Amlaruil came to stand beside him, her hand on his shoulder. "Trust me with your family, as I entrust you with mine," she told him firmly. "I will tell the Aelorothi whatever they need to know to help them understand how important their son is to Evermeet. Your kindred are honorable; they will keep their council and only say with pride that Rennyn travels on missions for the king."

The elf turned and bowed low to Amlaruil. "Thank you for allowing my family to save face."

"Do you still think that is my intent?" she demanded. "You are a remarkable elf, Rennyn, with unusual talents. And though you serve King Zaor, you will also be my personal representative and the guardian of my sons. I do not assign this task lightly."

"The queen's knight," Rennyn murmured thoughtfully, pride kindling in his eyes.

Amlaruil lifted one brow. "I do not think that Queen Lydi'aleera would thank you for that description," she said dryly.

"Lydi'aleera is a vapid fool," Rennyn responded without rancor. He shrugged. "Forgive me, but it seems to me that you, not Lydi'aleera Amarillis, are Evermeet's rightful queen. And I say this not just for the heirs you have given Zaor."

Before Amlaruil could respond to this pronouncement, Rennyn drew his sword and lay it at her feet. "I will serve you and your children, in secrecy and in honor, the hidden knight of a hidden queen," he said, and knelt before her.

Perhaps because the young elf looked up at her with such shining expectancy, perhaps because he needed so desperately to believe in his worth and hers, Amlaruil took up the sword and with reverent solemnity declared Rennyn Aelorothi a knight of Evermeet. And when he left, she found that she did not regret the action.

Amlaruil slipped back on the concealing mantle of High Mage. But before returning to her duties, she paused to gaze thoughtfully at the reflection in her mirror.

It seemed to her that the faint shadow of a crown lingered upon her forehead. And she wondered if, perhaps, the magic of Rennyn's ring allowed him to see through illusions as well as create them. The young elf had seen a truth that she herself was just coming to accept: Though she ruled only in the Towers of the Sun and Moon, in heart and spirit she was Evermeet's true queen. The gods knew it: for had not she as a girl touched Zaor's moonblade, the king sword, as if it were her own?

What did it matter that the elves did not recognize or acknowledge her? She would still serve-a hidden queen, Rennyn had called her, but a queen nonetheless.

Well content, Amlaruil left her chambers to take up once again the rule of the Towers.

Windows on the World

Amlaruil tried to look sternly upon the identical scamps standing before her, their tousled blue heads hanging sheepishly low and bare toes scuffing at the polished marble floor.

It was difficult, though, to summon anything resembling maternal wrath over the boys' latest misdeed. Indeed, it was all she could do to keep from sweeping both of them up into her arms and forgiving them outright for this, any past and all future offenses.

Xharlion and Zhoron, her twin sons, were small replicas of their warrior father. Sturdy and stubborn, they had inherited Zaor's sharp features-right down to the dent in the center of their chins-and their father's distinctive sapphire-colored curls. Amlaruil could not help but smile wistfully whenever she looked upon them, a blessing which came to her all too seldom.

"You boys are under the fosterage of Lord and Lady Craulnober," she reminded them with mock severity. "You are to obey them as you would me, and study with diligence all the things they would have you learn."

"But dancing?" Xharlion exclaimed, spitting out the word with exquisite disdain. "What need have warriors of Evermeet for that?"

"It is the custom of the Craulnobers to teach all the young elves in their care the ways of court life as well as the skills of the battlefield," Amlaruil reminded him. "It is, I might add, a custom with which I wholeheartedly agree. Life does not present us with a single task, and an elven noble must be able to comport himself well in many circumstances. And what have you against dancing, anyway? It is as important to an elf, and as natural, as magic!"

"Well, the two things aren't so bad, when you put 'em together," Zhoron observed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The twins exchanged a sly look. Their shoulders shook as they snickered at their shared memory of the morning's events.

Amlaruil struggled to keep from joining in. The image of the primly sedate Chichlandra Craulnober shrieking and clutching at her fly-away skirts was almost Amlaruil's undoing.

"You should not have enspelled Lady Chichlandra to dance upon the ceiling rather than the floor," she admonished them.

"Lady Chicken-legs," Zhoron improvised, setting the twins off in another bout of giggles. "That one ought to wear longer bloomers, I'd say!"

"Dances like a chicken, too, she does," Xharlion said. He tucked his hands high up on his sides, flapping his elbows like wings as he minced through the first steps of a roundelay. His small face was set in an eerily precise imitation of Lady Chichlandra's tight, prissy smile.

At last Amlaruil succumbed to a chuckle, which earned her a pair of identical, conspiratorial grins.

"Do not think for a moment that I approve," she cautioned the boys. "Whatever your opinion of Lady Chichlandra's dancing-or her legs, for that matter-you need to show her proper respect. Terrifying and embarrassing your hostess is not the sort of behavior I expect from you."

The genuine disappointment in her voice finally pierced the twins' high spirits. They mumbled apologies, and when Amlaruil dismissed them, they actually walked from the room and down the hall that led to the garden, rather than bolting headlong through the open window as was their usual custom. In moments, however, they had found wooden swords and were bashing at each other with great gusto, emitting battle whoops lusty enough to give pause to a well-armed ogre.

Amlaruil sighed as she watched the boys at play. "My work in the Towers keeps me from them far too much."

"They are being well taught here, lady," Rennyn Aelorothi assured her, coming from the shadows to stand beside the mage. The Gold elf was a frequent visitor to Craulnober Keep, and he had come to look upon the twins as his personal charges. "There is no finer swordmaster than Elanjar Craulnober on all of Evermeet."

The mage turned to smile at Rennyn. "Why, I never thought to hear such sentiments from you concerning any Silver elf!" she teased him.

Rennyn responded with a shrug. "I have seen much in the last ten years. Things are not so simple as I once thought them, nor are the Gold elves quite the paragons we like to think ourselves. There are elven cultures that, although very different from that of Evermeet, are worthy of respect."

"So you said, earlier. Tell me more about the elves of the Moonshaes," she prompted, knowing that her young advisor was eager to speak more on the matter, having recently returned from a trip to these islands.

"They are fierce fighters and fine riders-on horseback, they are as nimble as centaurs," Rennyn began, speaking with great enthusiasm. "Their magic is different from ours, too, and very much a part of the land. Even an elf would have a difficult time finding their valley, for it is hidden from common view by magic." He paused. "In fact, this sheltered valley might be the very place for restless young princes to begin exploring the world."

Amlaruil nodded thoughtfully as she watched the warring twins. Their play had progressed from sheer exuberance to fierce competition. As she watched, they threw aside their swords and leaped at each other. They fell together, rolling and pummeling as they went at it with fists and feet. Fortunately for Amlaruil's peace of mind, it appeared that the twins were dealing far more damage to Lady Craulnober's flower beds than to each other.