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Perl nods. It is, at least heartening that Jemel truly is fulfilling his role as the Scholar. Perl is always grateful for any signs that his interpretations of the sources he has are correct. And, at least, for most of the princes, it has worked that way. Damon is doubtless the Warrior. Lukas and Tobi too seem to be naturally ready to fulfil their roles. All of them fit their parts easily, except Kerik. It is hard to see what about him could blossom into the Magician. And yet, here in Vylenor, it seems he is truly awakening to some great power. Perl tries not to think on what that could mean.

But before he can say more, Doroth Zain says, “Karo is very eager to free herself from the binding.”

Perl nods. He had made Karo a promise. Another desperate promise to a mortal who wanted to be granted power. At least Doroth Zain, with all his distaste for magic, has never asked that of Perl. “She was promised,” he says.

“But you have concerns?” Doroth Zain can be perceptive sometimes.

“I do not want to create another…” Perl trails off. Once more he avoids her name.

Doroth Zain says, “You fear another woman with magic.”

“A mortal. A mortal with magic.” Doroth Zain is so deeply Azurian. He has such Azurian concerns about women having power.

But to this, Doroth Zain only nods and says, “Until you return with Iceheart then.”

“Until then,” Perl says, and he blows out the candles, heart full of dread.

The following morning Perl is awakened by a knocking on the door. He sits up on the thrall bed to see Kerik’s eyes fluttering open. Perl jumps up quickly and joins Kerik in the bed. Kerik is still half asleep as Perl quickly pushes his own legs under the furs and pulls Kerik’s head onto his chest, waving away the wards as he does so.

A page steps into the room. Perl cannot remember if it is the same page who brought the box for the Silver Ball. But whether it is or not, Perl is sure that she will only see a Master who has spent the night using his thrall.

“Perlash-zeren-ai,” the page announces as Kerik wriggles, pressing up against Perl. Perl can distinctly feel Kerik’s roused cock against his thigh. “Her Grand Majesty Queen Exeinil, Perfection Beyond Comprehension requires you and your thrall in the Pink Parlour for the first test: Silence.”

As the page turns and leaves, Kerik says sleepily. “We should just sleep like this every night. This bed is far too big to sleep in alone.”

And he presses closer.

Perl pushes him off with a grunt of annoyance and stands from the bed. He rolls his shoulders in his tight leather jerkin, using a tiny piece of will magic to cleanse the outfit of his sleep. “We will not. And please this is not the time for your lascivious concerns. We need to prepare you for the first test.”

“So soon?” says Kerik, almost as if he paid no attention at all to what the page said.

Perl wishes he shared Kerik’s ignorance of the matter. But he does not and the dread inside his belly is settled there like a rock.

Kerik gets up from the bed and stretches. His wide easy raising of his arms above his head lifts the hem of his sleeping shirt so high Perl can see a glimpse of his ass. It’s as nicely shaped as any other part of him. And although Perl has seen every part of Kerik’s body as he dressed for the Silver Ball, there is still something about this glimpse of him, secret and snatched, that takes Perl’s breath. He cannot look away from the smooth, tawny skin that is visible between Kerik’s legs.

Kerik glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet Perl’s and Perl quickly looks away. When he turns back, Kerik has put his arms down but he wears an infuriating smirk on his face that suggests he knew exactly what Perl was looking at. “Do you require me to wear some humiliating outfit for this?”

Perl sighs. “It is not what I require. The clothing thralls wear in the Ice Palace has nothing to do with my desires,” he pauses. “Wear that hip cloth we ensorcelled. And the cuffs from last night.”

12

KERIK

Kerik spends a little time washing and oiling himself. Doing his best to make himself look as delightful as possible, simply because he enjoyed the way Perl looked at him last time he stepped out of the bathing chamber.

As he washes he thinks about the strange turn of events at the Silver Ball. Although he is sure he can pass whatever these faerie tests for thralls might be, he is unsure how he feels about being forced to complete them. He could, he supposes, refuse. But would that mean he ends up in this pit? He probably ought to avoid that. What it does mean is that he will be spending longer at this faerie court. That, he thinks, is a good thing. The longer he is here the more magical knowledge he can glean. So much the better for his triumphant return to Azuria. He ought to try and discover what these faeries’ weaknesses might be too.

He should think of this as a spying mission. And how delightful it would be to see the looks on those faeries’ faces when the creature they’d dismissed as a mortal thrall returned with a magical army to take their wealth and lands.

He chuckles to himself. Perhaps he will take this other court too. From how it is spoken about, it seems likely it contains even more wealth.

Things have worked out just as he would have wanted. And when he thinks that, something strange strikes him. Perl had told him magic was a matter of will. Could it be that this had all happened the way it had because he had somehow willed it so. He had wanted to stay here and learn magic. Perhaps he is already so powerful.

When he finally does emerge from the bathing chamber, wrapped in a linen cloth, Perl doesn’t have that half-hidden look of lust on his face, just his more usual wary one, as if, at any moment, they are both about to be attacked by lions.

Kerik picks up the collar from the table and places it around his own neck. “So this test is just called ‘silence’. Sounds easy enough.”

“Does it?” Perl raises an eyebrow. “You do not seem very able to control your desire to tell me any thought in your head.”