He didn’t get to finish the sentence for Aalis wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him without reserve. She was so slight he wasn’t pushed backwards but he was stunned for a moment, a brief giddy moment before he returned with equal voracity. His nightshirt was opaque but thin and he could feel her hands grasping at him, his own hands circling her waist until there no room for a single sheet of parchment between them. Her soft moans and sighs nearly drove Judd mad and he felt her lift one leg, hooking it over his hip. His hands lifted her up entirely, her legs locking around his waist as he carried her three steps to the bed, her body sinking into the plush depths of mattress and sumptuous linen as he leaned over her, their amour rising at an alarming rate.


    Then he threw himself backwards, chest heaving and shirt, irreparably creased, hair dishevelled as he put distance between himself and Aalis who sat up, far too close and desirable.


    “I won’t,” he wheezed, “steal you from him or take what is not mine.” He held his hand out as she opened her mouth to protest. “I won’t make love to you like a thief. When we do, it will be without question, without doubt…without grievance.” He caught her gaze and had to look away, her lavender eyes too much for his heightened state not to respond to. He turned and put his hand on the rail that led down the stairs.


    “Judd, promise me,” Aalis begged, “do not go to Garo tonight. Please…wait.”


    Judd licked his lips and nodded. “I promise.” He rasped and fled down the stairs, leaving Aalis brushing her fingertips over her lips, tears trickling down her cheeks.


    Judd almost burst out of the door at the bottom of the stairs and closed it behind him, leaning against it.


    “So…how’d it go?” Giordi’s voice taunted lightly.


    “I think it’s pretty obvious how it went, don’t you?” Verne replied.


    Judd glared at them. In order to get past the isolation restriction of the Rite of Purification, Rocheveron had anticipated Judd visiting Aalis and had provided uniforms for Giordi and Verne so they could act as the guards stationed by the door.


    “Well…what did she say?” Verne asked.


    “I’m not sure she said anything.” Giordi insinuated.


    “I’m riled up and your pretty nose makes a tempting target.” Judd snapped, the rush of passion receding too slowly for his liking and he flapped his nightshirt, trying to cool down.


    “Duly noted.” Giordi said, taking a step back.


    “Well?” Verne demanded.


    “Aalis told me what happened, about what Garo did to her.” Judd shuddered. “It’s an ugly story and I don’t intend to let him get away with it.”


    “What are you going to do?”


    “I am going to challenge him to a duel.”


    “You’re going to fight Sir Rylan?”


    “Yes.” Judd caught their expressions. “You don’t think I can beat him?”


    “I think…I think if love always won, then this world would be a nicer place.” Giordi admitted, shifting uncomfortably in the royal guard livery. “But if there was ever going to be a man who could beat Garo Rylan, it would be Judd LaMogre.”


    Judd nodded. “Thank you.”


    “Uh…hold up,” Verne glanced between them, “you can’t challenge a knight unless you are a knight. And you’re not a knight.”


    “I doubt Rylan will knight me just so I can challenge him to a duel but thankfully, King Rocheveron can knight me with a letter opener for all I care.” Judd looked around. “Where is His Majesty?”


    “He retired to his chambers.”


    “He didn’t have the fortitude to wait?” Judd’s tone was a little scathing.


    Verne eyed him sharply. “He’s old and frail.”


    “And didn’t fancy pacing the cold corridor for hours,” Giordi cleared his throat, “I don’t think he expected you to come down until morning.”


    Judd rolled his eyes. “Am I that obvious?”


    “Yes.” Verne and Giordi said together.


    “Well…nothing happened.” Judd paused. “I am concerned about King Rocheveron’s safety. It seems as if Garo managed to kill Nicolin even though they were at opposite ends of Terra.”


    “Which is why Caste insisted King Rocheveron sleep in a different room without informing anyone.”


    Judd breathed out, relieved. “He’s annoying…but he’s brilliant.”


    “That’s part of what’s annoying about him.” Giordi slapped Judd on the shoulder. “We’ll keep watch until we’re relieved. Aalis is safe up there and Rocheveron’s safe as well.”


    “Make sure to bolt your door shut and close the windows.” Verne ordered.


    “Yes’m.” Judd nodded and descended through the castle to where his room was waiting for him. The fire had died down a little but it was still warm and the light was dim but hardly so dark he couldn’t see. Judd closed and bolted his door, closed and latched the window then checked under the bed and in every crevice and corner of the room until he was satisfied that the room was empty except for himself.


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    The bed was like a giant warm hug. Judd knew he ought to be worried about duelling Sir Rylan and about what else tomorrow might bring but all of it was dull noise and blurred colour compared to the memory of Aalis’ kiss. He licked his lips, his mind drifting over all of it, the silkiness of her gown, the softness of her lips and the way he knew, without any room for doubt, that she was meant for him.


    Not unsurprisingly he drifted into sleep filled with dreams as warm as the embrace of the woman he loved. He rolled onto his side, rising slightly through the light layers of slumber, feeling something touch his neck. He slapped at it, imagining that it was a moth or other nocturnal bug that had the audacity to think it was worthy of a room in the castle of Astaril. A second later, though he was sure he’d sent the bug flying, he felt something in his ear and despite grabbing for it, his fingers came away with nothing.


    Judd, jolted from sleep, didn’t have time to imagine the worst when searing pain stabbed through his body, paralysing him in a silent scream of horror as his brain felt like it was turning to mush.


    A parade of servants entered the dining room and laid an array of breakfast dishes on the table that had the four guests pressing their lips together to stop the saliva from dripping. There was porridge with a side of fresh milk with an inch of cream sitting on the top and a pot of honey and another jar of brown sugar. There was bread, toasted and butter on a tray, a curl already to be scooped from its surface. There was stewed fruit in what smelt like an alcoholic brew and a platter of cooked bacon, three different types of cheeses and warm, watered down wine to accompany it.


