One of the younger students took the horses, and another offered to show Aeric and Lara to adjoining guest rooms. Cićn told them he’d meet them in the great hall. After following the student to the guest wing, Aeric sent him off to set an appointment for them with the history master that night. Alone at last, Aeric collapsed on his bed, breathing deeply.

Lara gave him little time to relax. She came into his room with a draft of cold air, not bothering to knock. In her hands were a bottle, a comb, and leather gloves. She set them down on the washstand and grabbed a hairpin from between her teeth. She had piled her hair atop her head, and was nearly done arranging it.

“I can’t tell if I’ve missed a spot with the dye,” she offered as way of explanation. “You’ll have to help me.”

Aeric had almost forgotten about that. He swore under his breath and jumped to his feet. Circling Lara slowly, he examined every strand he could see.

“It looks fine,” he assured her, but then wrinkled his nose. “I can smell the dye, though.”

“Oh!” Lara reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small glass vial. “This should help.” She began to dab a bit of the liquid on her skin.

“Honeysuckle!”

“From the side of your barn,” she confirmed. “Their oil makes a nice perfume, wouldn’t you agree?”

Smiling in relief, Aeric washed the dust from his hands and face. He was beginning to believe that everything would go all right tonight after all. Then he offered Lara his arm and escorted her to the great hall, whispering last-minute explanations and instructions along the way.

They could hear the hall long before reaching it. The dull roar of conversation echoed along the stone corridors. By the time the pair reached the arched and open doorway, Lara could pick out threads of other sounds among the chatter.

“Music!”

Aeric glanced at her and pursed his lips. “That will mean dancing. Cićn’s sure to ask you to dance. There are steps you don’t know. You can always refuse him; tell him you’re too tired.”

Touching his arm gently, Lara smiled. “Don’t worry. I will not betray myself so easily.”

He relaxed slightly, then pointed across the crowded room. “There he is waving at us. Come on. Just do what everyone else does.”

On their way, Lara could not help but stare at all the food spread over the tables. Meats of every kind, apples, pears, carrots, broccoli, and sugarsnap beans, as well as bread and three kinds of cheese were all offered in abundance. She fought to hide her amazement at the sheer size of the banquet.

As they sat down, Cićn introduced Lara to his comrades. “These gentlemen are Tud o’ D’Bronce, Allan ni’ Seaford, and Jerain o’ Chad’s Well.”

They greeted her enthusiastically and patted Aeric on the back.

“I’m glad to meet you,” she replied to each with a warm smile, offering her hand as Aeric had told her. They each took her hand between theirs and shook, not once glancing down from her face.

“We don’t get many girls so pretty,” Cićn apologized for them. “The lads don’t know just what to do with you.”

“And by that, ye mean t’ say ye do?” Jerain queried, his tone bantering but his eyes cutting a cold look to Cićn. “Let me apologize i’ turn, m’selle. An don’t let Cićn fool ye. His Emminence is free because no right-minded girl will ha’ him.”

Dark blood flushed Cićn’s cheeks, but he only smiled. “You are from the back country, and have yet to learn your manners, so I will overlook that remark.”

Eyes narrowed, Jerain hissed, “Just because I choose not t’ sound like an arrogant pig--”

Lara slid her hip between the two, breaking their eye contact. Sending a brief, pleading look to Jerain, she sat down at the table and assumed an easy smile.

“I’m just a country lass myself,” she interjected softly, “and not offended in the slightest. I am, however, absolutely famished after all that traveling. This all looks so appetizing! What should I choose first?” She allowed herself the smallest hint of a frown.

Unable and unwilling to argue with Lara, every last one of them sat down again and began offering advice. Even Aeric was almost pulled in. He caught himself in the middle of an admonition against the fowl, notoriously dry, and cut himself off mid-sentence. Lara noticed, and threw him a brief smile, her eyes twinkling, before assuming a more studious and astute demeanor as the boys chattered on.

Even as Aeric was tempted to laugh at Lara’s deft manipulation of his friends, he was chilled by it. Now it might be a joke and he in on it, but what if it was always like this? What if she was always controlling things, making her own private joke out of his life and the lives he cared about?

The conversation lulled as the group enjoyed its meal, and Lara caught Aeric’s eye again, this time over a forkful of carrots. The light dimmed in her eyes as she caught his expression. In the midst of the dinner banter, silence grew between them.

