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“He is Lukas,” Perl says, “He has survived much.”

“Not without damage,” Elric returns bluntly, sharp gaze on Perl.

“I know he lost his hand in Lunatum,” Perl returns, rare compassion in his cool voice. “But he grew to find his strength again. Damon says he fights with the Blue Blade as well as any swordsman.”

Elric gives Perl a nasty half smile. “You always act as if you know everything, Perl. When we first met, you mocked me and treated me like filth. Just because you knew things I didn’t. But you do not know what Lukas truly lost in Lunatum. It was more than a hand.”

Elric says no more and it seems clear from his statement that he will not. Kerik knows there is something dark hidden there, something Elric will not allow them to uncover. The Rose Court is cruel, Kerik knows that. He was shielded from much of that cruelty by his mother’s status, but he has seen it. The burning, the maiming… and worse. Atticul was a cruel boy. Endrew had told him many times that Atticul would fight him and beat him severely, taking advantage of their difference in age to knock Endrew down and hold him in the dirt until he cried. And Atticul had never been punished for it.

What would Atticul be like with a demon inside him and a cruel empire to back him? How much more savage could that cruel boy be? What would he do to Lukas at his mercy?

“He has been in those dungeons for a dozen nights.” Elric says, “I just want to know how he is. If I could see him, just once. Just exchange a message.” He looks up at the grey sky.

And Kerik wonders, perhaps there is a way. He looks to Perl. “You had a way to talk to Doroth Zain when you were in Vylenor.”

“I did but,” Perl shakes his head. “That was in Vylenor, rich with magic.”

“This is not Vylenor, but there is some magic here. And I can draw from my own strength, so long as you feed me after we are done.” Kerik finishes by making tiny sparkles dance from his fingertips.

Perl frowns. “I have told you that you should not waste that.”

“It would not be a waste,” Kerik says firmly. “Could you use it to speak to Lukas?”

Perl purses his lips. “To reach him in the dungeons of the Rose Palace? Perhaps, but it would only work if he has a mirror and I doubt⁠—”

Perl is cut off as Elric snatches hold of his arm, long fingers curling tight around the leather. “A mirror?”

Perl nods.

“He has a mirror.”

Perl’s pale brow furrows. “He does?”

Elric nods quite frantically. “He wears a mirror around his neck. On a chain. He never takes it off. He has it. I know he has it. I am certain.”

Kerik thinks it likely the dungeon guards would have taken such a trinket by now. But he says nothing. There is little harm in trying, apart from the waste of magical power.

“If you are right,” Perl says carefully, “and he has a mirror, we can use it to make a magical connection. It only needs a little power. I will need a mirror here too, some salt and a candle.”

“I can help with that,” Kerik says happily. It only takes a moment of concentration and a hand mirror, framed in silver, a lit candle and a small dish of salt appear on the frozen grass before them.

Elric makes a little gasp of surprise, which Kerik enjoys seeing in the finest male concubine in the Rose Palace. But Perl looks at the results of Kerik’s spellwork, clearly annoyed. “Please, I could have fetched them. That is a waste of power.”

“Stop fussing faerie. Sit down,” Kerik says and Perl sits down beside him with a scowl, bound to obey such an instruction.

“Do you use that in bed?” Elric says, looking at them.

Kerik looks up, “Use what?”

“What do you think? That power you have over him. To command him.”

Kerik smirks to himself. “On occasion,” he says sweetly.

17

LUKAS

Lukas is sprawled on the settle. He has broken his fast with some rich pastries and spent the time since, throwing his hook up into the air and catching it. A game he has recently invented. It’s more challenging than it seems. The point of the hook remains deathly sharp. If he fails to catch it, it could stab his flesh. Something that has happened twice.