Морган Райс
Rogue, Prisoner, Princess
CHAPTER SIX
Ceres woke to darkness, the room lit only by moonlight filtering in through the shutters, and by a single flickering candle. She struggled toward consciousness, remembering. She remembered the beast’s claws ripping at her, and just the memory seemed to be enough to summon the pain to her. It flared in her back as she half turned to her side, hot and sudden enough to make her cry out. The pain was all-consuming.
“Oh,” a voice said, “does it hurt?”
A figure stepped into view. Ceres couldn’t make out the details at first, but slowly, they swam into place. Stephania stood there over her bed, as pale as the shafts of moonlight that surrounded her, forming a perfect picture of the innocent noble, there to visit the sick and injured. Ceres had no doubt that it was deliberate.
“Don’t worry,” Stephania said. To Ceres, the words still seemed to come from too far away, fighting their way through fog. “The healers here gave you something to help you sleep while they stitched you back together. They seemed quite impressed you’re still alive, and they wanted to take away your pain.”
Ceres saw her hold up a small bottle. It was a dull green against the paleness of Stephania’s hand, stoppered with a cork and glistening around the rim. Ceres saw the noble girl smile, and that smile felt as though it was made of sharp edges.
“I am not impressed that you have managed to live,” Stephania said. “That wasn’t the idea at all.”
Ceres tried to reach out for her. In theory, this should have been the moment to escape. If she had been stronger, she could have burst past Stephania and made for the door. If she could have found a way to fight past the cloudiness that felt as though it was filling her head to the breaking point, she might have been able to grab Stephania and force her to help in escaping.
Yet it seemed as if her body was only obeying her sluggishly, responding long after she wanted it to. It was all Ceres could do to sit up with the covers wrapped around her, and even that brought with it a fresh wave of agony.
She saw Stephania run a finger down the bottle she held. “Oh, don’t worry, Ceres. There’s a reason you’re feeling so helpless. The healers asked me to make sure you got your dose of their drug, so I did. Some of it, anyway. Enough to keep you docile. Not enough to actually take away your pain.”
“What did I do to make you hate me this much?” Ceres asked, although she already knew the answer. She’d been close to Thanos, and he’d rejected Stephania. “Does having Thanos for your husband really matter to you this much?”
“You’re slurring your words, Ceres,” Stephania said, with another of those smiles without any warmth behind it that Ceres could see. “And I don’t hate you. Hate would imply that you were in some way worthy of being my enemy. Tell me, do you know anything about poison?”
Just the mention of it was enough to make Ceres’s heart speed up, anxiety blossoming in her chest.
“Poison is such an elegant weapon,” Stephania said, as though Ceres weren’t even there. “Far more so than knives or spears. You think you are so strong because you get to play with swords with all the real combatlords? Yet I could have poisoned you while you slept, so easily. I could have added something to your sleeping draught. I could simply have given you too much of it, so that you never woke up.”
“People would have known,” Ceres managed.
Stephania shrugged. “Would they have cared? In any case, it would have been an accident. Poor Stephania, trying to help, but not really knowing what she was doing, gave our newest combatlord too much medicine.”
She put a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. It was such a perfect mime of shocked remorse, even down to the tear that seemed to glisten at the corner of her eye. When she spoke again, she sounded different to Ceres. Her voice was thick with regret and disbelief. There was even a small catch there, as if she were struggling to hold back the urge to sob.
“Oh no. What have I done? I didn’t mean to. I thought… I thought I did everything exactly the way they told me to!”
She laughed then, and in that moment, Ceres saw her for what she was. She could see through the act that Stephania so carefully maintained all the time. How did no one notice? Ceres wondered. How could they not see what lay behind the beautiful smiles and the delicate laughter?
“They all think I’m stupid, you know,” Stephania said. She stood straighter now, looking a lot more dangerous to Ceres than she had. “I take great care to ensure that they think I’m stupid. Oh, don’t look so worried, I’m not going to poison you.”
“Why not?” Ceres asked. She knew there had to be a reason.
She saw Stephania’s expression harden in the candlelight, a frown creasing the otherwise smooth skin of her brow.
“Because that would be too easy,” Stephania said. “After the way you and Thanos humiliated me, I would rather see you suffer. You both deserve it.”
