Raoden cringed, immediately recognizing his mistake. He had let go of Kaloo too quickly, allowing too much of his true self to show. The others hadn’t noticed the change, but Sarene—dear suspicious Sarene—hadn’t been so lax. He looked into her shocked, wide eyes, and knew that she knew. Somehow, despite their short time together, she had recognized him when his best friends could not.
Uh-oh
, he thought to himself.
“Sarene?” Roial asked. “Princess, are you all right?”
Sarene looked around sheepishly, standing in front of her chair. She quickly forgot her embarrassment, however, as her eyes fell on the furtive Kaloo.
“No, my lord, I don’t think so,” she said. “I think we need a break.”
“We haven’t really been going that long …” Lukel said.
Sarene silenced him with a look, and no one else braved her wrath.
“A break it is,” Roial said slowly.
“Good,” Kiin said, rising from his seat. “I have some Hraggish meatwraps cooling out back. I’ll go get them.”
Sarene was so flustered that she barely even considered chastising her uncle for preparing a meal when she had expressly told him not to. She shot Kaloo a telling look, then stalked away from the table, apparently on her way to the privy. She waited in Kiin’s study for a moment before the hapless impostor finally strolled around the corner.
Sarene grabbed his shirt and all but threw him against the wall as she pressed her face up against his.
“
Spirit?
” she demanded. “What in the name of Gracious Domi are you doing here?”
Spirit looked to the side apprehensively. “Not so loudly, Sarene! How do you think those men would react if they discovered they’d been sitting with an Elantrian?”
“But … how?” she asked, her anger turning to excitement as she realized it really was him. She reached up to wiggle his nose, which was far too long to be his real one. She was surprised when her fingers passed through the tip as if it weren’t there.
“You were right about the Aons, Sarene,” Spirit said quickly. “They’re maps of Arelon—all I had to do was add one line, and the entire system started working again.”
“One line?”
“The Chasm,” Spirit explained. “It caused the Reod. It was enough of a change in the landscape that its presence needs to be reflected in the Aons.”
“It works!” Sarene said. Then she released his shirt and gave him a bitter punch to the side. “You’ve been lying to me!”
“Ow!” Spirit complained. “Please, no punching—my body doesn’t heal, remember?”
Sarene gasped. “That didn’t …?”
“Change when we fixed AonDor?” Spirit asked. “No. I’m still an Elantrian under this illusion. There’s something else wrong with AonDor.”
Sarene resisted the urge to punch him again. “Why did you lie to me?”
Spirit smiled. “Oh, and you’re going to try and tell me it wasn’t more fun this way?”
“Well …”
He laughed. “Only you would consider that a valid excuse, my princess. Actually, I never got the chance to tell you. Every time I tried to approach you these last few days, you ducked away—and you ignored the letter I sent you. I couldn’t just jump in front of you and drop my illusion. I actually came to Kiin’s last night in the hopes I would see you in the window.”
“You did?” Sarene asked with a smile.
“Ask Galladon,” Raoden said. “He’s back at Roial’s right now eating all of the duke’s Jaadorian candy. Did you know he had a weakness for sweets?”
“The duke or Galladon?”
“Both. Look, they’re going to wonder what’s taking us so long.”
“Let them,” Sarene said. “All the other women have been mooning over Kaloo so much, it’s about time I fell into line.”
Spirit began to chuckle, then he caught the dangerous look in her eyes and let
it taper off. “It really was the only way, Sarene. I didn’t have much choice—I had to act the part.”
“I think you acted it a little too well,” she said. Then she smiled, unable to remain angry.
He obviously caught the softening in her eyes, for he untensed. “You have to admit, it was fun at times. I had no idea you were
that
good of a fencer.”
Sarene smiled slyly. “My talents are plentiful, Spirit. And apparently so are yours—I had no idea
you
were that good of an actor. I hated you!”
“It’s nice to feel appreciated,” Spirit said, letting his arms wrap around her.
Suddenly she was aware of his close proximity. His body was room temperature, and the unnatural coolness was unnerving. However, rather than pulling away, she let her head rest on his shoulder. “So, why did you come? You should be back in New Elantris, preparing your people. Why risk coming out into Kae?”
“To find you,” he said.
She smiled. That was the right answer.
