By the time of the new year a few days later, the Shifters were settling in well at the castle. There were some issues with more prejudiced members of the castle and city not taking to the "beasts" being a part of daily life, but for the most part things went smoothly. The Shifters did seem to make a point of avoiding the holiday bustle as best they could, however.

"It isn't our day of celebration," Dragon explained when Wildas invited the Shifters to participate in the celebrations. "I do not wish to... decline your request, but perhaps it is best if we leave it to your people."

Wildas nodded. "I understand. If you change your mind, though, you're welcome to join us."

Dragon dipped his head. "Thank you."

Wildas still insisted on leaving a gift of preserved foods for the Shifter camp before riding out with the court to parade through the city. Well, most of them were riding. Anil had relented to riding in the carriage with Myri. They would be the ones passing out the gifts to the poor as they wound through Ryal. It was tradition to give out gloves, socks, blankets, and preserved food to help the poor survive the rest of the winter. All were items produced or collected by people within the castle or Upper Ryal with this day in mind.

"I'm not sure I understand the purpose of this holiday," Coulta commented as they waited for the rest of the parade to assemble.

"It's the day when the first king, Trayrayl, was officially recognized as our ruler," Wildas explained. He adjusted his cloak and added, "At least, according to tradition. The scholars have doubts about the date, but that doesn't matter when it's time for a celebration."

It was mid afternoon by the time the parade made its way back to the castle. Anil and Myri had made certain to distribute every pair of gloves and socks, and every blanket and bit of food loaded onto the carriage. It had started to snow lightly while they rode on, and by the time they re-entered the castle, everyone was mildly chilled.

Wildas shed his heavy cloak in the entrance hall and exchanged his heavy coat for a somewhat lighter one that Star provided. Once the rest of the court was similarly changed, they proceeded to the Throne Room. There Wildas, with the help of his siblings and a few aunts and uncles, adorned the Grand King's and Second King's thrones in wreaths, colorful scarves, and silk flowers. The thrones of the Queens were ignored, paying respect to the first king and his only spouse, whose thrones survived war and change and, with only minor maintenance, still appeared almost newly built. Wildas and his spouses then seated themselves before the thrones on the smaller ones that had been used outside during the tournament to select the new members of the Guard.

The rest of the court and castle tenants, including the guests from Algoma, took seats among the benches that had been pushed to the sides of the hall for the celebration. Brother Pelles led a series of prayers in honor of years long past, the current celebration, and to ask for blessings in the new year to come. Once the prayers ended, servants brought out trays of meats, dried fruits, and sweets, and great serving bowls of wines and juices to set on the tables that had been arranged within the hall. The royal family and honored guests were personally served first, then everyone else went to the tables to serve themselves.

Wildas listened to the conversations around him as he ate. For once it seemed the threat of war didn't hang too heavily over everyone. There was some speculation about how many of those in attendance would survive the coming year, but that was a common line of thought for the holiday. No one could ever know for certain when disease or harsh weather would take a toll on the country. War was only hinted at from time to time. It seemed most kept to the thought that speaking openly of the threat on such an occasion would bring it down all the quicker upon them.

The dancing began after most people had contented themselves with the food. The tables remained filled with refreshments, but were pushed aside to make room for dancing and mingling. Wildas danced with his spouses, listened to the bardic tales of long-dead ancestors and heroes, and watched the skilled performers who practiced all year to display their diverse skills before the court.

As it grew late, children were shuffled off to bed by parents promising that perhaps next year they could stay up with the adults all night, but certainly not this year. A few adults also left the celebration for bed as the night wore on, including Anil, who left with her lady-in-waiting and a Guardswoman after getting a kiss from each of her spouses.

Strong teas were brought out for those who wanted help remaining awake, and Wildas took a cup as he always did. He was used to leaving bed late before the parade each year, but this year he hadn't been able to. A Grand King's daily life could be very different from a Crown Prince's.

At one point, after an energetic dance designed to reawaken the guests, Myri leaned close from her throne and asked, "Would you be forced to leave me if I could never have a child?"

He looked at her with concern. "Why are you asking me this now?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose because of all the hopeful messages this holiday brings I need the answer now."

He took her hand and told her honestly, "I don't know what the court would have to say about it, but I would not allow them to drive a dagger into our family. The teas haven't helped?"

Her expression was utterly downcast. "I thought they had. More than once I've thought myself pregnant only to lose the baby before it could even be called one. I don't know that I'll ever be able to carry a child to term. None of the other healers know how to help, either."

"I will make certain you never have to worry about anything," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "I'll do anything to protect the happiness of the people in my family. Whether you can have my children or not, you will always be my wife and my queen."

