Zar hadn’t been willing to push his luck too far that first day of real contact. It was clear that he’d established something, and as little time as he had left, to just turn up at court again, all eagerness, might tip his hand and undo his good work.

He was surprised when one of the Muchkan house staff approached him an hour before lunch the next morning to tell him that the Lady Camila wished to speak with him in private.

This was, all the same, not a visitor he could refuse; nor was she somebody he could afford to anger if he wanted to make any further progress in his goals. He hurriedly made sure he was presentable - usually in the house he took advantage of the control he had over the Duchess to wear only a loose, flowing robe, the better to have her easily access him whenever he wished - and went to meet with her in a verandah overlooking the garden at the back of the building.

One of the servants had already set out bread and oil and a carafe of wine with two goblets. Zar went about pouring the goblets. “I did not expect to see you here again, my Lady.”

“I did not expect to return,” she said, fixing him firmly with a suspicious eye. “And yet I find I must.”

“There is only one who would compel you in this way,” Zar said carefully, after a moment, and Camila nodded.

“Her Imperial Highness has told me to seek you out,” she said. “She noted you were absent from court this morning.”

“I’m flattered that my absence was noted,” he said, and was about to move onto the word but when she spoke across him.

“I am told she has questions directly for you.”

Which was either a positive sign that all was working correctly or it was a clear indication that something had gone wrong. He studied her, trying to read which it was, which was complicated by the fact she might not know.

Although she was supposed to be the Princess’ closest confidante…

“And do you also?” he ventured.

The noise she made was somewhere between disdain and contempt. “None,” she said. “I have questions about you. Accurate answers? I think you are the last person I should ask for those.”

Zar could do nothing but smile in acknowledgement of the point and try to shrug off the implied insult. “I am sure you have sources you trust.”

Perhaps the issue had been that he’d met her eyes and it had been enough to spook her. Unless the Lady Camila was the true sorceress, and the rumours about the Silver Princess mere propaganda?

He couldn’t bring himself to kindle a heat in her again. If it was turned aside a second time, what that might mean for him was too disquieting for him to be willing to risk.

“Many.” Her eyes flashed as she looked directly at him. “Even in Muchkan.”

Zar raised the goblet to his lips. “I hadn’t realised, my lady, that you were a true spymistress.”

Camila smirked. “Your presence,” she said, “is required at the Palace for lunch.”

Zar started in surprise. “Ah? And, uh… who should I expect to see there?”

Camila’s lips tightened disapprovingly. “The Princess,” she said. “Alone.” She rose to leave, and Zar got the impression she’d been pushed to say more than she’d intended.

Still…

Alone? And what did that mean?

He was fairly sure they were sending him a message, but what that message might be - even if it would be good or bad - he couldn’t decide.

*

"Your Highness.” Zar bowed punctiliously. The time to push his luck with not-quite-courtly behaviour had been the day before, when he hadn’t yet realised how much Aelina took in at a glance. This time he would be as precise and careful as he could, at least until he learned whether or not he had betrayed himself in the past.

“Zar.” She nodded fractionally. “Sit down.”

He took the chair on the other side of the table. For the Palace this was a small, intimate table, which meant that it was still around six feet across, long enough for most men to lie down comfortably between them.

“How may I serve you, Highness?”

She looked at him for a long moment, so quiet that he almost asked do you even know the answer to that yourself? In the end she said “I noticed your absence, and I decided I wished your company.”

Zar knew how to answer that. He inclined his head. “I am flattered, Highness. I have been told I have a… soothing presence.”

There was a wry smile on her lips as she returned “That is not what I was thinking of.” But she hesitated, eyes glancing away, and in time said “though it is certainly something I would value now.”

“They say the responsibilities of a monarch weigh heavily.”

She waved a hand dismissively, then apparently turned her attention to the food. “There are people for all of that,” she said. “My castellan runs the Palace satisfactorily, and I chose my chancellor because she oversees organisations well. My conquests might tax her efforts, but they don’t tax me.”

Zar nodded. “Then… what, if I may ask?”

“Revolt,” she said simply. “You’ve spoken with Camila, I understand.”

Zar opened his mouth, but could not decide what words to use that wouldn’t betray his thoughts. Instead he simply nodded.

“There is a faction, here in Erethnis, that looks to replace me on the throne.”

