Rhoden was a little taken aback at the direct request. It was a moment before he replied.

“Of - of course,” he stammered. “We understand that this is a continuing threat. It should be resolved as quickly as possible.”

“I’m glad you agree,” said Rapidian with a tight smile. “We will leave as soon as matters are resolved here.”

“That’s all very well,” said Lord Wallrick, an old, slow man. “But what I do not understand is this: what did they hope to gain by this attack? Why kill Garazor and Tallis? Forgive me, Master Rapidian, but despite your explanation, it does still seem to point to the Mesians. With our king out of the way, and no treaty to hold them, they will come for us.”

“And that creature took the Heartstone with it when it disappeared,” Lord Larcasane said, nodding. “We’ve all known how desperately the Thalist priests have wanted their hands on that.”

“I understand your doubts,” said Rapidian, clasping his hands together on the tabletop. “But Mesia is not behind this attack. We will find the Seranach and its master. We will return the Heartstone to you. When we do, both you and the people of Mesia will know that neither side was to blame.”

“What do you intend to do, once you have caught the beast?” Issa Roth asked.

Rapidian eyed her. “I will carry out the duty of the Brethren,” he said. “They will be judged for their crimes and face the ensuing punishment. Balance will once again be restored.”

“And, again, you are certain that Prince Rhoden has nothing to do with this?” Lord Hestran said.

Rapidian met Lord Hestran’s eyes with a look of cool impatience.

“You have nothing to fear from Prince Rhoden,” he said quietly. “As long as I live, that I can promise.”

Rhoden felt a surge of gratitude for the man, though he hardly knew him. A practical stranger was willing to stand for him more than anyone, aside from his uncle, ever had. He had a sudden desire that this meeting would end and he could ask the man all of his unasked questions. He had a feeling that Rapidian was not telling all the truth.

Hestran, however, was unconvinced. He huffed, “And we’re meant to take your word for it? That our prince isn’t some blasphemous monstrosity from the past, who controlled the tool to kill his father?”

Horst made a move at Rhoden’s side, but Rapidian caught his arm and forced him back down.

“No,” he murmured. Then, he turned to face Brother Lamb.

“Priest brother,” he said, his voice calm. “It seems the good lord is unwilling to listen to me, but perhaps he will to you. At the very least, as a priest of God, you possess an authority he can respect.”

Brother Lamb sat a little straighter. “What can I do for you, Master Brother?” he asked humbly.

“You are familiar, I assume, with the Ceremony of Absolution?

The priest’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Of course.”

“Would you describe it to us?”

“The Ceremony of Absolution is an ancient ritual from the days of the Sun King,” said Brother Lamb, speaking firmly. “Its primary function is to dispel the evil spirits in the hearts of men. We use it in the initiation of all our priests.”

Rhoden found himself listening carefully, as did all the members of the table. Rapidian motioned for Brother Lamb to continue.

“What, exactly, does the ceremony entail? What takes place?”

“We use the two materials closest to Ennis in their purity—salt and silver—to cleanse the soul. Simply put, the priest is given a bath of salt water, then is tested with a knife of silver. If any evil is within in the man, it will be revealed.”

Rapidian adjusted his glasses. “And is it true that this ceremony could be given to anyone, regardless of whether they were a priest or not?”

Brother Lamb turned to the priests at his side. After a minute of whispered conversation, he straightened.

“The ceremony was often performed in ancient times,” he said. “It is unusual to do so now, but—” He paused. “Yes. It could be done.”

As Rhoden knew he would, Rapidian then turned to face him. In the light of the candles, his glasses were almost opaque. Rhoden’s stomach fluttered nervously.

“Prince Rhoden,” Rapidian said. “Your lords accuse you of executing the attack tonight. Would you agree to undergo the Ceremony of Absolution, so as to erase all further doubt in their minds?”

Rhoden met the eyes of his uncle for the first time, and Horst nodded curtly. Exhaustion nagged at his mind. He wanted to sleep, he wanted for this meeting to be done with, but there seemed no way around Hestran’s suspicions but this.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then we will perform it directly,” said Brother Lamb, standing. “A brief recess, I think, so that we may gather the materials needed.”

