Chapter One

Mysteer Castle loomed in Karel’s view, its dark stone melting into the nighttime forest. A sliver of moon revealed a lone sentry rounding the east corner of the castle wall.

Karel allowed a smile as she rubbed the ridge of skin above her collarbone. Vorsila’s information was accurate, but then, it always was. Time to right a wrong too long held in abeyance. Time to recover the Stone.

Her leather shoes made no sound as she stepped beyond the protection of the pine trees to the grassy area surrounding the fortress. This was the hard part; the entering. She knew the interior of the castle by heart, despite never having stepped inside before.

She scanned the wall to get her bearings, then returned her gaze to the ground before her. A simple stumble could mean disaster.

Reaching the castle, she rested her hand against the cool surface to catch her breath. It wasn’t from the exertion – she had been trained far too well for that. Fear constricted her lungs, and excitement. She’d waited fourteen years for this day.

Feeling along the wall, she found the edge of the secret door, camouflaged with thin stones to mimic the rest of the structure. It led directly to the keep; only one side of the castle faced a walled courtyard. Her right hand sought the key tucked between her bodice and undergown for silence; she’d even switched the chain that held it for a leather thong to prevent the clink of metal on metal. Her free hand groped the wall for the keyhole. Waist-high, five forearms from the corner.

She found it, and bent to slide the key inside. Vorsila had even gleaned the direction to turn the key from the fired servants she’d bribed. To the left. Chink.

Karel straightened to gain better control of the key as she used it as a doorknob to ease the door open. Quietly, if possible. The door shifted an inch, then two.

Something tickled the back of her neck. She didn’t have time for a loose hair or a spider. The sentry would round the wall soon, and . . .

She stilled. The tickle turned cold and sharp, skimming about the curve of her neck to the front. A blade at her throat. Breathing not her own. It was over.

"I’ve been expecting you, Cira Riordan."

Male voice with a slight Sariyah accent. He knew she’d be here, and exactly when. He knew her name, and that she was a Keeper. Something had gone terribly wrong. Someone had betrayed her. She lifted her eyes slowly to meet the man’s face. It wasn’t the sentry; he was taller than the man she had seen earlier. But the scant moonlight revealed nothing else.

He reached to remove the key from the door, keeping his eyes and his sword on her. No chance to run. "Open the door." The sword moved a few inches away from her neck as he stepped behind her.

Her fingers trembled as she shoved them between the door and its frame. After a few tugs she could fit both hands inside and swing the door. It only gave a subtle scraping, despite no care for silence. The hinges must have been oiled recently.

The man closed the distance behind her, forcing her inside, and shut the door in one fluid motion. In the sudden darkness she heard the key twist in the lock. A model of the castle’s interior flooded her brain, including her present location in a concealed passageway. Which route would be the best escape? And could she get to the Stone and still make it out?

"Do I need to bind you?"

"What?" Her voice was barely audible.

"I don’t intend to hurt you. I just want to know that you won’t run helter-skelter through the castle and wake up half the servants."

Wouldn’t they already be awake, waiting for the news of her capture? "I won’t." If she got away from him, she’d walk silently and disappear.

"Your word?"

"Yes."

"Good." She heard a sliding of metal as he sheathed his sword. "For your knowledge, all the exits are locked and most are guarded. If you try to escape, you’ll be placed in Lorcan’s power, not mine."

Lorcan. The name seemed to chill her to the marrow. Earltan of Mysteer, cruel, calculating, cold. Anything was better than being in his power. But wasn’t this man following Lorcan’s orders?

A pinprick, then a blaze of light appeared. He’d lit a torch. He turned to her, and for the first time she saw his face. A gasp shivered through her. That face haunted her nightmares.

No, not quite. A thin scar ran from the outside of this man’s right cheekbone to his chin. And the man she had seen 14 years ago would look much older now.

Which meant this could only be one person. Tahir Nuirel.

Lorcan’s son.

He said nothing, simply watching her reaction with pale eyes.

"Lorcan doesn’t know I’m here?"

He shook his head. "Only I."

What twisted plan did he have for her? Locked in a dungeon, held for ransom, worse? He said he didn’t intend to hurt her, but how reliable was the word of a Nuirel? "How did you know I would be here?" The words came out harsh.

Pain flickered across his face. "Vorsila told me."

Her best friend? Impossible. This barbarian was twisting the truth to reveal her weaknesses and pit one Keeper against another.

But who else knew the details of her quest? The date, the time, the method. All had been developed with the utmost secrecy. Those who had trained and aided her were kept from the specifics. Even Edric, her brother, only knew why and when she had left Paravel. Vorsila was the only person who’d known everything, so she could make the necessary contacts and gain essential information.

Certainty hit Karel, and she grabbed for the wall to keep her balance. Her eyes slid closed as deadness seeped in. Better had Earld Nuirel killed her than this.

Light pressure on her shoulder. She looked up.

Was that concern in his eyes? "I’m sorry," he said softly, "but there’s little time. Come."

He motioned her down the corridor ahead of him, and lifted the torch to cast light over her shoulder. She followed his directions numbly, climbing stairs and turning corners. As they climbed yet another set of stairs, her senses grew alert. She knew where they were headed. She’d mapped this route herself as the most expedient yet concealed path to a certain tower.