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand in return. "Thank you."

"Have I mentioned you look lovely tonight?" he asked with a smile.

She playfully swatted his hand. "I always look lovely because Mara is always making me look lovely."

He grinned. "Glad my sister is of some use." He glanced to his other side and saw Coulta watching the current dancers with interest and Wildas gently touched his hand. Coulta glanced over at him and smiled.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Wildas asked.

Coulta nodded. "I've been watching the crowd, as well. Everything seems genuinely safe so far."

Wildas nodded in return. "Very good. Hopefully we can start the year well."

Things did seem to go well. There were no disturbances and the celebration lasted until the dawn light crept through the high windows. Only then did the guests begin to leave after another prayer from Brother Pelles. It wasn't until later that afternoon, after they had all gotten a few hours of sleep, that they found out about the arrest that had been made the night before.

"Why did no one tell me about this sooner?" Wildas demanded as he walked with Coulta and Shelton to the dungeon.

"Prince-General Rohan didn't want to ruin the night," the guard replied, his voice strained. "He found extra tasters and when none of them dropped dead he told us everything was safe."

"And how are the tasters this afternoon?" Shelton questioned. "Some poisons don't kill immediately. Perhaps the poisoner was planning something slow and painful."

Memories of the torturous poison he had endured while Coulta, Anil, and Myri were bringing him back from the horrid city of Arren flashed through Wildas's mind. By the look Coulta shot him, he was thinking the same thought.

"The man admitted to being paid to add a very quick poison to the wine," the guard explained hastily. "But the tasters are being watched closely regardless. They haven't shown any signs of misfortune. Has anyone else?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Shelton replied.

"Except for him," Coulta declared as they arrived at the cell of the would-be poisoner.

The man – barely a man, practically still a boy – lay sprawled on the stone floor in a pool of blood.

It only took a few moments to find the small, bloody blade beside the body and the wound in the neck.

"Your men need to learn how to search prisoners better," Shelton told the guard with a sigh. He then proceeded to search the body for another several minutes. Finally, he wiped his hands on a towel handed to him by a newly arrived guard, and sighed again. "No taint of magic, necromancy or otherwise."

"We might not ever know who paid him or supplied the poison," Wildas grumbled.

Shelton moved swiftly to the door. "I'll know. Would you care to join me Coulta? It will be good training in the use of our spy network."

Coulta glanced at Wildas, who nodded toward the door. "Go. Let me know if you find anything."

Coulta waited in Shelton's office while Shelton questioned several of the people who worked as his spies, summoning one after the other to his office discreetly. He listened as each of four spies assured him and Shelton that they had no knowledge of a plan to poison anyone at the new year banquet. The fifth one finally had some useful information.

The middle-aged man was a cobbler who owned a shop off the main market square in Middle Ryal. The shop beside his was an apothecary.

"I've seen a strange, dark-cloaked figure visit her shop right at dusk when we're all closing up for the night," he explained. "He gives me an unsettling feeling, and when I asked her about him she refused to speak. She looked terrified. I don't know if he is involved in this, but I haven't had the chance to find out more. I've seen him three times. I tried to speak to him the third time but he wouldn't stop for me."

Shelton stood from his desk. "I'll pay her a visit myself. You may go, but don't warn her."

The spy bowed. "Of course."

As soon as the man left, Shelton instructed Coulta, "Meet me in the entrance hall when you're prepared. I would suggest hiding yourself from view while we move through the city, as well. I'll find Rohan to go with us."

Coulta nodded and left for his room. He already wore a sword, a measure he had been allowed to take when the threat of war had grown over them, but he changed to his belt that held all his swords and daggers. He also pulled on a heavily-lined cloak and gloves, and his warmest boots.

He peeked into Wildas's chamber before he left and found his husband reading some papers by the light of the hearth fire. Wildas glanced up as he entered, a curious look on his face.

"Did you learn anything?"

"Possibly," Coulta answered. "We're going to see someone who might know more."

There was obvious concern on Wildas's face. "I hope you both stay safe."

"We're bringing Rohan," Coulta assured him. He walked over and leaned down to give Wildas a light kiss. "Hopefully I'll be back soon. If we catch someone I'll send word."

Wildas nodded. "I hope you do catch whoever is responsible."

"As do I."

He met Shelton and Rohan at the entrance hall. Shelton wore a dark cloak over his violet robes to avoid attracting attention from people in the city, but Rohan still wore his uniform with its matching cloak. Anyone looking at them would assume Shelton was a noble being escorted by his guard on some private mission, unless they caught sight of his eyes. Then they would realize it truly wasn't their business to care. Coulta hid himself as they made their way to the street the spy had named.

