Enfri teetered on her step stool as she fished her hand among a high-hanging pot of feverbane. A sprig of that along with the bergamot-cured tea leaves would be just the thing for the cold she felt sneaking up on her.

"Don't you have servants for that sort of thing?" Krayson asked.

Winds and storms. Not the most personable man I've met, not by a league. The blustering stump is as crotchety as Goodman Wainwright.

Enfri had to bite her tongue to keep a sharp retort from flying out to sever Krayson's head. It took a good deal of effort, but she managed to keep up the kindly bedside facade of a sky woman. "I surely do, but an army camp is no place for maids."

"It's not normal for a royal to travel without at least a dozen attendants."

This time, Enfri couldn't stop herself. "Liar. You came here with two who didn't."

"Algaras aren't normal."

Enfri hummed. "You have me there. But no, you've no idea how glad I am to be away from my estate. Every morning, the maids would bring my tea, so I'd get up earlier to make it myself. Then they'd come even sooner with my tea. It became a blustering contest of a sort until I'd have needed to brew it the night before if I wanted to do it myself."

Krayson gave a short, mirthless laugh. "From what I understand of servants, they took your making it before they arrived as chastisement for not being there sooner."

"Winds, you think so?" She hopped down from the step stool and tossed her sprig of feverbane into the tea kettle. "I tried to make myself clear. Hana seemed to ignore half the things I said."

"Hana?"

"My... err... what would you call that? My house steward." Enfri affected a shiver. "You know, I still get correspondence from Mistress Hana daily, asking me to allow her to send maids and butlers to join us here. I have the sneaking suspicion she'll do it anyway."

Krayson's tone went flat. "How awful."

She glared at him from over her shoulder. "One doesn't meddle with a herbalist's tea, Brother Joshuan."

You are a coward, girl!

Enfri winced at Shoen's sudden shout inside her head.

This keeper offers you power— more than you can imagine— and you must take it. If you do not, you deserve nothing less than to be made a slave by your rival. She would not hesitate, because she is not a fool.

I made my decision, Enfri thought back. I don't want it and not you or anyone can make my decisions for me.

The emperors and empresses of the past seethed. Their voices overlapped one another, each fighting to be heard over the others.

Take it! This is too great an opportunity. Do not fail us. What do you gain by refusing? Allowing a keeper to ascend with a bloodsong is lunacy. Can you not feel its power? Stay strong, Enfri. You would have no equal. Don't be a fool. Make it yours. If not you, then it may go to a rival. Take it before your enemies do. You are too weak. Become powerful! Insipid girl.

Krayson narrowed his eyes, studying Enfri's face. For a moment, she wondered if the voices were shouting loud enough for him to overhear. Enfri coughed and rubbed at her forehead as if working through a sudden headache, doing her best to fight off the assault on her mind without making her predicament obvious.

"Are you well, Majesty?"

Enfri blinked hard. Wrenching her thoughts away wasn't working as well as in the past. It still hurt but gave no relief. She made herself nod. "Tension headaches. It's been something of a long day."

"If you wish to steep willowbark into the tea, I wouldn't mind."

She nodded again in thanks and did as suggested. She didn't truly have a headache, but the willowbark might help with the stinging, burning pain of her tattoos, worse than any sunburn she could imagine. It would also lend the brew a tad more bitterness than she liked, but...

Enfri's eyes snapped wide in surprise. "You know herbs, Brother Joshuan?"

He made a tilting gesture with his hand. "Willowbark isn't exactly arcane knowledge, but yes. I've some education in herbalism."

Enfri took the kettle off her gas flame and brought it to the workbench. She excitedly sat down on a stool and took his teacup to fill it. Her enthusiasm was enough of a distraction that the spooks were tossed back into the shadows where they belonged. "Really? Are you an alchemist?"

He shook his head as he took the stool next to her. "I'm afraid not."

Enfri wilted in disappointment. Jin's oren situation was becoming a serious matter, and Enfri needed as much help as she could get in solving it.

"I only learned the basics. I've read a few works from the Japaxian academies, but I haven't pursued the field in full yet."

"You must be a wizard, then." Enfri touched a candle on the workbench and transmuted the end of the wick into flame.

Krayson balked at confirming himself as a wizard. "It's a little more complex than that."

Enfri's brow knit together in confusion.

Krayson took his first sip of tea as Enfri poured her own. He hummed in approval before explaining himself. "I'm also a witch."

"Also? Winds, is that even possible?"

He seemed a little embarrassed by her interest and was hesitant to explain further. "Those like me are rare, I'm told. The last on record was nearly a century ago. Somehow, my ether has been tied to two of the five paths. The Order calls it being twinborn."

