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As he sits and watches, The Queen stands and comes gliding over in her tumbling silks. She steps up onto the platform. Her snake is slithering, moving around her neck so its silver scales catch the light. She reaches out and touches the ball. Tapping it with a fingernail.

It rattles against Kerik’s teeth. The gems scratch at the inside of his mouth, creating small sparks of pain.

“Stop that,” he says, unthinking. The only sound he emits, once again, is the sweet high chirrup.

A golden numeral appears, floating in the air before Kerik. An elaborately calligraphed number one.

“If that number reaches three, you fail the test, thrall. Do you understand?”

Kerik knows better than to speak in reply. He tries to nod but cannot move his head in the strict collar. So all he can do is stare back at The Queen. She is very beautiful, but up so close the beauty doesn’t look real. Like she is made of magic and mist.

The Queen smiles a slick, slow smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to assume that means you do.” She claps. “Remain silent until the bell rings to end the test. A simple enough task for even the most untrained thrall. If you cannot manage this we will not need to waste our time on more elaborate tests of your obedience.” She turns and steps down from the platform. As she reaches Perl she links her arms with his. “And now, Perlash, you will sit with me on the dais to watch your thrall’s obedience.” She claps her hands. “Bring the suppressor.”

Almost before she has finished speaking a fae page appears holding a plump red velvet cushion. Upon it is a cuff, similar to the ones Kerik wears although the metal is a dull grey. Iron.

Kerik sees Perl look at it with an expression of apprehension. Even fear.

The Queen waves her hand over the cuff and it vanishes. Perl makes a soft grunt of pain, as the iron cuff reappears, encircling his wrist.

Iron, Kerik thinks, so the tales about iron and faeries are true. When he takes this place, he will use iron weapons.

Perl nods to the Queen, as if thanking her and walks up onto the dais. He takes his seat and makes eye contact with Kerik. Kerik gazes back, hoping that he is communicating to Perl that this is simple. That he will complete this test with very little difficulty.

Beside Perl, Vane is also staring at Kerik. He looks bored, leaning down to pet Seridil.

Kerik lets his gaze wander around the hall, as much as he can in the restrictive collar. Some of the faerie courtiers are watching him, others have moved into groups to chatter, paying him no regard at all. How long will it be until the bell? Time here, Kerik has decided, moves like time in a dream. It seems simpler to think of it that way and less disconcerting. He wonders how long this test will truly last.

The most arduous part of it will be boredom.

Kerik focuses on his breathing, listening to it. In and out. Cool air coming in, warmer air flowing out. He thinks of the Master at Arms at the Rose Palace who taught him this, saying they were breathing exercises from Archilia to calm the mind. He lets his thoughts drift. Searching for a sweet memory to entertain himself.

He thinks of golden days in the practice yards at the Rose Palace. Learning his sword fight techniques, sparring with Endrew. Hearing word from their brothers’ battles in far away lands to the east. Damon the One Man Army. Atticul the General Paramount. He and Endrew had reenacted great battles they’d heard about, taking turns to play the part of the heathens their brothers had bested. They had been well matched. Half brothers in truth and blood brothers in their own declaration. They’d always planned to join the Imperial Army like Damon and Atticul and fight side by side.

Does Endrew miss him? Did he join the Imperial Army without him? It is strange to think that for all of them, everyone he knows, life has simply gone on.

Growing up at the Rose Court was good preparation for surviving this place. He has gone from one den of snakes to another.

He looks back to Perl. Perl is still watching him with a serious expression.

Perl’s face is quite fascinating. His high refined cheekbones, his sharp nose, his elegant jaw.

He is strangely attractive, in his own way. So serious, it's almost enticing. He tries not to show emotion, but when he does let that control slip and becomes angry, or even better, flustered, he is quite delightful. Kerik thinks he ought to find more ways to make Perl become flustered.

Perl really does not seem interested in the Azurian succession. Could it truly be the case that whatever caused him to snatch Kerik, only kept him from the Duchy of Fanost by happenstance? And Perl does not seem to be trying to gain favour by selling him as a thrall to another faerie. He seems to be going to pains to keep him, even protect him. Perhaps Perl truly believes the outrageous tales he has told Kerik. And one part of that tale is true. Kerik does seem to have some kind of magical ability. But that strange story about a demon that must be battled seems like pure fancy.

Even if the tale were true, the faeries destroyed the Bellator before, why could Perl not simply ask them to do it again? Why indulge in all this scheming?

What then is the truth? The thoughts circle Kerik’s mind. He wonders again if the real reason Perl took him and kept him in that tower for five years could truly be lust. But if the true explanation were lust, why has Perl made no attempt to bed him. He has had many opportunities to do so, even been in situations where he went to obvious pains not to. He even expresses distaste at the idea. Is he truly chaste as he claimed? Why would a fae be chaste when every other fae he has met has been happily indulging his lusts?

So, if it was not lust, why did Perl really take him? He does not remember being taken, only waking in the kitchen of the Starlight Tower. He trawls his mind for the last thing he remembers before that.

The night Selim was nearly killed. He remembers that. The bells ringing as a raid by Mortingale Outlaws was discovered. It had been thrilling. Men racing through the halls. He had been bundled with Endrew and Atticul into a chamber at the top of the Tower of the Heir for safety. Ferra had been there too, cradling her babe, newly born. That babe must be walking and talking now, but he cannot remember seeing him again.

So he was taken sometime between the raid and Ferra’s babe’s naming before Zai? What can he remember after that raid?

The outlaws had been thwarted by his brother Damon Darekul. Fighting them single handed in the halls. He had killed a dozen men and captured three more who had been executed in the Punishment Square. Kerik had seen some of it. The Rose Court had their vengeance. And there was more. One of the outlaws had escaped the palace. And that outlaw, it was rumoured, was another of his half brothers, Lukas.

Kerik remembers nothing of Lukas. He had run away when Kerik was only a year old. He does not really feel he knew Damon either. An untouchable figure. A great hero. Damon only visited infrequently from his battles, more a story to Kerik than a real person, although many have told him he looks like his oldest brother.