Silence hung over the office again, turning the air oppressive and stale. They stared at each other, the peasant and king—one with courage shining brightly in her eyes, the other with a noble mask made of ivory.

"You're more significant than you think, Melusine," the king finally broke the tension with a calm and steady voice. "You really should speak to the Archmage. Perhaps he might be able to explain your importance better than I."

Melusine thought on how she could be vital to his plans all he wanted, but without the skills and experience to make a difference, she was as much of a figurehead as Adelric III. She literally bit her tongue, tasting copper but not feeling her fang pierce the tender muscle. Mel bowed again, hands gripped tight in front of her.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I'll eagerly visit him, if you'd only give me your permission to leave."

"Why are you so eager to escape, Melusine? Did Baugulf badmouth me?" The king's tone was jestful, but something in the way he spoke made the hairs on Melusine's arms stand on end.

"Not at all," Melusine hurriedly denied. "He warned me not to speak out of turn. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not the best at controlling my tone of voice and holding back my words."

"Is that why you refuse to speak freely? Because Baugulf told you to hold your tongue? A shame, I was hoping to get to you before he could."

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

"Never you mind," Adelric dismissed as he got to his feet. "About meeting the Archmage, do you think it's as easy as waltzing up to his tower and requesting an audience? Because I'm sorry to say, Vadim Elwyn isn't as friendly as I am. You'll be met with stone cold silence at his door if you don't know the magic word. And you'll have to wait a tenday for him to come out if you're not trusted to provide."

"Provide?" Melusine repeated, thoroughly baffled. "Magic word? Do I have to shout, 'open sesame' at the tower or something?"

"Nothing so droll. All you have to do is announce that you have brought the fair Archmage booze."

"Booze?" Melusine's facial muscles scrunched up in disgust and disbelief.

"Ale, wine, whiskey—anything works." Grinning ear to ear, the king opened a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a large ceramic jug and set it down on the wooden surface. "Although his favorite is this, moonshine from the Tiger Clan in the Kavashian Empire. What with the tensions between our nations, it's been nearly impossible for him to get his hands on. Thus, I have kindly held this vintage hostage—ahem, I mean... I've held onto this for when I need a favor from him. I will hand it over to you under one condition."

"Which is?" Melusine asked, her disgust overshadowing her disbelief and showing clearly on her face.

"That you agree to have tea with me once every week. Exceptions are made only when the dates conflict with orders I've given you."

Melusine leaned her head back, and her eyes narrowed, her disgust directed at the grinning king.

"I'm surrounded by weirdos," she muttered under her breath. "I have no desire to fuel an alcoholic's addiction, but if this is truly the only way to get him to agree to meet me... I accept." 

Melusine stepped closer and laid her hands on the jug, the mud colored ceramic cool and rough to the touch. Images from her memories flashed in her mind's eye. Her father laying face down on the table late into the night, several bottles empty beside him. The numerous times he'd nearly choked on his own vomit from passing out on his back. Melusine's mother crying in her marital bed, the other side left empty for nights on end.

Once again, the king snapped her out of her reverie, this time by grabbing hold of her fingers.

"Don't be too upset. He only enjoys a good drink now and then. I'm looking forward to our tea date." Adelric kissed the back of Melusine's hand, round aquamarine eyes watching her reaction. Mel forced herself to remain still for three beats of her heart before she slid her hand from his grasp.

"I will do my best to entertain you, Your Highness. Although I am severely lacking in courtly manners."

"That's what's drawing me to you," he confessed, though Mel did not believe a word of it. He was too coaxing, too sweet. "I wish you would relax around me."

"Perhaps if you were not my king, I could. But I'm afraid you wouldn't like me when I'm comfortable around you, so perhaps it's for the better."

"I find it hard to imagine that I wouldn't like you, Melusine."

"In my experience, I'm an acquired taste, Your Highness."

"I've never heard of a person being an acquired taste."

"Believe me, it can happen. I've never been skilled in making friends or getting people to like me." Melusine lifted the jug of foreign moonshine, and cradled it to her chest. "Which is why I too will use everything at my disposal. Even manipulation and bribery."

The king snorted, sitting back in his chair again and flicking his hand out at her in a dismissive gesture.

"Go then, you're free, my Dragon's Proxy. For the time being, anyway." Melusine studied the king's delicate smile, searching for the barest of twitches. Finding none and becoming disturbed in his presence once more, she bowed one last time and left the room.

Only once she discovered that Baugulf was not waiting for her did she realize that she had no way to navigate around the palace. She stood in the vast oblong hallway, holding a heavy jug of reviled liquid.

"Oh, for the love of—"

It had taken a lot of asking for directions from passing servants for Melsine to reach the Archmage's tower. By the time she'd managed to approach the tall ironwork doors at the base, the sun had begun to set. Melusine grabbed hold of the ring knocker, banging it three times.

Silence. Not peep, or even a cough from within the seven story tower. Melusine huffed, knocked three more times, and waited. When there was still no answer, she leaned her head back and shouted at a window above her head.

"Oh no! I suppose I'll have to return this Tigress's Caress moonshine to his majesty! What a crying shame that I can't share it with—"

She stopped shouting when the heavy doors cracked open with a squeak only rusted hinges could provide.