When they were done eating and the time came to dance, Cićn was ot the only one to ask her hand. Lara agreed to a single dance with each, ignoring as best she could the cold consideration of Aeric’s eyes.

Cićn’s dance was first, the better to get it done with. It was a simple reel, and Cićn was out of breath quickly enough that Lara’s few missteps and slight stumbles went unnoticed. She was equally lucky in the next three dances, in having both a competant lead and a preview from the table earlier. Stepping wearily back to the table, Lara heard the music begin again, this time in a new meter. Aeric appeared at her elbow.

“May I have this dance, cousin?”

Trying and failing to read his face, Lara attempted to demur, but he would hear none of it. He pulled her gently but inexorably toward the dance floor.

“Aeric, I can’t! I haven’t seen this one!”

“I want to see just how good an actress you are.”

“Please!” she whispered desperately as he pulled her into the crowd.

“But you’ve done so well so far! Just do what everyone else does!”

He let go of her arm and backed away until he faced her from a few paces away. They were just out of sight of their table.

“Dance.” He bowed stiffly and faced her.

Suddenly, the music shifted subtly and the other women were moving in a complicated pattern. Lara tried desperately to mimic them, but it was impossible to keep up. She moved to the right, but the others had already reversed direction and she collided with them. She turned a split-second late and found herself facing the wrong direction. She stumbled into another woman trying to get back in step. Tripping into a sidestep, she glanced up to see Aeric keeping time with the men. His brown eyes were hard and brittle. The blood rode high in his cheeks. His heel struck the floor as though he saw something nasty there. His glare was only for her.

Lara’s quesiness passed away, replaced by a warm rush of anger. She strode quickly to where he stood, grabbed his arm, and forcefully dragged him away from the dancefloor and into a secluded corner.

“How dare you!” she hissed.

“I? But you--”

“I don’t care what you think I’m guilty of! You’ll get us both killed if you expose me!” Her eyes were glittering ice as she glared at him, breathing heavily.

Aeric saw the color in her face and the tiny beads of sweat on her brow. He looked past the anger in her eyes, searching for the truth, and was amazed to discover that she was terrified.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I just...I saw how easily ye fooled my friends. Ye lie too well, Lara. If ye could fool them so easily, why not me? Or my pater?”

Lara closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust.” She looked away then, back toward the dancing couples on the floor. “If you can’t trust me, then we can part ways. You can say you escaped me and go home. You’ve come farther than you had to already.”

Aeric’s eyes widened. It was true. Nothing held him at her side. He could turn around right now and go home, back to his father and his farm, back to his normal life. A frown creased his forehead as he realized that the thought of leaving held no attraction for him.

“Th’ horseman might ha’seen me,” he said slowly. “It might not be safe for me at home.”

“And you’ll be safer with me?” Lara brushed his excuse aside, eyebrow cocked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know anythin. Let’s see what we find out t’night. Then maybe....” His eyes were unfocused, gazing inward. When the music stopped, he shook himself and met her eyes again.

“It should be about time for our meeting with the history master.”

Lara noticed his back straighten as he gathered himself.

“Let’s say goodnight to the boys and go.”

Lara caught his arm as he turned to head back to their table.

“I swore to Kirrin I’d let no harm befall you because of me. I will never seek to deceive you.” Her expression was earnest, her eyes as clear as lake water.

“I don’t need your protection,” Aeric said dismissively as he walked away.

“No more than I need yours,” Lara murmured as she followed close behind.

There were no carpets in the long hallways leading to the south tower, where Maester Durik awaited them in the library. A bead of sweat ran down Lara’s spine as their footsteps echoed through the dark corridors.

“Where is everyone?” she whispered.

“Abed or carousing likely. But this hall’s mostly empty anyway.”

“Why?” Her curiosity piqued, she forgot her fear.

“Not much money to be made in history, definitely not this far from the capital.”

Lara frowned a moment. “Doesn’t the old adage say, ‘One must know history to rise above it?’”

A small smile made its way across Aeric’s lips. “Maybe the merchants and farmers like things the way they are.”

“That sounds like Kirrin’s boy!” came a voice from a room a few doors down. “Always likes to think he’s got the world figured out.”

The old man soon appeared in the doorway and ushered them into the library where a warm fire waited.

“Sir, this is Lara Talan, my cousin.”

“Glad to meet you, lass.” He clasped his hands in front of him, shifted his weight back onto his heels. and peered up at them. “Now what is it I can do for you two?”

The pair looked at each other, uncertain where to begin.

