"Zaor already has an heir, as well you know! You have taken my daughter from me. How much more will you demand?"
"Just a bit of magic," Lydi'aleera said, shrugging negligently. "A potion. Any wood-witch or commoner crone could put together a few herbs and create the same effect."
"If you believe that to be so, then why do you trouble me for this magic, but for spite?"
Lydi'aleera's pale faced flamed. "Remember your place, mage, and have a care how you speak to me!"
"My place is in the Towers," Amlaruil said in a tight voice. "Permit me to return there at once."
The queen stepped forward, her hand outstretched so that Amlaruil could see the enchanted ring. Her pale eyes were set with resolve. "Go then. But do so knowing that you have been the death of your beloved king! Give me what I desire, and I will alert him of danger. If you do not pledge to do as I say, he will die, and be lost to us both. I would rather have it so, than remain as things are."
The two elf women locked eyes in a silent, bitter battle. Finally Amlaruil bowed her head, defeated. "You have my pledge. Alert the king, and I will make you your potions."
Smiling in triumph, the queen lifted the ring to her lips and spoke a single arcane word. The ring began to glow with faint, fey light. In a moment, Zaor's voice drifted into the room.
"How may I serve you, Queen Lydi'aleera?" inquired the voice in formal, distant tones.
"My lord king, I have grave news," the queen said, a faint smirk on her lips as she held Amlaruil's gaze. "Are you alone to hear it?"
"There are none with me."
At these words, Amlaruil's concern increased fourfold. What possessed the king to go into the forest alone? Where were his soldiers? Where was Myronthilar Silverspear, his pledged guard?
"You must retrace your path at once," Lydi'aleera said. "Gold elf traitors have planned that an accident befall you."
"That is most unlikely," the king said impatiently.
The queen's expression tightened. "Even so, it is true. I have before me a messenger from the Towers of the Sun and the Moon. The magi have foreseen this plot, and sent word."
There was a moment's silence. "I cannot return to the palace, but thank the magi for their diligence."
Amlaruil sprang forward and seized the queen's hand. "Zaor, you must!" she said urgently. "They have laid traps for you! I saw one myself, near the lodge at the Lake of Dreams, and one of my agents heard the conspirators speak of others! There are armed elves awaiting you, as well-two that I know of, perhaps more. How is it that you are alone, leaving no word where you go?"
"Amlaruil?" his voice said, brightening with hope. "Did you hear any word of our sons? Xharlion and Zhoron? Are they yet alive?"
Suddenly the mage understood what had lured the king into the forest. "I have come this day from Craulnober Keep," she assured him. "The boys are well, and safe. This is but a cruel ruse to draw you off alone!"
"Thank the gods," Zaor said fervently. "I will return to Leuthilspar at once."
The light in Lydi'aleera's ring winked out. "He would not consider the warning on the merit of my words alone," the queen said bitterly. "Oh no. He listens only to the mother of his children! Well, you will lose your sole claim to that place soon enough."
Amlaruil did not offer comment. "With your permission, I must return to the Towers. I will have the potions sent to you."
"Oh, no," the queen said softly. "You will bring them yourself, and place them into my hand. If there were a way to do so without offending proprieties, I would have you stay and witness the results, from the first sip of wine to the birth of Evermeet's true heir!"
The High Mage turned away, unable to face the cruelty in the elf woman's face. She fled from the chamber with no thought to dignity, and ran headlong into a flame-haired elf just entering the room.
Montagor Amarillis caught at her elbows to steady her. "Lady Moonflower," he said, his tone slightly mocking. "It is a surprise to see you here, considering that the king is not at court. Nothing is amiss with the princess, I trust?"
Amlaruil tore herself away from him and flung both arms high in a sudden, desperate gesture. She disappeared in a flash of silver fire.
The noble blinked. "Well. Unusually flashy, for our lady mage. She must have been most eager to divest herself of our presence. What mischief have you been up to, my sister?"
Smiling like a cream-sated cat, Lydi'aleera tucked her arm into his and drew him out onto the balcony. As they walked, she told him what had transpired. Montagor listened, openmouthed, to the queen's words. When she was finished, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in wonderment.
"Well done, little sister! I would not have thought you capable of such cunning."
The queen gave him a complacent look. "I have had an excellent teacher."
Montagor acknowledged her words with a slight bow. "Since you have all things well in hand, I will leave you."
"No, stay," the queen urged. "Zaor will not be back until tomorrow at the earliest. I would have your advice on how best to rid myself of that wretched Ilyrana. And while you're about it," she added in less pleasant tones, "you can explain to me why I never heard so much as a word of Amlaruil's latest two brats. And when you are through, then you can begin to think about how best to ensure that your future nephew will not be troubled by thrice a challenge to his rightful throne!"
As she fled from the palace, Amlaruil's first desire was to return at once to Craulnober Keep, and see once again with her own eyes that her sons were indeed safe from the Gold elf conspirators. She knew they awaited her there, hale and happy and dirty as a pair of piglets from their rowdy play, and that such a trip would avail nothing. It would be a personal indulgence, no more.
But she had a pledge to keep, whatever the keeping cost her. In a locked tower room, she consulted ancient books of folklore and herb craft, blending the old tales with the power of her own High Magic. She worked all through that night and well into the next morning. Finally she held in her hands two small vials which promised to be the fulfillment of Lydi'aleera's dreams-and the death of her own.
Amlaruil's heart was leaden as she called forth the magic that would once again bring her to the moonstone palace. This time, she found Lydi'aleera in the company of her brother, walking arm and arm with him in the wondrous gardens that surrounded the palace.
It struck Amlaruil that once Zaor was magically enthralled by the queen, Montagor Amarillis would have considerable power in the court. In all things, it was rumored, the queen deferred to her brother.
Well, it was not something that could be helped. Amlaruil gave the potions to the queen and left as quickly as she came. And when she left, she took Ilyrana with her-she did not trust Lydi'aleera with her daughter's safety. If the queen was willing to risk her own husband to bargain for an heir of her own begetting, what lengths might she take to remove any possible contenders for her child's throne?
With all possible haste, Amlaruil gathered her three children and entrusted them once again to her agent Rennyn. Before that day waned, she stood atop the walls of Craulnober Keep and watched as the ship bearing them to the safety of the Moonshae Islands disappeared from sight.
The mage's heart was heavy indeed as she returned to the Towers. Not only had she lost Zaor's love this day by magic she herself had fashioned, not only was she parted from her three children, but she felt estranged from Evermeet itself. The dire events in the forest glade had sundered her forever from the sense of security that she had always considered her birthright.
It seemed inconceivable that an elf would act the part of an assassin, or that her own children might have to take refuge elsewhere. It was a reversal of all that she held to be true-for was not Evermeet created by the gods as the ultimate refuge of all elves?