I bring news of far worse things than that! Send someone to the king to tell him Corin Hugh—”
“You’re Corin Hugh?”
The burst of excitement in the soldier’s voice took Corin aback. He nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“You should have said! I didn’t recognize you under all that mud. Come through! Let him on through!”
Corin went mechanically, still shocked that it could be so easy. “Oberon’s expecting me? The king will see me?”
“Oh, not much chance of that. The king’s in a right pique. But you can wait with Lady Delaen and the others. They said you would be coming.”
Lady Delaen. The name curled Corin’s lip.
But the commander didn’t seem to notice. He frowned, lost in thought. “Where’s the other two?”
“They’ll be here shortly,” Corin said. “Send them on through, even if they’re dirty.”
The commander chuckled, his cheeks a little red. “I will. I will. I’ll see it done. But you go on to the Midnight Grotto. That is where they’re waiting.”
“To where?”
“Oh! Ha. She said you’d need a guide. Pothamer! Show the man the way, and make it quick. We wouldn’t want to keep the druids waiting.”
The Midnight Grotto proved to be the same chamber Corin and the others had ducked into before to hide from Ephitel. Corin’s escort pointed out the doorway, clearly hesitant to approach the room, and when Corin nodded understanding, the soldier turned and scurried back toward the bridge.
Corin watched him go, then steeled himself and slipped into the room. His gaze went to the distant corner, where delicious-smelling fruit had grown before, but now the bushes were picked bare. Corin sighed and turned himself to business.
Maurelle was there, and Corin was glad of that. The lady’s hair was disheveled, her sleeve ripped, and a scrape across her temple was just now beginning to bruise.
She was not alone. Aemilia was there as well, stretched out on the grassy floor, apparently asleep. And there, of course, was Delaen, expression grim beneath that stark white hair. She was watching Corin with appraising eyes, and as he considered her, he felt a rising tide of anger.
He stalked toward her. “Good morning, druid. You won’t—”
Maurelle wrecked his stormy entrance. As soon as she turned his way, she screamed, “Corin! You’re alive!” and wrapped him in a crushing hug.
“I’m alive,” he said, smoothing down her hair. “And Avery as well.”
“Where is Avery? And Kellen?”
“Together,” Corin said, not yet prepared to tell that tale. “In a cavern underneath the Piazza Autunno.”
Delaen spoke up. “There is no cavern under the piazza.”
“There is now,” Corin said.
Maurelle gasped in shock.
Corin nodded. “Ephitel’s handiwork. Just one of many ugly surprises he had planned.”
Delaen narrowed her eyes. “I hear a note of accusation in your voice, but I cannot guess what you mean to imply.”
Corin pushed away from Maurelle so he could face the druid. “Then I will tell you plainly. I begin to see a guiding hand at my every turn. Someone sent me to the Piazza Primavera at just the right moment to encounter the sister of Avery of Jesalich. Someone helped me when I went to rescue Avery. Someone arranged for me to pass the blockade on the palace bridge—”
Delaen tossed her hair. “If you object to friendly aid—”
“You do not aid me,” Corin said. “You use me like a puppet—like a blacksmith’s hammer—and I grow tired of the pounding.”
The druid frowned. “I don’t underst—”
“You sent me to the king! You told me what to say. You promised it would get me home, but instead he sent me on an errand.”
“The king has unpredictable—”
“No!” Corin snapped. “You did this to me! From the moment I arrived in this city, someone has been twisting my fate. One of your druids took me in? Oh, and just as Ephitel was at her shop? You showed me his tyranny. You gave me over to one of his pretty, pitiful victims—”
Maurelle squeaked in objection, but Corin paid no mind. He felt a throbbing fever in his temples, and he gave it vent.
“You handed me to Avery, whom I’ve admired since I was a child. You paired me with a noble warrior badly used. You primed me like a pistol so that Oberon could fire me upon your foes.”
Delaen arched an eyebrow. “Are you opposed to fighting Ephitel?”
“This is not my war! I only wanted to go home. But you have broken me.”
“I have done nothing,” Delaen said. “I could not arrange a tenth of what you say.”
“So it is chance? Pure chance I met the ancient father of the only