Lord Crasmere nodded. “We will adjourn momentarily and return in half an hour.”

Rhoden remained in his seat as the lords stood and stretched, muttering to one another. Inside, his heart raced. A test of purity. Though he was not overly religious and had never given much thought to rituals or spiritual energy, he wondered. If the Ceremony of Absolution was to clear him of evil, would he be found clean? He knew he was guiltless in the attack from tonight, but he was still clearly a Shadow. Something had happened, after all, to make him appear this way. What if whatever that had been had made him evil, like the Shadow who had controlled the terrifying beast? Rhoden was grateful for Rapidian’s confidence in him, but he had no idea what conclusions the ceremony would bring.

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A half hour later, the ceremony was ready. The Ennist priests brought a basin of steaming water, and a silver knife on a cushion of scarlet velvet. Brother Lamb called Lord Astrall, who at that point had said nothing, to test the water. Lord Astrall did so, nodding mutely to Lord Hestran that it was, indeed, saturated with salt.

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Rhoden sat on a plain chair, a little away from the grand table. As the entire Council watched, the priests bathed Rhoden’s head, hands, and feet in the water, drying him as they went so as not to ruin his clothing. Rhoden tensed at first, but as he realized that the water was only warm and did not burn as he had expected, he relaxed slightly. He even attempted to give Issa, who looked very concerned for him, a reassuring smile.

After the bath, Brother Lamb took up the silver knife. With a swift movement, he sliced it across Rhoden’s left palm. Rhoden clenched his jaw tightly, but there was very little pain. The cut was shallow and immediately began to bleed freely. Brother Lamb smiled kindly at him as he dabbed a handkerchief in the blood, then bound his hand, completing the ceremony.

“Praise be to Ennis!” he said, turning to the Council and holding the bloodstained fabric in front of him. “God has judged this man and found him clean.” He turned to Lord Hestran. “Let this be a sign to you that the Broken One has no control over Prince Rhoden’s heart. He is clean.”

Lord Hestran, amazingly, bowed his head, but did not speak.

Rhoden felt his heart lift toward the skies. To know that he was clean, that there was no part of him that was evil, or like the Shadows of old, was to relieve himself of a heavy burden he had not known he carried with him. Because he appeared like the Shadows, everyone assumed he was one, and he had believed it. There was a part of him that had always assumed he would end up like them; completely controlled by evil. But knowing there was no connection to the ancient Shadows and their dark works was like breathing fresh air for the first time, like seeing a new sun rise over the mountains.

Rapidian must have taken Hestran’s silence for an answer, for he spoke.

“I believe, High Chamberlain, that this Council must come to a decision tonight.”

Lord Crasmere stirred. “I must thank you, Lord Rapidian, Brother Lamb,” he said. “You have helped us turn an impossible situation into a bearable one.” He looked down at a small stack of papers in his hands.

“We must make a decision, my lords, and I trust we will make the right one. We know now that the attack was not from Mesia, but a third source. We know that Prince Rhoden had nothing to do with it, and that he has been cleansed from evil. For the people of the kingdom, that will be a great relief.

“We are without a king, and we must choose a new one. Prince Caellamar cannot step into the position for which he was prepared. We do not know whether he will be the same again and we cannot wait to find out. King Garazor had no brothers. His wife’s family has no claim to the throne, and though Lord Bellenan is of the proper age I doubt the people would accept him.” He looked apologetically at Horst, who stared stoically back.

Lord Crasmere turned to Rhoden, his long face grave and solemn. “It stands to reason, then, that the throne be given to the only other member of the Toradian family.

“My lords,” he said. “Do you accept Rhoden Toradian as your king?”

There was silence.

“I do,” said Brother Lamb.

Lord Redes raised his hand. “I do.”

“And I,” said Lord Ferrin.

Slowly, every lord around the table gave their assent, looking slightly stunned, but determined. Even Lord Hestran gave a muttered answer to the affirmative. Rhoden felt blood rush to his head.

“Very well,” said Lord Crasmere. “Prince Rhoden, your father’s burial will be tomorrow. Your crowning will not take place until twenty-seven days after, as per tradition. Until that time, you will be king in name only.”

“I understand,” said Rhoden, trying to sound confident. His heart pounded in his chest. He was unsure whether his knees would hold him if he stood.

