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  Brice stifled a sigh and moved to stand near, but not so close that Kodey would move away to make clear the depths of his ire. He turned to the grand duke and dropped to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. "Your Grace, I offer apologies most humble for my unseemly behavior and the problems I have brought to your tourney. 'Twas not my intent and I regret it most deeply."

  "You are Brice Beauclerc," the Grand Duke stated, lightly touching fingers to Brice's shoulder to indicate he may rise. "Castle Triad has been good for you, I see, although it has not curbed that tongue of yours."

  "Nay, Your Grace," Brice said. Normally the words would merely have made him sigh, but generally any reprimand to his person made Kodey laugh—or try not to laugh. This time, Kodey remained stonily unmoved. "I am afraid there is naught in existence which can teach me silence. Oft I think 'twould be best simply to cut out my tongue."

  The grand duke chuckled. "Nay, that is going too far. Tell me why you came so angrily upon the tourney and with such bold accusation."

  Tersely, Brice explained all that he had learned in the capital, right up to the moment de Capre joined his camp and confirmed all that he had learned. When he finished, the grand duke was frowning deeply. He glanced toward the Duke of Lons, who looked as though he had swallowed a piece of rotted meat. "Duke of Lons, Duke de Capre, approach me."

  Immediately the dukes obeyed, kneeling before him respectfully and standing only when he indicated they might. "Duke of Lons, your words upon the tourney field leave me intrigued. What is the truth of the matter, as you know it?"

  "Your Grace, I beg of you," the Duke of Lons said, closing his eyes. "I would much rather lose my life than speak the truth of the matter. I keep my silence for good reason and would rather be executed a murderer than—"

  "I did not offer you an option," the grand duke cut in. "I am ordering you, knight, to speak the truth."

  The Duke of Lons nodded, but did not speak for several minutes, staring unhappily at the floor as though he hoped it would open up and swallow him whole. "I was out that night on business for Your Grace … business pertaining to the matter of a particular ambassador … "

  "Aye," the grand duke said, eyes sharp. "Continue."

  "I encountered the peasant on the bridge and knew him to be one favored by the Duke de Capre," Lons said, voice gone oddly flat, as if he were too weary to interject any manner of emotion into it. "He looked ready to jump into the waters far below and I called him down, demanding to know what he was about."

  Beside him, de Capre made as though to speak, but cut himself off.

  The Duke of Lons continued. "We spoke at length, for his words and manner were disjointed; he was obviously deeply anguished. From what I was able to learn, 'twould seem the Duke de Capre had declared to him every intent of surrendering his station to be with his lover openly. The peasant did not want such for the duke … I thought I had dissuaded him from taking his own life, but at the last, he lunged for me and grasped the dagger upon my belt. He then drove the dagger into his gut and the pain of that sent him tumbling over the bridge. That is the truth of the matter, I vow it."

  De Capre made a rough sound, eyes bright with pain. "You lie. Why, if that were the truth, would you keep it from me?"

  Slowly, the Duke of Lons dragged his eyes up and the pain in them hurt to look upon. "I would rather you think me a murderer and slay me for the crime to find some measure of peace, than be burdened with the truth that now you have heard. Better to die than cause you that pain."

  "What … " De Capre stared at him wide-eyed—then turned abruptly away with a choked sob and fled the solar.

  The grand duke regarded the Duke of Lons in silence, then finally reached out and touched him lightly upon the shoulder. "Go."

  The Duke of Lons turned and left, leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

  "That was not at all what I expected to hear," the grand duke said sadly. He looked at them both. "It only goes to show that older does not always mean wiser. However, this outcome may not be for the worst; it is entirely upon the dukes to decide how to end the affair."

  Brice saw Kodey move from the corner of his eye and reached out to snag him before he could take off after Lons. "You heard His Grace; leave them."

  "You upset him!" Kodey shouted angrily, jerking away. "He brought me here and let me fight and was never anything but kind, and then you with your confounded temper came and ruined everything."