“There’s nothing else you can do to me,” Ceres said, although in that moment, it didn’t feel like it. Stephania could have walked over to the bed and hurt her a hundred different ways, and Ceres knew she would have been powerless to stop it. Ceres knew the noble would have no idea how to fight, but she could have bested Ceres easily right then.
“Of course there is,” Stephania said. “There are weapons in the world even better than poison. The right words, for instance. Let’s see now. Which of these will hurt most? Your beloved Rexus is dead, of course. Let’s start with that.”
Ceres tried not to let any of the shock she felt show on her face. She tried not to let the grief rise up enough that the noble girl could see it. Yet she knew from the look of satisfaction on Stephania’s face that there must have been some flicker.
“He died fighting for you,” Stephania said. “I thought you would want to know that part. It does make it so much more… romantic.”
“You’re lying,” Ceres insisted, but somewhere inside she knew that Stephania wouldn’t be. She would only say something like this if it was a truth Ceres could check, something that would hurt and go on hurting as she found out the reality of it.
“I don’t need to lie. Not when the truth is so much better,” Stephania said. “Thanos is dead too. He died in the fighting for Haylon, right there on the beaches.”
A fresh wave of grief hit Ceres, sweeping over her and threatening to wash away all sense of herself. She’d fought with Thanos before he’d left, about the death of her brother, and about what he was planning to do, fighting the rebellion. She had never thought they could be the last words she would say to him. She’d left a message with Cosmas specifically so that they wouldn’t be.
“There’s one more,” Stephania said. “Your younger brother? Sartes? He has been taken for the army. I made sure that the draft takers didn’t overlook him just because he was the brother of Thanos’s weapon keeper.”
Ceres did try to lunge at her this time, the anger that filled her fueling her leap for the noble girl. As weak as she was, though, there was no chance of success. She felt her legs tangling in the bed sheets, sending her tumbling to the floor, looking up at Stephania.
“How long do you think your brother will last in the army?” Stephania asked. Ceres saw her expression turn into something like a mockery of pity. “The poor boy. They are so cruel to the conscripts. They’re all practically traitors, after all.”
“Why?” Ceres managed.
Stephania spread her hands. “You took Thanos from me, and that was everything I had planned for my future. Now, I’m going to take everything from you.”
“I’ll kill you,” Ceres promised.
Stephania laughed. “You won’t have a chance. This” – she reached down to touch Ceres’s back, and Ceres had to bite her lip to keep from screaming – “is nothing. That little fight in the Stade was nothing. The worst fights imaginable will be there waiting for you, again and again, until you die.”
“You think people won’t notice?” Ceres said. “You think they won’t guess what you’re doing? You threw me in there because you thought they’d rise up. What will they do if they think you’re cheating them?”
She saw Stephania shake her head.
“People see what they want to see. With you, it seems as though they want to see their princess combatlord, the girl who can fight as well as any man. They’ll believe it, and they’ll love you, right up to the point where you’re turned into a laughing stock out on the sands. They’ll watch you torn to shreds, but before that, they’ll cheer for it to happen.”
Ceres could only watch as Stephania started for the door. The noble girl stopped, turning back toward her, and for a moment, she looked as sweet and innocent as ever.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I tried to give you your medicine, but I didn’t think you’d knock it from my hand before I could give you enough.”
She took out the vial she’d had before, and Ceres watched it tumble to the ground as she dropped it. It shattered, the pieces spinning across the floor of Ceres’s room in splinters that would make it both painful and dangerous for her to try to find her way back into her bed. Ceres had no doubt that Stephania intended it that way.
She saw the noble girl reach out for the candle that lit the room, and briefly, in the instant before she snuffed it out, Stephania’s sweet smile faded again, to be replaced by something cruel.
“I will be there to dance at your funeral, Ceres. I promise you that.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I still say that we should gut him and throw his body out for the other Empire soldiers to find.”
“That’s because you’re an idiot, Nico. Even if they noticed one more body among the rest, who’s to say they’d care? And then we’d have the trouble of bringing him down somewhere they’d see him. No. We should ransom him.”
Thanos sat in the cave where the rebels had holed up for the moment, listening to them argue about his fate. His hands were tied in front of him, but at least they’d done their best to patch and bandage his wounds, leaving him in front of a small fire so he wouldn’t freeze while they decided whether to kill him in cold blood or not.
