The weather was growing rapidly colder, especially at night, as autumn led into winter. Thanks to the magic of the castle, the stonework held and conducted heat throughout the structure in the cold months, as long as enough hearth fires remained lit at all hours. It was still chilly, but with slightly warmer clothes and extra blankets at night it wasn't unbearable, at least that's what Shelton had always thought. Now that he and Yvona weren't pushing each other away anymore the nights were warmer anyway. Not that they did much more than sleep most of those nights.

It was still early in the season for snow storms – a light dusting of snow and hard frost was more common for this time of year – and Shelton was immediately concerned when he saw black clouds on the horizon one morning. He'd been planning to visit the sorcerers who improved on the city's infrastructure and defenses, as he needed to discuss their plans for new defensive additions for the wall. He changed his mind when he saw the approaching storm. It was too dark, approaching too fast, and moving against the wind.

A dark feeling of dread snaked itself through him and he ran back for the castle.

If the storm was what he thought it was, he wouldn't be possible for him to stop it on his own, only hold it back for a few days. And who knew how many sorcerers were in reserve to keep the spell going? To destroy the massive spell woven through those clouds would take a very large, very sudden blast of power. Something that would surely kill him.

He needed help. For a moment he thought of all the mages who had come to help in the war, but only two names jumped to mind. He had been working with Coulta on direct channeling, and he knew he was capable of joining Coulta's power to his. He would still need another person, or he'd risk possibly killing both himself and Coulta. There were currently only two sorcerers with red powers who had reported to him. One was a woman Shelton had met only the day before, and the other was the Algoman prince's personal Guardian. There was also his sister's husband, but getting him back to the castle would take too long.

He found Coulta first by nearly colliding with him and Rohan on a flight of stairs. It sounded as though Rohan was asking Coulta to help train more soldiers.

"I need your help," Shelton declared. He turned Coulta by the shoulder and guided him back up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Coulta asked.

"I'll explain in a moment. Have you seen any of the Algoman guests this morning?"

Coulta gave him a worried look. "At breakfast."

When they reached the top of the stairs, they found the people they were looking for waiting for them.

"You need Braith's assistance." Fae didn't even ask.

When Shelton gave her a curious look, Jaimathan explained, "She tends to have visions at times."

Shelton's experience with seers was that they tended to use herbal assistance to have visions because they didn't simply come to anyone at the perfect time, but he knew her magic was very different than any he was used to, so he didn't argue. "We need to reach the roof of the nearest tower for this to work. Everyone else should remain inside."

"What's happening?" Braith asked as they quickly made their way to the nearest tower stair.

"I believe Kemale has managed to ensnare a large number of sorcerers with powers pertaining to the weather. He certainly doesn't have the sort of magic to do this alone, and I don't believe anyone else would be behind it. There is a very unnatural storm coming from an unnatural direction, and headed directly for us. I'm afraid of what such a storm would do."

"Bring more than snow," Coulta agreed.

At a less stressful time Shelton would have been proud of how well Coulta was learning about magic despite having had no real training until a few short months ago. If they could stop this storm, perhaps he'd have that chance to be proud.

When they reached the top of the castle tower the storm clouds were over the forest that separated the open field below the city from the farmlands. It didn't appear to be dropping any snow yet, and it was looking more like a bad thunderstorm than a snowstorm. The black clouds were billowing and raging, with thunder rumbling in the background.

"I have to agree that this isn't good," Braith commented.

Shelton stepped to the center of the tower roof and motioned for them to join him. The wind abruptly changed directions, now blowing with the storm instead of against it. Their hair whipped across their faces and raged around their heads. Shelton felt his robe, heavy as it was, smacking heavily against his legs and twisting around his arms. Kemale certainly had a large number of sorcerers enslaved for this storm to be so strong.