Enfri nodded in understanding and set the kettle down on the workbench. "Ah, I see. I'm rather new to magical theory myself, but yes, I suppose that could do it."

She sampled the tea and was pleased to find that the willowbark hadn't made it overly bitter. It actually made quite an interesting medley with the feverbane and bergamot oil. She'd need to remember this mixture for the future.

Enfri finished her second sip before she realized that Krayson had gone still. He was looking at her with a wide-eyed look of befuddlement.

"Hmm?"

"You suppose... that could do it?"

Enfri nodded. "Well, yes. Obviously, I wouldn't have thought of it on my own if you hadn't mentioned, but it makes perfect sense to me."

Krayson blinked.

"You being twinborn," Enfri reminded him. Winds, was he daft?

"Thunders, are you telling me you know what that means?"

"Of course," Enfri said. She pointed behind him towards her bookshelf. "Third shelf from the bottom. Volume Five."

Krayson set his tea down and all but scrambled to retrieve the notebook. He brought it back, already thumbing through the pages. "There must be some mistake. This is a midwife's codex."

"Indeed it is. Written by my grandmother, so go easy on the pages." She held her hand out for the book. After Krayson gave it over, Enfri sought out one of the later entries that covered irregularities in childbirth. The candlelight was a little dim for nighttime reading, but she knew most of the passages by heart and wouldn't need to strain her eyes.

"I don't think Grandmother ever saw this herself," Enfri said as she turned the pages. "She studied abroad when she was young and apprenticed as a sky woman in Japax. She even met my grandfather, a Goodman Forrester, at one of the universities there. He was also Althandi and taking a semester in horticulture, so it was only natural they socialized in a foreign kingdom."

Krayson made an impatient gesture with his hands. Enfri noted with some irritation that his tea had been forgotten. A bit of that irritation also came from Krayson's inability to make small talk.

Very well, you blustering impatient blood runner.

"Here we are. Fetal chimerism, as it's properly named by the academics. It's difficult to diagnose without arcane methods as symptoms are rarely obvious. I'm afraid the passages Grandmother transcribed from the original texts are rather dry, but her sky woman mentor had a few more interesting things to say about it. The basic idea is that two ovum are fertilized at conception, resulting in fraternal twins. In exceptionally rare cases, one developing bundle of flesh essence will absorb the other so there's just a single child. It isn't necessarily harmful and most chimeras live their lives never realizing there's anything out of the ordinary about them at all. However, there's still something of the sibling that never lived in them. Some of that material persists in the remaining child, a secondary imprint hidden within the primary, you could say. Academics are academics and call things by all sorts of convoluted names, but sky women across the Five Kingdoms call this twinborn."

Krayson took the book back. His eyes darted across the page as if trying to absorb every word at once. "All this time, I could have just gone to Southrun and chatted up a midwife to learn this?"

"Deebee likes to say how much the learned could learn if they listened to the goodfolk now and then."

"All seven thunders," he mumbled under his breath.

"If I remember right, twinborn can have a few oddities about them. Things like intersex characteristics or heterochromia, which is one eye a different color than the other one, or more hard to see things. Patches of body hair that have different texture or color, blood that doesn't give off the same humors essence as, say, their bile. Things of that nature. It's more or less like they have small pieces belonging to another person worked into the mix of their bodies."

Krayson grimaced. "Thunders, but I could've been intersex? The thundering Jak'm wouldn't have thought I was a demon if that were the case. I'd have been a divine Enlightened, higher than the Tiger King."

"Tiger King? What..."

He let out a startled cry, nearly making Enfri fall right off her stool. "Bones! An osteomancer might not be able to use my blood to break my bones."

Enfri smoothed how her skirt lay over her knees. "Well, I suppose that's another way it might manifest. Certainly. The marrow would have to be the same imprint as the blood, so you'd feel something, but you're right that they might not actually be able to break them."

Krayson closed the book slowly and set it aside. He leaned back on his stool and let out a long and heavy exhale. "All seven thunders."

Enfri picked her teacup back up and finished it off. She considered pouring herself another. It would probably be some time before she had the chance to go to her bedroll, and bergamot tea was wonderful at taking the edge off her weariness when she was up late. Yes, she definitely wanted another.

She was pouring her second cup when Krayson shook himself back from wherever he'd drifted off to.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. I can't tell you how long what I am has been a mystery to me."

Enfri chuckled softly into her tea as she sipped. "Don't be so quick to thank me. I've diagnosed you, so that makes you my patient. You're not allowed to call me Majesty anymore."

