing stopping him from hurting himself was the fact that he still wore riding gloves. Myri had been tending to him every few hours, and it was all she could do to get any water into him. He'd been aware of things at a few points, and had outright refused to drink even then. She knew it was because he had soiled himself and didn't want to do so again. As a healer, she was used to such things, but patients were always too proud to accept things they couldn't control, men especially. Her dire warning of him dying before getting the counter-poison had made him finally take a few sips of water. If she had had any pain-killing herbs she would have tried to make him a tea, not that it would truly help him. She'd never seen anyone in such pain before, and it was amazing to her that it wasn't actually killing him.

As she watched, Coulta reached out a hand and set it on the prince's shoulder, still seemingly asleep. Wildas curled into a tight ball and let out one final groan before falling silent and motionless, aside from his ragged breathing.

Looking back at Anil, she nodded. "He is."

Anil glanced over at the men and shook her head sadly. "Poor Coulta."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, the prince has to get married eventually, if he isn't already. There's no way he could marry someone with Coulta's past or be close with him if he already is married."

Myri sighed and nodded grimly. "In either case, no one will want an assassin so close to the royal family, even if he says he doesn't want to kill anymore."

"Do you think they'll have him killed?"

"I don't think the prince would allow that," Myri assured her. "But I'm not sure he'd be able to do much else for Coulta. Certainly not marry him."

Anil shook her head again. "That's awful."

Myri surprised herself again by agreeing.

The the magic pendant Wildas wore allowed Shelton to sense how far he was from home. It didn't allow him to see exactly where he was, or how he was fairing, but it did give him an idea of proximity. Five days after he had spoken to Wildas, Shelton could tell that he would arrive just after nightfall, if he continued moving at the same pace.

It was time to finally tell Grand King Deandre the full truth.

"You should sit," he began when Deandre arrived in his office.

Deandre regarded him with raised brows, but did as suggested and sat on a wooden chair by the dying hearth. "Are you finally going to tell me what you've been fretting over?"

"Yes," Shelton admitted. "It's Wildas." Seeing the panic on the Grand King's face, he rushed on, "He is going to be fine, don't worry. I told you two days ago that he survived an attack, but I learned he was injured. A very minor wound, but the assassin used a unique poison. As long as he receives a counter-poison within seven days, he will have no lasting effects." Supposedly. He still wasn't certain he trusted information from a stranger he knew nothing about. "He will arrive home tonight, with an escort from the village of Windwick outside of Arren. I know nothing about this person he's with, except that Wildas said he trusts him."

"What is this poison doing to him?" Deandre asked, his voice too calm for Shelton's liking.

"Putting him in extreme pain. I've tried contacting him several times in the last few days. He's unable to answer me. His mind is too clouded from the pain."

"And you have the counter-poison?"

He'd only purchased every pinch of the Dragonweed herb he could find in Ryal. Wildas hadn't said how much he needed, but Shelton was sure he had enough. No potion he'd ever dealt with needed more than a few pinches of anything, and the Dragonweed he had would fill two wine cups.

"Yes. I do."

"Then cure him and don't send him on such a fool's errand again."

Shelton was stunned by the anger in his husband's voice. "What else would you have me do?"

"Keep him here!" Deandre snapped, getting to his feet. "If he doesn't stay in Ryal he'll never be married. There was no reason for him to go to Arren. You knew nothing would come of it! Except for it killing him! Now he's being tortured by some failed assassin's twisted humor? You shouldn't have sent him!"

"Have you forgotten that he asked me to send him?" Shelton practically yelled, slamming his hand down on the table beside him. "He wanted to visit Arren because you keep trying to force possible spouses on him. And I agreed because I didn't imagine Varin would go this far! You think I don't regret all the Guardsmen we just lost? That your brother was killed? That Wildas is suffering? Because not one day has gone by that I don't wish I hadn't sent them."

"Why did you think it was so safe?" Deandre demanded, barely looking any calmer for everything Shelton had said.

Shelton knew that Deandre was reacting so angrily because he had hardly reacted to being told about the attack to begin with. He'd taken it with much too much calm, and Shelton had known this would happen. It didn't stop his own emotions, however.

Frustrated and agitated, Shelton put out the candles on his desk with a violent motion of his hand. Violet energy moved over the flames like a miniature gale, extinguishing them but sending melted wax onto the rug on the other side of the desk. "I was never given the impression that Varin would attack anyone of any true rank. He doesn't have the resources for that kind of aggression. And it was the only place I could send him when he begged me to get him away from Ryal. You're far too hard on him."

"He's my heir!"

