and will not affect the rule of the red-haired child. There is a boy of his seeming who will rule, but . . . but he seems to be much younger than FitzRoy, although in a Seeing, time . . ."
She sighed and walked back into the living quarters to seat herself on the lounge. Denoriel followed and sank into one of the red-silk-covered adjoining chairs. There was no fire in the hearth; of course, there was no need for one, except as a decorative effect. The temperature everywhere in Llachar Lle was comfortable.
Denoriel wanted to let himself rest. The channels in his body still burned slightly and those that did not ached. But he could barely lie back in his chair although he knew there was no hurry; he could return to Windsor and arrive at any time he desired. Then he realized it was Aleneil, who usually was a pool of serenity, that was transmitting tension to him.
"You must save FitzRoy," she said.
"Of course I will," Denoriel assured her irritably. "I got into his apartment last night to make sure all was well with him—and it was. It was no changeling in his bed. Then I watched by his door to make sure no one entered or left. He is safe now with his friends and teachers."
"But the danger comes soon," Aleneil insisted, her face creased with anxiety. "Perhaps it is already there or on its way. I feel it pounding within me like the beat of my heart. I do not know why, but if FitzRoy dies, the red-haired child will never rule and we . . . we will go down the same path as Alhambra and Eldorado."
Denoriel repressed a shudder and stood up. Mwynwen had showed him those two, sad realms herself, and told him in great detail what had happened to them. He could not bear for such a fate to come upon his own home. "Comes from within? From among his friends? Those who are supposed to be his guardians? Comes from without?" His voice was higher than usual. Fear was so unaccustomed an emotion to him that he did not recognize it and covered it with anger.
"I don't know!" Aleneil wailed, and then, suddenly her breath was coming quick and short and she whispered, "Now! Go now, Denoriel."
Considering the emotions that had been generated in his chambers, Denoriel was not surprised to find Miralys waiting. He flung himself into the saddle and less than a quarter hour later out of it in