"Then what..."

"My name is Enfri, Brother Joshuan."

"Then you must dispense with the formalities also. My name is Krayson."

Enfri blinked in bemusement.

"Teulite men don't have given names. We go by our mother's tribal name. My mother was Vilas Krayson, my father is Joshuan Jak'm. Therefore, I'm Joshuan Krayson."

Enfri swallowed a little too much tea and about scalded her throat. She'd taken him for an Althandi, but he'd mentioned Tiger Kings already. She should have realized Krayson was only half Althandi. Like she was. Winds, he was from Teularon, where Father died. Enfri would have been lying if she claimed that didn't throw a bucket of mud over her mood.

A daan from the Scarlet Steppes, an empress mused. They were usually much more impressive specimens than this keeper. The cleft chin, however. Yes, I see it. You could do far worse for breeding stock. Make him yours once he gives over the bloodsong.

Drat, not this lush again, Enfri thought in exasperation. My wandering eye has gotten me in enough trouble tonight, thank you very much.

The ancient empress snarled in vexation before retreating.

"Jin didn't have many kind things to say about House Krayson," Enfri said softly.

He sighed. "I don't expect she would, but I never knew Krayson as an Althandi noble house. They were wiped out before I was born."

Enfri kept her eyes lowered. "They killed her brother. He was only a baby."

"As good as killed him," Krayson agreed. "They may not have wielded the knife, but they were responsible for Prince Roan's fate."

She took in a long breath before drinking another sip of tea. Enfri couldn't deny her own connection to the subject of Roan's murder. Because of it, Althandor invaded Nadia, and Yora Page went to war. If not for that twist of fate, Enfri's life might have been very different than what it had been. Perhaps she wouldn't have grown up without ever knowing her father. He could have taught her so much about who she was. She wouldn't be the Dragon Empress. Father would be the Dragon Emperor, and Enfri would just be a princess.

Just a princess? Enfri decided she needed to get some perspective on reality again. Her own was slipping more and more often as of late.

Winds, but if House Krayson hadn't betrayed King Cathis, Enfri wouldn't have forged her bond to Deebee when she was born. She'd still be Father's dragon, and he'd be the Opal Knight. It shamed her to think it, but she thought she'd almost rather things stay just as they were than be any different. Happiness had been difficult to come by as it was, and who could say if she would have ever found Jin in that other life. Selfish, maybe, but Enfri came to the conclusion once and for all that wondering what might have been was among the most futile exercises a person could engage in.

Enfri realized she'd let her mind wander and blamed it on the lateness of the hour. She poured herself a third cup of tea. It was a mild annoyance to her that Krayson still hadn't finished his first.

"So," she said without much of an idea of what would come after. Her eyes flickered towards the blood runner sidelong. "What will you do now?"

Krayson's expression didn't change. Truthfully, Enfri wasn't sure it had changed much at all since he came into camp. Those eyes... One of the first things Deebee had taught her about magic was to be wary of anyone with red eyes.

Winds, but he's a blustering blood mage, she thought. And Jin's reaction to him was plain weird. I've never seen her so cold to someone before.

Krayson dropped his gaze to Enfri's shoes, but it seemed more that he was looking at nothing rather than examining her footwear.

"In truth, Your Majesty..."

"Ah, ah."

"Um... Enfri, then. I am uncertain. You have refused the bloodsong. I need you to reconsider."

Enfri fought down a resurgence of spooks screaming for her to do as Krayson asked.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. For a number of reasons." She held up a palm to forestall his incoming tirade. "Seeing as you're an arcanist with a decent education, can I assume I have a chance of persuading you with logic?"

Krayson made a wry face. "I'll listen."

It was as good as Enfri was likely to receive from him. "This bloodsong the Merovech told you to give me, I take it that it's something a lot of people would like to get their hands on."

"An understatement."

"I have enough enemies. I don't want to invite more by accepting something they think I have no business having. If Elise hadn't attacked the Sanguine Tower and the Order was still strong, what course of action would you take if the bloodsong was declined?"

Krayson frowned. "That never happens."

Enfri looked at him over her teacup.

"Rarely happens," Krayson amended. He sighed as if he'd been tricked into saying more than he wished to. "In such a case, I would return to the masters and give my report."

"And then?"

"The masters would reevaluate the contract to determine who the bloodsong would go to."

"And if the previous owner had no other apprentices, family, or whatever to speak of?"

Krayson began to scowl. "The bloodsong would be kept by the Order, either to be auctioned off or granted to whomever the magocracy deemed it would be best utilized by."