“Do you know of any people who have settled in the north?” Lara blurted. “The far north? Beyond the Forest?”

The master’s eyebrows climbed his forehead as his eyes widened.

“No,” he stated firmly. “But I can give you a little gossip.”

“What?”

“There was a theory way back that there’s where the last of the faerie and fey went after the War. Of course, it was only a rumor. Since no one ever comes out of that forest, there’s no evidence of it. I think it’s all a bunch of rubbish. To think that we wouldn’t have noticed in all these years? Preposterous!”

“That’s all you can tell us?” Lara’s shoulders slumped.

“Well,” he admitted, “not quite all. It so happens that I have an old drinking companion on the city watch. He tells me that lately there’ve been more people leaving the city for the north--strangers mostly, and not seen again. Of course, he also tells me that he saw a glowing man dressed in pearls and white silks with a monkey selling turnips in the market square...”

“But where could they be going?” Aeric paced in frustration.

“I don’t know. There’s nothing there according to any book I’ve read. Just plains and a forest. Nothing beyond. Why all this interest, anyway? Is there something going on? If so, the city should be told.”

Neither answered him. Lara stared into the fire, her hand idly tracing the binding of a book on the table. Its leather cover was imprinted with a map of the western coastling. She noticed what she was doing and paused, absorbed in thought, staring at the book.

The master relented a little. “Do you like books, my dear?”

“My father had one. He left it with my mother when...” She caught her breath. “This library...it has maps?”

“Of course it does. We have maps of every county, maps of the old duchies to the south, sea charts, even maps of the whole continent! But there aren’t any of the place beyond the Great Northern Forest. ”

“Maybe not now. Maybe we oughtn’t look for what’s there now. Maybe we should be looking for something that used to be there a long time ago.”

Maester Durik grinned and toddled off into the stacks. He came back lugging a framed map half as tall as he was.

“Here we go! Oldest map in the library!”

He laid it down on the table and blew some of the dust from the glass.

“Of course, it won’t do much beyond telling us if something was there. It won’t tell us what.”

“Why?” Aeric stepped closer and leaned over Lara and the master’s shoulders.

“Well, it’s not written in human. It’s Cyth, faerie language, and none of the masters here can read it.”

Lara reached out her hand and brushed away the last layer of grime toward the top of the map. With the others, she examined carefully the largely empty space there. Finally, she leaned even closer in to one marking that wasn’t a natural part of the landscape.

“It looks like a fortress.” Aeric’s words were soft against Lara’s ear. “But who was ever up there? The elves?”

“Not with a fortress like that,” Durik broke in before Lara had a chance to speak. “They built tall and airy always, not for defense. There’s an inscription; pity we can’t read it.”

Aeric surreptitiously glanced at Lara, but she was studying the inscription, eyes glittering and lips parted.

Maester Durik stared at them both, his eyes narrowing.

“Now,” he started, “it’s my turn to get some answers. Why this sudden interest in the far north?” He held up a hand before Aeric could begin dissembling. “And don’t tell me idle curiosity.”

“There’s been trouble up my way,” he answered slowly instead. “One of the villagers at the Crossroads was killed by a rider from the north.”

“And this young lady, your ‘cousin,’ who unless I am growing senile in my old age can read that faerie text as if it were her mother tongue? What of her?”

“My family also fell victim to those strangers,” Lara said quietly. “I want answers.”

“And vengeance?” the old man queried.

“Right now I would settle for not facing the same fate,” she answered, staring him in the eye. “But if their lives were in my hands, I cannot say that I would let them live.”

Maester Durik frowned, concerned. “We have laws to handle murderers.”

“They’ll never stand trial for the murder of my mother and sister, nor for the rest of my village. They left no witnesses.”

The master’s frown deepened as Lara spoke, and her voice became sharp and brittle.

“In any case,” she went on, “I need to know who they are and why they wanted my village dead. I need to know why they chased me down again at the Crossroads.”

She looked away then, into the fire. The flames reflected in her eyes almost seemed to rise from some source deep within Lara herself. Maester Durik regarded her carefully.

“What fortress is it?”

A colder light than firelight gleamed in Lara’s eye. “It’s Aery Veth, the Place of Death, thought lost thousands of years ago. It was the site of the first human incursion into the lands of Faerie.”

“Quite the little historian, aren’t we?” When Lara held silent, he pressed her again. “How do you know so much about Faerie?”

“I can answer that one,” a brash voice answered from the doorway.

