Midwinter

When it was over, Silverdun found his way to the washroom and stripped naked, washing himself from head to toe and then looking at himself in the mirror.

"The things I do for Queen and country," he said.

Ah, well. He'd done worse.

* * * *

That night Silverdun and Faella made love again, and the unpleasant business with Lady Amecu finally faded from his mind. With a few glasses of wine he found himself able to return to the daydream he'd experienced on the dance floor.

"I had no idea," he said afterward, "how powerful a thing it was to be on a stage. It was intoxicating."

Faella turned to lie on her side and looked at him, tousling his hair in the firelight. "More intoxicating than I?"

"Impossible," he said. He kissed her elbow.

"You're right," Faella said. "There is no feeling like it. I was hoping you'd think so."

"Were you?"

"Of course. Think of it, Perrin. Faella and Lord Silverdun together, on stage. We could ditch the rest of them and continue as a duet. I don't want to perform in these tiny places anymore. I want to perform in Sylvan, Selafae, the City Emerald!" She rolled onto her back. "I would even travel to the city of Mab and perform in the Queen's tent itself. As a goodwill gesture."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," said Silverdun. He held her tight.

"I'm serious, Perrin." Faella rolled back on her side and looked into his eyes. "I want to do this. With you. Now."

Silverdun laughed. "You move quickly, darling! Why don't we worry about tonight and take the rest as it comes?"

Faella sat up. "Forgive me, Lord Silverdun, but I thought this meant something, you and I."

Silverdun's laugh faded. "It does mean something. It's lovely. But it's not something you want to base a career choice on."

Faella's face grew pinched. "But Perrin, it would be so wonderful. Just the two of us. Say you'll come with me."

"I can't, Faella. I have a duty to perform."

"I don't care about that."

"But I do."

She took her dress from the floor and worried at the hem of it. "I thought I thought I would be yours."

Silverdun sighed. "You belong to no one."

Faella stood and began to dress.

"Wait, darling," said Silverdun. "Don't be upset. Not everything is meant to be. I'm sorry if I've misled you. It wasn't my intention."

She sat back down on the edge of the bed. "No, you're right. I was just being silly."

"Good," he said, reaching for her. "Come back to bed and forget all that."

Faella smiled, her eyebrows raised, and crawled beneath the covers next to Silverdun.

When he awoke in the predawn of the following morning, Silverdun found himself alone. He stood and dressed in the pale light, washing his face

in the basin. All of Faella's things were gone.

He looked in the mirror and there was something on it, red lines over the silvered surface. Silverdun flared witchlight from his fingers and read it. It was a message from Faella, written in scarlet rouge. "Be as ugly out as in."

Silverdun refocused his eyes on his own reflection. The man staring back at him was not Perrin Alt, Lord Silverdun. His proud chin was now sunken and pitted with scars. His cheeks were pale. His nose, once straight and patrician, had become a short, bent thing that huddled on his face. Scowling, he reached deep within himself to let loose whatever glamour Faella had placed on him. He felt around his face for the loose threads of illusion and could not find them. There was nothing there. It wasn't a glamour.

how silverdun appears

Why would I believe that you're Silverdun?" said Raieve, frowning from behind her raised sword. She stood at the entrance to the public stable, where inside the others were preparing the horses. "You don't look a thing like him, and you don't sound like him either."

The man in front of her wore a dark scowl that certainly reminded Raieve of Silverdun, even if his unpleasant appearance wasn't a match.

"It's me, Raieve. Lower your blade." The man made a lowering motion with two outstretched hands. "Faella did this to me. We had a disagreement, and I suppose this is her crafty method of punishment."

"If it's a glamour, then remove it."

"I can't. It's not a glamour."

"Then we have a problem."

Satterly, Mauritane, and Gray Mave appeared at the wide stable door, leading all five mounts by the reins. The morning was dawning misty and gray, the sun buried somewhere behind the ash-colored sky. Even so, the temperature had risen above freezing during the night, and the streets were infused with the sound of melting snow and ice dripping onto the cobblestones.

"Who's this?" said Mauritane.

Raieve kept her eyes and her weapon trained on the stranger. "He says he's Silverdun."

"I am Silverdun," the man said. "Faella did this to me."

"How do we know you're Silverdun?" said Satterly, stroking his chin. "Tell me something only Silverdun would know."

"Such as?" said the would-be Silverdun.

"What did I have for breakfast yesterday?" Satterly raised his eyebrows.