Enfri set down her cup. "Krayson, I can't tell you how sorry I am for all that my aunt has done to you. She took everything you had, and in the process, she placed the future of the Five Kingdoms into jeopardy. My Shan Alee is dedicated to making reparations for every evil committed against the world in our name, and helping rebuild the magocracy would only be the start of that process. I meant what I said before. I want you to take the Merovech's bloodsong as representative of the survivors of your Order. Please, use it to rebuild what Elise destroyed."

"Don't ask that of me," he pled. There was little that changed in his expression, but Enfri recognized the look that came into his red eyes. The suggestion of taking the bloodsong for himself unnerved him, but she couldn't understand why.

"Why are you afraid?"

Krayson took three uneven breaths. No, he wasn't unnerved. Krayson was terrified. Enfri looked on as the looming blood runner seemed to change before her eyes into a fearful child.

"Once," he said in a small voice, "I stepped out of line. I did what my people said was forbidden." His hand shook like a leaf as he raised it to his face. His eyes stared out through his fingers, wide and frightened. "I wanted power. I wanted it badly enough that I ignored the taboos. Because... Then..."

Enfri was startled when she saw a tear fall down his cheek.

"I was alone."

She reached forward and put her hand on his knee.

"I became a sworn brother of the Order. They accepted me regardless of what I was and the names I carry. They gave me the chance to become a blood runner. We work in solitude, but by wearing this robe I carried the Order with me. By following the tenants, I was united with my brothers. I wasn't on my own, and I never want to be again. I tried to grow as powerful as I could so they would never..."

Cast him aside, Enfri thought.

Enfri felt a resurgence of guilt. Her heart went out to Krayson. She'd really done a number on him by turning down the Merovech's bloodsong. This business of blood runners and bequeathed ether was far outside what she knew, and it seemed that her ignorance was playing havoc with his situation. "You're welcome to stay here. "

Krayson's lips pressed together and lowered his hand. He looked away as he surreptitiously wiped a sleeve across his cheek. If Enfri was a more suspicious person, she would have thought he'd just suppressed a scoff.

"I doubt Her Highness would appreciate that."

"Jin isn't a fool," Enfri said. "She'll come around."

"Respectfully, I've never been much impressed by House Algara's ability to change their minds."

Enfri felt a tiny smile creep up on her. "You'd be surprised."

Krayson stood and walked three paces. He came to a stop and bowed his head. "I cannot accept the bloodsong any more than you can. By your leave, I will go to seek out any other blood runners that may yet live. With their help... we can come to a decision of what to do with your gift to the Order."

Shoen and the others howled in outrage, nearly causing Enfri to spill her tea. She wrenched her thoughts away once again, and this time it was a little more effective in silencing their cries.

Krayson glanced at her, then looked away again. His gaze landed on the bookshelf pushed to the corner of the tent, the one with her accumulated notebooks and journals. Krayson squinted as he peered at the spines. "Is that...?"

He went to the bookcase. His jaw dropped a little as he looked the notebooks over.

"Those?" Enfri asked. "Herbalism texts, penned by my grandmother for the most part."

"This glyph," he murmured. "It's Aeldic, writing derived from runes."

"Ah." Enfri understood now. "A lot of those were recovered from ruins in the Espalla Dunes. Aleesh codexes of alchemy and botany. Deebee did the translations."

Krayson's eyes went wide. He reached forward with his hand but held it back. "May I?" he asked, looking to her.

Enfri gestured to the books. "Please."

He selected the first volume and opened the front cover. His eyes darted across the page, absorbing the forward and opening statements.

"Most of what I first learned of alchemy came from those texts," Enfri explained. "They were written by an Aleesh alchemist near the end of the empire. Her name was..."

"Naius Doralean," Krayson read from the book, "Third Summit. A sion. Is that part of the Aleesh caste hierarchy?"

"I imagine. She writes often about things like 'sions' and 'nomin', but she never explains them in full."

Krayson nodded as he read, holding the book in one hand and his chin in the other. "The definition being assumed known. For instance, modern texts speak of fangblades and scorch kraken but rarely provide description. One who has never encountered either would be left wondering." He turned the page.

Enfri watched in fascination as he pored over the book. In an instant, it was like he became someone entirely different. The way he loomed like a stone gargoyle became a fervent energy when confronted by knowledge within his reach. Enfri could admire that quality in a person.

Krayson went still. His eyes no longer darted across the page but were locked on a single passage. "All seven thunders," he murmured.

"What is it?" Enfri asked.