“And,” he continued, “to keep you all from slaughtering each other. This country certainly is a mess, isn’t it?”
Sarene sighed. “And it’s partially my fault.”
Spirit reached up to put his hands on her neck, rotating her head so she could see into his eyes. His face was different, but those eyes were the same. Deep and blue. How had she ever mistaken him for anyone else?
“You are
not
allowed to berate yourself, Sarene,” he said. “I get enough of that from Galladon. You’ve done a wonderful job here—better than I could have even imagined. I assumed that these men would stop meeting after I left.”
Sarene paused, shaking herself from the trance of being lost in those eyes. “What was that you just said? After you left …?”
Voices called from the other room, and Spirit winked at her, his eyes twinkling. “We need to go back in. “But … let’s just say I have something else I need to tell you, once the meeting is through and we can speak more privately.”
She nodded in a half daze. Spirit was in Kae, and AonDor worked. She walked back into the dining room and sat down at the table, and Spirit entered the room a few moments later. One chair was still empty, however.
“Where’s Ahan?” Sarene asked.
Kiin frowned. “He left,” he declared in a bitter tone.
Lukel laughed, shooting Sarene a smile. “The count claims that something he ate didn’t agree with him. He … stepped out.”
“It’s impossible,” Kiin grumbled. “There was nothing in those crackers that could have upset his stomach.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t the crackers, Uncle,” Sarene said with a smile. “It must be something he ate before he came.”
Lukel laughed in agreement. “Domi knows, that man eats so much it’s a wonder he doesn’t end up sick every night by pure laws of probability.”
“Well, we should continue without him,” Roial said. “There’s no telling how long he will be indisposed.”
“Agreed,” Sarene said, preparing to begin again.
Roial, however, beat her to it. He stood slowly, his old body looking surprisingly weak. The duke sighed, shaking his head. “If you will all forgive me, I have something to say.”
The nobles nodded, sensing the duke’s solemnity.
“I will not lie to you; I never once debated whether or not action should be taken against Telrii. He and I have spent the last ten years as mercantile enemies. He is a flagrant, wasteful man—he will make a worse king, even, than Iadon. His willingness to even consider Hrathen’s silly proclamation was the final proof I needed.
“No, my reason for demanding more time before we met was not to wonder if we should depose Telrii. The reason I asked for more time was to wait for some … associates of mine to arrive.”
“Associates?” Sarene said.
“Assassins,” Roial said. “Men I have hired out of Fjorden. Not all the people of that country are perfectly loyal to their god—some are sworn to gold instead.”
“Where are they?” Sarene asked.
“Staying in an inn not far away,” Roial said.
“But,” Sarene said with confusion, “just last week you warned us against letting bloodshed advance our revolt.”
Roial bowed his head. “The guilt was speaking, dear Sarene, for I had already sent for these men. However, I have changed my mind. This young man from Dula—”
Roial was interrupted by the sound of feet clomping in the entry hallway: Ahan had returned.
Odd
, Sarene thought to herself as she turned, I
didn’t hear the front door close
.
When she turned, it was not Ahan she found standing in the doorway. Instead, she was confronted by a group of armed soldiers with a well-dressed man at their front. King Telrii.
Sarene jumped up, but her yell of surprise was lost among other similar exclamations. Telrii stepped to the side, allowing a dozen men in Elantris City Guard uniforms to fill the room. They were followed by the portly Count Ahan.
“Ahan!” Roial said. “What have you done?”
“I finally got you, old man,” the count said gleefully, his jowls shaking. “I told you I would. Joke about how my caravans to Svorden are doing
now
, you cursed old idiot. We’ll see how yours do while you spend the next few years in prison.”
Roial shook a mournful, white-haired head. “You fool … Didn’t you realize
when this stopped being a game? We aren’t playing with fruits and silks anymore.”
“Protest if you will,” Ahan said with a triumphant shake of his finger. “But you have to admit, I got you! I’ve been waiting to do this for months—I could never get Iadon to believe me. Can you believe that he actually thought you incapable of betraying him? He claimed your old friendship went too deep.”
Roial sighed, regarding Telrii, who was smiling broadly, obviously enjoying the exchange. “Oh, Ahan,” Roial said. “You have always been so fond of acting without thought.”