Ignoring the battering wind, Coulta and Braith each placed a hand around Shelton's wrists and he felt their magic as it pooled around him. They maintained their hold as he lifted his hands to direct the flow of magic. He called on his knowledge of destruction spells and fashioned one especially suited for the situation at hand. A light grew around them, mostly violet but tinted with black and red.

Whatever generic spell he made he knew it wouldn't be strong enough. Sorting quickly through his years of training, he translated all six lines into the ancient language, calling on the power that each word contained. To disrupt the progress of the storm. To break apart the energy in each cloud. To scatter them. To sever the spell from its castors. To weaken the castors enough so that they couldn't try again. To destroy the spell itself.

The light grew brighter as he repeated the spell again and again. By the sixth repetition he was yelling and the light was almost blinding. As he screamed the final word the light exploded. The clouds dispersed in all directions, filled with flashing lights of violet, red, and black. A great peal of thunder roared across Ryal, shaking the city itself. The wind changed directions once again and began to blow naturally, no longer buffeting them.

Shelton stumbled forward with the trembling of the castle tower, and he felt Coulta and Braith grab him. "I'm going to need some rest," he confessed. "But someone needs to make certain nothing was damaged. Someone needs to speak to the engineering mages."

"I'll be sure everything gets done," Coulta assured him.

He wasn't certain how he got back to his bedchamber or who had gotten him there. All he knew was that sleep was what he truly needed.

Coulta had been to the mages' dormitory twice before with Shelton. As the co-court sorcerer, he was practically expected to visit the place periodically. Sorcerers stayed in the massive stone building – almost a miniature castle itself – for many reasons, Shelton had explained. Some lived there while awaiting an open position as a personal sorcerer for a member of the royal family, whether outside the city or within. Others stayed there while traveling because, unlike the numerous inns throughout the city, it cost nothing for a sorcerer to stay the night, or several, there. The longer a sorcerer stayed, however, the more he was expected to contribute in order to keep the free board. Many sorcerers chose to stay indefinitely and help develop and strengthen city defenses and infrastructures. They developed similar designs for use in the country as a whole, as well. Sewers, roads, canals, destruction-resistant buildings, and defensive structures were all designed and implemented by the sorcerers living in Ryal. They called themselves engineers.

Despite how great of a sword-mage Coulta was, Wildas had still insisted on him taking at least one Guardsman with him after Kemale's latest attempt to disrupt their lives. Rohan had been unwilling to leave his brother, but he assigned one of his captains to go with Coulta into the city. The man's name was Ayrault, and he didn't seem much older than Coulta himself. Coulta had a feeling Ayrault had recently been promoted as a result of all the deaths caused by Varin.

They met with the engineers in a large room filled with shelves of scrolls and books. Several tables and chairs dotted the room, covered in diagrams, writing implements, and objects that Coulta couldn't name but that he assumed were used to make calculations. There was only one window in the room, and most of the lighting came from lanterns hanging from the ceiling, though the light was more like sunlight than firelight. Coulta assumed that the lanterns, like the lights in the castle courtyard that helped the plants grow, were sustained with magic. The room also had a mildly musty smell, like the castle library did, but he knew it was more of a workroom than a library.

Three mages had been chosen to be the spokespeople of the engineers. There were two middle-aged men, one in a dark green robe and one in a dark blue one. The third mage was a somewhat older sorceress in a pale green robe. None of them appeared all that surprised when Coulta was ushered into the room instead of Shelton.

"We know about the storm," the sorceress, Zina, explained once the formalities were dealt with. "We didn't sense it until only moments before Master Shelton destroyed it. It's fortunate we have him here or the city would have been doomed. The rest of us might not have been able to stop it before it began affecting things. Who knows what sort of magic it was carrying to lay down on us."

Coulta didn't care to point out that he and Braith had helped Shelton destroy the magical storm. After all, Shelton was the one who noticed the storm heading toward them and did the true magic work. Coulta and Braith had only supplied extra power.

"It's very fortunate," he agreed. "What have you got to show us?"

