"We've been summoned to examine a prisoner in the dungeons," Sara told Myri the moment she arrived at the healing room early in the morning. "I thought it would be a good experience for you."

"What is the prisoner's condition?" Myri asked as she walked with the older woman through the twisting corridors of the castle.

"I was told that he's relatively healthy," Sara answered. "The person who apprehended him hit him in the head, though. We're to make sure there is no lasting issues. Though I was told the one who caught him used more magic than physical force."

Myri thought it strange that they were supposed to care about a prisoner so much. Of course, maybe the guards needed to learn information from him and had to make sure his memory wasn't damaged. That seemed logical enough, she supposed.

When they arrived at the dungeon they were escorted by a guard in a red uniform to a cell that was much larger and less damp than Myri would have expected. There was also a cot that was in much better condition than what seemed allowable for a prisoner. When she saw the way the man was dressed, she realized why.

The cell was designed for prisoners of higher social status than most. This prisoner was clearly wealthy, wearing clothes that were far fancier than anything Myri would ever be able to afford, and he wore fine golden jewelry. His expression didn't match his clothing, though; he sat staring at the wall with a defeated look on his face.

Sara turned to the guard, clearly taken aback. "Isn't that Duke Bracin's son?"

"It appears he tried to kill the Grand King last night," the guard explained. "That spooky friend of the Crown Prince stopped him."

Myri couldn't avoid a smile at the description of Coulta. She'd heard about the ball that had gone on the night before, and she had been glad not to be invited. Hopefully Coulta was starting to earn more respect than he'd gotten since being dragged off horseback their first night in Ryal.

"He woke up a while ago," the guard went on. "Hasn't said a word though. I know he's expected to be given an examination by a healer because of his father, that's why we called for you."

Sara nodded. "He doesn't seem to be too out of sorts, from what I see. I'll need to make a closer examination, however."

The guard nodded and opened the door. Another guard came over to stand at the door while the first guard went inside with Sara and Myri. It didn't take long to decide that the only effect of Coulta's blow was a headache. Sara left some packets of herbs for a healing tea with the guards, and led Myri away.

The man didn't speak at all during the visit, other than to answer Sara's questions with a simple "yes" or "no."

"You know that spooky friend, don't you?" Sara asked as they left the dungeon.

"Yes. He saved my life."

"He makes me uncomfortable."

Myri smiled. "I used to feel the same. He takes some getting used to, but he's a good man."

"I hope so, as close as he is to the Crown Prince."

Myri just nodded. It was pointless to argue or try to reassure the woman. Coulta would have to prove himself to everyone, just like he'd proven himself to her.

Rohan was yawning when he arrived to take Coulta to the stables. Coulta secured his sword belt as he stepped out into the hallway. "Did you have a hard time making everyone leave last night?" he asked.

"It was almost dawn before we got the last of them out of the Hall," Rohan grumbled. "I think I hate those parties as much as Wildas does."

"I didn't find it all that enjoyable either," Coulta commented.

Rohan snorted. "Only the oblivious guests enjoyed it, I'm sure."

When they arrived at the stables they found several grooms and a few Guardsmen saddling horses. Coulta saw Wildas wave off a groom and tighten the girth on his saddle himself. The prince was dressed for riding, though his shirt and breeches were far from plain. Even Shelton was there, and it was the first time Coulta had seen him in anything other than his violet robe. He still wore a violet shirt and cloak, but his breeches were tan and he wore black boots. There was a also a cord of blue-and-gold rope across his body, thicker and with more gold in the weave than the one Wildas wore. Clearly, he was planning to ride with them.

"I thought we could test your abilities some more outside the city," he explained when he caught sight of Coulta. "There are less people to worry about endangering with stray magic out there," he added with a smile.

Coulta returned the smile. "Most likely a good thing." He turned when someone handed him Quiver's reins and he rubbed the stallion's white nose. It felt like it had been ages since he'd last ridden the horse through the city when Wildas had given them a tour.

"Are we ready?" Rohan asked. When he got a nod from both Wildas and Shelton he led his bay horse from the stable and everyone else followed. In the yard outside he gave an order to his Guardsmen to mount up.

Coulta was the last to make it onto horseback and only succeeded when Wildas pulled him up from the back of Silverblade, just like the last time. He'd decided that it had been pure fear that had gotten him on the stallion twice on the way from Arren. On the road, he'd found use of rocks or fallen trees.

"I'm not exactly a horseman," he stated when Rohan gave him a curious look.