  "Kodey—"

  "Fie on you," Kodey snarled, bolting away before Brice could stop him. He started to go after him, and then wondered miserably what the point of it would be. His intentions had only been the best. A thousand times he had feared Kodey would be seduced away, forever beyond his reach … Not once had he considered 'twould be his own actions which lost Kodey to him forever. Brice stared at the door through which Kodey had vanished, wishing miserably that he might simply lay down and die. He wanted Kodey to look upon him fondly again, to give him that look of uncontained joy he had upon the tourney field. Now Kodey would not even tolerate his touch.

  "Now, Beauclerc," the grand duke said with a laugh. "Do not look as though you have lost your lover forevermore."

  Brice sighed. "He was never that and never shall he be," he said heavily. "Most especially now, I think."

  "Fie on that," the grand duke replied lightly. "He is young, despite being older in experience than most of his peers. I would imagine that were you to apologize nicely, and perhaps make it clear why you act the way you do, that he would forgive you, and gladly."

  "Why does everyone from the grand duke to the lowest serf feel the need to interfere in matters between Kodey and me?" Brice asked irritably.

  The grand duke laughed. "Perhaps because the two of you are bungling matters quite thoroughly and we are compelled to take pity."

  Brice rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees, rising nearly before the grand duke bid him stand and turning to stride from the room. Outside, he faltered briefly, before halting another passing servant and demanding the location of Kodey's quarters.

  Negotiating the keep itself was easy enough; one was very much like another. He found Kodey's room in mere moments and pounded upon the door hard enough that he half-thought the whole of the keep shook with the force of it. After a moment, the door swung open—and Kodey promptly tried to slam it shut again. Brice threw his arm out, lodging it between door and frame, and then shoved his foot through as well. "Kodey."

  "Go away."

  "Please, Kodey."

  Kodey went still and stared at him a moment, still upset, but thrown by the polite request. "Have you come to cause more trouble or simply to drag me home?"

  Brice bit back an urge to tell him to cease acting the child. Although he loathed admitting it, Kodey had every right to be angry. "I have come to offer my apologies," he replied stiffly.

  "Ah," Kodey said, and let go of the door, leaving it gaping open. Brice nearly tumbled to the floor, so sudden was the shift in balance, and he glared at Kodey's back for the childish stunt.

  He stood in silence, watching Kodey with an unhappy frown. He wished so badly that he could simply cross the room and press him into the bed, and then kiss away the worst of the hurt. Instead, Brice sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I came here because I feared you were in grave danger, Kodey. 'Twas not my intent that things come to pass in the manner they did. I had every reason to believe the Duke of Lons was guilty of murder."

  Kodey shrugged irritably, looking at his hands.

  Brice sighed again and dared to move a few steps closer. "What do you want me to say, Kodey? I did not intend this, I swear it to you."

  "I was happy to see you!" Kodey exclaimed, nearly bursting up from the bed, and for a moment, Brice thought he was about to be pummeled something fierce. "You came, I thought that meant—" He bit his words off with a rough sound, turning his face away from Brice. "You only came to yell and yank me about, to drag me home with no explanation, without meeting my friends, all after hurting Yvai
n when he has been naught but kind to me."

  "I told you, I had every reason—"

  "You were not even happy to see me," Kodey interrupted. "You cared about naught but taking me off."

  "I thought you were in danger," Brice snapped. "Would you have dallied or delayed were it anyone from Castle Triad you believed to be in danger?"

  Kodey glared furiously at him, but did not reply.

  "I swear it, Kodey—"

  "So shall I pack my trunks that we might be off?" Kodey asked, voice gone flat.

  Brice's frown deepened. "Nay … there is no reason to leave now. By all means, stay and enjoy yourself as well as you can. I … " He stopped, shaking his head. What point was there in going further? He turned to leave. "If you decide to go elsewhere at the close of the tourney, do not forget to send word to Castle Triad."

  "You are departing?" Kodey asked, tripping over the words as Brice reached the door.

  He turned back, more than a little vexed. "You have made it quite plain that you want no part of my presence here," he said. "I thought to spare you the continued pain of enduring it."

  Kodey confounded him all the more by looking positively devastated. "You do not want to stay?"