“Surely not,” he said, surprised. True, there were always people who thought they were better suited to the crown than whoever wore it; there were, too, always people who wanted the crown for their bloodline, and there must be many at court who carried grudges against Aelina for her conquest, whose descendants might be taught the same grudges or who might in time become loyal citizens.

On the other hand, he’d expected Aelina’s reputation would keep them from action, or even from discussing things to the point they could be identified.

Yet the Princess was nodding. “I know one or two of the people involved,” she said. “I have informants I can trust, you see. But…”

“But?”

“I’m not sure who the ringleader is, because nor are they,” she said quietly. “My informants, I mean. There’s a young man, a knight, who they intend to put on the throne.”

“You don’t suspect him of leading the charge?”

Aelina’s laugh was a surprised snort, something completely unrehearsed, completely honest and open to who she was, and as such it was significantly more attractive than he would have expected.

“My dear cousin would hate to do this job. He likes his decisions straightforward, not complex, he doesn’t particularly like power, and he’s frustrated enough with the level of pressure to sire an heir he gets currently. The only reason they’re using him is, until I decide to have a child of my own, he has the strongest legal claim after my own.”

Zar nodded slowly. “You think he knows it’s happening?”

“I doubt it. Oh, I assume the conspirators know him, and vice versa; how else would they seek to control him going forwards?”

It occurred to Zar as he was listening to the Princess discuss this in detail that she was, by the level of familiarity they had with one another, oversharing significantly, and that this wasn’t necessarily a bad sign.

He kindled the light of awareness in his mind and waited for a few moments while he gauged her mental temperature.

She’d warmed to him considerably. The fires he’d lit the previous day he’d expected would have begun to fade away by that point, and they certainly would take some stoking, but the fire of her arousal was still burning merrily, and to his surprise it had kept the other flames warm.

There was profit to be had here, he thought, but it might be as well if she now learned the effect he could have, so long as she never realised he’d already been doing so.

“So he’s to be their unwitting patsy,” he said.

She nodded.

“Well. He can only have so many friends, but perhaps we can whittle down the number of candidates through logic. Or, perhaps…” He trailed off. “I’m not sure even to suggest this, Highness.”

She smiled at him again, that same smirk of knowing she’d flashed him before. “A strange thing to say when you know that afterwards, I surely will require you to speak.”

The problem, Zar decided, was that the imbalance of power was even greater than it had been with Duchess Khaja. All his little tricks and intrigues, she was watching for, and if she decided she didn’t like them that could be the end of this. He had to speak to her like another human being, like somebody he wasn’t trying to trick but held no power over.

It had been so long since there had been anyone he’d had reason to talk to like that. He wasn’t at all sure he remembered how.

“If we remain close, Highness, I’m sure they will try to sound me out, to understand whether I could fit into their plans or must be done away with.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I see. And you would, of course, tell me.” It was given as a statement but he heard uncertainty within.

He exhaled slowly, sending the smoke from the fire of her arousal to surround her worries. “I am on your side, Highness,” he affirmed, “and I have much more to gain staying that way than I would by a betrayal.”

Her shoulders had risen slightly from the moment he clouded her concerns. Zar found himself wondering if whoever had taught the Princess had given her any grounding in defensive magic, or if she simply believed she didn’t need it.

Back in the days of Lon Llyrith, he recalled, there were stories about the nation-gods who would protect monarchs. He didn’t know if these had become less powerful over time or if the new nations simply did not have them, but certainly Aelina was being affected more readily and more powerfully by his magicks than he had expected.

No doubt there would be some reason for this, but his studies - most wizards of his time’s studies - were practical, more than theoretical; as such, he wasn’t sure if that was the result of some byplay between their sources of power, whether the ice princess would melt more readily than a normal person.

He made a mental note that something should be done about that.

“This is good to hear, Zar,” Aelina was saying. “On the battlefield, my enemies go unmasked. It’s much simpler.”

“Indeed.” He nodded. “Ah… if I discover their leader, what action should I take?”

And as he asked, he breathed softly into the base of another of the fires he had lit in her mind, the smallest and least secure of all, but one which he hoped in time to build into a blazing flame of devotion. At the moment, it was little more than a spark of trust.

“Uh…” Aelina sighed. “Just tell me who they are, and I - we - will decide then. It shouldn’t matter who it is, but it truly does.”