The rebels sat at other fires, huddling around them, discussing what they could do to keep the island from falling to the Empire. They spoke quietly, so that Thanos couldn’t overhear the details, but he already knew the gist of it: they were losing, and losing badly. They were in the caves because there was nowhere else for them to go.
After a while, the one who was obviously their leader came and sat down opposite Thanos, crossing his legs on the hard stone of the cave floor. He pushed across a hunk of bread that Thanos devoured hungrily. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last eaten.
“I am Akila,” the other man said. “I command this rebellion.”
“Thanos.”
“Just Thanos?”
Thanos could hear the curiosity there, and the impatience. He wondered if the other man had guessed who he was. Either way, the truth seemed like the best option right then.
“Prince Thanos,” he admitted.
Akila sat there opposite him for several seconds, and Thanos found himself wondering if he was going to die then. It had been close enough when the rebels had thought he was just some noble without a name. Now that they knew he was one of the royal family, close to the king who had oppressed them so much, it seemed impossible that they would do anything else.
“A prince,” Akila said. He looked around at the others, and Thanos saw the flash of a smile there. “Hey, lads, we’ve got ourselves a prince here.”
“We should definitely ransom him then!” one of the rebels called out. “He’d be worth a fortune!”
“We should definitely kill him,” another snapped back. “Think about all his kind have done to us!”
“All right, that’s enough,” Akila said. “Concentrate on the fight ahead. It’s going to be a long night.”
Thanos heard a faint sigh from the other man as the men went back to their fires.
“It’s not going well, then?” Thanos said. “You said before that your side was losing.”
Akila gave him a sharp look. “I should know when to keep my mouth shut. Maybe so should you.”
“You’re wondering whether to kill me anyway,” Thanos pointed out. “I figure that I don’t have a lot to lose.”
Thanos waited. This wasn’t the kind of man he could push into giving him answers. There was something tough about Akila. Unyielding and straightforward. Thanos guessed that he would have liked him if they’d met under better circumstances.
“All right,” Akila said. “Yes, we’re losing. You Imperials have more men than we do, and you don’t care about the damage you do. The city is under siege from land and from water, so that no one can get away. We’ll fight from the hills, but when you can just resupply by water, there’s not a lot we can do. Draco may be a butcher, but he’s a clever one.”
Thanos nodded. “He is.”
“And of course, you were probably there when he planned all of it,” Akila said.
Now Thanos understood. “Is that what you’re hoping? That I know all of their plans?” He shook his head. “I wasn’t there when they made them. I didn’t want to be here, and I only came because they escorted me onto the ship under guard. Maybe if I had been there, I would have heard the part where they planned to stab me in the back.”
He thought of Ceres then, about the way he’d been forced to leave her behind. That hurt more than the rest of it put together. If someone in a position of power was going to try to have him killed, he wondered, what would they do to her?
“You have enemies,” Akila agreed. Thanos saw him clench and unclench one hand, as if the long battle for the city had started to make it cramp. “They’re even the same as my enemies. I don’t know if that makes you my friend, though.”
Thanos looked around pointedly at the rest of the cave. At the shockingly low numbers of soldiers left there. “Right now, it looks as though you could do with all the friends you can get.”
“You’re still a noble. You still have your position because of the blood of ordinary folk,” Akila said. He sighed again. “It looks as though if I kill you, I’m doing what Draco and his masters want, but you’ve as good as told me that if I ransom you, I get nothing for you. I have a fight to win, and no time to keep prisoners around if they don’t know anything. So, what am I supposed to do with you, Prince Thanos?”
Thanos got the impression that he was serious. That he actually wanted a better solution. Thanos thought quickly.
“I think your best choice is to let me go,” he said.
Akila laughed at that. “Nice try. If that’s the best you have, hold still. I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”
Thanos saw his hand go to one of his swords.
“I’m serious,” Thanos said. “I can’t help you win the battle for the island if I’m here.”
He could see Akila’s disbelief, and the certainty that it had to be a trap. Thanos went on quickly, knowing that his best hope of surviving the next few minutes lay in convincing this man that he wanted to help the rebellion.