  Brice wanted to strangle him. "You were the one who said my presence displeases you. What would you have of me, Kodey? Truly you have me confounded."

  "My plans never work," Kodey commented glumly, sitting down heavily upon his bed once more. "It matters naught what I do, always they fail me. I thought when I saw you that my final plan had somehow found success … but it too has failed."

  Groaning, Brice crossed the room again and yanked Kodey to his feet. "What plan have you ventured upon this time, Kodey?" He examined every line of Kodey's face, the deep brown of his eyes, dismayed by the pain so deeply etched. "Kodey, whatever is the matter? I vow you drive me mad on purpose."

  "Mad, aye," Kodey agreed sadly.

  Brice shook him hard, then used his free hand to grasp Kodey's chin and force him to look up. "Kodey, what has you so distraught? Never did I mean to upset you so. 'Twas only of you I thought and that made me more reckless than I might have otherwise been."

  "Chastaine said I should just tell you," Kodey said abruptly, the words tumbling out in a near-incomprehensible rush. Brice had to repeat them to himself twice through before he was able to sort them out. "Foolish still, I think it, but all of my other plans have failed and … "

  Only barely did Brice resist strangling him. "Tell me what?"

  "That—that I love you," Kodey replied, and this time he said them so quickly and jumbled that Brice had to repeat the words thrice over in his head. "All of my plans to earn your regard in return have failed."

  Brice groaned. "You and your confounded plans, Kodey."

  Kodey cringed, breaking free of the hand holding his chin. "Even Chastaine's plan has come to naught." He looked ready to cry, something he had not done since being caught in a gruesome battle at only fifteen, and Brice could not bear it. Sinking a hand into Kodey's hair, cupping the back of his head, he once more forced Kodey to look up—and kissed him precisely as he had always wanted. All of the noble intentions he had ever possessed about not unfairly swaying Kodey's mind or manipulating youthful infatuations vanished. Kodey was his and that was the end of the matter.

  Kodey had clearly never kissed anyone before and that pleased Brice entirely too much—nearly as much as the startled noises fed into his mouth as Kodey began to clumsily kiss him back. The moment was made all the sweeter by the fingers clinging to Brice's tunic for dear life. When at last they broke apart, the dazed look upon Kodey's face was most pleasing indeed.

  "Y-you kissed me," Kodey said, eyes near wide enough to consume the whole of his face.

  Brice nodded, brushing away a stray lock of hair from Kodey's forehead. "Aye, whelp, I did."

  "Why?" Kodey demanded. "You—you always pushed me away or shoved me in the moat, and ever are you mad at me for some thing or another. E-e-even the night you left, you bastard, your words were cruel, and before that you were mad at me after we routed the brigands!"

  "Would you stop speaking faster than I can follow?" Brice demanded. "What is all this nonsense about being mad at you?"

  "You were!" Kodey exclaimed, looking quite as though he would like to swing a punch.

  Brice kissed him again and nearly forgot what they were discussing by the time he finally made himself break it. "Mad? Nay, 'twas not anger." He laughed at the disbelieving look upon Kodey's face. "'Twas only jealousy, you fool. That knave duke would not stop touching you and I wanted quite badly to lodge an arrow in his head."

  Kodey looked at him—then started laughing.

  "Were there a moat," Brice scowled, "I would toss you into it."

  Kodey was still laughing when he reached up to throw his arms around Brice's neck and drag him down for another kiss.

  Why had Brice resisted this for so long? How, mayhap, was the better question. Brice wanted to devour him, ensure forever that no one else ever had a chance.

  "So my plans did not fail entirely?" Kodey asked when at last they broke apart again.

  "What plans?" Brice questioned, and he would not care in the slightest except Kodey sounded so uncertain.

  Kodey pulled away, scrubbing at his hair. "I vowed I would make you fall in love with me by my eighteenth year. 'Tis a plan I have been working upon since I was twelve and ever did it seem to fail."

  "Nay," Brice said, cupping his face. "Ever have you been highest in my affections, Kodey … but you are young and I feared as you grew older, your feelings would change."

