Traitor's Moon

didn’t he?” he asked, recognizing his uncle’s hand in the sword’s clean, strong lines.
    â€œOf course,” Adzriel replied. “We knew that you wouldn’t want Father’s, so he made this for you. After seeing how you lived in Rhíminee, I suspected you wouldn’t want anything too ornate.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful. And this!” He smoothed a thumb over the unusual pommel, a large disk of polished Sarikali stone set in a steel bevel. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    No sooner had he said it, however, than he had the strongest sense that he had seen something very much like it, though he wasn’t certain where.
    â€œHe said it came to him in a dream, a talisman to keep you safe and bring you luck,” Mydri explained.
    â€œLuck in the shadows,” he murmured in Skalan, shaking his head.
    â€œYou know Akaien and his dreams!” Mydri said fondly.
    Seregil looked up at her in surprise. “I’d forgotten.”
    He sheathed the blade and ran his fingers over the fine leather scabbard and long belt, fighting the temptation to put it on. “I’m not supposed to carry a weapon here, you know.”
    â€œYou’re not supposed to be leaving, either,” Adzriel said with a catch in her voice. “With all Alec and Beka have told me, I was worried that you would not accept it.”
    Seregil shook his head, bemused. His hand had known this weapon from the instant he’d touched it; it hadn’t occurred to him to refuse it.
    â€œI promise you this.” Unsheathing it again, he put the hilt in Adzriel’s hand and set the point against his heart, leaning into it until it dented the front of his coat. “By Aura Elustri, and by the name I once had, this blade will never be drawn in anger against an Aurënfaie.”
    â€œThen keep your temper and protect yourself,” Adzriel advised, handing it back. “What shall I say when they find you gone?”
    Seregil smiled crookedly. “Tell them I got homesick.”
    He hid the sword in the stable, then took the back stairs two at a time. Resisting the urge to look in on Klia one last time, he hurried to his room, taking care to inform several servants he met along the way that he and Alec were retiring for the night.
    The bedchamber was in near darkness, lit only by one small lamp. The balcony shutters were closed tight. The tunic and trousers he’d stolen earlier lay on the neatly made bed, together with an Akhendi sen’gai.
    â€œAlec?” he called softly, hastily changing his clothes.
    â€œOver here. I’m just finishing up,” a voice said from somewhere beyond the bed.
    Alec stepped into the light, still toweling his wet hair. Seregil halted, unexpectedly moved by the sight of his friend wearing Aurënfaie clothing. It suited Alec, making him look more ’faie than ya’shel. He’d always had the slender build and carriage—Seregil had recognized that the first time he’d laid eyes on him—but somehow it was more apparent now. As Alec removed the towel, the resemblance became that much stronger. Thanks to a walnut-shell concoction they’d brewed up earlier, his yellow hair and brows were now as brown as Seregil’s.
    â€œDid it work?” Alec asked, running a comb through the wet strands.
    â€œIt certainly did. I hardly recognize you myself.”
    Alec pulled something from his belt—another sen’gai. “I hope you know how to wrap these things. I haven’t had much luck and didn’t dare ask anyone for help.”
    â€œA good thing, too. Where’d you get these?” Seregil fingered the brown-and-green-patterned cloth with misgivings. Wearing false colors was a crime.
    Alec shrugged. “Off a laundry line this afternoon. I just happened to be in the right place with no one else in sight. ‘Take what the god sends and be thankful,’ right? What are you waiting for? We’ve got to get moving!”
    Seregil smoothed the cloth between his fingers again, then placed the midpoint across Alec’s brow and began weaving the long ends around his head to form as good an approximation as he could manage of the Akhendi style. Tying the long ends off over Alec’s tattooed ear, he stepped back and looked him over with approval. “TheAkhendi have enough ya’shel among them that you shouldn’t draw much notice anyway, but you could pass for pure