“I know. But Saeldian didn’t.”
“Dad. How did you even hear about a send-off?”
A second fiddle, a wide, deep drum, and a silvery flute all chased the first melody. “Saeldian left the party early. They mentioned it just before they left.”
Off to the left, someone dropped a tambourine.
“Mentioned it?”
“They said it was probably nothing.”
“Dad,” Kell said, “do you remember exactly what they said? Can you repeat it?”
When he did, Kell went cold. “Find Lorzok and Jubilee. Tell them to come to my cabin.”
He was already running before Dad’s voice hit his ears.
A set ofdrawstrings dangled from a side pocket in Kell’s pack. The bag was still there; the gem was still in it. Saeldian prized it open and peeled the bag away from the gem.
It looked just like the gem they’d stolen. Same color, same shimmer, same warmed-air feeling of enchantment—aremarkable copy. Really, excellent work. Side by side, Saeldian wouldn’t know how to tell them apart without an hour with an expensive spell—
—or a simple test.
Saeldian cast the silvery glowing hand and picked up the spell gem with it. They still had their power, and they still felt strong. That didn’t make sense either, but one mystery at a time. Saeldian’s Mage Hand held the gem in its palm, right at eye level.
“All right. You, Saer Gemstone, are a fake, according to our employer, Briona, who claims to be an agent of the Zhentarim. She said that the real Kiss of Enduring Love was stolen from Hearthaven’s Repose and sold to Elezia Tarm, and we were hired to steal it from Elezia and put it back before anyone noticed. And that doesn’t make sense.”
The rose-lilac-green gem was shiny and silent.
“It doesn’t make sense because Kell asked about any visitors besides that nice couple who were getting married before we showed up, and there hadn’t been anyone. It could have been an inside job, but we didn’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. But even if it was true, how did you, a fake, manage to fool an archfey?”
The answer was simple. And if Saeldian was right, discovering the truth would be simple. But if they were right, what could they do?
“I should go back to Hearthaven’s Repose and give you back. Explain the whole story. They’ll know I’m not lying, so it won’t be hard.”
Not even a moment of dizziness. No dazzle in their eyes. No pain; no weakness.
“I will go back to Hearthaven’s Repose and return you.”
Nothing.
“I’ll steal this gem and use it to swindle someone into sending me back to Faerûn. Silverymoon, this time.”
That should have awakened the vowstone spell for sure. Nothing happened. Saeldian’s Mage Hand dropped the stone into the bag. So they’d fulfilled their vows? That didn’t make sense. But Briona’s terms never said anything about bringing this forged gemback. That was a contract hole a mile wide, unless they were wrong about what the job really was.
And that was what Saeldian couldn’t banish from their thoughts. What if they hadn’t been hired to return the Kiss of Enduring Love? What if this really was the Kiss of Enduring Love? What if they had been hired to plant the gem they stole from Lady Elezia Tarm?
Saeldian had been told to put that gem back so no one would know it had ever been gone. But that had taken lifting a spell-web and sliding Lady Tarm’s gem inside. And when the web had gone dim, Saeldian woke it up with a spell.
And if the gem inside this bag now was the real Kiss…
There was an easy way to find out. Swallowing, Saeldian raised the bag, let the gem fall into their palm, and remembered.
A summer night in the gardened Upper City of Baldur’s Gate felt like a warm, overly familiar hand pressing against Saeldian’s skin. The air carried the night-blooming perfume of the villa’s lush garden. All the stars in the sky twinkled like applause. Saeldian was drunk enough to be honestly caught in the giddiness of victory, and Kell played the harp they’d just stolen while Saeldian twirled in place and made their brand-new armor change on every whim—a swashbuckling knave, a hardened sergeant of the Flaming Fist, a dandy-ruffled noble in silk and silver, melting into themself, belling out the hem of a bare-shouldered gown.
The hem settled as they stopped to watch Kell. The warm lamplight loved him, shining on every enchanting part—his warm smile, the lights in his eyes, the hollow at the notch of his throat. He played a low, shimmering melody that carried the bright, easy rise and fall of him warming up his voice. He grinned at Saeldian. Saeldian should grin back, or pick up their gown and dance, but—
He was so beautiful it made Saeldian ache. They quivered like the obedient strings under his fingers, every sensation tuned to wanting him.