    “Should we wait?” Verne whispered to Giordi.


    “I get why you would think I’d know when no one else would,” Giordi whispered back, “but as it happens, I’ve never eaten at the table of a king before.”


    None of them had ever been in a dining room so bright and airy before, either. There were windows along one side of the hall, overlooking the royal gardens, Italea Bay gleaming in the soft morning light in the background. The ceiling was painted with murals of angelic beings, adorned with wreaths of green with white flowers in delicate star shapes, playing with banners of peach silk across a softly clouded sky. The table was able to seat at least twenty and for the amount of food, it looked like the servants thought that’s how many they would be feeding though there were just for four of them in the room at the time. The chairs were straight backed and very high with peach velvet seats and backrests in the white wood with gold detail.


    “Ahem,” they looked up at the head servant, “King Rocheveron has told me to relay that you will be breaking no custom or manner in beginning to eat while the food is hot.” He announced.


    “Let’s eat!” Giordi crowed and stood up and started to serve himself. “Suvau, sit and try some of this fresh milk and cream.”


    “Ahem,” the head servant cleared his throat, “perhaps your…Maul…would be more comfortable eating somewhere else? The kitchen, perhaps?”


    “With the servants, you mean?” Verne asked with a sharply raised eyebrow.


    “I do not wish to cause trouble.” Suvau insisted.


    “Suvau is one of Judd LaMogre’s companions,” Caste’s tone was hard and unyielding, “as such, he is to be afforded the same courtesy as any Terra.”


    The head servant barely batted an eyelid, bowing. “Yes, Deacon Undern.” He even went so far as to pull the chair out next to Caste after laying a place setting for Suvau.


    “Sit, Suvau.” Caste ordered and Suvau did so.


    “I’d never believed it if I hadn’t seen it.” Giordi chuckled.


    “I have been known to sit before.” Suvau replied dryly.


    “Not that. Caste being nice. It’s kind of…unnerving.”


    “Do not fear, Gavoli,” Caste eyed the porridge with suspicion, choosing to eat a piece of fragrant spiced toasted bread smothered in butter instead, “I promise never to unnerve you with niceness.”


    “I think you just did.” Verne cleared his throat and looked around, seeing that they were alone. He leaned forward. “Where’s Judd?”


    “Probably sleeping in after speaking with Aalis.”


    “Giordi!”


    “What? I didn’t do those inverted comma things. I wasn’t suggesting anything.”


    “You were last night.”


    “You were first.”


    “They’re like a pair of bickering girls…” Caste rolled his eyes. “Verne, pass the mulled wine.”


    “Oh, right.” Verne did so, sitting back on the chair. “Maybe one of us should rouse him.”


    “If he is going to challenge Sir Rylan as you said he plans to, he will need all the rest he can get.” Suvau filled a bowl halfway with porridge then filled the rest with stewed fruit, the milk and a generous drizzle of honey. Caste eyed it with disgust, eating his crunchy spiced toast.


    “Just so long as he gets here before Rylan does.” Verne muttered.


    “Why are you so concerned?”


    “Why aren’t you more so?” Verne turned on Giordi. “You don’t think it’s going to look a little awkward when Judd asks King Rocheveron for a knighthood in front of the man he plans to duel?”


    “First of all, breathe,” Giordi snatched the bowl of brown sugar from Verne and scattered it on his porridge, “second, isn’t it possible that Judd has already thought of that and gone directly to King Rocheveron before coming to breakfast?”


    Verne frowned. “Oh…I had not thought of that.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I should have slept in later…”


    “Thankfully we didn’t have a very long shift posing as guards.” Giordi dug into his porridge.


    Suvau was already halfway through his large bowlful of breakfast, able to eat twice as much as any of them with a single mouthful. He licked his lips and glanced around at them.


    “Do we have any clue as to what was disclosed last night?” He asked gingerly.


    The two who had pretended to be guards shook their heads. “None,” Verne shrugged, “Judd only said it was an ugly story. Personally I think it would be harder for Aalis the more who know the details of it.”


    “Secrets are harder to keep the more who know them.” Suvau said with a raised eyebrow and Verne gave him a dirty look.


    The doors to the dining hall opened and the head servant appeared. “Please stand for King Rocheveron.”


    They scrambled to do so and watched as the King entered, perhaps not as rested as he ought to look though none would point that out. There was light pink beneath his eyes as if the shadows of tiredness were just waiting to blacken and his skin was pale.


    “Good morning, honoured guests.” He greeted, moving in front of the chair at the end of the table and sitting, not once looking to see if the servant would pull it out or push it in at the right time. “Please, sit down.”


    They did so, waiting for the flurry of servants to come forth and serve the King his breakfast for him. When his plate was laden and his cup full, he dismissed the servants and looked around.


    “How did you fare last night?” He asked Verne and Giordi.


    The archer and minstrel exchanged a glance. “Uh…we slept very well, thank you, Your Majesty.” Giordi replied.


    “I am pleased to fear that,” Rocheveron leaned forward, “but how did your nightly vigil fare? Is there any news?”


    They all stalled, feeling a little alarmed.


    “You have not spoken to Judd LaMogre this morning?” Caste inquired.


    “I have seen no one.” King Rocheveron’s brows became oblique and concern entered his eyes. “I thought he would be here.”


    “We have not seen Judd this morning.” Giordi tapped his teeth together.


    “I see,” the King nodded, his utensils held limply in his hands, “perhaps he has overslept…”


    Verne rolled his eyes and stood up, tossing down his napkin. “Forgive me, but I am going to check now.”


    “No arguments here.” Giordi conceded as Verne went to go to the door but didn’t make three steps before it swung open and he froze.