No worries.

Seregil sat up to extinguish the lamp, but paused, caught by the sight of Alec's thick, honey-gold hair fanned out across the pillow. His expression was peaceful, guileless. His lips curved in a faint smile as if good dreams had already come to him.

For an instant Seregil wondered what it would feel like to have that golden head against his shoulder, the warmth of Alec's body against his own.

If it had been simple lust Seregil felt, he could easily have driven it off. But what he felt for Alec at that moment went far beyond that.

Seregil loved him.

Little more than the length of a tailor's yard separated them, but it might just as well have been the breadth of the Osiat Sea. Allowing himself nothing more than a deep, silent sigh, he blew out the lamp and lay back, praying for sleep.

Rising early the next morning, Micum found Alec stacking wood in the kitchen. The boy had changed his city clothes for plain garb and was sharing some joke with Arna and young Jalis. Watching a moment from the doorway, Micum was struck again by how easily Alec seemed to fit into the rhythm of the household.

Or anywhere else, come to that, he amended, thinking of all the roles and identities Alec had played in the time he'd been with Seregil. They were like water, those two, always shifting shape.

"It's a fine day for hunting," he announced. "The deer have been thick up on the ridge this year. His lordship up yet?"

Alec brushed dirt and bark fragments from his tunic. "He was still buried somewhere under the covers last time I looked. I don't think he slept well last night."

"Is that so?" Micum went to the kitchen door and reached outside for a handful of loose snow. "Well then, he wants waking up, doesn't he? I'm sure he'd hate to miss such a beautiful morning."

Mirroring his grin, Alec got himself a handful and followed Micum to the bedroom.

The shutters were still closed, but there was enough light for them to make out the long form beneath the quilts on

Seregil's side of the bed.

Together, Micum signed to Alec.

Stalking in silently, they threw back the quilts and launched their assault, only to find they'd ambushed a bolster.

The shutters banged open behind them and two familiar voices shouted, "Good morning!"

Startled, Micum and Alec looked up just in time to catch a faceful of snow from Seregil and Illia, laughing victoriously outside.

"Sneak up on me, will you?" Seregil jeered as he and the girl fled.

"After them!" cried Micum, scrambling out through the window.

An ungainly chase ensued. Illia wisely dodged into the kitchen and was granted asylum by Arna, who brandished a copper ladle at all would-be abductors.

Seregil wasn't so lucky. Never at his best in a daylight fight, he stumbled over one of the excited dogs who'd joined in the hunt and was tackled by Alec. Micum caught up and together they heaved Seregil into a drift and sat on him.

"Traitor!" he sputtered as Alec thrust a handful of snow down the back of his shirt.

Micum cut him short with another handful in the face. "I believe I owed you that," he chortled, "and here's another with interest."

By the time they let him up, Seregil looked like a poorly carved sculpture done in white sugar.

"What do you say to a hunt?" Micum asked, attempting to brush him off a bit.

"Actually, I had more of a quiet day by the fire in mind," Seregil gasped, shaking snow from his hair.

Grabbing him, Micum tossed him easily over one broad shoulder. "Find me a fresh drift, Alec."

"There's a good one right there."

"I'll go, I'll go, damn you!" howled Seregil, struggling.

"What did I tell you?" laughed Micum, setting him on his feet.

"I knew he'd want to."

With dry clothes and a quick breakfast, the three of them set off into the hills above Watermead with bows and hounds.

The dogs struck the trail of a boar first, but Micum called them off that, since they hadn't brought spears.

For the rest of the morning they found nothing but birds and rabbits. At Alec's insistence, Seregil had brought a bow and no one was more surprised than he when he managed to hit a roosting grouse.

They were just thinking of stopping for a midday meal when the dogs flushed a bull elk from a stand of fir. They chased it for nearly half an hour before Alec put a broadhead shaft into the great beast's heart, dropping it in midleap.

"One shot, by the Maker!" Micum exclaimed, swinging out of the saddle to inspect the kill.

"Quick and clean," said Alec, kneeling to inspect the shot. "That way they don't suffer."

Alec had dropped armed men with the same merciful economy, thought Micum, inspecting the red-fletched shaft protruding from the animal's side.

They built a fire and began dressing out the carcass. It was messy work; the snow around them was soon stained a steaming scarlet. Opening the belly, Micum tossed the entrails to the dogs and presented the heart and liver to Alec, his due for the killing shot.

"We'll need more water before we're done," Micum remarked as they set about the skinning.

Alec wiped his bloodied hands in the snow. "We passed a stream a ways back. I'll go refill the water skins."

Seregil paused in his work, following Alec with his eyes until the boy had ridden out of sight between the trees. Beside him, Micum smiled to himself, thinking of what Kari had said.

"He's grown up a lot, hasn't he?" he ventured presently.

Seregil shrugged, going back to his skinning.

"He's had to, running around with the likes of us."

"You've come to think quite a lot of him, I'd say."

Seregil saw through his flimsy words in an instant and his smile faded to hard, flat denial. "If you think I—"

"I'd never think ill of you for the world. I just think that heart of yours leads you down some hard trails, that's all. You haven't said anything to him, have you?"

Seregil's face was a careful mask of indifference, but his shoulders sagged visibly. "No, and I'm not going to. It wouldn't be— honorable. I have too much influence over him."

"Well, he loves you well in his own fashion," Micum said, unable to think of anything more optimistic.

The silence spun out between them again, less comfortable this time. Loosening the last bit of hide, Micum set his knife aside. "Do you have any idea what Nysander is up to? I haven't heard a thing from him since the Festival."

This time there was no mistaking the troubled look in his friend's eyes. "Secrets, Micum. Still secrets. He's driven me half-mad with them," Seregil admitted, warming himself at the fire.

"Have you found anything out on your own?"

Seregil stirred the embers with a branch, sending up a little flock of sparks. "Not much. And I'm oath-bound not to talk about it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. We both know how the game works. How's Alec handling it, though? He's smart enough to put things together and I'd say he's about as easy to put off a scent as you are."

"True." Seregil gave a humorless laugh. "I'm worried, Micum. Something really bad is coming down the road and I can't tell who's in the way."

Micum hunkered down beside him. "If anyone can look out for him, it's you. But there are some other things you could be telling him. He has a right to know."

Seregil shot to his feet and waved at Alec as he rode out of the trees toward them.

"Not yet," he said, his voice too soft for Micum to tell if the words were a command or a plea.