Wesson shook his head.
Farson looked to Rezkin. “He has a greater chance of harming you than anyone I have encountered. Why would you risk that?”
“Because he would not give it,” said Rezkin.
Farson looked at Wesson.
Wesson did not know how to answer the unspoken question. He was averse to swearing fealty to anyone, but was it not expected and required to swear loyalty to one’s king?
Rezkin said, “Journeyman Battle Mage Wesson is bound to no one, as it should be. I recognized the need long before I learned of my ancestor’s motive for creating the Rez. That knowledge has affirmed my belief.”
“You leave him unbound on purpose? To kill you?” Farson said incredulously.
Rezkin’s cool blue gaze fell on Wesson. “He knows he may not survive the encounter. He will not attempt it unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”
Wesson had never asked why Rezkin did not require his fealty. Rezkin’s persistent faith in his skills as a mage paled in comparison to the faith he had placed in him as a person.
“It’s here,” said Frisha.
Tieran turned from the window that overlooked the sea. He had been wondering if the sea they saw from the tower was the same one as below. Since he had not seen the ship arrive, he still could not be certain. “Are you ready?” he said.
“No.”
Tieran rubbed her arms. “You know how he is. He sees everything. He will know.”
“Maybe. I think he’s kind of oblivious about relationships. It turns out every time I thought he was being romantic, he was just being practical or performing his duty.”
He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Do not judge your worth by his inadequacies. You deserve happiness … and romance. I intend to give you both.”
Frisha smiled at him. “You have changed so much, Tieran Nirius.”
His smile fell. “I feel like I am betraying him.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“Neither of us can say how he truly feels.”
“Maybe not, but that is what he wants me to believe, and I have accepted it.” She laid a hand over his heart. “You are not second choice, Tieran. I know I could have him if I wanted, but I choose you.”
He kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss. Then, he said, “Shall we walk in the garden one last time before he kills me?”
The pit in his stomach that had begun to gnaw at him on the last leg of the voyage started to ease as soon as he set foot in the warehouse. It was further proof that he was somehow tied to Caellurum. It was a weakness that he would need to address sooner than later. If he was to wage war, he would need to leave the island without becoming ill. His people were on the island, though, and he was supposed to be king. Hoping to please one of those people, he recalled that his first directive was to check on Frisha. She had said he no longer need do so, but Frisha was fickle.
Manaua informed him that Frisha had left the corveua near the gardens, so he headed there after settling his belongings in his room and checking on Cat. Apparently, since Frisha had stowed away on the ship, Ilanet had taken responsibility for Cat’s care. He would be having a talk with her later.
As he rounded the last turn in the path before reaching the garden, he heard laughter, both feminine and masculine, and it was coming closer. Frisha came bounding out of the garden with Tieran in pursuit. He grabbed her hand and spun her into his arms. Rezkin noted their flushed skin and heavy breathing, both of which could be explained by a run. The glowing smiles were less characteristic of post-run expressions for these two, and the dilated pupils and warm embrace were evidence enough. He cleared his throat, and they both glanced his way.
Frisha pushed Tieran away, seemingly in a hurry to put distance between them, and Tieran backed up a pace, as if he intended to run. Rezkin raised an eyebrow, daring him to try. Tieran swallowed hard and said, “Rezkin, g-greetings. I am glad to see that you made it back in one piece.”
Rezkin turned his gaze to Frisha. She bit her lip timidly then lifted her chin and stepped closer to Tieran, taking his hand in hers. Tieran quickly disengaged and stepped forward, protectively placing Frisha behind him. “Look, Rez, ah, we need to discuss, ah, this.”
Rezkin had seen enough. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart again. He knew it was not coincidence that both times it had been a woman. Frisha peered around Tieran’s back. He met her pleading gaze and said, “Happiness looks good on you, Frisha.” Then, he looked at Tieran. “And you, Cousin.”
Tieran looked at him with suspicion. “You are not angry?”
“Why would I be angry?”
“Well, because, you know … she and I—”
“Have you treated her as a lady?”
“Yes! Of course.”
Rezkin glanced into the tree about ten paces away for confirmation. Xa was stretched out on a branch, lounging against the trunk as he whittled a small stick into nothing. He shrugged and said, “It has been a rather boring show.”
Frisha shrieked. “Have you been spying on us?”
Xa said, “I am do’riel’und. I go where you go.”
Frisha balled her fists and stomped her foot. “No! Absolutely not! You are invading my privacy!”
Xa shrugged again. “You must get used to it.” He finally looked at her. “Besides, for your precious propriety’s sake, you are not supposed to be alone with him. Think of me as your chaperone.”
Frisha’s face flushed as she glanced at Tieran, who had the decency to appear abashed.
Rezkin started to leave, but Tieran bounded forward. “Really, Rezkin. You approve? You would give us your blessing?”
“For what am I giving my blessing, Tieran?”
“We wish to be married.” Then, in a rush, he said, “Not now, mind you. After an acceptable period of courting.”
Rezkin glanced at Frisha, who looked genuinely hopeful. He said, “It is as it was always meant to be.”
Tieran furrowed his brow. “Are you saying you planned this?”
“I said nothing of the sort,” replied Rezkin. He wanted to leave. He needed to call a training session with the strikers—immediately. “Is there anything else?”
Tieran stared at him for a moment, then seemingly woke and said, “Yes.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Uh, if you were not angry before, you will be now.” Tieran glanced back at Frisha apologetically. “Tam went missing several weeks ago. I know you told me not to let him leave the island, but I sent Connovan to find him. I could think of no one better suited to the task, besides you. He found a trail, I guess. He said that Tam was taken by slave traders to the Isle of Sand.” Rezkin stared at Tieran as dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind. Tieran said, “Connovan offered to go after him, but he seemed a little too interested in Tam.” He glanced back at Xa. Then said, “Considering who he is, I thought it best to wait for your return. I am sorry if I made the wrong choice. I had no idea what to do.”
The stab wound to Rezkin’s heart felt as if it had been ripped open, and the stone resting on his chest had heated to nearly unbearable. He inhaled deeply and focused on shattering his feelings, replacing them with the vast emptiness that had become so familiar during his training. He said, “Tam is likely already dead.” He turned to leave, but Frisha ran up and blocked his way.
She had tears in her eyes, but she appeared furious. “You can’t know that! You have to go after him.”
Rezkin said, “If not, then he is already mad and will be dead soon enough.”
Frisha said, “Tam is strong. He can handle it. He’ll survive.”
“Perhaps, if it were just the slavers, but he had what you might call a medical condition. If it was not treated weeks ago, then it is too late. He is dead.”
“What medical condition?” she said with a hiccup.
“That is no longer important.”