Bel made a strange choking noise and pivoted abruptly on one heel. He strode to the window, pulled back the lacy curtains, and stood there looking out, his face turned away from the room, his shoulders shaking.

Master Fellows frowned in puzzlement over Bel's behavior. With a wary glance at his own cup, he set the saucer back on the table.

Ellysetta reached for one of the sweetmeats on the tray, needing something—anything—to take the horrid taste of gallberry out of her mouth. As she did, she noticed a soft rumble coming from the kitten perched on Master Fellows's shoulder. At first, it sounded like a purr, but Ellysetta had spent enough time around the tairen to realize the sound was actually a faint growl. She glanced up and saw that the pupils of Love's blue eyes had widened and tension had gathered in her small body. Even as she watched, however, the signs of aggression faded, and Love went back to purring and tickling Master Fellows's neck with the tip of her tail.

Ellysetta sat back. «Tajic, say something to me in Spirit.»

«Like what?»

Love's ears flicked back and she began growling again. Ellysetta nearly crowed in triumph. «Never mind.»* How could she have forgotten Love's special gift?

Scarcely able to hide her eagerness, Ellysetta leaned forward. "Master Fellows, may I ask you something in confidence?”

The slender man raised his brows. "You may ask me anything. Provided it is something I am at liberty to discuss, I will do my best to answer."

"Actually, it's a question about little Love here."

"Love?” Master Fellows tilted his head to look down at the white kitten on his shoulder. Her slender tail was wrapped as far around his neck as it would go. Her claws dug deep, through the material of his demicape into what was apparently a thick pad fixed on his right shoulder.

"Have you ever noticed her acting strangely since you brought her here to the palace?"

"Strangely?" The Master of Graces regarded Ellysetta with a furrowed brow. "How do you mean?”

'Taking an inexplicable fright, for instance? Hissing regularly at particular people in the palace?" At the corners of the room, Tajik, Rijonn, Oil, and the lu'tan who'd taken Gaelen's place all emanated a mild sense of curiosity and confusion over her question. Bel, however, suddenly went still and intent. He had been in Celieria this summer and witnessed Love's unique talent firsthand.

"Well, there are a number of courtiers she's never taken a particular liking to, though I simply put that down to discriminating taste. Most of them I don't care for myself."

"Which courtiers? Can you tell me their names?”

"Oh, dear, you want names?" Master Fellows tapped his lip. "Several of the new Dazzles. Ser Egol, Sera Tyrene, Ser Sonneval and his new bride, Lady Giamet, Lord Bolor, Great Lord Ponsonney, Lady Thane, Lord Tufton. Those are just the few I can think of at the moment. And, of course, there's Great Lord Barrial and his sons—and regrettably, on more than one occasion, even the king."

Ellysetta exchanged a look with Bel.

"What is it?" Master Fellows asked.

"I don't know that Love's reaction to the courtiers is so much a matter of discriminating taste as it is a reflection of her rather acute sensitivity."

“Sensitivity?"

"To magic." Ellysetta clasped her hands at her waist. "Love senses when people weave magic. The closer and more powerful the magic, the stronger and more violent her reaction to it."

"Oh." He drew back in surprise.

"So, the likelihood is that all or most of those people were either weaving magic, or present when magic was being woven near them. I know Lord Barrial and the king both possess magic. They each descend from the vel Serranis line of the Fey. The others you mentioned may have inherited magic from their forebears as well, but..." She paused. For an instant, she considered holding her silence. What she was about to propose would put Master Fellows—an innocent man and a friend—in danger. And yet no one was better situated to be of help. "Master Fellows... Rain and I believe there are Elden Mages at work here in the city ... perhaps even in the palace itself."

The master of graces blinked. "Here?"

"Aiyah. We don't believe this increasing disaffection for the Fey is entirely natural in its origin."

"You think the Mages are deliberately turning people against the Fey?"

"What better way to win a war than to divide your enemy so that they spend more time fighting themselves than you? I know the Mages were here this summer." She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. "One of them murdered my best friend and her husband and led the attack at the cathedral that killed my mother. It's possible they are still here, working to defeat Celieria from the inside."

Master Fellows didn't hesitate. "What can I do to help?"

He looked so earnest. And so slight to her eyes after her months in the Fading Lands. The Mages would snap him like a twig. What was she even thinking to consider asking him to risk his life? She rose to her feet and paced a short distance away. "I thought... but nei. It is too much to ask. The risk too great. You could be killed, and I would never forgive myself

Master Fellows rose as well. "My Lady Feyreisa, for the last months, the men of Celieria—including boys half my age-have been preparing to risk their lives for Celieria's sake. Though I long ago accepted that my talents were more suited to the drawing rooms of noble society than to battlefields, I have always been a patriot. If there is any way I may be of service to my king in the coming war, I should like to hear of it."