"He's your son! And a grown man! If you treated him as one, and spoke to him with more respect, instead of treating him like a child, maybe you would understand him better. Maybe he would understand you better, as well." Shelton sighed and sat down on a nearby chair, suddenly exhausted. "You hardly speak to him at all. If you were to die tomorrow, the least of our problems would be that he's unmarried. The greatest would be that he has no idea how to fill your place."

Deandre sagged back into his own chair. "He confides in you?"

Shelton met the Grand King's eyes. "He has no one else. He's afraid to speak to you about anything, because you make him feel like he can never please you."

"I just don't understand why he won't simply choose," Deandre sighed, rubbing his graying beard. "He has enough options for spouses. I've seen to that."

"Maybe he doesn't want to choose his spouses like one chooses an outfit for a festival," Shelton replied pointedly. "Maybe he's tried to tell you how he feels about your actions, well-intended though they may be, and you refused to listen."

Deandre shook his head. "I still don't understand it."

"You don't?" Shelton questioned. "I'm fairly certain that when we met, the day I was appointed as the court sorcerer, you were ranting in the courtyard to a statue about how cruel an arranged marriage would be. How old were you then? Close to his age?"

"No. Four years younger than he is now."

Shelton pretended to think for a moment. "And how long after that was the wedding?"

Deandre sighed. "Another year and a half. It would have been longer if my father hadn't chosen Xiao."

"And we are reminded of her everyday."

"Every day that I look at her closed chamber door."

"Me, too. You need to do better by Wildas. If not for him, than Xiao's memory."

Deandre sighed. "I'll do my best." Then his face transformed into a fond smile. "You're going to be the death of me."

Shelton returned the smile. "Better me than anyone else."

They arrived in Ryal just as dusk was fading, and Myri suggested Coulta hide their movements through the city so the people didn't see their prince in such a state. Coulta agreed, and they managed to sneak through the gate just before it closed for the night.

It was easy enough to make it to the castle, which Coulta guessed to be twice the size of the one in Arren. He didn't understand how something so big could be safely built from massive stones. There was a main roadway leading straight up the hill to it, though in several places gates stood ready to block the way. They were open, which made Coulta think they were just for defense, in case the main wall was breached. The gates were part of several walls that seemed to section off the city.

Coulta noticed that they had entered the city where the buildings seemed the most run down, though they were no worse than the entire city of Arren. The closer they got to the castle, the fancier the buildings became. He didn't know which were houses and which were businesses, as all the shops were closed, but he noticed several obvious taverns and inns.

Just before the final gate to the castle grounds, Coulta lifted the magic. The gate was closed, but a guard in a red uniform instantly spotted them.

They had decided that Myri would speak on their behalf, and she called up to the man, "My name is Myri. I'm a healer from the village of Windwick. We've brought the Crown Prince home, and he needs more healing than I can give him."

The guard yelled down to the castle yard below, "The prince!"

The gate went up moments later and they moved through. Coulta was unsettled to see two dozen men in red uniforms quickly surround them. The man who seemed to be in charge held up a hand and Coulta pulled Quiver up. Myri halted her horse on the other side. Anil was behind Quiver on her pony, with Wildas semi-conscious on Silverblade behind Myri's horse.

"One of you is a healer?"

Myri nodded. "I am. I have the recipe for the potion he needs."

The man nodded. "You'll come with us." He looked at Anil. "Who are you?"

"My name is Anil," she answered. "I'm also from Windwick. The ponies are mine. I'd like to care for them, if I may."

The guard turned to the man next to him. "Help her to the stables."

The other guard saluted, but didn't move.

When the leader looked at Coulta, he made some sort of hand gesture that Coulta found puzzling. He was about to explain who he was when the man calmly ordered, "Arrest him."

The next thing he knew, he was being dragged off Quiver. Someone practically ripped off his sword belt and he was rather rudely touched everywhere on his body until they found his hidden weapons and were satisfied. Part of Coulta wanted to fight the guards as they painfully clamped manacles onto his wrists, but he knew it was best to let them drag him across the castle yard.

He heard Anil cry his name before they dragged him away, and Myri assure her that he would be fine. He hoped he would be.

They dragged him into the castle through a door that was sunk into the ground. It was dark and smelled rank, and the tiny cell they threw him into was cold. At least they took the manacles off once he was confined.

Left alone without a word of explanation, he knew he should feel desperate or angry. But he just felt tired. He'd barely slept in the last few days, and what dreams he'd had were nightmares from which his shadow stranger never once saved him. He sat down on the damp, cold stone floor with a sigh.

As soon as he leaned his head against the wall, he was asleep.