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and ran to invade the buildings, kicking open doors and chasing screaming servants from their path. Within moments, an enraged lord emerged, shouting obscenities as he demanded to know the reason for his property's invasion.
    Kerrion waited for the man to notice him. His golden armour glittered in the sun and his white satin cape and feathered crest fluttered in the breeze. He was aware that he made an awe inspiring sight, dressed in full royal regalia, a jewelled sword at his side. His stallion's jewel-encrusted caparison alone was worth more than the wealthiest estate. Lord Ortane did a comical double take when he spied the King, and fell to his knees. Kerrion rode closer, and the man raised his head to gaze up at him with flinching eyes.
    "I beg pardon, Majesty. I did not know it was you. If you had sent a messenger..." He glanced back at the ruckus behind him, looking confused. "You seek something?"
    "My wife, Lord Ortane. Trelath holds her hostage, and I intend to reclaim her unharmed."
    "You think she is here?"
    "She could be here as easily as anywhere else. You are a friend of Trelath."
    Ortane ducked his head. "The Prince has many friends. Who would dare to be his enemy?"
    "If you have a gripe against Trelath, now is the time to air it. He has found immense disfavour in my eyes. Any cause for censure or punishment would be welcome."
    "Alas, Majesty, I have nothing against Trelath."
    "More fool you, My Lord. Anyone seeking high favour with me would do well to air a multitude of complaints against Trelath right now, real or imagined."
    Ortane looked pained. "Trelath has many friends, as I have said, and a long reach."
    "Longer than mine?"
    "Perhaps crueller than yours, Majesty. You are renowned for your kindness and charity. Trelath is known for his vindictiveness."
    Kerrion shifted in his saddle. "So, my kindness works against me now, does it? Beware, My Lord, for if any harm should come to my wife, I shall become known as the cruellest king to ever rule Cotti. Any who do not aid me in my time of need will rue the day they turned their back on their King. I may not be able to harm my half-brothers without legal cause, but my lords may find themselves as desert nomads or worse."
    Ortane cringed. "If I could be of help I would, Majesty. I swear it. I am no traitor to you. My conscience is clear."
    "Then you will take your men and search for my wife. Every village, holding, keep and town. Any whisper your spies hear, every rumour or tale of my wife that reaches your ears had better reach mine within the day. The man who finds her I shall cover in gold. The man who brings her to me alive and well, I shall elevate to any rank or title he wishes and bestow a fortune of land and riches upon him. The man who aids Trelath in his despicable venture will know the full force of my wrath, and suffer the cruellest execution ever devised."
    Ortane rose to his feet and bowed. "I shall do my utmost, Majesty. I give you my oath."
    "See that you do, for if you speak empty platitudes to my face and do nothing behind my back, you will also feel the full force of my ire. And do not allow the tales that my half-brothers spread, that I have no stomach for killing, to fool you. If my wife dies, the streets of Jadaya will run with blood, and some of it will be noble."
    Ortane's dark gold skin paled, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Kerrion's eyes were drawn to his men returning empty handed from the keep, their faces downcast. The King gestured, and they ran to their mounts. Kerrion tightened his reins, making the stallion cavort and prance away.
    "Pray, Lord Ortane," Kerrion called over his shoulder. "Pray that I find her. Pray that she is returned to me, or pray for your misbegotten soul. I am my father's son, make no mistake on that, and the only person who can stem my rage is my wife. If you are in league with Trelath, better to take your life now than face me later."
     
    Ortane watched the King ride away, frowning. The choice was a