Sarene was stunned. She couldn’t move, or even speak. Traitors were supposed to be men with dark eyes and sour dispositions. She couldn’t connect that image with Ahan. He was arrogant and impetuous, but she
liked
him. How could someone she liked do something so horrible?
Telrii snapped his fingers, and a soldier stepped forward and rammed his sword directly into Duke Roial’s belly. Roial gasped, then crumpled with a moan.
“Thus are the judgments of your king,” Telrii said.
Ahan yelled, eyes widening in his fat face. “No! You said prison!” He rushed past Telrii, blubbering as he knelt beside Roial.
“Did I?” Telrii asked. Then he pointed at two of his soldiers. “You two, gather some men and find those assassins, then …” He tapped his thin thoughtfully. “… throw them off the walls of Elantris.”
The two men saluted, then marched from the room.
“The rest of you,” Telrii said, “kill these traitors. Start with the dear princess. Let it be known that this is the punishment for all those who try to usurp the throne.”
“No!” Shuden and Eondel yelled in unison.
The soldiers started to move, and Sarene found herself behind a protective wall formed by Shuden, Eondel, and Lukel. Only Eondel was armed, however, and they were faced by ten men.
“Interesting you should mention usurpers, Duke Telrii,” a voice said from across the table. “I was under the impression that the throne belonged to Iadon’s family.”
Sarene followed the sound. Her eyes found Spirit—or, at least, someone wearing Spirit’s clothing. He had pale Aonic skin, sandy brown hair, and keen blue eyes. Spirit’s eyes. But his face didn’t show any signs of Elantris’s taint. He tossed a rag on the table, and she could see the brown stains on one side—as if he wanted them to believe he had simply wiped away his makeup to reveal a completely different face underneath.
Telrii gasped, stumbling back against the wall. “Prince Raoden!” he choked. “No! You died. They told me you were dead!”
Raoden.
Sarene felt numb. She stared at the man Spirit, wondering who he was, and if she had ever really known him.
Spirit looked at the soldiers. “Would you dare slay the true king of Arelon?” he demanded.
The Guard members stepped back, faces confused and frightened.
“Men, protect me!” Telrii yelped, turning and scrambling from the room. The soldiers watched their leader flee, then unceremoniously joined him, leaving the conspirators alone.
Spirit—Raoden—hopped over the table, brushing past Lukel. He shoved the still blubbering Ahan out of his way and knelt next to Kiin—the only one who had thought to try treating Roial’s wound. Sarene watched dumbly from behind, her senses paralyzed. It was obvious that Kiin’s care would be nowhere near enough to save the duke. The sword had passed completely through the man’s body, delivering a painful wound that was certainly mortal.
“Raoden!” Duke Roial gasped. “You have returned to us!”
“Be still, Roial,” Raoden said, stabbing the air with his finger. Light burst from its tip as he began to draw.
“I should have known it was you,” the duke rambled. “All of that silly talk about trusting the people. Can you believe I actually started to agree with you? I should have sent those assassins to do their work the moment they arrived.”
“You are too good a man for that, Roial,” Spirit said, his voice taut with emotion.
Roial’s eyes focused, perceiving for the first time the Aon that Spirit was drawing above him. He breathed out in awe. “Have you returned the beautiful city as well?”
Spirit didn’t respond, instead concentrating on his Aon. He drew differently from the way he had before, his fingers moving more dexterously and quickly. He finished the Aon with a small line near the bottom. It began to glow warmly, bathing Roial in its light. As Sarene watched, the edges of Roial’s wound seemed to pull together slightly. A scratch on Roial’s face disappeared, and several of the liver spots on his scalp faded.
Then the light fell away, the wound still belching blood with each futile pump of the duke’s dying heart.
Spirit cursed. “It’s too weak,” he said, desperately beginning another Aon. “And I haven’t studied the healing modifiers! I don’t know how to target just one part of the body.”
Roial reached up with a quivering arm and grabbed Spirit’s hand. The partially completed Aon faded away as the duke’s movement caused Spirit to make a mistake. Spirit did not start again, bowing his head as if weeping.
“Do not cry, my boy,” Roial said. “Your return is blessed. You cannot save this tired old body, but you can save the kingdom. I will die in peace, knowing you are here to protect it.”