To save two kingdoms from a despot's rule, one man must journey into the unknown, seeking answers to the strange and powerful secret that so plagues him.

Wyl Thirsk, loyal soldier of Morgravia, has seen his best friend slain, his sister tortured, and his mentor sent to certain death, all at the hands of his sovereign, the cruel and manipulative King Celimus. Now Celimus, believing himself to be rid of the "moral constraints" of the Thirsk influence, has turned his greedy eye to expansion ... and Morgravia's neighboring kingdom, ruled by the spirited but inexperienced Queen Valentyna. As Celimus pressures Valentyna into a doomed political marriage, Wyl endeavors desperately to preserve both the honor of his country and the freedom of the woman he loves.

But fate has other plans for him. Despite his friends and loved ones becoming increasingly tangled in the evil machinations of King Celimus, though war with the dread Northern Kingdom appears imminent and Valentyna is poised to succumb to Morgravia's oily rule, Wyl must leave behind all he knows and cares about and travel into the land from which none return, seeking out the bestower of Myrren's sinister gift.

The Queen has suffered a sleepless night, churning over her decision to expel Romen Koreldy. Valentyna has measured the dark hours by listening to the muted noises of the guard changing. The only other distraction was the distant, infrequent howl of a dog — or was it a wolf? She wondered if it was caught in one of the traps laid by poachers ... or more whimsically she imagined it had lost its mate and was venting its despair.

She understood such things, for the sorrowful cry only served as an echo of her own loneliness.

Valentyna asked herself yet again if she could have hung on to the man she loved and still appeased an angry king? A king, she added, with more than enough fighting power to overwhelm Briavel. The answer, whichever way she approached the problem, was no.

"Damn duty!" she murmured into her coverlets. She punched the feather pillow that brought no comfort this night.

To add to the misery, a vision of Fynch haunted her. How he had looked at her she would never forget. He too had grown to love Romen, despite his misgivings about the man. She and her young friend had shared so much in the short time they had known each other. But all of that closeness was shattered now. Fynch was avoiding her because she had so deliberately distanced herself from Romen and ordered him expelled from Briavel.

She had cast aside a man she loved over Celimus — a man they all hated. A child, not familiar with the way of politics and diplomacy, would believe her actions made no sense. But this was no ordinary child. Fynch was special in his serious, deep-thinking manner. He understood all too well, but that did not mean he felt any comfort in his understanding.

She did not want to lose his companionship, but it seemed the day just gone had risen solely to bring loss to her life.

King Celimus, she realized, kicking off her blankets with irritation, would probably be close to the border by now, possibly even crossing into Morgravia. She had no doubt spies would keep him updated on Briavel's events, and her standoff with Koreldy would be high on the list of missives. It suddenly occurred to her that the King might have Romen tracked down upon hearing this news. Surely Romen would be cautious? He had been warned that to set foot into Morgravia was to risk certain execution. Failing his own good sense, she trusted that her own Commander Liryk would counsel Romen. Hopefully they had ridden through the night and would be headed north, back to where he had come from.

"Where Cailech, King of the Mountains, awaits him," she whispered sorrowfully.

The last time Valentyna had cried passionately was over her father and the time before that when she had fallen from a horse a decade ago. She considered herself resilient, but silent, heavy tears won now as she accepted the enormity of her orders. Romen had nowhere to go. Briavel represented safety. Beyond its borders to the north and west, people wanted to kill him. The south offered only ocean, no comfort. To the east, only fear in the little-known Wild. Fynch knew it too. That was the reason for the accusation in that chilling final glance he had given her.

It spoke of betrayed friendships.

And he was right. What had Romen been thinking during that swordfight! It was clear that he had meant to kill Celimus, and then where but in intense danger would that have left Briavel?

Romen knew how precarious her predicament had been. What had been his intention? She had not had a chance to consider it, in truth. She had not had the luxury of opportunity to think it through; she had been forced to react, and swiftly, in the only way that a monarch in her situation could have done.

Born in 1960 and raised in southern England, FIONA McINTOSH spent an early childhood in the gold-mining camp of Bibiani in Ghana, where her father was working. She studied in Brighton before starting a career in PR and marketing in London. She made Australia her home in 1980, continuing in a travel-marketing career with an ad agency, a tourism authority, and an international airline. Fiona married her magazine-publisher husband, Ian, and they now live in Adelaide with their teenage twin sons, Will and Jack. Visit her website at www.fionamcintosh.com.

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