The sorcerer in dark green, Wylan, placed several sheets of paper onto the table before them. The writing was rather messy and hard to read, and several of the pages contained diagrams that were equally difficult to understand.

"We've discovered several spells that can strengthen the outer walls and the gate," he explained. "In the event that a group of attackers makes it through our defenders, this could be of use."

"You doubt the strength of the walls?" Ayrault questioned, almost as though he were personally insulted.

Zina smiled. "Under attack from mortal forces, of course not," she answered, cutting Wylan off before he could argue. "But the walls are over five centuries old. Even with regular repairs, it's possible that they may not withstand an assault by magic. The gate certainly wouldn't. It is only wood, after all, heavily reinforced though it may be."

"That is where my work comes in," the blue-robed sorcerer, Lathron, added. "My father was a carpenter and I grew up using my magic to help in that trade. I of course learned woodworking skills as well. Putting spells on the current gate would be impossible, but if we create a new one I can weave the magic into the wood as it is cut and shaped."

"How long will that take?" Coulta asked.

"If I can speak to the carpenter guild and find several to assist in the building process itself, I approximate it to take five days of day and night work. Ten days if we don't work through the night. Of course, while we work the current gate will remain in place until it is ready for final assembly, which can be done in a single day, while the gates would be open anyway."

"We would need your permission to begin this," Zina added.

Coulta nodded. He wasn't sure if there was a certain way he was supposed to phrase his words – sometimes he wished for the years of royal training Wildas had received – so he simply said, "You may begin as soon as possible."

Lathron bowed. "We shall."

"My work will be with the wall itself," Wylan said, motioning to one of the diagrams. "I come from a line of stonemasons and I can work magic into the mortar."

"You're not planning to take the wall down to fix it, are you?" Ayrault demanded.

Coulta was having the same thought, and it was a rather uneasy one.

"No, we won't have to," Wylan answered quickly. "Zina formulated a liquid compound that can be used to soften the current mortar. We would use that in only small sections at a time. The magic will be introduced when the mortar softens, and it will solidify again within an hour."

"How long will this take?" Coulta asked, still feeling a little wary.

"A month, if we can work by night as well. And as long as Zina and her alchemists can make enough to go that quickly."

"It uses basic, readily available ingredients," Zina assured him. "We already have a barrel's worth, and we've only been brewing it for two days. It's the spells worked over it as it cures that give it the greatest power."

"Why can't you just put a magic shield over the whole city?" Ayrault questioned.

Lathron snorted and Wylan shook his head.

Coulta thought it was a reasonable question from someone who wasn't well-versed in how magic worked. It was the sort of question he would have asked a year ago himself. Without even realizing he was doing it, he gave the two sorcerers a sharp look.

Zina didn't react with more than a small twitch of her lips. "I see you don't know much about magic, but that's understandable. Using magic as a shield of that size will involve not only keeping energy out, but also in. There is just too much energy within an entire city to contain. It would take every mage available to sustain such a spell. We would be better off actually fighting."

Ayrault just nodded and turned his attention to looking around the room.

Coulta decided to change the direction of the conversation to take the focus away from Ayrault's questions. "You have my permission to start working on the walls, as well."

Wylan bowed. "Thank you."

Zina also bowed. "We will get organized today. Those are all the updates we have for now. Nothing else has been thoroughly worked through yet."

Coulta nodded. "I'll tell Shelton everything, but he may want to visit you regardless. He may have questions that I don't."

Zina returned the nod. "Of course."

Five days later was Wildas's birthday celebration. He hoped to actually enjoy it this year now that he was married. For once he wouldn't be showered with gifts and attention from men and women who wanted to marry him. The gifts were far more modest and smaller in number, which he was perfectly happy about. All the wealthy families and extended relations were invited as usual, but no longer with the intention of finding spouses for him.

