When Koreti awoke, he was lying on a wooden floor, all his limbs atremble. The urge to be sick that had threatened him in the lorekeeper's chamber came again, and this time he could not stop it. He wretched, tasting bile in his mouth. Someone lifted him by the shoulders and slid a basin toward him across the floor. He wretched again, and all the buttered biscuits and bacon he had eaten came up in a flood.

"There, now," came a hushed voice. "There, now. You're all right, sweet. It's all right."

Koreti could not still the shaking of his limbs, and the vomiting did not help. When his stomach was emptied at last, he crouched on hands and knees, shivering with the ague. He was uncomfortably aware of how naked he was; he was still wearing only his nightshirt and did not even have a robe.

The stranger bathed Koreti's brow with a warm cloth and then wiped his face, cleaning the sick away from his lips. When he at last mustered the courage to look up, he saw an old woman, her seamed face framed with waves of silver hair. She smiled at him. On her wrinkled cheek was a delicately-wrought marke, a single curving line with a dot above it near the corner of her eye and three dots below it near her mouth.

Koreti drew back from her on impulse when he noticed the tattoo. "Where am I?"

The old woman had been on her knees next to Koreti. She reached out to brace herself on the hearth, pushing herself to her feet. "Safe," she said. She reached for a folded blanket which had been warming near the hearth and shook it out, then draped it around Koreti's shaking shoulders. "Just rest. Traveling by the blood is hard on a person, especially the first time."

Warmth flooded Koreti's senses, sending a shiver of relief through every limb. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling wearier than ever he had in his life. When he opened his eyes again, he looked around the room in which he had found himself; its purpose was not immediately apparent. There was a sturdy wooden table and chairs, a sideboard, a stove, and shelves for cooking things—things Koreti had only ever glimpsed on his adventures in the kitchens of the palace. But Koreti also noticed two low, wide, cushioned benches which he realized, as he grasped for a word to describe them, must have been some kind of poor little bed. To the left was a wooden door, and to the right was a curtained doorway which must have led to a chamber beyond. The cottage reminded Koreti more of the imperial stables than a place a person could live. It was in every way different from the gleaming, tapestried halls of the palace.

Disoriented, Koreti tried to push himself to his feet, but his trembling legs did not obey him.

"Here," said the old woman. She reached out a gnarled hand. Koreti looked at the hand uncertainly for a moment before accepting it. He used it as leverage to raise himself up, endeavoring not to try his weight against the old woman's strength. Once he had gained his feet, he edged away from her again.

The sound of whining hinges startled Koreti; a wave of adrenaline coursed through him, reminding him unpleasantly of the magic that had risen in his blood. He turned to face the door, expecting danger.

A lean woman stepped through the door, her fox-colored hair catching the light from the glowing hearth. She wore a dirty tunic tucked into high-waisted breeches which, in turn, were tucked into scuffed boots. Her marke was similar to the old woman's in shape, but consisted of two lines instead of one, with a single dot at either end. She paused inside the door and swung it shut, her fingers on the handle. From her fingertips came a subtle blue glow which put Koreti in mind of the light he had seen in the lorekeeper's chamber; it spread from her fingertips and passed over the panel of the door before fading from sight.

She, a marked woman, was using magic—a practice that had been outlawed for centuries. She was a criminal, and she was not even shame-faced at her own wickedness. Horrified and afraid, Koreti stared at her, half-convinced she'd round on him and zap him with a magic bolt.

"So here you are," said the woman. She looked Koreti up and down with a narrowed gaze, striding toward him across the room. Her booted footsteps put Koreti more in mind of a soldier than of a woman. "Not very fun the first time, is it, lad?" 

Fixed in her steely gaze, Koreti could not muster a response. The woman's eyes were a strange shade he had never seen before. They reminded him of Mhera's eyes, which were a pale shade of gray, but this woman's eyes were tinged with violet, and they were sharp and cold.

"Does he speak?" She looked past Koreti at the old woman, who stood behind him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Until that moment, Koreti had not noticed her touch; he had been too focused on the new stranger.

"He does. He has had quite a shock, dear; be kind to him."

Having reached the pair of them, the woman stopped. Nearer to her now, Koreti was more unsettled still. He was used to seeing court ladies in silks and jewels or servant girls in blouses and skirt. A woman in breeches with such a watchful, feline look about her was frightening. There was no scent of floral perfume wafting toward him; there was no pleasant smile on her thin lips. "We will have to find you some clothes; we've nothing here to fit you," she said. "And your face...We shall certainly have to do something about that."

The woman placed her fingers beneath Koreti's chin. Too frightened to move out of her grasp, he tipped his face up obediently at her touch, lowering his eyes so he would not have to meet that glinting, penetrating gaze. For a moment, he felt as he had always felt when standing thus before his father: as if he did not meet her expectations and never could.

The woman dropped her hand and looked past Koreti again. "All is well outside, Mother. There was no disturbance when he arrived."

"I will go tomorrow to fetch him some clothes; it is best we stay inside today. We must do nothing to raise suspicion."

