“This was the last consular safe house on Satine’s list,” he said. “But that does not mean that it was the last of the consuls.” His face grim, he closed his hand around the parchment and crushed it to pieces.

“This simply isn’t good enough,” he said menacingly. “I want them all.”

Wigg cleared his throat. “We may as well return to camp,” he said cheerfully. “Our work here is done. I for one am so hungry that my ribs must be showing through!”

“I agree!” Faegan added. “I could do with a bit of Minion cooking myself-crude as it might be!”

But as the group turned to go, theJin’Sai stayed put. He turned to look at the remains of the burning cottage. Sensing his frustration, Shailiha walked over and snaked one arm through his.

“Come, Brother,” she said gently. “There is nothing more to be done here.”

When Tristan turned she saw his eyes start to well up. Holding him a bit closer, she accompanied him back to the Minion campsite.

“He worries me,” Shailiha said softly.

As she sat by the campfire with the First Wizard, the princess pulled her knees up under her chin. It was a perfect evening. The nighttime sky was full of stars; the tree frogs sang pleasantly. Her soft brown jerkin and matching trousers were helping to keep her warm, while the campfire added to her sense of security.

Several Minion tents dotted the ground nearby, and the occasional flying patrol could be seen highlighted against the three red moons. Reaching up, the princess tossed a handful of her long blond hair over one shoulder.

The roasted pheasants the Minions prepared had been wonderful, and the princess had consumed a bit more than her share of red wine. Ox and Traax were off seeing to the sentries; Faegan and Jessamay had retired. They would all be home late tomorrow. The princess would be glad to hold her daughter Morganna in her arms again.

She looked over at Tristan.