“But why go to the trouble when you could have just bought yourself a pure ’faie?” Alec asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

“Because never before have I found one of your exquisite lineage. You are unique.”

Alec kept his attention on his tea. While many people in Aurënen had made a fuss over his Hâzadriëlfaie blood, he’d been more of a curiosity than a wonder. No one had thought him particularly special. Khenir’s talk of breeding and gelding came back to him, making his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“May I ask, Ilban, why that’s so important? I’d been given to believe that the Hâzadriëlfaie were only a minor clan.”

“They are not a clan at all, but a group of individuals united by a unique accident of nature. I assure you, Alec, you are a very special young man. With your help, I will perhaps be able to make a very powerful medicine, indeed. One that may well cure all the ills of the body. Is that not a worthy goal?”

“And you need Hâzadriëlfaie blood for that?”

“Only that will do. And according to the texts, an even purer elixir can be distilled to prolong the human span of life to that of a ’faie. A very long time ago, longer even than ’faie memory, an alchemist from my land discovered the secret method of distilling it. The Hâzadriëlfaie selfishly wanted no part of the work, though. That’s why they took themselves away as they did, and the few Aurënfaie who knew the truth are long dead, and the memory is lost there. But here in Plenimar the secret teachings have been passed down in certain lines. I am the scion of one of those lineages.”

“What would happen if a ’faie used the elixir that makes their life longer?”

“A very interesting question. Now, I must get back to work. And despite your earlier unruliness, I believe you deserve a reward today. Would you like to walk in my meditation garden with Khenir?”

Alec bowed deeply to hide his sudden rush of excitement, both at seeing the closest thing he had to a friend here and at the opportunity for a better look at that garden. “Thank you, Ilban. I would like that very much.”

“Good. It must give you some comfort, having another ’faie to converse with.”

“It does, Ilban.” And it did.

When the guards came for him as usual, Khenir was with them. He wore a cloak over his house robe, and held up another for Alec, and a pair of thick, felted wool slippers.

Alec started to thank him, but Khenir caught his eye and made a quick, nervous nod in Yhakobin’s direction. Alec turned and made a small bow. “Thank you again for your kindness, Ilban.”

“And the veil, Khenir,” Yhakobin reminded him.

Khenir handed Alec a veil similar to the one he was wearing and helped him tie it on. The guards let them out, but gave Khenir charge of the chain attached to Alec’s collar.

“I’m sorry. Ilban’s orders,” Khenir whispered with an apologetic smile.

“It’s all right. I understand,” Alec whispered back, too eager to get into the garden to care about it.

One of the guards growled at Khenir as they left the workshop and he immediately bowed and said something servile. It hurt Alec to see it; the Aurënfaie were a proud and dignified people. He thought again of the lash marks he’d seen on Khenir’s shoulders, and on the back of the slave on the ship. It made him ashamed again of how easily he’d acquiesced so far, even if he did have good reason.

The guards escorted them through the small side gate to their left and into the fountain court. A covered portico encircled it on three sides. The inner walls were painted a brilliant blue and bright, fanciful scenes of sea life showed through the white pillars. Neatly laid out paths of crushed shell led through tidy herb beds and leafless bushes to a large round fountain at the center of the garden. A slender pillar of white stone supported four stylized fish, whose spouting mouths filled the basin below.

Alec took all this in at a glance, then turned to more important elements. This courtyard occupied the angle between the main house and the workshop gardens, and was solidly enclosed on those sides. Over the east and south walls, however, he saw treetops and sky. There were two more guards, as well, stationed at the far end of the garden. The two who’d escorted them here remained on guard by the gate, leaving Alec and Khenir at least the semblance of privacy for a little while.

Khenir kept a grip on Alec’s lead but linked his other arm companionably through Alec’s as he led him around the portico to admire the frescoes. The simple friendliness of the gesture brought a lump to Alec’s throat.

“What did those guards say to you before?” Alec whispered.

“They don’t like us speaking our own language, which they can’t understand. We’re well contained here, though, so they’re less concerned. They’ve agreed to let us walk about while they and the others keep watch.”

It was such a relief to be out in the fresh air that for a little while Alec let himself forget about tinctures and masters and guards and simply lost himself in the pleasure of being outside. It was a fine day; the cold, sweet breeze carried the smell of pine and the sea. Gulls circled high overhead, shining white against the deep blue of the sky.

“Are we close to the coast?” he asked.

“About five miles,” Khenir replied. His hand tightened on Alec’s arm as he whispered, “I know what you’re thinking, and you must put such thoughts from your mind. Ilban’s men are trained slave trackers.”

“You’ve never tried?”

Khenir glanced nervously back in the guards’ direction. “I did-once, before I came here. I was fortunate that the master who held me then didn’t want me maimed. But he punished me so badly he might as well have. It’s a different world here, Alec. You must accept that.”

“So I should just give up?” Alec hissed bitterly.

“Yes. With that face and that hair, you wouldn’t get a mile before you were caught.”

Alec knew a thing or two about not being seen, but held his tongue.

They left the portico and walked along the shell paths. Khenir took off his veil and turned his face up to the pale sun. Alec did the same, savoring the feel of the breeze against his bare skin. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to wearing the hated scrap of fabric. He’d worn masks nightrunning, but this was a badge of shame.

“Why do they only make ’faie slaves wear these?”

“As a reminder of our bondage,” Khenir replied. “But they also protect us, shielding us from the eyes of other masters.”

“What do you mean?”

“If a noble of higher standing came here and decided he wanted you, Lord Yhakobin would have no choice but to sell you to him, or even give you away if his guest was of a very high rank. It’s not uncommon for such things to happen, especially with comely slaves like you.”

“Bilairy’s Balls!” Alec pulled away and stared at him in disbelief. “We really are just chattel, aren’t we? Like a hound or a horse.”

“True, but it’s not always a bad thing.”

“How can you say that?”

Khenir hushed him, shooting another nervous look in the guards’ direction. “Please behave. I don’t want to be sent in so soon.”

“What do you mean, it’s not a bad thing to be owned?” Alec whispered angrily.

Khenir was quiet for a moment as they continued on. He looked so sad that Alec slipped his arm through the other man’s again, covering the hand that held the chain with his own. Khenir gave him a grateful look that melted Alec’s heart.

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Alec told him.

“Actually, it’s a better memory for me than most. I’ve had a number of masters, most of them far more…demanding. The last was the cruelest of all, the one I ran away from, and he nearly killed me. Master Yhakobin saw me during a visit to the man’s country estate. He was so…”

Khenir paused, blinking back tears. “He saw the wretched condition I was in and took pity on me. He took me away with him the next day. I am so grateful for that! He saved my life with his elixirs, and ever since he’s been the kindest master I’ve had.”