After a moment of startlement, she burst out, “Arclath, what’re you doing? You idiot!”

“Elminster,” the young noble snapped, glaring at her, “don’t try to trick me! I know it’s you speaking, not my Rune! Let her go! Get out of her, and stay out! Or I’ll destroy all that’s left of you!” He waved the coffer menacingly.

Elminster took control again, so swiftly that all Rune could do was blink.

“Oh,” he made her body reply, this time in the unmistakable drawl of the Sage of Shadowdale when he was being curious. “How?”

“I’ll burn these ashes in the… fire.”

Arclath’s voice fell as his anger faltered into confusion.

“And? They’re ashes, dolt! What do they teach nobles of Cormyr these days, I wonder?” El replied, now sounding for all the world like an arch and mincing marchioness of elder years.

“I-” Arclath’s blade wavered back and forth and then thrust toward Storm. “Well, I can still…”

Amarune strode forward to plant herself right in front of the nobleman’s face, her hands on her hips. He winced and flushed.

“Arclath,” she spat, her voice very much her own again and full of all the disappointment she felt, “you broke your word, didn’t you? You swore as a Delcastle, did you not?”

“I… I did. My word is my honor and that of House Delcastle. But, my lady, I discovered something here this night. I-”

“What could you possibly discover,” she said, eyes flaring in anger, “that excuses breaking your word?”

Arclath reddened even more but he kept his gaze steady on hers. “I discovered,” he replied, “that when you are endangered, I will sacrifice my honor-and everything else, by all the gods-in an instant. I did this for you.”

Amarune trembled, tears welling up, and before her voice might fail her, she rushed out the words, “You struck down one friend so you could better threaten the other? Why? Are you mad?”