I didn’t want this. Gevain forced.
“Defend yourself later,” Nevander grits out. “Where is Seren?”
Don’t know,Daffodil writes.
Nevander restrains his frustration as Daffodil continues. Rage won’t help. Nevander knows better.
Switched in garden. Me as Seren. Seren as me. I was to wait here until caught.
“Gevain switched Daffodil and Seren under glamours,” Nevander says aloud. “Mustardseed, where did you last see Gevain?”
Mustardseed salutes. Guilt emanates from him, palpable even without Seren’s knack for empathy. “He headed towards the northwest gate, with Seren in his glamoured state.”
Any consequences for Mustardseed’s mistake are just another thing Nevander has to delay. He turns his attention to Valerian, who stands poised in the doorway.
“I’ve heard from the gate guards,” Valerian says, calm yet efficient. “Gevain already teleported with what looked like his servant.”
Folly covers his mouth. “They could be anywhere. Gods’ teeth in a corncob.”
The news doesn’t shock Nevander. He’s already sorting out Gevain’s possible next steps. Where Gevain might go, what Gevain might use Seren for. What magic or allies Gevain might need.
“Lord Folly,” Nevander says. “May I borrow your scrying mirror?”
Folly fumbles in one of his many coat pockets. “Yes. Of course. Brilliant.” A fae would demand a bargain. Folly simply adds, “Just give it back after you find Seren. Remember, you can’t use it in the palace. And you can only use it once a day.”
“I remember.” Nevander flicks the small golden compact into his carryhold. “Mustardseed, secure the palace and search for any traces of Gevain’s plans. Start with his quarters and the woods.”
Mustardseed salutes, pulling himself together.
“I’ll help search,” Folly says, tapping beneath his golden eye.
Nevander nods. “Valerian, with me.”
“Aye, friend,” Valerian says naturally. Then he looks startled, as if he too had forgotten his argument with Nevander.
A crisis puts things into perspective. Nevander must find Seren. He will. Nothing else matters.
Determination carries Nevander through the marble halls. Vines and flowers tremble in his wake, as if Elladar Palace realizes something is wrong. Nevander meets no resistance crossing the wards towards the nearest open balcony.
“Do you have travel talismans?” Valerian asks as they mount the stairs.
“Most domains, and three blanks,” Nevander answers.
“Good, then we don’t have to use up mine,” Valerian says. “These things are expensive without unlimited palace resources.”
Nevander chooses a gilded door. “Trust me, there are limits.”
The doors open onto a wide balcony, past which the royal forest spreads in eternal glory. The beauty feels wrong. The realm should suffer storms until Nevander has Seren back.
“It didn’t do as much as I thought, did it?” Valerian asks.
“What didn’t?”
“Your vow.” Valerian braces one foot on the low railing. “You’re acting the same as before Prince Seren released you.”
It’s not the same. It’s worse. The only thing that helps is moving forward, sharpening his pain into action. “Now’s not the time.”
Valerian shrugs, and his wings unfurl from thin air. Long and sleek like a falcon’s, not quite as dark a green as his hair. Facing the forest, Valerian says, “I think it’s the perfect time to decide what really matters.”