“You said yourself that one of the big problems is that the Empire has its fleet supporting the assault,” Thanos said. “I know that they left supplies on the ships because they were so eager to get on with the attack. So we take the ships.”
Akila stood up. “Have you heard this, lads? The prince here has a plan to take the Empire’s ships from them.”
Thanos saw the rebels start to gather round.
“What good would it do?” Akila asked. “We take their ships, but what then?”
Thanos did his best to explain. “At the very least, it will provide an escape route for some of the people of the city, and for more of your soldiers. It will take away supplies from the Empire’s soldiers too, so that they can’t keep going for long. And then there are the ballistae.”
“What are they?” one of the rebels called out. He didn’t look much like a long-term soldier. Very few of those in the room did, to Thanos’s eyes.
“Bolt throwers,” Thanos explained. “Weapons designed to damage other ships, but if they were turned against soldiers near the shore…”
Akila, at least, looked as though he was considering the possibilities. “That could be something,” he admitted. “And we can set light to any ships we can’t use. At the very least, Draco would pull his men back to try to get his ships back. But how do we get these ships in the first place, Prince Thanos? I know that where you come from, if a prince asks for something, he gets it, but I doubt that will apply to Draco’s fleet.”
Thanos forced himself to smile with a level of confidence he didn’t feel. “That’s almost exactly what we’re going to do.”
Again, Thanos had the impression of Akila working it out faster than any of his men could. The rebel leader smiled.
“You’re mad,” Akila said. Thanos couldn’t tell if it was intended as an insult or not.
“There are enough dead on the beaches,” Thanos explained, for the benefit of the others. “We take their armor and head to the ships. With me there, it will look like a company of soldiers returning from the battle for supplies.”
“What do you think?” Akila asked.
In the firelight that flickered inside the cave, Thanos couldn’t make out the men who spoke. Instead, their questions seemed to emerge from the darkness, so that he couldn’t tell who agreed with him, who doubted him, and who wanted him dead. Still, it was no worse than the politics back home. Better, in a lot of ways, since at least no one was smiling to his face while plotting to kill him.
“What about guards on the ships?” one of the rebels asked.
“There won’t be many,” Thanos said. “And they’ll know who I am.”
“What about all the people who will die in the city while we do this?” another called out.
“They’re dying now,” Thanos insisted. “At least this way, you have a way to fight back. Get this right, and we’ll have a way to save hundreds, if not thousands, of them.”
Silence fell, and the last question came out of it like an arrow.
“How can we trust him, Akila? He’s not just one of them, he’s a noble. A prince.”
Thanos whirled away from the direction the voice had come from, offering up his back for anyone to see. “They stabbed me in the back. They left me to die. I have as much reason to hate them as any man here.”
In that moment, he wasn’t just thinking about the Typhoon. He was thinking about everything his family had done to the people of Delos, and about everything they’d done to Ceres. If they hadn’t forced him to go to Fountain Square, he would never have been there when her brother died.
“We could sit here,” Thanos said, “or we could act. Yes, it will be dangerous. If they see through our disguise, we’re probably dead. I’m willing to risk it. Are you?” When no one answered, Thanos raised his voice. “Are you?”
That got a cheer in response. Akila stepped close to him, clapping a hand on Thanos’s shoulder.
“All right, Prince, it looks like we’re doing things your way. Pull this off, and you’ll have a friend for life.” His hand tightened until Thanos could feel pain shooting through his back. “Betray us, though, get my men killed, and I swear I’ll hunt you down.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were parts of Delos where Berin didn’t normally go. They were parts that stank to him of sweat and desperation, as people did whatever they needed to in order to get by. He waved away offers from the shadows, giving the denizens there hard looks to keep them back.
If they’d known about the gold he carried, Berin knew he would have found himself with his throat cut, the purse beneath his tunic divided up and spent in the local taverns and gambling houses before the day was done. It was those places he sought out now, because where else was he going to find soldiers when they were off duty? As a bladesmith, Berin knew fighting men, and he knew the places they would go.
He had gold because he’d visited a merchant, taking with him two daggers he’d forged as examples for those who might have employed him. They’d been beautiful things, worthy of any noble’s belt, worked with gold filigree and etched with hunting scenes on the blades. They were the last things of value he had left in the world. He’d stood in line with a dozen other people in front of the merchant’s desk, and hadn’t gotten half of what he knew they were worth.
