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He had resented Mareena for that, held onto that resentment. Perhaps, as a result, been harder on the boy when he had begged for help for his mother. He regretted that. He has so many regrets.

Tobi, that sweet exuberant boy, is in danger. Tobi’s employer, one Cyrus Copperhead, had visited the Ivory Palace to tell Rafus that his son had been snatched by the blood-thirsty heathens of the Amber Forest to be forced into a sinful sly union with their demon beast of a forest king. Cyrus had seen this man. A great horror who had dragged Tobi up onto a horse the size of a ship. Half man and half demon with eyes of fire and scaled skin.

His own blood, dragged off to a fate to rival the tragedy of Gold Alyse. Who had also, Rafus noted with his heart full of pain, been the child of a man who lived in the Ivory Palace. A great stain on the empire that Rafus’s own father, the stone-hearted Emperor Erond, had punished the Duke of the North for trying to win his soiled daughter back.

Rafus had gone straight to Attar for an audience with Vindar and Selim. Willing even to overcome his quarrel with his brother if the forces of the Imperial Army could be mobilised to retrieve his son. Surely no child of the Darek line could be left to such a fate.

But Selim had refused to even grant him audience, still holding his own resentments over their quarrel. Selim was deeply insulted by Rafus’s decision to absent himself from Attar and sever ties with the Rose Court. So Vindar had received Rafus alone in a sickly parlour and told him bluntly that his bastards were a great stain on the empire and that the Rose Court could not be seen to condone Rafus’s immorality by protecting the results of it.

Rafus’s official removal from the Royal Line of Azuria was announced that same day.

Rafus had left to return to the Ivory Palace that very night. Helpless. Without the power of the Azurian Empire behind him there was nothing he could do. He was no longer the Crown Prince. Just a man who could do nothing for his son.

He cannot save Tobi, just as he could not save Damon. But at least he can take the time to visit Mareena and tell her what has happened to her son.

He knows his dear Tobi stayed in Northern Azuria so he could visit his mother at the Bride House. He should at least explain to Mareena why her son has not been to visit her. And it will be sweet, he thinks, to see her again. Perhaps he could trouble her to sing.

The door to the Bride House is opened by a woman in pale yellow. She is young. Her face is thin and pinched. Rafus isn’t sure of the age at which women can take their vows to become Brides of Zai, but he is sure this woman looks far too young to have chosen a life of chastity.

She bobs her head. “Can I help you, Sire?”

Rafus smiles one of his most charming smiles. “I come to visit Mareena of Archa. I understand she is a guest here, under your care, by arrangement with the Rose Court.”

The woman narrows her eyes, as if a little unsure what to say, “She is here,” the Bride begins. “But I am afraid she is very unwell. She does not receive visitors.”

Rafus feels his face tighten. He is unused to having his will questioned. “I know well that her son visits her. Tobi Darekul. Although he may not have been here recently.”

“Tobi Darekul, yes,” says the woman. “But only her own blood may see her.”

“I am father to Tobi Darekul,” Rafus says, in a low stern tone. “I am Prince Rafus—” he stops himself, before he names himself crown prince, saying instead, “A Darek of Azuria.”

It is satisfying how the young woman pales. “Prince Rafus?” she says weakly.

Rafus takes this opportunity to step forward, over the threshold of the Bride house. He takes hold of the shaking young Bride’s thin hands in one of his own. “Now, my dear,” he says in a calming tone, “do not fear. I quite understand that you may not have realised my station. Usually, I am never one to arrive without ceremony. However I must see fair Mareena. It is about our son. Tobi Darekul. Perhaps you have met him. I assure you the matter I need to speak to Mareena about is of great import.”

“I…” The woman turns as if seeking help.

Behind the shaking Bride a man appears. A tall man in a shift of yellow and grey, around his neck is a twelve-pointed, mark of Zai, wrought from gold and hanging on a gold chain. Rafus takes a small step back in surprise, dropping the woman’s hands as the man says, “Prince Rafus, how unexpected to see you.”

“Doroth Zain,” Rafus says, quickly regaining his composure. “Forgive me. I was not aware you were in Ceruleum.” He does not mean it to sound harsh. Although he could be harsh. It is surely only good manners to inform him if a member of the Rose Court, the High Word of Zai, no less, were in Ceruleum. Does he not still retain the title of Duke of Northern Azuria? Should he not be made aware of the things happening in his own city? “How long are you visiting for? I must offer you chambers in the Ivory Palace. We must arrange a time for me to take a Blessing.”

“The Bride House is where I feel closest to Zai,” Doroth Zain says with a small bow of his head. “Now, Eloili, I will deal with this. Please, Prince Rafus, come with me.”

Eloili moves aside and Rafus steps into the hushed silence of the Bride House. He moves his hands behind his back and Doroth Zain places a smooth rod into them. The white stone. The simple procedure that is required of all men around Brides of Zai. He gives Eloili a generous smile as he follows Doroth Zain into the house.

They pass through the entrance hall into a wide corridor. Candles flicker. Doroth Zain does not speak and the corridor, long and narrow, seems to be taking them some distance into the building.

Rafus has never been close with Doroth Zain. Despite their proximity over the years, they have exchanged few words outside of courtly business. Rafus has always been quite sure that Doroth Zain disapproves of him, and with good reason. He has never been a godly man in the eyes of Zai. But Rafus has often thought they had a good deal in common underneath it all. Rafus was brother to Emperor Selim, Doroth Zain was brother to Chancellor Vindar. Both of them are younger brothers to the most powerful men in the empire.

Eventually, Doroth Zain turns off onto an even smaller corridor that drops down three narrow steps and from there he leads Rafus through a low doorway with a thick wooden lintel and into a small circular room.

The room smells slightly damp. They are below ground. Rafus wonders how that happened. Had the long corridor sloped down in some subtle way? No, he remembers, the Bride House sits before the large hill that the Ivory Palace is atop of. It must also extend back into that hill. And this room is deep within it.

The room contains a round table, so large it almost fills it with only enough space for a single man to pass around. On the table a large candelabra burns with twelve green candles. The only light in the room. The walls are stone. They have a slight curve to them as they arch up to become the chamber’s ceiling, adding to the sense that this is some kind of cellar.

“Where are we?” Rafus says. “I thought you said you were taking me to see Mareena.”

“I did not say that,” says Doroth Zain. “I asked you to come with me.” He moves behind Rafus to close the chamber door and stands, leaning back against it. Blocking the only exit from the room. He lifts his hands and places steepled fingers under the tip of his nose. A familiar gesture.