Brother Lamb ordered the other priests to take away the pieces of the ceremony, carrying the knife himself. “If you will excuse us, we must determine the next High Priest,” he said, and though he smiled at Rhoden, it was tired. “The Church will not be without leadership in this dark time.” He bowed to Rhoden. “It is an honor, Your Highness, to serve you. This is a black night, but Aleria’s future is bright!”

Then, he left, and the Council was adjourned.

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“I have to go, Nephew,” Horst said gruffly to Rhoden twenty minutes later. “Time is of the essence. We cannot delay any longer.”

They were together in Rhoden’s chambers, having finally retired for the night. Rhoden allowed Carlton to finish dressing him for bed, then dismissed the man with a nod. The valet left, and Rhoden turned to his uncle.

“I know you must go,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to.”

“Rapidian trusts me more than anyone to find the Seranach,” said Horst. “He is weary from his hunt, and the fight tonight. It took more out of him than he would ever admit. Additionally, he believes that though the beast has fled, the Dryr master may still be here. Hiding. He needs to be close by to detect its presence.”

Rhoden nodded. He walked to a table and poured himself a glass of water. He stared at the liquid, at the light of the fire reflected in it.

“There is so much,” he whispered. “So much you never told me, Uncle. About the Brethren of the Dawn, and the Dryr, and the Seranach.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“I would.”

Horst sighed. “Perhaps I should have told you more,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t change what must happen now. Rapidian has elected to remain behind and stay by your side. He’ll be able to answer your questions about the Dryr. He knows more about them than I do.”

Rhoden twisted the glass in his hands. “You’ll be traveling alone?”

Horst shook his head. “I’ll be taking that swords master with me, Derrick Soraldson.”

Rhoden was surprised at this, then remembered how the young man had been present in the fight against the Seranach in the Citadel.

“We thought he had deserted his post,” he said. “Was that a ruse?”

“He was about to leave, but your father got to him first,” Horst said. “There was something about the Mesians that made Derrick want to leave, though I understand he himself is a Mesian—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Whatever the reason, Garazor knew his skills and wanted to continue to use them. He refused to take his resignation, so they came to an agreement. Garazor had a feeling something would happen, and so he stationed Derrick to keep his eyes open for anything suspicious, while keeping himself hidden. It was Derrick who alerted us to the presence of the Seranach when it first appeared in Torran.”

Rhoden thought on this, then swirled his glass, watching the water spin. “He will be a good companion for you, I’m sure,” he said quietly.

There was silence for a moment, then Rhoden heard Horst’s footsteps approach him. A moment later, his uncle had grabbed his arms tightly. The glass of water shook in Rhoden’s hand.

“As soon as we find it, we will return,” Horst said fiercely. His eyes blazed. “But even then, I will not be your crutch, Nephew. You have not needed me for many years now.”

Rhoden felt stinging tears in his eyes. “How…long?” he said in a choking voice.

“No tears!” his uncle said brusquely. “This is the time for you to be strong, when everything around you is crumbling to the dust. You must show them, Rhoden. You must show them how strong you can be, and they will follow you.”

Despite his uncle’s order, Rhoden felt several tears trickle down his face. “How can I do this without you?” he asked. “Cael is gone. My father is gone. How can I be strong when you’re leaving me, too?”

“Cael isn’t gone yet,” said Horst. “There’s a spirit in your brother that will fight to the very end, I can sense it. You watch over him, now. Make him comfortable. And when he wakes, when—” he repeated, shaking Rhoden, “you show him what a magnificent job you’ve done of it all.”

He pulled Rhoden into a crushing hug, not caring that Rhoden’s glass of water spilled down his back. He was still wearing his robes from the wedding, and Rhoden breathed in the scent of them, a mixture of smoke, sweat, and perfumed oil. His uncle’s smell—one he had come to know through all their years together in Tellegar.

Horst stepped back. “I may not be around to say it,” he said, then bowed low. “Long live the king.”

A lump lodged in Rhoden’s throat. He could say nothing as his uncle gathered his cloak, gave Rhoden one last thundering look, and left the room.

“Long live the king,” he whispered as his uncle’s footsteps faded away.