To Berin, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding his children, and that took gold. Gold he could use to buy ale for the right people, gold he could press into the right palms.
He made his way through Delos’s taverns, and it was a slow process. He couldn’t just come out and ask the questions he wanted to ask. He had to be careful. It helped that he had a few friends in the city, and a few more in the Empire’s army. His blades had saved more than a few men’s lives, over the years.
He found the man he was looking for half drunk in the middle of the afternoon, sitting in a tavern and stinking so much that he had clear space all around him. Berin guessed that it was only the uniform of the Empire’s army that kept them from throwing him face first into the street. Well, that and the fact that Jacare was fat enough that it would have taken half the inn’s patrons to lift him.
Berin saw the fat man’s eyes lift up as he approached. “Berin? My old friend! Come and have a drink with me! Although you’ll have to pay. I’m currently a little…”
“Fat? Drunk?” Berin guessed. He knew the other man wouldn’t mind. The soldier seemed to make an effort to be the Imperial army’s worst example. He even seemed to take a perverse kind of pride in it.
“…financially embarrassed,” Jacare finished.
“I might be able to help with that,” Berin said. He ordered drinks, but didn’t touch his. He needed to keep a clear head if he was going to find Ceres and Sartes. Instead, he waited while Jacare downed his with a noise that sounded to Berin like a donkey at a water trough.
“So, what brings a man like you to my humble presence?” Jacare asked after a while.
“I’m looking for news,” Berin said. “The kind of news a man in your position might have heard.”
“Ah, well, news. News is a thirsty business. And possibly an expensive one.”
“I’m looking for my son and daughter,” Berin explained. With someone else, it might have gained him some sympathy, but he knew that with a man like this, it wouldn’t have much effect.
“Your son? Nesos, right?”
Berin leaned across the table, his hand closing over Jacare’s wrist as the man went to take another drink. He didn’t have much of the old strength left that he’d built wielding forge hammers, but there was still enough to make the other man wince. Good, Berin thought.
“Sartes,” Berin said. “My eldest son is dead. Sartes has been taken by the army. I know you hear things. I want to know where he is, and I want to know where my daughter, Ceres, is.”
Jacare sat back, and Berin let him do it. He wasn’t sure he could have held the other man in place much longer anyway.
“That’s the kind of thing I might have heard,” the soldier admitted, “but that kind of thing is difficult. I have expenses.”
Berin brought out the small pouch of gold. He poured it out onto the table, just far enough from the other man that Jacare couldn’t snatch it easily.
“Will this cover your ‘expenses’?” Berin asked, with a look at the other man’s drinking goblet. He saw the other man counting the gold, probably gauging whether there was any more to be had.
“Your daughter is the easy one,” Jacare said. “She’s up at the castle with the nobles. They announced that she was to marry Prince Thanos.”
Berin dared to breathe a sigh of relief at that, even though he wasn’t sure what to think. Thanos was one of the few royals with any decency to him, but marriage?
“Your son is trickier. Let me think. I heard that a few of the recruiters from the Twenty-third were doing the rounds down by your quarter, but there’s no guarantee that it’s them. If it is, they’re camped a little way to the south, trying to train up the conscripts to fight rebels.”
Bile rose in Berin’s mouth at that thought. He could guess how the army would treat Sartes, and just what that “training” would involve. He had to get his son back. But Ceres was closer, and the truth was that he had to at least see his daughter before he went after Sartes. He stood.
“Not going to finish your drink?” Jacare asked.
Berin didn’t answer. He was going to the castle.
***
It was easier for Berin to get into the castle than it would have been for almost anyone else. It had been a while, but he was still the one who had come there to discuss the requirements for combatlords’ weapons, or to bring special pieces for the nobles. It was simple enough to pretend that he was back in business, heading straight past the guards on the outer gates and into the space where the fighters prepared.
The next step was to get from there to wherever his daughter was. There was a barred gateway between the vaulted space where the warriors practiced and the rest of the castle. Berin had to wait for that to open from the other side, pushing past the servant who did it and trying to pretend that he had important business elsewhere in the building.
He did, just not the kind that most of the people there would understand.
“Hey, you! Where do you think you’re going?”
