Jariath stood in the cold wind basking in the feel of the chill and in the questions Sabeck kept asking; Who was he really? He watched her eyes spark full of wild confusion, her hair sweep around her shoulders and her taut muscle shiver in the cold. Instead of answering her he moved around her to close the window his blast of power must have opened. He let the air fill his dark hair as if the cold was a warmth all its own.There out in the court yard he saw the tree take a last fire spark and then simmer in a smoldering ash.
He spun back to Sabeck with a wildness of his own to call her over to the widow. “There they are.” He pointed from the still open window. “The King and what he thinks is his defeated Queen.” He watched them spin away from the tree and go back inside.
“I need your help.” Jariath moved closer to Sabeck to feel her energy and to let her know he was serious. This was no game. “Magic, Sabeck.” He answered her question she placed awhile ago. Jariath was not sure she would understand. “Old like you said. So old we have not flexed those muscles, not practiced, not pounced on our power but attempt subdue it.” He moved again to make the space between them shrink.
“Can we sneak to hear the plans the brut Kings spews to my Queen?” He looked to her as if to challenge her. He had little doubt she could slink through this city, but would she want to take that risk?