"Who are you?" A low male voice whispered harshly. A boney, white skinned hand slipped between the opening of the door, pawing at the jug held just out of reach. "How'd you get your mitts on that? I should report you to the guards, but if you hand it over, I'd be willing to reconsider my loyalties."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Archmage Vadim." Melusine grabbed hold of the sneaky but unstealthy hand and yanked its owner out of his hiding place. A fanged smirk stretched across her jaw as she caught the most esteemed of mages against her body. "My name is Melusine. I've heard a lot about you, and how you can answer all of my burning questions. I'd love to get those answers over a couple glasses, if you'd please humor me for a while."

A man around Baugulf's age scurried back, slamming himself against the doors like an offended maiden. His scruffy indigo blue hair was hidden under a fur trimmed hood, his long navy blue cloak pulled tight around him. When Melusine noticed the unnatural hue of his eyes peering out at her from under the fur trim, her smile faltered. With small round pupils and golden-yellow irises, Melusine was immediately reminded of the dragon's dish sized eye staring down at her in the pitch black cave.

"If you insist," the Archmage grumbled, standing up straight and slipping his hand from Melusine's slackened grasp. Clearing her throat, the girl lowered the jug to her side.

"I do insist. I've heard a lot about you, both from Baugulf Bélanger and King Adelric. They talk as if you have all the answers to my problems."

"Both of them have a bad habit of hoisting the difficult jobs onto others without any consideration."

Melusine's mirth bubbled out her her lungs as an airy laugh.

"It looks like we're in the same boat. I'm not sure what they expect of me, but it seems greater than what I'm capable of."

"King Adelric lives by the belief that great people are the ones who think they aren't worthy." Vadim stepped aside, and held his arm out towards the inner sanctum of the tower. Melusine thanked him and entered.

"That's an awfully presumptuous way of looking at things. I've always thought I maintain an accurate view of myself."

"It comes from a life of wrestling scraps of power from arrogant blowhards, I imagine." After following Melusine in, Vadim shut the doors with a mere wave of his hand. Sparks of arcing light flickered along his fingertips, then flew at the doors as they slammed shut.

"Was it really so cutthroat when the king took the throne?" Mel questioned as she took a moment to glance around the inside of the exclusive building.

The first floor of the Archmage's tower had a straight hallway lit by floating orbs that glowed with soft moonlight. The narrow corridor led to an ironwork spiral staircase that went above and below to separate floors. The hallway had four simple wood doors, two on each wall and positioned with perfect symmetry. Matching paneling with oblong carvings ran along the bottom half of the walls, and dark teal wallpaper with a floral pattern covered the top half. The floors were made of oak boards, and were covered by a long teal carpet that went all the way to the staircase.

"He was an eight year old whose parents had been assassinated after ousting his biggest supporter. Of course it was cutthroat." Vadim entered one of the rooms on the ground level, and held the door open for Melusine. When she accepted his invitation, she tasted salt on her tongue and felt a cool sea breeze. Her senses were befuddled, for no matter how she looked at it, the room she'd entered was a simple tea room without any windows, decorated the same as the hallway. "I hope you don't mind the scent of the ocean. I grew up in a fishing village in the Kavashian Empire, so the sensation of the coastal sea calms me."

"I don't mind the smell," Melusine assured. Still a bit stunned, she was slow to take a seat at the small table in the center of the room. "But this is only the second time I've ever been exposed to the ocean, so I don't have a preference for or against it. It isn't unpleasant."

"When was the first time?" Vadim placed a cast iron kettle with a small spout and a hinged handle on top of a hotplate, then poured in some water from a pitcher sitting beside the centerpiece tea arrangement.

"On our way to the capital, Baugulf and I were ambushed by someone who could control a strange fog. Either the air or the magic itself smelled like the sea. The strangest part is that I don't think it was me who recognized the scent." Melusine rubbed at her lower lip, forgoing the detail that at the time she had tasted rather than smelled the air. "Why are you making tea? I thought you were going to drink the Tigress's Caress."

"This type of alcohol is best enjoyed with a particular blend of tea." Taking the seat across from her, Vadim grunted as he lowered himself into the chair. "Did this fog dampen sound within it?"

"Yes, I could barely hear my own voice, though it reached no one. How'd you guess?"

"Because the way you described it matched reports of similar attacks. It's worrying... you fought Arn Ó Riagán, but you seem physically fine."

"He attacked Baugulf for the most part. For reasons I'm not sure of, he had no interest in hurting me, and his attention was only drawn away from Baugulf when I caught his eagle."

"His... what?"

Melusine placed the jug of moonshine on the table so she could use her hands to show him the approximate size of the strange crystalline bird made of mist while she described the encounter in more detail. Vadim put a thoughtful hand to his chin, his golden eyes staring at the kettle. "Interesting. That must be what attacked any guards or companions the other victims had with them during the attacks. It's amazing that you were able to catch a spirit with your bare hands."

"That thing was a spirit? It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen."

"Stories of old say that the Elven royal family could tame and even make familiar contracts with spirits and elementals. It might be an elemental of wind, or the sea, or a spirit that controls fog. This revelation might give Arn's claim to the ruined elven throne some credence." Vadim's tone was neutral, like a scholar musing over a theory rather than an Archmage in service to a king speaking about his lord's enemy.

The kettle started to whistle, and just after Vadim took it off the hotplate, three loud knocks on the tower doors echoed through the halls. Both mage and peasant winced and grumbled to themselves.

"Ignore them," Vadim growled. "Moonshine first, troublesome bastards later." Melusine was about to agree, until she heard the servant outside shout.

"Archmage! Archmage, please come out! The duke's son... Sir Baugulf Bélanger has taken ill, and the barrack doctors believe the cause to be magical in nature!"