“Perhaps you had better send me off on some dangerous task. That would be a more certain way of silencing me.”

“Damn me, do you think I want him to go because I want him harmed, Miri? Are you mad? It is you who wants to keep him home because . . . because you cannot forgive yourself for John Josua.” Even as he said it, Simon knew he had opened a door that was better left closed. Her silence seemed to confirm it.

When that silence had stretched a while, he said, “Miri? Dear wife? That was wrong of me. That is a pain that should be left out of our disagreements.”

“No,” she said. “No, there is some truth in what you say. But how can you not feel that, too? After losing our only son, how can you so blithely send your grandson out into the perils of the wild world?”

“Because he is to be a king, Miri. A king cannot be shielded from consequences, or he will become a king who does not understand what ruling means.”

“Is this about my father, then? His madness?”

“No, no, no.” He took a deep breath, trying to think of words that would carry his meaning when he did not entirely understand it himself. “This is a far bigger matter than you make it. I said to you once, let me go to the Sithi. They are our allies, but they have fallen away from us. But you would not let me go. If we ever needed their counsel, we need it now. So someone must go to them.”

“Then Eolair is the right choice. We do not need to send our heir as well.”

“But it is not about what we need, it is about what Morgan needs.” He lifted the coverlet. “Come here. I promise not to paw you. Come here and talk to me. It makes my bones ache just watching you sitting there in the cold.”

“It is not cold, it is summer-warm though spring has barely ended. Are you having the dreams again?” Something changed in her voice, just a little. “Is it the mountain?”

“No dreams still. But I remember the mountain, of course. That is not all that is in my mind, though. Come here. Come to bed.”

As if to remind him that she was no servant to hurry at his command, the queen slid the brush through her hair a few more times. At last, she put down the mirror and the brush and came to the bed and slipped quickly under the coverlet that Simon held.

“Are you hiding your charms from me?” he said, half-amused. “Are you afraid I will be overcome with base lust? S’Tree, now that I think of it, I might be.” He reached for her, felt the cool, silky flesh of her hip beneath his fingers. “Come here and find out.”

“No! Stop! You gave me a promise!” She pushed his hand away, but wiggled closer so that he could press himself against her. “You are in a good mood because you have won the argument and will have your way about our grandson. But I am not going to share your mood. Go to sleep.”

He let his head fall back against the pillow and stared up at the canopy, blue cloth studded with stars, like a map of the firmament. “Why do you think that I wanted so badly to go to the Sithi?” he said at last.

Miriamele stirred. “Because we need their wisdom. And you are right about that, Simon . . .”

“No. I wanted to go to the Sithi because I miss my friends.”

“You have many friends. Binabik is right here with you!”

“Not for much longer, Miri. How long has it been since we saw him last, before now? Years. And how long since we have seen any Sithi-folk except their poisoned messenger? Ten years? More, I think.” He pushed himself up a little so that he could cradle her head in the crook of his arm. It was hard for Simon to understand, when they were close like this, how such a small person as his wife should be so powerful, should be able to reach into his heart at will and squeeze it, leaving no wound on his flesh but making his soul ache. “I miss them, Miri. I miss the days we traveled together. Not because I miss being young—although that’s there, of course—but because I miss having true friends.”

She turned a little to look at him. “You have many true friends.”

“Friends at court are not true friends. There are a few, like Jeremias and Eolair, who knew me before we were put on the throne . . .”

“I was not put on the throne, remember. I was the king’s daughter.”

“Unbend a little, my sweetheart. There was never a more unpopular monarch than your father since Crexis the Goat killed the Redeemer. The truth is, neither of us should have ruled. It should have been your father’s brother Josua, who led the fight against him, but Josua passed the throne to us instead.” He reached over and carefully began to stroke her hair. “But all this is neither here or there. I want to see the Sithi again. I cannot say why, but I will never feel complete again if I do not. The world we knew in our youth is gone, but the Sithi are not. You never saw Jao é-Tinukai’i, but there is nothing like it in the world. Even the greatest cities the Sithi once built can’t compare. It was like a song, a story . . .” He could not find the words and fell silent.

“What does that have to do with Morgan? He doesn’t know the Sithi, and will probably not feel anything like the same thing as you if he meets them. He will complain that they don’t know any funny songs and the women are too old.” She laughed suddenly in spite of herself. “I imagine he will be less successful seducing women who have lived a thousand years.”

“I imagine so.” Simon closed his eyes. The stars on the canopy were beginning to dizzy him. He had not realized until this moment that he was tired. “God gives us one short life, Miriamele. I was lucky to have wise teachers—Binabik, Geloë, Aditu, Jiriki, and most of all Morgenes. They taught me to see beyond the obvious. I try to remember that. Morgan has had no such teacher.”

“Then be that teacher, Simon. Do not send him away. The Sithi are not as they were. They are not going to take him in and tutor him.”

“But that is just the point, Miri. You’re right. The Sithi are different than they were to me, or at least they seem to have changed. The world is different than it was when we were young. We have tried to teach him, but Morgan has never wanted to learn anything from us, so he has to learn for himself. So far, he has only had a little patch of the world to explore, and he has known it only as a prince. No wonder he sees little beyond the bottom of a tankard!”

“You can’t make him be like you, Simon.”

“I don’t want to. I want him to learn things on his own. Not completely alone, of course. Eolair is one of the kindest, wisest men I know. And don’t forget, Morgan will also have the trolls as companions for much of the trip. I know Binabik and Sisqi won’t let him come to harm if it can be avoided or escaped.”

“Don’t, Simon. Don’t be so trusting. God didn’t save John Josua, for all our prayers.”

“I trust nothing as true except what I have seen, Miri. That’s why Morgan needs something different. He will grow. He will see something of the world, a part of it that does not know to bow down to him, to indulge him, to pardon him when he behaves badly. What if you had never left Meremund? What if you had spent the whole of the Storm King’s war living in a castle, hearing news only from servants who didn’t want to upset you? What if you had never tested your own courage?”

“Many would have been happier if I hadn’t,” she said with some bitterness. “They called me mannish. They called me a witch for cutting my hair and wearing men’s garb.”

“Not me,” said Simon, but could not keep the yawn inside him any longer. “I called you perfect. I called you my love.”

She slid her head up a little higher, so that her mouth was close to his ear. Even after so many years, the feeling of her warm breath there still made him shudder a little. “Go to sleep,” she said. “You are tired and tomorrow will be a difficult day.” She kissed him. “But do not think you have cured all my unhappiness or curbed all my anger.”