Berin froze at the rough tone of that. He knew before he turned that there would be a guard there, and he didn’t have an excuse that would satisfy them. The best he could hope for now would be to be thrown out of the castle before he could get close to seeing his daughter. The worst would involve the castle’s dungeons, or maybe just being dragged away to be executed where no one would ever know.
He turned and saw two guards who had obviously been soldiers of the Empire for a while. They had as much gray in their hair as Berin did these days, with the weathered look of men who’d spent too much time fighting in the sun over too many years. One was a good head taller than Berin, but stooped slightly over the spear he leaned on. The other had a beard that he’d oiled and waxed until it looked almost as sharp as the weapon he held. Relief flooded through Berin as he saw them, because he recognized them both.
“Varo, Caxus?” Berin said. “It’s me, Berin.”
The tension hung there for a moment, and Berin found himself hoping that the two would remember him. Then the guards laughed.
“So it is,” Varo said, unbending from over his spear for a moment. “We haven’t seen you in… how long has it been, Caxus?”
The other stroked his beard while he considered. “It’s been months since he was last here. Haven’t really talked since he delivered those bracers for me last summer.”
“I’ve been away,” Berin explained. He didn’t say where. People might not pay their smiths much, but he doubted they would react well to him looking for work elsewhere. Soldiers didn’t usually like the idea of their enemies receiving good blades. “Times have been hard.”
“Times have been hard all around,” Caxus agreed. Berin saw him frown slightly. “It still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in the main castle.”
“You shouldn’t be in here, bladesmith, and you know it,” Varo agreed.
“What is it?” Caxus asked. “An emergency repair for some noble lad’s favorite sword? I think we’d have heard if Lucious had snapped a blade. He’d probably have flogged his servants raw.”
Berin knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with a lie like that. Instead, he decided to try the one thing that might work: honesty. “I’m here to see my daughter.”
He heard Varo suck in air between his teeth. “Ah, now that’s a tricky one.”
Caxus nodded. “Saw her fighting in the Stade the other day. Tough little thing. She killed a spiny bear and a combatlord. Hard fight though.”
Berin’s heart tightened in his chest as he heard that. They had Ceres fighting on the sands? Even though he knew it had been her dream to fight there, this didn’t feel like the fulfillment of it. No, this was something else.
“I have to see her,” Berin insisted.
Varo tilted his head to one side. “Like I said, tricky. No one gets in to see her now. Queen’s orders.”
“But I’m her father,” Berin said.
Caxus spread his hands. “There’s not a lot we can do.”
Berin thought quickly. “Not a lot you can do? Was that what I said when you needed your spear re-hafting before your captain saw that you’d snapped it that time?”
“We said we wouldn’t talk about that,” the guard said, with a worried look.
“And what about you, Varo?” Berin continued, pressing his point home before the other could decide to throw him out. “Did I say that it was ‘tricky’ when you wanted a sword that would actually fit your hand, rather than army issue?”
“Well…”
Berin didn’t stop. The important thing was to push forward past their objections. No, the important thing was to see his daughter.
“How many times has my work saved your lives?” he demanded. “Varo, you told me the story of that bandit chief your unit went after. Whose sword did you use to kill him?”
“Yours,” Varo admitted.
“And Caxus, when you wanted all that filigree work on your greaves to impress that girl you married, who did you go to?”
“You,” Caxus said. Berin could see him pondering.
“And that’s before we get to the days when I was following you all around on campaign,” Berin said. “What about – ”
Caxus raised a hand. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. Your daughter’s room is further up. We’ll show you the way. But if anyone asks, we’re just escorting you out of the building.”
Berin doubted anyone would ask, but that didn’t matter right then. Only one thing did. He was going to see his daughter. He followed the two along the castle’s corridors, finally coming to a door that was barred and locked from the outside. Since the key sat in the lock, he turned it.
Berin’s heart nearly burst at his first sight of his daughter for months. She lay in bed, groaning as she came to, and looking at him with bleary eyes.
“Father?”
“Ceres!” Berin ran to her, throwing his arms around her and crushing her tight to him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
He wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go right then, but he heard Ceres’s gasp of pain as he hugged her, and he pulled back hurriedly.
“What’s wrong?” Berin asked.
“No, it’s all right,” Ceres said. “I’m fine.”