The focus for some guests, it was immediately obvious to him, was on his younger siblings. Only one of Wildas's siblings had married thus far: Star, his youngest brother and personal attendant. Myri, working with the castle healers, had been the first to learn of the pregnancy of the servant girl whom Star had developed a deep love for. Thanks to the forewarning from Myri, Wildas hadn't been surprised when Star came to him several days later to awkwardly ask for his blessing to get married. He didn't even hesitate to approve of the match and had allowed them to have a quiet ceremony with only family, close friends, and the court present. There had only been a few mutterings about the bride's status as a servant, but Wildas and Shelton had both made it clear to everyone that the happiness of the youngest prince was truly none of their concern.

The guests greeted the members of the royal family as they arrived, first speaking to Wildas, his spouses, then Shelton and Yvona before moving on to his siblings. Then they mingled among themselves. Some made it a point to greet Jaimathan and Fae, who were standing nearby as distinguished guests.

"Hear anything interesting?" Myri asked in a murmur from his left, and he heard her perfectly well even with Anil between them. Myri was dressed in a fur-lined golden gown and he could see it glimmering out of the corner of his eye as they all stood on the raised platform of the Great Hall.

They were at a break between arrivals so he leaned a bit closer and replied quietly, "Many of them have plans to court my brothers or sisters."

She laughed softly. "I'm not surprised."

"I don't think any are dangerous," Coulta told him quietly. He was dressed in shimmering silver that made the veins of silver in his eyes stand out. Wildas felt underdressed in his shiny blue, fur-lined silk, standing between Coulta and Anil, who was wearing a shimmery violet gown dotted with tiny flowers. He'd heard the story of how Coulta had brought her the flowers and he wished he could have witnessed it.

"Even without the curse you can know that?" he asked.

Coulta nodded. "I believe so."

"I hope so. Shelton still warned me not to open any gifts until they've been examined."

"Which is a good idea," Myri commented quietly.

Wildas had to agree, though he hated to. Given all the threats they'd had over the last few months, it really was wise.

Once all the guests had arrived, Brother Pelles led a prayer to thank the gods for allowing their Grand King to age another year, and to humbly ask for more years to come. Then there was a small feast. Wildas hadn't wanted to waste food stores on his birthday meal, but had been talked into only cutting back the feast by a small degree. The nobles would take it as a bad sign if they didn't have a full meal. They would worry about how the city would survive the winter if the castle was rationing already.

After the meal there were dances and games. Wildas and his spouses left the dais to socialize, with Guardsmen constantly trailing each of them at a respectful distance. Most of the guests refrained from talking about the war, instead talking about only minor things. Many of them commented on how good Anil looked for, despite her heavy gown, her growing belly was still obvious. He felt genuinely happy as he slipped an arm around her.

"Are you expecting the baby to be a son?" Duke Errol, one of Wildas's many distant cousins, asked with what appeared to be genuine interest.

"Of course we all hope for it, with the way the things are at the moment," Wildas replied. "It would ease the worry over the throne when the war continues. But we won't know until the baby is born, of course."

"You haven't tried any of the midwives' tricks?" asked Errol's much younger wife, Earia. She was hanging onto her older husband's arm with one hand, a glass of wine with the other.

Myri, who had been conversing with another noblewoman must have overheard, because she turned her full attention to them and scoffed. "Those tricks aren't useful for anything more than passing time and spinning ideas."

"Truly they must have some basis of fact," Errol argued. "Why else would they be used so often?"

"My mother was a healer in our village of Windwick," she explained. "She always doubted the tricks. She had used them herself, and found that very rarely did the predictions hold true. She delivered every baby in that village, so she knew which ones agreed with her predictions and which did not. Not even magic can determine the truth. I've tried. We will know when the baby is born."

Errol didn't truly seem interested in hearing what Myri had to say. "Isn't Star's wife closer to birthing than yours is?"

Wildas wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the way Errol had ignored Myri, that he couldn't be bothered to use Anil's name when she was right there and instead had made her into more of an object than a person, or the insults Errol was surely preparing regarding Star and his wife.

