The next couple hours passed by tediously slowly. Rudiger circled around the room a few times, even went in and out of some of the adjoining rooms. At one point, he even considered climbing the spiral stairs to the study cabinet. He hadn’t been up there since Zandrue vanished. It had been more her place than his, and it felt wrong going up there without her. Not to mention, the narrowness of the stairs would make using his crutches difficult. So once again, he decided not to go up them.

  At last, dusk approached. Once a week, he got to see Borisin. He had demanded it of Lidda. It was proof that Borisin was not only being kept alive, but also cared for to help him through his injuries. Rudiger had demanded it of Lidda along with the threat that he would refuse to do anything for her otherwise. She had allowed it, but only for a very short time—a few minutes at most. But it was something, and it was the only thing in his stay here that he looked forward to.

  Guards would come to collect him sometime close to dusk. The exact timing was dependent on when Lidda was finished at dinner. Sometimes, that wait could be interminable, but she kept her word.

  This time, the guards were there quickly. As always, there four of them—not always the same four, but they were always fully armed and armoured. Lidda obviously feared he would try something and that, even in his disabled state, it would take several to overpower him. He hoped she was right. It was one of the few amusements he had here.

  As he left with the guards, two in front of him and two behind, Rudiger smiled broadly at Huuh and waved. The so-called valet scowled in response, and Rudiger quietly chuckled. Success!

  The journey to the stables was always depressing. The Palace grounds, once so vibrant and full of life, were now a scorched wasteland. Where once there were gardens and trees, there were now only blackened stumps. Of course, snow had fallen several times since the devastation occurred and had covered much of the ashes, but that managed to make things worse. The black ashes slowly soaked into the snow, turning it a disgusting shade of dark brown. Here and there, a lone bush or tree that had escaped the dragon’s fire stood in stark contrast to the destruction around it, accenting just how much had been lost and making the display even worse.

  Many of the buildings were damaged too, including the upper floors of the Palace’s east wing. Some repairs had started in a few locations, but it would take years to rebuild this place to its original grandeur, and Rudiger wasn’t even sure it deserved to regain that—especially not under Lidda Plavin’s control.

  He was currently living in one of the undamaged portions of the Palace, surrounded by remnant luxury that he couldn’t enjoy. There was too much luxury here. There always had been, but now, even though much of it had been destroyed, it was somehow even worse. While he had limited interaction with the other people who still lived here, it seemed to him that no one was happy—except maybe Lidda herself, but she didn’t count. The servants and guards were the ones who counted, and they had lost any vibrancy they had once had. Even the guards on him now had a sadness in their eyes, and they were presumably ones that Lidda had reason to trust. Otherwise, she would have never set them to guard him.

  As much as he wanted to see Zandrue again, she was much better off wherever she was.

  Assuming she was alive of course, but he wasn’t willing to consider the alternative.

  The stables were amongst the undamaged buildings, thankfully, though they were mostly empty. Rudiger allowed himself a little smile each time he came here and saw how sparsely occupied the stalls were. With luck, most of the horses that had been set free had escaped with their lives. Lidda had been gradually replacing them, but it was taking time.

  You look terrible. It had become his standard greeting to Borisin. It was a feeble attempt to make light of the fact Borisin really did look terrible.

  Borisin knew exactly what it was, but he always played along. At least, I still look better than you.

  Somehow that always made Rudiger smile. “How you doing, buddy?”

  The usual. Can I complain about the service here?

  Complain all you want, buddy. Rudiger could hardly believe he once found Borisin’s complaints annoying. Now, they were like music to his ears—or rather, his mind, or however it was he “heard” Borisin.

  “Satisfied?” Lidda Plavin stood nearby with another contingent of guards. Her arms were crossed and her face was etched in the scowl she always seemed to have.

  “Give me a minute, would you?” He walked up to the stall door, unhooked the rope holding it closed and went inside.

  He had to be careful about any physical contact with Borisin. The horse’s burns and blisters were healing, but they were still sensitive.

  Laying his crutches against the wall, he grabbed a brush and limped over to Borisin. Much of Borisin’s mane was gone, burned away by dragon fire, but there was some left, and what had been lost was starting to regrow. If he was careful, he could brush Borisin’s mane.

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  Oh, oh, that’s nice, Borisin said. The kid who usually does my hair keeps rubbing over my blisters. He doesn’t understand that he needs to avoid touching my skin.

  “You seem to be moving better,” Lidda said. “When do you think you’ll be ready to demonstrate the sword for me?”

  She asked that question virtually every time he saw her. He gave the same answer he always did: “Don’t know.”

  “I’m getting impatient.”

  “Tough. I broke my fucking leg. You’ve talked to the physician. He says I won’t regain full mobility for months yet.”

  “You don’t need full mobility to demonstrate the sword.”

  “Right, I don’t. That’s why I said I don’t know rather than in four months. I gave my word and I’ll keep it, but I’m not ready yet.”

  “Well, it damn well better be soon.”

  If she comes close enough, I’m biting her.

  In the past, Rudiger would always give Borisin a strict “no” at such a suggestion. Now? Go for it, buddy. Make it painful.

  Damn right I will. Urge her to come closer.

  Doubt anything I say will get her to do that, pal. She doesn’t trust us.

  Heh. With good reason.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Lidda said.

  “Another minute,” Rudiger said.

  “You’ve had enough time. Maybe once you demonstrate the sword for me, I’ll let you have a half hour, but until then, this is all you get. Guards!”

  “All right, all right.” Rudiger backed away from Borisin and replaced the brush. “See you next week, buddy.”

  Looking forward to it.

  He retrieved his crutches and left the stall. The guards took their positions in front of and behind him again, and they returned to the Palace.

  Once he was back in Felit?a’s apartments, he retired immediately to the bedroom. He didn’t even acknowledge Huuh. Hopefully, that annoyed the odious man.

  As he began to undress, the paper Malef had passed him earlier slipped out of his sleeve and fell to the floor. He’d almost forgotten about that!

  Bending over to pick the paper up was not a simple task, but he eventually managed it. Sitting on the side of the bed, he unfolded it. Malef’s handwriting—he assumed it was Malef’s; he’d never actually seen Malef’s writing before—was small and neat.

  Zandrue is alive. She’s in Quorge with Felit?a and Sinit?a.

  Fuck yes!

  Rudiger lay back on the bed, resisting the urge to laugh and cry out in joy. At last, some good news! He had no idea how Malef had gained this information, but he didn’t care.

  Of course, he was going to have to pretend he didn’t know this, and that meant pretending to still be sad and depressed. That might be difficult, considering how much joy he was experiencing right now. But he didn’t care about that right now, either.

  Zandrue was alive!

  He took a few minutes to revel in the knowledge, imagining her in his arms again. He did that a lot, but this time it was something he knew could actually happen again. No, not could. Would. He would make it happen.

  It was time to start making some changes, and set plans in motion.

  Sometime in the next few days, he would tell Lidda Plavin he was ready to demonstrate the sword. Before he could do that though, he needed to find a way to make concrete plans with Malef. He had no idea how he was going to do that yet, but he was sure he would figure something out. Right now, he felt like he could do anything.

  He should actually temper those thoughts. He shouldn’t forget his limits just because he was happy. It would be months yet before he was fully healed, so anything he planned had to take that into account.

  But there was no denying it was time to do something. He’d had enough of this place, enough of the ridiculous luxury that was no better than austerity, and enough of the ridiculous woman who actually believed she would be queen one day. She wouldn’t.

  She was not going to live long enough to achieve any more of her goals.

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