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world, after all, was to return to his village and the friends and family who were no doubt frantically wondering what had become of him.
    But he could never admit that to the prince.

Chapter 5
     
    The serving lad stopped at Talek’s chair and bowed, holding an earthenware jug in front of him. “More shadowberry wine, my prince?”
    The prince nodded and held out his silver goblet. “See that my guests each get another cupful as well.”
    Lyrion watched as the young man tilted the jug to fill the goblet. He then moved to replenish Lyrion’s own less ornate drinking vessel and finally moved toward Kevris, who bared his teeth in a sneer.
    “I have always been served second,” he complained. Lyrion could hardly believe his tone of accusation directed toward the prince.
    “Be glad you were invited at all,” the prince snapped back.
    Embarrassed by the exchange, Lyrion turned his attention to the tableful of succulent treats spread before him. Between enormous slabs of warm bread slathered with honey, spiced barley stew, and toadstools dipped in a sauce made with sweetened azhi milk, he hardly knew what to sample first. In truth, he hesitated to reach for anything, fearful of staining the crisp new white tunic. The prince had gifted him with the garment when he had awoken that morning, still in Talek’s bed. For the rest of the day he had been treated by everyone, from the most powerful ministers down to the lowliest servant, as an honored guest rather than a captive. He dreaded doing something foolish or unmannerly, though. This land’s ways were all so strange to him.
    In the end, he settled for a gujeb fruit, which could be peeled from its shell with a minimum of fuss and spatter. He ate a few slices without incident. His success bolstered his confidence. He reached for a toadstool next.
    “I suppose you were not used to such dinners back in your old village,” the prince said, rather blatantly turning his attention from Kevris.
    “Indeed not,” Lyrion replied after hastily chewing and swallowing a succulent bite of the toadstool. “Not even during the Harvest Feast did so many different dishes adorn our table. And we drank only the beer we could make ourselves. Certainly we enjoyed nothing as delicious as this.”
    Lifting his cup, he downed another mouthful of shadowberry wine. It left him slightly dizzy, much like the last quantity he had swallowed, but it was a pleasant sort of vertigo. With the wine in his belly, he found that his nervousness disappeared and he could speak to the prince freely—though certainly not as freely as Kevris did. Lyrion had yet to discover the exact meaning of the mysterious word both of them used— concubinus —but as he watched them interact, he began to get an idea. Da and Fa rarely argued, but when they did, Lyrion sensed the same feigned aggression toward one another as the prince and Kevris, not to mention Arowan and Mulciber, displayed.
    “How very fortunate you were that the prince’s soldiers happened upon you as they did,” Kevris said, sipping daintily from his own vessel. “Did you try to hide yourself from them? It looks to me like you would be far more fleet-footed than Captain Arowan. Nor does he seem clever enough to trap you. How you came among us is a mystery indeed.”
    “’Tis not such a mystery,” Lyrion said. His cheeks grew warm, and not just from the effects of the wine. “I was…er, climbing a tree when Arowan and Mulciber stole upon me. I tried to flee, but I fell to the ground and was captured. I was neither trapped nor outrun.” He started to add “merely unlucky,” but stopped when he realized that such a statement might offend the prince.
    “My soldiers had strict orders not to harm you—or anyone else from your village that they might encounter. If they disobeyed, you must let me know, and I will punish them.”
    Lyrion took another gulp of wine and dropped his eyes to the table. The serving lad stepped forward to refill his