"I'm not sure why that matters," Wildas replied, forcing himself to be calm.

Errol raised a graying eyebrow. "You are the eldest son. For the youngest one not to have waited for you to have had an heir before having his own is disrespectful."

"I have nothing against any of my siblings, and especially not Star," Wildas declared. "I was happy to give them my blessing because they care for each other a great deal. He is only doing what is right, and for that there is no disrespect. I ask anyone who feels otherwise to keep their opinions to themselves. Trying to cause problems where there are none is petty and childish. What is disrespectful is trying to criticize me for things that cannot be changed. I am your king, not some child you can groom to your needs."

Errol looked stunned and stumbled backwards a step to bow slightly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."

But the words did not sound genuine. Wildas turned his back on the man and moved toward the refreshment table for a drink.

Behind him he caught Myri's softly spoken words, "He just pulled rank on someone twice his age. That was incredible. I'll be in his bed tonight."

Wildas didn't even care what kind of wine he took, he just picked up the first glass available.

Wildas was only mildly surprised when Star confronted him the next morning. He was already feeling rather unhappy thanks to his disappointing birthday night; he'd wanted to spend it with all three of his spouses, even just to be close to each other, not for sexual reasons, but only Myri had stayed with him. Anil hadn't been feeling well and wanted to sleep alone, which he didn't fault her for, and Coulta had claimed he was too tired to deal with Myri, who was almost as intense with desire as when she took her fertility potion. In the end it had been a good night, but not as good as he had wanted.

So he wasn't in the mood to sprinkle sugar on things when Star appeared to help him prepare for the day without his characteristic smile. Wildas had a very good idea of why his brother would hardly look at him.

"Say whatever it is you need to say," he commanded, watching as Star aggressively poked the hearth back to life.

Star glanced at him, then sighed and set the fire poker aside. "I heard about your... conversation with Duke Errol," he said, crossing his arms as he turned back to Wildas.

"And?"

"Why would you talk to him like that?"

"Like what?"

Star spread his arms in obvious frustration. "Saying you're the Grand King and he needs to respect you? You're supposed to be kind and fair and reasonable and... good!"

"How am I not?" Wildas demanded. "Because I defended you? Are you suggesting I shouldn't have let you marry the woman you love? That I should have ordered you to never see her again and for her to raise your child alone? Why would I have done that to my own brother? How could I have separated you from someone you clearly love?"

"But he was right!" Star argued. "You shouldn't have given me your blessing. I shouldn't have put myself in this position. I'm old enough to have known better. I just loved her so much that I didn't even consider what could happen to any of us, or how it would look against you. Now I know for certain that I've tarnished your reputation."

"The past can't be undone. I'm not going to have it pointed out to me as if it's something I can change. I am the Grand King. Yes, I want the advice and opinions of the court, but they will not act as if they have power over me. I'm tired of being treated as if I'm their puppet and they are the ones in control. They need to know that. I'm talked to as if I'm still a child because I'm still new to the throne, and they need to know that there are boundaries I won't let them cross. My personal life and that of my family is one, even if they are also family. I will readily listen to advice and concerns about how to help the people or defend the country in war, but I will not listen to another snide remark about choices I have already made. You deserve to be happy, Star. Don't allow anyone to tell you otherwise."

"But at the expense of your image?" Star asked, looking rather stunned by Wildas's rant.

"They will always find some little issue to have with me. But if I can't give my own brother what he deserves, what kind of king am I? There are certain matters I simply will not allow them to control me over."

Star nodded and looked away. "Thank you."

Wildas clasped Star's shoulder. "Be happy. Don't listen to anyone else. They wish us to be miserable so they can feel powerful. They aren't worth thinking about."

"Thank you," Star repeated, nodding again. "I am happy."

Wildas smiled and shook Star gently by the shoulder. "Good. Is there anything else bothering you?"

Star shook his head, smiling now. "No."

Wildas nodded and took his hand back. "Then I think it's time for breakfast."