Carala frowned, sinking into one of the library's many plush chairs, gazing about at the long rows of books and muddy portraits."It is not an easy thing to describe, Deni," she said softly. "I feel differently than I have in months. Better, mostly. But mama is always in my thoughts. Sometimes I feel I can hardly breathe, hardly even move." Her eyes met his, and Denisius could see an unfathomable hurt there. "She died for me. I cannot stop thinking that."

Denisius took her hand in his. "I said something about this to Ammas when we were in Leusenia." His voice sank to a whisper. "What happened to her was your father's doing, not yours. He did something unspeakable to her, something that could only end with her death. Whether it was for your cure, or because something went wrong while she was acting as an assassin, or because she slipped his control and had to be -- dealt with." Denisius grimaced. "Her last thoughts were of you. She had your cradle clothes in her hands -- when -- "

Carala turned away, letting go of Denisius's hand, dipping her face into a handkerchief and giving over to tears for a long moment. Denisius sat beside her unhappily, though not surprised. Slowly she composed herself and offered a polite if watery smile. "So I have heard a rumor that Sarai rejected a proposal? Was it yours or my father's?"

Denisius laughed in surprise. "I heard nothing about a proposal, and I certainly didn't make one. I wouldn't insult Sarai by suggesting one only after our arrangement didn't work out. Besides," his voice turned abashed, "meaning no offense, Cara, I'm not sure I'm cut out for -- er -- such intimate connections to the Imperial family."

"I can hardly blame you for that," she replied with a faint smile. "But then what did you and my father discuss?"

Now Denisius's blush was nearly alarming. "Er, Vos? Do you want to tell her?"

Vos grinned and drew from his tunic a scroll sealed with the Imperial crest and a purple ribbon marking it as having been signed by the Emperor himself. Words rolled from him in a peculiar tone of mock formality, half his words or more clearly drawn from the document in his hand. Carala listened in mingled wonder and amusement.

"His Imperial Majesty is sending a missive to the Lord Marhollow that his son Denisius comported himself with honor and distinction far above that expected from a vassal of the Malachite Throne in the service he rendered you in your time of illness. It further indicates the Throne's marked failure to be impressed by either of Denisius's brothers, but especially the heir presumptive Lorith. It goes on at some length at how pleased the Throne would be to see Denisius named as heir, and suggests such an arrangement would lead to closer ties between Coldspring Hall and the Chalcedony Palace, regardless of who Denisius might marry."

Carala looked at Denisius in open-mouthed astonishment. "You're to be the heir?"

"If my father accedes to the Emperor's wishes," Denisius said, his face still flaming red. "As I've found out, he almost always does, though. So I suppose I will be. It was your father's idea."

"I think it is a marvelous idea, whoever proposed it," Carala smiled. "So you will be heading back to Marhollow right away? Let your father instruct you in ruling?"

"Er -- not right away." He exchanged a glance with Vos, who was smirking down at the floor, toying with a rieldo cigar. "We're off to Gallowsport tonight to catch a sunrise vessel. Both of us have decided we need a rest before returning home. So we'll be seeing Summervale. I've always wanted to go." There was something defensive in his voice, though Carala coudn't imagine why.

"I am sure you'll have a grand time." She rose from her seat, the courtly manners she had mostly abandoned on her travels returning with the force of instinct. "Would you like to stay for dinner with me and Sarai? You should still make your ship, if you hire a speedy carriage."

"I wish we could. But Vos and I already have dinner plans. With a mutual friend."

"I see," Carala said. Now her own cheeks were coloring. "Will you give him my regards?"

"Of course." Denisius hesitated, but plunged on with something he had clearly wished to say to her for a while. "Cara, I know you care for him, and I know he cares for you. I have no resentment for it. But will you take some advice from me?"

"I will listen to anything you have to say, Deni."

"He thinks he's never going to see you again. I think never is a strong word. But if you do pursue him . . . Cara, don't pursue him just because you hate your father. I'm at ease with my own decisions and my reasons for them, but sometimes I still question my own thoughts. Just -- be sure of what is best for you."

She looked away, cheeks scarlet. "I am doing all I can to make sure I am not under his influence, Deni. But he is Emperor, and I cannot forget the things he did. But I will remember your advice. Besides," she looked back with a frown, "I think Ammas has the right of it. But do tell him I'm thinking of him. And perhaps you could bring a message?"

"I'd be happy to, Cara."

Carala smiled and spoke to Denisius a little longer before he and Vos left the Chalcedony Palace. Soon it would be dinner hour at the Scholars' Rest, and the crowds were truly immense. Hopefully Ammas had already secured them a table, or made arrangements for a meal in their rooms.

*