  "We have thrown one another in the moat fifty-one times," Kodey replied. "I have stolen your clothes eleven times; you have punched me twenty-three. Thrice did I paste your sword within its sheath and nine times did I steal all your arrows. Ninety times have you over salted my food, twelve times did you leave spiders in my trunks. I lost count of our arguments. I think—" He swallowed and tried to smile. "I think if you are trying to ruin my affections, you shall have to try harder than that, my lady."

  Brice smiled. "Nay, whelp. I would say the duel is over and we have done enough. 'Tis naught left but to enjoy our mutual victory."

  "Aye," Kodey replied. He returned the smile and held on as though he would never let go as Brice bent once more for a kiss.

  Vow Unto Me

  The snow was unending.

  To describe the world as turned to white would be so vast an understatement that Yvain near laughed. The past few winters had been mild, with snows never reaching a depth greater than his knees, but around him now the snow came to waist level, with every promise of ne'er stopping afore spring at last drove winter back. And as the winter solstice was yet two weeks away, meaning they were still in autumn and not true winter … The world had not turned white; rather it had been devoured whole by the color. And if not for the crest of the grand duke stamped into the wax sealing the missive brought to him by no less than a Beauclerc, Yvain would have told the messenger to bugger off and enjoy his perilous return through the unending snow. Unfortunately, he was a peer of the realm—one of the highest—and so must answer the summons of the grand duke no matter the time or weather.

  Yvain's progress through the snow was slow, his horse as pleased as he to be stuck in the thrice-cursed weather—but just as he was beginning to despair of having stepped wrong somewhere along the way, he spied through the falling snow the walls of the capital: Chieldorona, the very heart of Chieldor, Kingdom of the Sun. On a clear day, the towers of the keep were visible at great distance. At the moment, however, he could scarce see his fingers before his nose—his frozen nose, and the fingers no better even within their gloves.

  Yvain reached the great drawbridge which spanned the river forming a natural moat for the great capital. On most days, as long as the sun was up the city was open, and then once it set, the massive double portcullis was closed and no one could go in or out save with express permission. In especially bad times, the draw
bridge was raised as well.

  Drawing close, Yvain halted as guards stepped forward to demand his identity. Normally he might have taken offense, for 'twas their duty to know as well as any herald the crests and blazons which sought entrance to the city; however, he doubted they could see it any better than he could see his icicle fingers. He lifted his frozen arms in a gesture of peace and dismounted at their bidding. Calmly, ignoring the crossbows leveled upon him—and making note to commend these men to their superior—he threw back the hood of his fur-trimmed cloak.

  "Your Grace," the men promptly replied, lowering their crossbows and dropping to their knees. "Forgive us, please."

  "Aye," Yvain said lightly, touching their shoulders. He reached into the cumbersome folds of his heavy winter cloak and withdrew the missive, displaying the seal upon it. "I come at the bidding of His Grace, the grand duke."

  The men nodded as they rose, one vanishing into the guard tower to give orders for the portcullis to be raised.

  "You guard the city well," Yvain said. "Continue your good work."

  "Aye, Your Grace," the remaining man said. He swept him a bow as Yvain mounted his horse and rode through the gates as they were raised. Scarcely had he cleared them when they were again lowered and he was well sealed within the city.

  The snow was not so heavy here, for the inhabitants fought against it where they could; sweeping it from the streets and carrying away much of it to be melted down for fresh water, as he doubted many of the public wells remained unfrozen. 'Twas near quiet as a graveyard as he rode along the cobblestone streets, for those who might have loitered about to enjoy a bit of fun in the night had been driven indoors to seek what amusements they may with a fire and warm ale.

  Yvain's breaths were misted puffs where not swallowed by the still-falling flakes of heavy snow. It muffled the clomping of his horse's hooves, but not overmuch, and the silence all around them only made the rhythmic noise all the louder. Here and there torches fought the weather, but he could see where more than a few had lost the battle. Guards were posted at regular intervals and he did not doubt that the lot of them were being punished for some offense or another. He nodded to each one, offering what little sympathy he could.