The Prince-General shook his head, smiling, before turning his mount toward the castle gate. The Guardsmen fell into formation behind him, surrounding Wildas, Shelton, and Coulta. When they made it to the main street that cut down through the city, they fell back so that they only rode two abreast. Rohan led them, with Shelton and a Guardsman behind, then Wildas with another Guardsman, followed by Coulta and a third. The last four Guardsmen took up the rear.

They were entering the main market before the Guardsman riding beside Coulta spoke, though Coulta had noticed him trying to size him up without being obvious.

"They say you bested the queen in a spar a few days back," the man said conversationally. "You don't look like a master swordsman."

Coulta shrugged, glancing at his companion. Like the rest of the Guardsmen, he had the burly look of someone used to wielding broadswords, and he probably had been doing so from a young age. He looked somewhat older than Coulta with a short brown beard and messy brown hair.

"I usually rely on magic, not strength," Coulta explained.

The man nodded, as if suddenly understanding. "A sword-mage then. I've met a few others who don't like relying only on magic during combat. Weapons still have a purpose. I don't suppose your magic happens to be black?"

Coulta nodded. "I suppose it's obvious, isn't it?"

The Guardsman chuckled. "Most of the other men refer to you as 'the prince's shadow.' A lot of them are afraid of you."

"Are you?"

"I don't think you're so bad," he said with a shrug. "Especially if those three trust you," he added, nodding to the royal men in front of them. "We're heading into lower Ryal. This is where the troublemakers are. Best make sure you earn your keep."

Coulta noticed the other Guardsmen shifting to subtly place their hands on their swords. Coulta did the same and scanned the area for anyone with harmful intentions. They made it safely to the outer gate without incident, and all the Guardsmen relaxed.

The open fields outside Ryal were almost blindingly green now that spring was well underway, and the trees were covered in buds and new leaves where they dotted the area. It was a sunny day, but clouds in the distance suggested that their pleasure ride wouldn't last all day.

They cantered down the road until they drew close to the treeline that marked the border of the old battlefield, then broke off to the left where the ground was especially flat. There they hobbled the horses and the men started challenging each other to sword fights. Shelton and Coulta both sat in the grass, and Wildas sat with them to watch Coulta's training. Rohan hovered nearby as Shelton put Coulta through a series of mental exercises, then worked on his channeling strength by instructing him to move a number of small objects with his magic. Shelton seemed happy with his limited progress, much more than Coulta was.

"How was I able to use more magic when we were coming from Arren?" he questioned. "I killed five men who were chasing us, then I made us all invisible for several minutes when more men nearly found us."

Shelton ran a hand thoughtfully through the grass. "You have the ability to use a large amount of power. You can use a great deal of magic in a short span of time. Our goal is to make you capable of using a large amount of power for as long as you need to."

Coulta nodded. "That would likely be useful."

They felt the first drops of rain a short time later, and everyone prepared to ride back to Ryal. As Coulta tightened Quiver's saddle he felt a prickling sense of unease and glanced back at the treeline. Nothing moved, but he kept his senses open while he used a boulder to climb onto the stallion's back.

The feeling only grew as he followed the other riders away, and he turned Quiver to face the trees again, hand on a knife hilt in his belt. There was something – or someone – in those trees, he was sure.

"What is it?" Wildas asked, pulling Silverblade up next to Quiver.

"I don't -" The feeling suddenly became unbearable. "Go!" he yelled, throwing a protective net of magic over the prince.

Something slammed into his left shoulder at the same moment an arrow struck the magical barrier over Wildas and fell harmlessly to the ground. Wildas swore and wheeled his horse around. He heard Shelton's voice yelling for Rohan and the Guardsmen.

Coulta felt the magic slipping from him and he fought to hold it, even as a violet shimmer surrounded himself and Wildas. Riders in red flashed past him, shooting arrows into the trees.

He began to fall forward and didn't understand why he could barely grasp the magic he was using to shield Wildas. He felt someone catch him. Wildas was swearing somewhere close by. Shelton's face appeared out of the dark rain clouds above him. The pain in his shoulder was suddenly worse, but he didn't really care much.

"It's poisoned," Shelton was saying. "I can draw enough of it out before it does any damage, but if he doesn't drop the magic it will kill him before I can do anything. Coulta, do you hear me? You have to let go of the magic. Now."

"Coulta!" The prince's voice now. Why did he sound so panicked? "Listen to me. I'm safe. You have to let go of the magic."

Let go? How could he do that? He had to protect Wildas. That's what he had sworn to do. Serve and protect.

"Damn it, Coulta! Let go of it! I order you to let it go!"

He couldn't resist a direct order.

So he let go.