The tower which held the Stone.

A minute more and they were there – a square room with a trio of casement windows on each wall. Her captor lit a few more torches in their brackets on the wall, then replaced an unlit torch with the one he carried. The light illuminated a small pedestal in the center of the room. On it lay her country’s greatest treasure. The Stone.

She approached it reverently. A rounded chunk of rock, smaller than a man’s head. Every bit of the surface was covered with letters carved deep. Merely a gift to her people from one who loved them. A gift Keepers had spilled blood protecting. She reached out and laid her hand on it. Oh, Alon, thank you for this. Though the quest had failed, she could die with a measure of happiness.

A clatter. Karel spun around, ready to meet a drawn sword. Instead, Lorcan’s son sat cross-legged on the floor, and motioned for her to do the same. She swallowed her questions and complied.

"I am Earld Tahir Rene Nuirel, as you have assumed, Cira Riordan. Call me Tahir. And your full name is Princess Karel Cira Riordan, Qy?"

"Yes." Princess as a descendant of Keepers. Cira as a Keeper herself. Qy because her mother was a noblewoman.

"Well." He gave her a nod as he touched two fingers to his forehead then moved them slightly toward her. It was a sign of respect for her lineage and position.

Karel felt a breath of hope. Sariyahs only acknowledged those of near social status. The son of an earltan, an earld would never greet a prisoner that way.

"We only have a brief time, Cira Riordan, so I will be blunt. Vorsila never intended to inform me of your coming."

The words brought a thrill. Then Vorsila hadn’t wanted to betray –

"She intended to tell Lorcan."

No. Her friend wouldn’t have turned her over to the one man Karel loathed and feared above all others.

"I intercepted her correspondence. She intended to trade your capture for the Stone, among other things."

"What other things?"

"We don’t have time to discuss that now. We need to leave within the hour."

"We?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them as he spoke each word deliberately. "The son of an earltan has no more rights than a slave who is heir to his master. The master can give generous gifts of clothing, training, and wealth. He can also distribute commands, beatings, and torture. The master fears the slave will murder him for the inheritance, so he can hire spies to report the slave’s every move and relocate every friend the slave makes. And if the slave manages to escape, he can be brought back in chains."

Tahir’s icy blue eyes seemed to bore into her. Karel shivered.

"I won’t make the mistake again of trusting someone from Paravel who will use me as a bargaining tool to form an alliance with my father. I need someone who hates Lorcan as much as I do, if not more."

Me.

His gaze softened into pleading. "Take me with you."

Karel’s thoughts twisted like an eddy in the river’s current. How would that work? Could it work?

"Bring the Stone with you. I have horses, provisions, and money enough for several weeks’ journey."

And several weeks it would take at least. They would have travel overland instead of using the speed of the river. "Vorsila knows how I planned to return."

"Bain," he muttered. He used Vorsila’s surname like a curse.

"She turned you over to Lorcan?"

"Yes." He turned his head as if dismissing the memory. "I know the area near the castle well, enough for a leading start."

Another aspect to consider. Lorcan wasn’t looking for her, not yet. But Tahir’s absence would be noted quickly.

"Will you take me?"

Karel studied his face. What other option did she have if he spoke the truth? Could she trust him? Guide me, Alon. Tahir gave the impression of sincerity, but his appearance screamed Lorcan. Except for the scar.

Slowly, she reached forward and touched his cheek. He didn’t flinch as she ran her finger along the ridge of the scar. It felt familiar. "Where did you get this?"

His eyes met hers. "Lorcan."

She got to her feet and extended her hand to help him up. "Yes. I will take you."

***

"There, Ipyana." Tahir absently patted the black mare’s nose as his mind ran over the items he’d placed in the saddlebags. Food, clothing, silver, weapons, evidence. Most lately the Stone, secure in a special pouch Karel had brought with her.

No time to retrieve anything forgotten now. Karel waited just inside the concealed entrance, and barely an hour remained before dawn. Ipyana’s reins in hand, he mounted Basur, the mare’s sire, and gave the stable servant a nod of dismissal. The apprentice would report to Lorcan, as usual. But Tahir had made a practice of early morning rides, taking two horses when he planned to be gone all day. No one would note his absence until the evening, or if he were fortunate, the next morning.

Escape at last. Too many years had passed since his foiled attempt at seventeen. He should have realized he could never be free of Lorcan before coming of age. Three weeks yet remained before his 24^th birthday, but he had no idea what precautions Lorcan had made for that day. Better to leave before they came to pass.

He rode through the castle gates without incident, and passed the sentry as he circled the wall. This would have to be quick.

He arrived at the door, dismounted, and opened it with the key he still possessed. Karel slid past him like a shadow, seeming to sense that the mare, being shorter, was intended for her. Before he had the door locked, she was in the saddle. He hoped he’d adjusted the stirrups properly.

Tahir touched the dark stone of Mysteer one last time before swinging back into the saddle. He urged Basur toward the cover of the trees, and Ipyana followed. It only took him a few minutes to locate the trail he frequented. The horses lengthened their stride. Tahir didn’t look back.