When she arrived at the king’s study, the Weapon at the door let her in.
“Thank you, Travis,” she murmured.
He nodded in reply, more acknowledgment than most would receive from one of the king’s stern guardians.
Sunlight glared through the study’s many windows that faced the courtyard gardens. The room had once been a queen’s solarium, and Karigan wondered if, when the king married, it would be restored to its original use and become the domain of Estora. She took a deep breath to help resist the bitter thoughts that conjured.
The king sat at his desk, its white marble surface glowing in the sunshine, reflecting onto his face, making him appear ethereal, a creature of light, while all else around him fell into shadow. His hair and beard blazed with fine gold and copper strands instead of the more subdued amber, and contrasted with his rich brown eyes.
He sat there with his hands folded before him, and the light brought to sharp relief how strong they were as it outlined muscles and tendons, his fingers adorned only by simple gold bands. Hands that wielded a sword, hands that wielded a scepter, hands that wielded power. How she wished, how she desired, those hands of light to unfold and caress her in tender strokes. Karigan shivered.
His face, however, told another story. As king, he had acquired the skill of concealing his thoughts and feelings from others, an advantage when he did not want enemies, or politicians, or supplicants to know what he was thinking. He now donned that mask, and it staggered Karigan that he should use it in her presence. She supposed it was for the best, for it gave them distance. She would wear a mask of her own as well, that of a dutiful Green Rider.
She bowed to the king. “You summoned me, sire?”
“We did.”
He was not using the royal “we,” she knew, for he never did. Someone cleared her throat and Karigan squinted toward the windows to find Captain Mapstone seated there, with legs crossed. The sun glared around her, making her a silhouette, but Karigan recognized her shape and the flare of red hair at her crown.
“Good morning, Karigan,” she said.
Karigan opened her mouth to return the greeting when a third person barreled out of the shadows at her with his arms thrown wide open.
“Garth!” she cried.
He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and lifted her off the floor. How could she have overlooked his presence when she entered the study? Garth was hard to miss!
“Welcome back,” she said, her voice muffled by his chest.
His laugh rumbled against her face, and he patted her on the back before setting her down. She staggered a little when he released her.
“Good to be back,” he said, grinning.
“Please be seated,” the king said. His mask remained intact, unmoved by Garth’s boisterous greeting.
After the two Riders settled in chairs next to Captain Mapstone’s, the captain cleared her throat again and gazed at Karigan.
“As you know, Garth was on an errand to the wall to check on Alton’s progress there.”
Yes, Karigan did know. She glanced anxiously at Garth, hoping to convey in that one look how much she wanted to speak to him after this meeting adjourned.
“To our dismay,” the captain continued, “Alton has been unable to make any progress whatsoever.”
Karigan’s mouth dropped open.
“It’s true,” Garth said. “The wall rejects him—won’t let him in. It refuses to trust him.”
“Doesn’t…trust him?” Karigan’s echoing him must have sounded idiotic, but Garth’s words overwhelmed her. Over two months had passed, and there was no telling when Mornhavon the Black would reappear in Blackveil Forest. And if Alton could not communicate with the wall and fix it, how much more time would be lost before a way was found?
“You more than most understand the gravity of the situation,” the king said, “which is why you’ve been chosen for a new assignment.”
“To go to the wall?”
“No,” Captain Mapstone said. “Dale is actually heading that way.”
“Dale? But how?” The Rider had been gravely wounded during the battle at the breach in the wall and remained in Woodhaven to mend.
“She wanted to go,” Garth said, “and I really thought one of us ought to be at the wall to help Alton communicate with Merdigen. She was tired of being cooped up in the mending hall at Woodhaven and Lord D’Yer’s chief mender deemed her fit to travel, so long as she did not participate in strenuous activity and rested frequently.”
“I don’t understand. How could Dale communicate with Merdigen if Alton can’t?”
“We,” and Garth jabbed his thumb at his Rider brooch, “can enter Tower of the Heavens even if Alton can’t. The wall still trusts us.”
Karigan shook her head in incredulity.
“With each passing day,” the king said, “we chance the return of Mornhavon. We must use well the time you’ve bought for us.” For a moment, the mask slipped from his face, and she saw in the depths of his eyes his concern, not just for what could lie ahead, but for her and all she had already endured. Karigan averted her gaze.
“What’s my assignment?”
“It’s actually threefold,” Captain Mapstone said. “We are sending you west, first to Selium.”
Karigan managed to refrain from jumping out of her chair and cheering. In Selium she’d get to visit with her friend Estral Andovian but she was curious to know what Selium had to do with the wall.