Zar nodded and bowed. “Just as you ask, Highness.”

“Thank you.” She ate another morsel, her eyes looking out of the window. He followed her gaze; in one of the few central open spaces in the city, troops were drilling there. His occult senses were alert to her at that time, and he could feel her longing being stoked; conquest very clearly her true passion.

Not that this was any real surprise.

“You know,” she said, “this wasn’t at all why I summoned you. I’m not even sure why I told you all this.”

“I have a talent, Highness,” he answered, choosing his words carefully, “for being someone people can confide in. I’ve been told my presence itself is soothing.”

“Soothing… is not the word I would have chosen,” Aelina said, and Zar decided this was the time to press his agenda.

“I’ve heard that too,” he said, and chuckled, and as he chuckled he pushed hard at the flame of desire in her mind. It needed more fuel, and he stoked it with her fears, and so at once she felt less concerned and less threatened and more deeply aroused, and it all seemed to her that it came just from hearing him laugh.

The look she shot him told him that she was feeling the effects, and it didn’t give him any indication that she knew why. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

She rose from her seat at the table and took two steps around it, but she couldn’t make it the full distance to him before the building lust broke her barriers and she lunged across the table, sending brass plates clattering and clanging to the floor as her hand found the back of his neck and her lips met his, a hunger in her kisses like nothing else.

Correct protocol for a courtier whose ruler began kissing them without warning certainly didn’t exist, but if there was an informal rule it would surely be to protest gently, cognisant of the honour but concerned that your monarch might regret their choice.

Zar did nothing of the sort. He rose to meet her, kissing her as eagerly as she kissed him, his hands coming to rest on her chest, then exploring and roaming. He was enjoying himself, but he also knew full well that once she had time to think, someone like Aelina would be reviewing his responses as closely as her own actions, maybe even more closely. Unless, of course, he did something about that.

She pulled him backward onto the table and Zar was surprised to realise she was stronger than he was, then kicked himself for not realising - after all, wasn’t it obvious that the warrior woman would outmuscle him?

Aelina broke the kiss and stared into his eyes with an intense fascination. He could read her arousal and her building frustration in the sheer power of her stare.

She was completely focused on one thing. Even if she had an awareness of the magic being wrought around her, no part of her was watching for anything, no part of her was prepared to push on anything.

He took the heat of her lust and focused the power it gave him on the flow of her thoughts, turning them instantly into a useless, empty, untouchable state.

A soft sigh that was almost a whimper escaped Aelina’s lips, her stare glazing over.

Zar smiled. It was only the second time he’d ever needed to do this to someone, but his enchantments just didn’t last long enough unless he did something to take matters into his hands.

“You can hear me,” he said softly. “But you imagine these are your own thoughts. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes…”

“Good girl.” He didn’t bother moving from the position where she had him pinned down, one hand anchoring his wrist to the table, one thick, muscular thigh pressing down across his belt. It wasn’t as if her physical capability changed the fact that he was the one in control.

“Anything I do is the right thing to do for you,” he said. “You rely on me. You don’t even think about it. You know I’m the right person to speak to about anything. Right?”

“Yes…”

“Good girl.” Her mouth had been open since the spell punched home, a vacant, unthinking o, and there was a hint forming at the bow of her lower lip of drool. It suddenly dropped an inch or so lower as her mouth suddenly stirred into a dreamy, empty smile, as almost-right as her glassy eyes.

He was, he realised, harder than he had been before. When he moved her heat back where it should be and her thoughts coalesced, she’d feel him digging into her.

“You are a sorceress, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he said again, saw the corners of her lips quirk even wider apart, his smile broadening. “I need you to cast a spell for me, Princess. A spell on yourself. One you won’t notice. Will you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Here’s what I want from you.”

*

Aelina shook her head. What had she been thinking about?

Her eyes met those of the young man pinned under her, which glittered as much as her own likely shone.

Oh, yes. That was it.

She bore down on him, one hand finding the hook and catch to his codpiece, the other keeping his wrist pinned.

He was grinning, almost as much as she was; no hiding what he wanted, no denying it afterward. This was all happening too fast, but she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it.

She’d figure out what to do with him later. Not marriage, though; that was something she was reserving for when she found the right yes-man.