"And you must do nothing, either, lad," said the woman, looking back at Koreti. "Eovin is a friend of mine, and I owe him more than I could ever repay. Because he asked it of me, I will guard your life with mine. You will be welcome in this house. Henceforward, you are family; you will be known to our community as an orphan ward from the country, a child of some distant relation, and no one will question you. But as I swore to Eovin that I would protect you, I swear to you that I cannot if you raise suspicions. I will not put my mother and my people at risk. Do you understand?"

Koreti was so frightened he was speechless. He was keenly aware of how helpless he was, how naked, how alone. He nodded his head.

"What will we call you? None of us must speak your birth-name again, so long as we live—especially you."

He swallowed, clutching the blanket closer about his shoulders. So these women knew who he was; they must know his father had disowned him, that he was forbidden to return home. It explained their liberty with him, if they knew he was a prince. What reason had they to stand on ceremony in his presence now that he had been cast out of the line of kings? Shaken, Koreti whispered, "Matei. Master Eovin bade me call myself Matei."

"Good. Matei, you may call us by our names. This is my mother, Rhea u Rhanna. And I—"

She broke off, turning her face toward the window. Koreti followed her gaze, hearing what had drawn her attention: the sound of a distant tolling bell rolled through the city. He knew the sound issued from the Imperial Temple, which stood near the palace with its golden dome. When the bell tolled again, another had joined it, somewhere nearer at hand. The sound was deep and solemn.

Koreti was confused at first, wondering if he had spent more than a night in Eovin's secret library, or if he had lain unconscious for more than he had thought. It was not a gathering day. But then he remembered the other reason a temple's bell would toll. He had heard it once, when he was very small, when his grandfather had died.

Such a tolling bell was a signal of a royal death.

Shock settled over him, cold, numbing, and he took a step toward the door, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. "Mother," he breathed.

The stranger stepped in front of him, placing both of her hands on his shoulders. "Matei," she said gently. "You cannot go."

"My mother," he said, wrenching a shoulder free from her grasp. She seized hold of him again, and this time her grasp was strong. She held him as Emperor Korvan had held him in a bruising grip last night, and Koreti stopped at once, pain and panic lancing through him. He looked up at the stranger, exchanging rebellion for a plea. "The bells—I must go to my mother—"

He knew what must have happened. After the horrors of the preceding night, there was only one explanation: Empress Esaria had died. But if he went to her, if he ran all the way to the palace, perhaps he would see that his fears were unfounded. He would find her at her window, absorbed in her sewing, and she would look up and smile with the light of the sun in her gaze, and the world would settle back into its foundations again.

"You cannot go, lad." Her expression had changed; now, there was sympathy in those steely eyes, and her voice was soft. "Though your heart breaks, you cannot go."

Koreti made a wordless sound of protest. He struggled in her grasp again, desperate to escape. He had left the palace in too much of a hurry. Eovin had hastened him out with his wicked spell, and he had not been able to say goodbye to his mother. But the stranger who held him did not let go. With a scream of anguish, Koreti stopped struggling, surrendering to the grief.

The nameless woman pulled Koreti forward and put her arms around him. There was nothing in her embrace that was like his mother's; her arms were wiry, her chest and stomach narrow and flat, and of warmth or of softness there was nothing in her being. And even still, in that hard, unyielding embrace, Koreti found what comfort there remained to him in the world. He wept, no longer holding onto his tenuous grasp on manhood. He wept like a child, and the woman held him and stroked his hair, murmuring words he could not understand.

The other woman, Rhea, stood behind him, slowly stroking his back, tenderly drawing circles with her palm.

"I know it hurts, lad. I know it hurts," said the younger woman. He felt her voice vibrate through her body, for his cheek lay against her chest.

"I want her," he sobbed. "I want my mother!"

The woman stroked his hair back from his face again; the dampened strands ticked his tear-wetted cheeks. "I know, child. I shall be a poor mother to you—of that we can both be sure. But out of love for your true mother, you must let me try."

"You didn't know her! She wouldn't want me here in this place! She wouldn't want me here with you!"

"Perhaps that's true. I didn't know her. But I know she must have dearly loved you, and she would have wanted you to be where you'll be safe. If what Eovin told me is true, there's no place for you in the palace now, little princeling. The empress's spirit will rest at peace knowing you're alive and well, Matei."

"That isn't my name," Koreti said. The strength of his fury and his grief were ebbing, leaving him tired and weak. He closed his eyes, still clasped in the woman's firm embrace. Rhea's gentle hand stroking his back lulled him.

"It is. From this hour forward, Matei is your name as surely as Rhodana is mine."

I'm so excited we've reached this milestone together: Chapter 10!

This was an emotional chapter to write for me. As I considered this momentous time in Koreti's childhood, I realized that he would not have become the Rebel King overnight. It was just a tiny moment in the first book, but in one scene, Koreti fiercely imagined himself as an emperor leading battles against the very people to whom he is now supposed to belong.

I hope you got a hint in this chapter of what it felt like for him to have this identity crisis, whether you understand or agree with it or not. It would be so helpful to me if you could leave a comment about how you think he feels, so I can know if I was successful!

I will give you a little hint about what's coming with the next update: we're going to return to a very important question. Any guesses as to what's going to happen? ;)