All three spun around in shock. There, leaning against the doorframe, was Cićn. His sword was belted to his hip. Slowly, he stalked across the floor.

“You’re not a bad dancer, m’selle, but I think that your attention was on your feet and not me during our dance.” He stood facing her, his extra height used to its full advantage.

Lara did not step back. She met his condescending gaze with her own. “Maybe you weren’t worthy of my attention, sir.”

Instead of growing angrier, Cićn laughed out loud with his head thrown back toward the ceiling.

“This could be fun!” he said when he finished chuckling. “There’s a simple answer to all of your questions. The whys and the hows are one and the same.”

Before Lara could react, he leaned over her head and pulled out the most prominent hairpin. As her hair tumbled down her back, Lara tried to pull away, but Cićn grabbed her firmly by the shoulders.

“I noticed during the dance my dear,” he spoke into her ear loudly enough to be heard by all. “You must have acted in haste when you did the dying. You missed a few strands.”

By the fire’s warm glow the betraying strands burned a bright copper. Cićn swung Lara around, drawing his sword.

“No you don’t,” Aeric said softly, the edge of the sword Maerys Bethen had given him against Cićn’s throat. “If there’s blood to be spilled in this room tonight, I’ll make sure most of it’s yours.”

Cićn snorted, high color and pallor warring in his cheeks. “You’d kill me, your friend of ten years or more, over some misbegotten witch?”

Aeric didn’t flinch. “If you’d kill someone after pretending to be her friend all this eve, then you were never the friend I thought you were.”

“I wasn’t going to kill her.”

“Then I suppose the sword was really a flower in disguise?”

“Her kind are dangerous. They shouldn’t be allowed to roam free through civilized lands. I thought you’d be the first to agree with me about that.”

Aeric’s silence was his only answer.

“There are some wise men who are sending them north to another land. They said there were still some in the south, and offered good gold if I could watch for and deliver any such beings.”

“And my village...and my family...all burned?” Lara spat her comment as she wrenched herself from Cićn’s grasp.

He swallowed. “I’m sure you’re mistaken and your family’s safe beyond the forest.”

She scowled up at him. “I’m sure of one thing: they died, and it was your ‘wise men’ who killed them.”

“You are fey? Truly?”

The question caught them all by surprise. Maester Durik was staring at Lara in fascination, his little eyes wide.

“Please tell me that you will be staying here for some time. I would love to have a long chat with you.”

Cićn raised his eyebrows. “Durik, she should be hung or exiled just for being here. She’s the daughter of murderers.”

Durik waved a hand at Cićn. “Don’t prate about the War, lad. Any good historian knows both sides bear the guilt for that disaster. But the wealth of information she could supply us about her people is beyond reckoning!”

In the face of Maester Durik’s obvious glee, the tension bled away. Aeric felt a little silly holding a sword at all, much less at his friend’s throat. He stepped back and waved Cićn to a seat, but didn’t sheathe his blade. He wasn’t foolish.

“We can’t stay, Maester,” he said. “Lara wants to get out of the north entirely, and I can understand why.”

“I’m telling you, no one died,” Cićn argued petulantly.

“Cićn o’ Erenelle, I swear to you now I saw Da Bethen cut down before my very eyes, simply for standing in the way of one of your ‘wise men.’ We’re heading south, and you’re not to tell anyone we were ever here, understand?”

Cićn stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him.

“I’ll pay you the gold you would have gotten for her, if it’s that. Please, if we were ever friends.”

“I don’t want your gold.” Cićn sighed finally. “I don’t understand why you would want to associate with a fey, but I’ll not send anyone hunting after you.”

“Or Lara?”

“Or Lara,” he conceded.

“Will we be safe here tonight, or are they already after us?” Aeric reluctantly sheathed his sword. There would be no attack now, at least not from this quarter.

“I told no one as yet. I wanted the glory for myself.” He smiled a weak impression of his usual arrogant grin.

There was an awkward silence as each of them avoided the others’ eyes. Maester Durik was the first to break it.

“I am an old man who needs his sleep! Lads, lass, I’m off to my quarters. Lara, please do consider staying for a visit in happier times.” He toddled out of the library after squeezing her hand briefly.

“I wish we’d never come to this,” Aeric said quietly.

“We wouldn’t have if it weren’t for her,” Cićn argued.

“I have my reasons for what I do, Cićn. But I, too, wish these were happier times.”

The two clasped hands and they parted ways.