Culdan scowled at him. At sixteen, half a year Nelik's junior, Culdan loathed reminders that he was officially a lordling and named heir to Denal.

Nelik ducked Culdan's blow, dancing away across the white stone courtyard. He darted to the right, mindful to leave several body-lengths between himself and the closest columns, lest he find himself backed into a corner and at a disadvantage.

They were evenly matched, of course. How could one train and grow with another since the cradle and not be? It was unusual for either to land a blow when pitted in mock battle. To be honest, no other opponent had laid hand or blade on either of them for almost three years, even Denal's finest. Though the lord rarely showered compliments, his pride in his heir was impossible to miss.

A movement in the palaz caught Nelik's eyes. He stared, certain he was hallucinating ... or asleep and dreaming. Yes, dreaming seemed likely. He'd had hundreds of dreams of Ziri in the last two years, perhaps thousands of fantasies in which he sank his cock into her ready body. In those dreams, she screamed his name at completion and used her woman healer's knowledge to pleasure him.

The lady in question was at her window, watching them, as the gods made her and no more. Her arms were crossed under choc-capped breasts that made his mouth water.

He slid to one side to get an unobstructed view of her, wishing he could see her full length and not from her delicate waist up. Ziri smiled, a purely feminine smile that the vixen used to lure the male jaglin to her cave in mating season.

"What is it?" Culdan asked, lowering his fists. "Nelik, what troubles you?"

Troubled? It was the wrong word. Nelik was fast stretching his trousers to their limits, a damned uncomfortable position to be in. Worse, his mind and body seemed largely disconnected from each other.

"Nelik," Culdan shouted, trying to catch Nelik's eye by waving a hand in front of him.

Ziri chuckled, and his tongue unglued from his palate.

"Ziri is at her window," he managed, his heart pounding hard against his ribs as if he'd run a great distance.

Culdan's brow furrowed. "And this is--"

"In the sun's glory robed," he quoted Len's song to Veltina. Nelik considered singing it to her, wooing her with it.

Culdan's eyes widened and he started to turn to her.

Fury coursed through Nelik. This look at Ziri was for himself, not Culdan. She would not be passed between them like the palaz bed slaves were.

Ziri's smile disappeared in a look of horror, confirming his belief that the offer had been for Nelik alone.

And, I opened my mouth and caused this. I cannot allow her unease ... I cannot allow Culdan the thought of claiming her!

He struck without another thought, connecting solidly with Culdan's cheek and sending the lordling sprawling on his face.

Ziri spun away and closed the shutters, easing the tension in Nelik's chest. Culdan hadn't seen her.

Culdan! Nelik stared at his fist in shock and dismay. What have I done?

Culdan was on his feet in a heartbeat, staring at the shutters. He turned with a battle cry, slamming his fist into Nelik's unprotected ribs, again and again. "Liar," he accused. "Dishonorable liar!"

Nelik crumpled, his head spinning and his chest shattering. Culdan followed him down, landing on his already-fractured ribs.

The onslaught ended abruptly, Culdan's weight flying up fast.

"Culdan," Lord Denal barked. "What in Len's dungeons are you doing?"

"Ziri," the lordling gasped.

"You are trying to kill your dedicated over a woman?"

"No! Nelik ... Nelik lied. He lied to me to gain an opening to attack my back, the coward."

There was silence for a moment. Nelik forced his eyes open, looking at His Lordship through a haze.

Hands prodded at him, and his eyes slid shut on a groan he couldn't hold in his battered body. It was Luva and his mother. He was being tended by women like a babe. Could his disgrace get deeper than this? He supposed it could ... if his father insisted on healing what he could of the damage, if he didn't let Nelik suffer battle wounds as any man would.

"And if an enemy lies to you?" Denal challenged his son. "Will you offer him your life as easily as you offered Nelik your unprotected cheek?"

"By Len," Culdan breathed. "No ... I ... Oh, Nelik."

"Perhaps I spoke too hastily. You are not worthy to wear the seal of heir." Fabric ripped, sounding far too loud in the stillness of the courtyard.

To Culdan's credit, he didn't cry out or protest the decision. "Yes, My Lord," he answered.

"When you mature, I may reconsider."

"I understand."

"Do you?" his father questioned icily. "Do you understand it? You must not be led from duty by anything. Not a woman. Not lies. Not personal gain. You must never doubt your course, in negotiation or battle." He paused. "You must always protect those who protect you."

Nelik's ragged breathing was the only sound he could hear. It seemed even his mother held her breath, waiting for something momentous.

"Look at him, Culdan! You must always protect those who protect you."

"Yes. I must."

Nelik surrendered to unconsciousness.