Shadows Return

bathhouse right now, or hunting with Klia in the fragrant pine forests.
    “You’re allowing yourself to fall back into bad habits,” he muttered aloud, but in his mind he heard Nysander’s gentle chastisements. He’d wasted years being jealous of Seregil—of his freedom and irreverence and the deep bond he shared with the old wizard. Alec’s arrival had softened the rivalry a little, and Nysander’s death had ended it, but old habits were hard to break.
    The truth was he
was
jealous of both of them right now, being in Bôkthersa with Klia.
    Thero and the princess had become good friends in their shared exile, and what Alec had begun for him, Klia and the Bôkthersan people had completed. Thero had found a way out of his emotional exile—given up being a “cold fish,” as Seregil loved to put it—and learned to find pleasure in simple daily interactions with ordinary people. Especially with Klia, though she was far from ordinary.
    He sighed, thinking of her: her good nature; the intelligence that shone in those eyes; the way her hair swung in a heavy braid against her back at sword practice with Beka or while riding.
    He sighed again, then caught himself at it. He had no illusions about his standing with her, of course. She’d never consider him more than a friend and ally.
What would an eagle want with a crow like me?
    But he was also a man who’d discovered he had a heart, and wished he hadn’t. It sometimes distracted him from more important considerations, like why Phoria had suddenly recalled her sister’s loyal bodyguard. For over a year Urghazi Turma had languished in Aurënen, apparently forgotten. Then, out of the blue, came a new guard, all strangers, and orders to stand down and sail home. Beka Cavish and her riders had threatened mutiny, and had been roundly chastised by Klia for it. Every last one of them had wept openly as they rode away, men and women alike.
    As Thero and Klia had grown closer, she’d finally admitted that she believed her days might be numbered. Queen Phoria had never been close to her youngest half sister, and Klia’s great popularity—both with the army and with the people—could be construed as a threat. But Thero knew Klia would never betray the throne. She was too honorable for that. Unfortunately, she was also too honorable to disappear when she had the chance. She would obey her sister’s summons and accept the consequences, whatever they turned out to be.
    The day they’d parted, Klia had set his heart reeling when she’d kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Good-bye, my good friend. If we don’t meet again, know what you have meant to me.”
    He’d ridden away that day with tears burning his eyes and his heart scorched with a love that could not be.
    Giving up on the scroll, Thero climbed the stairs to the gallery and gazed out across the city—past the dark bulk of the Palace and over the harbor to the expanse of dark blue sea.
    Dark blue, like her eyes in the shadow of the forest…
    There were ships on the horizon, their sails black against the setting sun, and he wished very badly that he was aboard one of them, sailing south.
    “Fool!” he muttered, and headed for the gardens to clear his head.
             
    He’d actually begun to make some headway with his translation that night and found the beginning of a very interesting transformative evocation, when Wethis hurried in without knocking.
    “Prince Korathan is downstairs, asking for you, my lord.”
    “And you left him standing there?” Thero snapped. By ancient protocol, only the queen herself could enter the House without the invitation of one of the wizards, but this was ridiculous. “Bring him up at once! I’ll be in the sitting room.”
    The young servant bowed and dashed out. Thero hurried downstairs to make ready for his royal visitor.
    He summoned a jar of wine from its resting place in the snows of Mount Itheira, and set out the crystal goblets Nysander kept for special guests. By the time Wethis ushered Korathan in, his stomach was in an uneasy knot. What except bad news would bring the prince here at this hour?
    To his relief, Korathan did not appear to be particularly distraught as he entered. He’d put aside his court robes and chain of office for practice leathers, and his fair, grey-streaked hair was pulled back into a long tail.
    “Have you heard anything?” Korathan asked before he’d even taken his seat.
    “I’d have sent word, Highness,” Thero