It was after dark and the shop was closed, but after several minutes of knocking, the apothecary finally opened the door.

"Can't you see I'm closed?" the heavyset woman demanded, holding her lantern practically in their faces. "If you're having an emergency I charge double after closing. Certain you don't want to wait until morning?"

"I'm certain," Shelton replied.

She finally took a good look at him and gasped. "You've come for me," she stuttered before stumbling back a step into the shop. "I didn't poison anyone, I swear to you," she said in a rush. "It was the man with the shadows in his face. He said if I told anyone I would die. He put a spell over me and forced me to make him poisons."

As she spoke a black mark on her wrists that had been partially hidden by her sleeves began to spread down to her fingers. Soon it also appeared at the collar of her dress and began to move up her neck. Weary, Coulta began to follow her as she continued moving backward into the shop.

"I would rather die than live under his spell," she hastened on. "He's always watching. Must be watching even now. If anyone died because of the poisons I am so sorry. So very sorry. I –"

The black had reached her mouth and plunged inside. She fell to the floor in violent convulsions, dropping the lantern. Coulta just managed to catch it before it fell and started the shop on fire. In moments she lay silent and still, the black, inky coating gone from her skin.

Coulta stepped back outside and handed the lantern to Rohan. "He's here watching," he muttered to Shelton.

At that moment the shadows across the street moved and Coulta saw the glint of eyes in the light of the lanterns dotting the market street.

"Who are you?" Shelton demanded. "Are you the one responsible for this woman's death?"

In answer, the shadows sent a wave of foul magic rushing toward Shelton. He was already prepared and cast the magic aside with a wave of his own, then attacked.

The attack was met with fierce resistance from his opponent, who moved forward. The rippling foulness of his evil magic was nearly overpowering, even for Shelton. Coulta saw him retreat a step and he reached for one of his blades. As it soared through the air toward the shadowy figure it was surrounded by far more of the silver in his magic than black. It struck the shadowed form – who was focused solely on Shelton – in the eye and imbedded itself with a flash of pure silver light.

The shadows dissipated as the figure fell to the paving stones of the road, revealing a young man dressed in black. On the back of his hand was a mysterious rune that Coulta couldn't read.

Shelton took a deep breath and moved toward the body, which was now dripping blood onto the road. It took him only a few moments of examination before he declared, "A low level necromancer. It's going to be difficult to find out where he was staying. He has nothing incriminating on him. But he might not be the only one around the city now. We need to properly dispose of him before one of his fellows decides to re-animate him to use what's left of his powers."

"They can do that?" Rohan asked, sounding disgusted.

"Yes. They do it to tap into what remains of the magic in the body before it decays. Anything they can do to grow more powerful, they do. His soul is gone now, but if another necromancer were here when he died, he would have captured the soul and harnessed its powers as well. They seek the ultimate power over death itself." He motioned to the knife. "I don't want to touch that. The magic that still clings to him doesn't agree with me at all."

Coulta bent and retrieved his blade, wiping it on the man's pants before placing it back in the sheath.

"And it seems your ceremony with Jaimathan may have unlocked more of your own magic," Shelton commented to him. "There was a great deal of Asir magic in that fatal throw."

Coulta nodded. "I noticed, but I didn't do anything differently. Maybe the magic knew what kind of enemy I was dealing with."

"Magic is even stronger than our minds, so it likely did."

Rohan gathered a few trusted Guardsmen to help him transport the body outside the city for burning, and Shelton and Coulta returned to the castle. When Coulta entered his bedchamber he found Wildas snoring on the padded bench by the hearth. Coulta smiled fondly and went to him. He knelt and placed a gentle kiss on Wildas's forehead. One of Wildas's hands was hanging off the bench and Coulta gently grasped it, feeling the slight chill from the winter air despite the hearth still burning brightly. He began to caress more warmth into those fingers until they curled around his as Wildas woke.

"You've returned," Wildas murmured. "What happened?"

Coulta stood and removed his sword belt. "If you let me, sit I'll tell you."

Wildas sat up and made room for Coulta, who sat close to him and began to recount the night from the moment he left the dungeon with Shelton.

"So Rohan is overseeing the burning of the body?"

Coulta nodded. "Shelton wanted someone we trusted."

Wildas sighed. "This isn't good."

"It's not any worse than it was before tonight," Coulta replied. "We're going to be at war sooner or later. This was just a reminder. Would you feel better if you had more magic to defend your country with?"

Wildas gave him a sly smile. "Why yes, I think I would. It might distract me, too."

Coulta merely smiled and kissed him.