He was, she discovered, hard already, like her brief absence had been long enough for him to really start responding. She lifted her skirts, moved the undergarments aside, and slid onto him. His eyes widened, gleaming in satisfaction. She was sure her own satisfaction would be just as obvious.

The table was sturdy enough that even her exertions didn’t break it, but her power pushed the joints close enough that the creaking added something spicy to the process.

She was thoroughly enjoying him and, feeling the jet of his cum inside her, felt ready to let go herself, but before she could orgasm a shiver went down her spine and suddenly she was nowhere near it, though the pleasure and the need echoed foggily around her brain.

It was as if someone had plunged the heat of her desire into a bucket of icy water and her bliss was suddenly gone.

Which, she noted, didn’t stop Zar smirking slightly as he made his exit while she recovered.

She really was going to have to decide what to do with him.

*

He didn’t make it all the way back to what would later be known as Muchkan House. Not directly, in any case.

Two men, either one of them half again as big as he was, emerged while he was on the road and fell into step alongside him. Zar looked from one to the other, feeling for a few moments a surprisingly deep fear.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, and he was ashamed for a moment of the quiver in his voice. He could muster the power of fire against them, of course, but anything flashy would reveal permanently what he’d always tried to keep hidden; at the same time, it was a reassuring thought to know that if the worst came to the worst, he had a solution.

One of these days, he thought, he had to learn to kindle fires in more than one soul at once. It would make moments like this far simpler.

“Your presence has been… requested,” was the answer he received.

Zar could have asked who had requested it, but it was simpler to shrug, and smile, and to say “Lead the way, then.”

The way turned out to take them to what should probably be described as a garden, but which was, more properly, a wide courtyard around which a low if expensive house had been built. The whole of it had then been filled either with immaculately maintained grassland or flowering bushes sculpted painstakingly into wonderful topiary, and in the centre were four stone benches.

A woman was waiting on one of those benches; the men who had accompanied him faded from his sides, but a quick glance showed him that several of them were in positions around the courtyard, watching. Two of those held bows, arrows in a quiver at their hip.

Zar could see easily that a protest or an attempt to flee would not be feasible plans. He was here to listen, and perhaps to talk. And he was here because someone wanted him - him specifically - to talk to.

It was impossible that he had been selected arbitrarily. He knew all too well he had not been selected incorrectly. It was, then, just a question of what they wanted. And, he reminded himself, how much they knew, how much they understood, and what they might guess.

He made his way over to the bench and took a seat. This close, he thought the woman familiar; that didn’t offer many possibilities for where he might have encountered her, but then the house in any case suggested that its owner must surely be a person at court.

“Who are you?” the woman asked. Which, he thought, was perhaps promising; it didn’t seem like they knew all that much.

“I am Zar,” he said. “I’m here as an advisor to a Duchess, whose name I shall not give unless I may know who I give it to. Propriety, and all.”

She glowered at him.

Zar acknowledged this with a nod of his head. “I do not wish to waste your time, lady. May I ask what this is about?”

“What is your intention with regard to the Princess?”

Zar cleared his throat awkwardly. Then he said, “I have no fixed intention. Perhaps if you could outline your own, while in this place where you are safe and I am not, we could see if our interests can coexist?”

The glower was still there, but there was calculation behind it now. “Understand,” the woman said, “that you leave here an ally or you leave here dead.”

“Those are the only too options?” he asked, then raised his hands, almost defensively, a smile playing on his lips. “No, no, quite right, quite right. I should not be joking here. I do understand the position I am in entirely, my lady.”

And then he tilted his head to one side. “But I also think I begin to see more. You, unless I very much miss my guess, are the leader of a potential uprising. The budding mastermind behind a coup. Am I right?”

The woman was silent for a long moment.

“What,” she said at last, “am I going to do with you?”

Feeling on safer ground now his guess had been all but confirmed, Zar allowed himself a small smile. “Well,” he said. “While I wouldn’t dream of anything so grand as a suggestion, I think I might have an idea or two that could be mutually beneficial… All the same, though, I really do need a name if I’m to feel we have any future working together.”

She stared at him a little longer. “Carina,” she said at last. “Lady Carina, of the dispossessed House of Panbos. And if you cross me, little man, you will regret it.”

Zar half-smiled, trying to appear as disarming as possible. “Believe me, Lady Carina, I intend to do no such thing.”