Luck in the Shadows

for alien blood to be mixed into the royal line.
    "As usual, Idrilain had her way in the end and the match produced another daughter, Corruthesthera. Her father, a kind and noble man by all reports, eventually gained acceptance from some of the nobles. But there was also a strong faction, the Lerans, who could not accept the possibility of Corruth's daughter reaching the throne. Idrilain's first consort was at the heart of it from the beginning, and probably involved Lera as well, although it was never proven. Whatever the case, relations between the Queen and the Princess Royal were strained, to say the least."
    "So what happened?"
    "In the thirty-second year of her reign, Idrilain was poisoned. No connection to the Lerans could be proven, but Lera ascended the throne under the shadow of suspicion. It didn't help matters any that Lord Corruth disappeared from Rhнminee without a trace the day of her accession. To Lera's credit, she didn't have her half sister, Corruthesthera, assassinated right then. Instead, she quietly exiled her to an island in the middle of the Osiat Sea. The people of Aurлnen were outraged and relations between the two nations have never been the same.
    "Queen Lera was a harsh, tight-fisted woman. She's recorded to have had more people executed during her eighteen-year rule than any queen in the history of Skala.
    "Ironically, her half sister survived three different assassination attempts, while Lera herself died in childbirth with a stillborn son. In spite of some threat of revolution, Corruthesthera was recalled from exile and crowned as the only remaining heir."
    Alec mulled all this over for a moment. "So that means that the queens who came after were part Aurлnfaie?"
    Seregil nodded. "Corruthesthera favored her father's race; they say she appeared to be hardly more than a girl at age fifty."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well," Seregil explained, "in addition to living three or four times as long as humans, the Aurлnfaie mature more slowly. A man of fourscore years is close to Bilairy's gate, while an Aurлnfaie is still considered a youth."
    "They must become very wise, living that long."
    Seregil grinned. "Wisdom is not necessarily the product of age. Still, imagine being able to draw on the experience of three lifetimes rather than one."
    "How long did Corruthesthera live?"
    "She died in battle at the age of one hundred and forty-seven. Queen Idrilain the Second is her great-granddaughter."
    "Then if what Tym said is true, the Lerans are still around."
    "Oh, yes, though they've never achieved much beyond an assassination or two. But they still boil up to
    make trouble every now and then. With the war coming, they could be more of a threat. And not only to the Queen, it seems. Was Barien by himself?"
    "No, Phoria, the oldest princess—"
    "Princess Royal," Seregil corrected, fidgeting with the glass rod. "Though she prefers the title of general. People have been speculating about her and Barien for years now—But go on."
    "General Phoria was with him, and his nephew."
    "Lord Teukros?" Seregil gave a derisive snort. "Now there's true Skalan nobility for you: nephew and sole heir of the most powerful lord in Rhнminee, scion of one of the oldest Skalan families, not a drop of foreign blood in his lily pure veins. Perfect manners, expensive tastes, and all the brains of a flounder. Quite the gambler, too. I've taken his money more than once."
    "He's Barien's heir?"
    "Oh, yes. Being childless himself, the Viceregent has always doted on his sister's son. Barien's no fool, mind you, but love does make excuses, as they say. It just goes to show that the nobles ought to learn what any hog farmer knows, and do a bit more out breeding now and then."

19 Uneasy Secrets
    Seregil inhaled the familiar morning smells of the tower as he and Alec headed up to the workroom the next morning—the mingled incense of parchment, candle smoke, and herbs overlaid with the more immediate aromas of breakfast.
    Upstairs, early morning sunlight slanted down through the leaded panes of the dome, giving the jumbled room a comfortable glow. Nysander sat in his usual place at the head of the least cluttered table, both hands clasped around his mug as he conversed with Thero.
    A bittersweet pang shot through Seregil. In the days of his apprenticeship, he'd sat in There's place each morning, enjoying the early quiet while Nysander outlined the day's tasks. It had been at such moments that he'd felt, for the first time in