"I have high expectations for the next generation of vex," Krayson read. "We cannot yet identify the precise essence within the sprout's imprint that allows for ether regeneration, but I believe crossbreeding with common alfalfa will assist in isolating the desired attributes."

"That's something she was working on," Enfri explained. "Her pet project. It was something of a coincidence that Deebee and I stumbled upon how vex sprouts help recover ether around the same time we found her journals."

Krayson shook his head and continued to read. His eyes were wide as saucers as he did. "My only worry is the soil. The local samples are proving insufficient. I will ask Krayson to seek out saltpeter when he next goes to market."

He looked up from the book. His crimson eyes burned with questions.

Enfri's lips parted, astonished. Not by the name of Mistress Naius' assistant, but that she'd forgotten. "Wait a moment," she said, then rushed out of the tent.

Deebee couldn't have taken Saveen far.

oOo

Krayson sank down to his knees in the corner of the empress' tent. He read the passage again and again.

What in the Five Kingdoms? he wondered.

Krayson. The Krayson. The thundering original Krayson. The first man to carry that name and the one who passed it down through the centuries until it fell upon a boy of Althandi and Teulite blood. This was him, his ancestor.

An Aleesh alchemist and a Krayson. The Althandi personification of Fate really was a cruel bastard.

He was so utterly stunned that he almost failed to notice when the empress returned. She was breathing hard after what must have been quite the sprint and held what looked like an overlarge metal ring in her hands. She knelt down beside him, offering it to him.

Krayson set the book aside and accepted the ring. "What's this?"

"We found it with the journals," the empress said breathlessly. "At first, we didn't know what these things were either, but we saw the inscription. Deebee kept it in her holding spell."

Krayson turned it over in his hands until he found the writing she spoke of. It was an old script, one that hadn't been used since the founding of the nations that were to become the Five Kingdoms. It didn't use an alphabet but a syllabary, characters representing whole syllables instead of consonants and vowels. Despite the inherent differences between the ancient script and modern writing, it was easily legible.

"Krayson," he whispered. "Is this...?"

"It's a slave collar," the empress said. Her eyes were downcast as she spoke the words, as if she were shamed by it. "We found remains in the alchemist's home, presumably Naius Doralean. She was holding this."

"The Krayson was her slave."

The empress shook her head quickly. "No. Well, at first, yes. She talks about him a lot in her writing. Someone gave him to her as a gift, but the first thing she did was take off his collar. Naius was an abolitionist and hated what the empire did. She freed him."

Krayson felt his ghosts stirring. He desperately wished that he could truly feel them again. He'd always thought he could puzzle out what he should be feeling, but now, he didn't have the slightest idea.

He felt... nothing. Only ghosts.

And never before had that absence of human emotion struck him as more horrifically wrong than it did in that moment. He should have felt something. He needed to feel something.

"I'm sorry," the empress said. "I thought you should know. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now."

"I... don't imagine you could." He ran a thumb over the inscription of his name. "You're like Saveen. Neither of you have it in you to feel nothing."

The empress' brow furrowed as Krayson stood. He replaced the journal into its place on the shelf, and the empress got to her feet as well.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty," he said. "With your permission, I'd like the chance to rest for the night before I set out tomorrow."

"I've already arranged a place for you. Any of the camp officers can direct you to where you can sleep for the night, and I promise it'll be better than a bedroll in the dirt. You can stay with us for as long as you'd like."

Krayson held the collar out for her, but the empress put up a palm in refusal.

"It doesn't belong to me," she said. "I don't know if you'd even want it, but... it seemed important to Naius. She and the original Krayson were close before she died."

"Close?" Krayson asked, raising an eyebrow.

He'd never seen an empress blush before.

"The phrasing..." she stammered. "Things said off-hand... Well, it wasn't a purely professional relationship."

Krayson nodded in acceptance. "I see. They were lovers."

The empress blinked. She'd clearly expected a bigger reaction than the one he gave. "I can't say for certain, but they might have been."

If nothing else, the collar was a relic of his fallen house. An heirloom of a macabre sort. Perhaps his mother would have wanted him to keep it. Krayson tucked it away into his robe.

Standing this close to the empress, Krayson was starting to become mildly put off that they were near to the same height, but at least she didn't loom and tower like Elise did. In truth, there was very little that was similar between Enfri the Yora and Elise Alinwe.

Relief was one of the few emotions that hadn't become a ghost, and it was a welcome one. Saveen would be well-cared for in House Yora's army. In Shan Alee. He could leave with a clear conscience.

Krayson bowed to her. "Farewell, Your Majesty. I wish you well on your endeavors."

She inclined her head to him. "And I on yours. Farewell, Brother Joshuan."