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“You are aware that the Hevelikar claimed to be descended from the five princes who saved the mortal realm from the Bellator?”

“Yes, of course. They claimed the right to rule Azuria because of it. A claim that is also treachery in Azuria.”

“Perhaps, but it was, in fact, the truth. The Hevelikar are descendants of those princes. And the Hevelikar were once a noble line, although not at the end. But they had fae blood. And you carry that blood from your ancestor. Sarelik Darek’s wife Perpetu.”

“So that is why you say I have fae blood?”

“You quite definitely have fae blood. I can see it in your eyes. And you travelled through the salt door painlessly. Normally that process would be very uncomfortable for mortals. It is part of the wards of Vylenor. But you have fae blood and The Aeons have told us that the five fae princes will be reborn to defeat the Bellator from the line of your father. He has sired five illegitimate sons to defeat Ur-Durik. Damon, Lukas, Tobi, you and Jemel.”

“What? Who the fuck is Jemel? I have no such brother?”

“Oh, but you do. Jemel has never been publicly acknowledged by your father. But we have him. He is being guided in his role as the Scholar. You each have roles. Damon is the Warrior, Lukas is the Thief, Tobi is the Fool, Jemel is the Scholar and you are the Magician."

Kerik’s eyes go wide at that. “Why am I the Magician? Surely I should be the Warrior. The Master at arms at the Rose Palace said my skills would likely equal Damon’s.” He sounds quite petulant.

“You are the Magician because that is what The Aeons tell us. And that is the reason why I needed to hide you away. There are many who would want to take your power and use it. Even though your magic is yet to awaken.”

“So I will learn magic?” Kerik sounds far less disbelieving than he has for the rest of this conversation. He almost sounds intrigued. “Your Aeon Gods claim so?”

“Correct,” says Perl. “Each fae prince has a sacred magical blade they must use in the great battle. And Iceheart, the blade of the Magician, your blade, is here. When I retrieve your sword, Iceheart, from Exeinil, that will awaken your magic. That is why we are here, why I had to come here although I would have preferred never to return to this place.”

Kerik’s eyes are quite wide, but his tone is once again mocking as he says, “So you’re here.. we’re here for a magic sword?”

He has just been told the great story of the creation of the Bellator, a secret the fae have hidden for thousands of years. A secret that is death to share with a mortal. But Perl has shared it. Before now only with select mortals, after much swearing of fealty and trepidation. Mortals he needed or thought he could trust. But here now, he has simply told the tale to Kerik Darekul, the spoilt wretch of Fanost, and his reaction to this precious information is simply to act as if he has been told a ridiculous story.

Perl keeps his voice even as he says, “On the morrow, we will attend the Silver Ball and I will ask Exeinil to grant me a boon. When she agrees I will ask for Iceheart. We will take the sword to Ceruleum to join Doroth Zain and begin the next part of the preparations.”

“I will wield magic? With a magic sword?” Kerik says in his same mocking tone that is quite infuriating.

“Yes,” Perl says tightly. “If you wish, we can speak more of this after I have slept. Creating that salt door exhausted me but sleeping in Vylenor will easily replenish my powers. Perhaps you would like to wash. The bathing chamber is through there.”

Kerik pauses a moment, as if considering this, before shrugging. He lifts his hand and removes the collar he wears quite casually, staring at Perl, as if trying to think of something to say. But in the end, he says nothing but, “Very well,” and strolls towards the door Perl indicated.

Perl knows that although his bathing chamber is not at all grand by the standards of Vylenor, it is far grander than most private bathing chambers in even the finest manors in Azuria.

He feels quite gratified when he hears Kerik exclaim, “Zai’s own mother,” from the other side of the closed door.

Perl moves across the chamber to lie down on his bed. This day has been more complex and difficult than he ever could have imagined, and he had imagined it to be extremely complex and difficult.

He lets his mind wander through all of it: Jareleezi, bringing Kerik with him to Vylenor, Exeinil, Vane, Kerik’s dismissive reaction to the story Perl’s entire life’s work is built around. The fact he must face a Silver Ball and the boon he needs to request. What will he do if Exeinil refuses to grant it? But Iceheart had been wrought by his own father, surely that must mean he has some kind of claim to it.

Perl is still lying on his bed thinking when the bathing chamber door opens. Kerik strolls through. He wears only a piece of linen wrapped around his waist. Although he is no less clothed than he was before, there is an intimacy to the sight of him like this — fresh bathed with damp hair and oiled skin — that makes Perl’s breath catch. He is infuriating but he is such a fine looking mortal.

And he looks far more beautiful without the collar. As he thinks of the collar, Perl realises he is holding it in his hand. He must have picked it up from the floor where Kerik dropped it when he took it off.

Kerik is looking at the collar too. “Why do you even have that?” he says.

Perl looks at him. Is he asking why Perl is holding the collar now? Or why he would own such a thing at all. “What do you mean?”

Kerik moves closer, he sits down beside Perl and takes the collar from his hands. His fingers brush Perl’s for a moment. Perl feels the heat from them. Kerik is so close Perl can smell his skin. Smell the oil he’s used in the bathing chamber. Sandalwood and oud, rich decadent scents. Perl wonders if he looked through all the oils and chose those ones, or if he just picked up a bottle carelessly.

Kerik looks at the collar and says, “You had a collar for a man. In the Starlight Tower. You didn’t use magic to create this. You already had it. I was just wondering why you had such a thing to hand.”

“It's old. I’ve had it a long time.”

Kerik turns the collar around in his hands and says, “Do you want to put it back on me? Should I kneel before you?” He flashes Perl a cocky grin.

“We don’t have to do anything like that in here.”