Lord Beryn of Kingsford was often described as "The nicest rake you'll ever meet". Blessed with looks, wealth, and enough intelligence and charisma to know what to do with them, he left behind a string of broken hearts wherever he went. The women should have hated him because he was a scoundrel. The men should have hated him because he got all the women. Yet neither side could really manage it. The man was simply too likable. The fact that his break-up technique had been described as almost as romantic as a proposal, and one of his favorite hobbies was playing matchmaker between his single friends and plethora of exes probably had something to do with it.

As far as Feyla was concerned, however, none of that mattered because her personal break-up had bucked the trend by being both painfully sudden and horrifically handled.

The scent of native spices and sea salt tingled her nose as she resisted the urge to tap her foot in impatience. A hot summer sun warmed the tips of her ears, and the shouts of the dock workers muffled all other sounds as they milled about loading and unloading crates and passengers. She took a breath of the humid air, taking in the sights of the nearby ships. Some were making their way up the river to go further inland while others were preparing to sail across Lake Nadiyon to reach the ocean.

"Are you sure he messaged that he was meeting us here?" Feyla asked Sedgewick.

Sedgewick wiped the sweat from his brow before placing his faded orange mage's hat back on his head. "For the third time, yes, I'm quite certain." He scowled as yet another ship hand bumped into him before he snatched up both their bags and gestured forward. "But let's go find a bit of shade or something. Stay here much longer and we're going to be trampled."

They weaved their way over to a shaded table outside a tourist-centered cafe. The building was round, a trademark of Kingsford, and like most of the country's architecture, it featured arched doorways and windows decorated with colorful mosaics. They both took their seats and ordered something cool to drink.

Sipping on her fruit-flavored medley, Feyla refocused her attention on scanning the crowd for signs of her ex-boyfriend. "So Sedgewick, do you have a plan for how this is going to work?"

Sedgewick took a gulp of the cold tea he had forsaken his usual coffee for before answering. "I'm afraid we will most likely have to take him into our confidence; the man's unlikely to believe whatever story I could concoct. But--" He set the glass down and leaned over the table. "He's still a politician. Which means eventually he's going to want something done discreetly."

Feyla nodded in understanding. "So you're offering him a favor?"

"Precisely."

"And I suppose I'm here to make sure you don't accidentally--or not so accidentally--insult him so badly that he wants nothing to do with you?"

"Once again, precisely."

They sat in a comfortable silence for several minutes until a familiar voice pulled Feyla out of her daydreams.

"FEYLA!"

Gat--goodness, she'd forgotten how attractive he was.

He swaggered towards the table like a man who was in his elements and master of his domain. The summer sun glistened off the bronze-colored skin of his tall, toned frame. His midnight blue eyes were paired with a strong, masculine jawline and a heartbreakingly charming smile. Feyla had always had a weakness for redheads, so his traditional, shoulder-length strawberry blond hair had been (and was) right up her alley.

She smoothed her dress, suddenly conscious of the fact that she'd spent the past two days on a dirty, stuffy ship.

"Lord Beryn," she said, rising from her chair and holding out her hand.

He flashed her one of his signature smiles before rejecting her handshake in favor of planting a kiss on her wrist. "Aww, why so formal, Feylie Belle?"

"Feylie Belle?" questioned Sedgewick as he stood from his chair.

"An old pet name," Beryn answered, his eyes never leaving her.

Feyla flushed and withdrew her hand. "Old being the keyword, Beryn."

"A-hem."

The lord finally turned his attention to Sedgewick. "Good to see you again, Master Alverdyne. Magic business going well?" he asked, shaking his hand.

"That remains to be determined."

He laughed. "I suppose so. We can discuss it over dinner this evening."

Beryn slipped his arm into Feyla's and used the other to gesture towards their bags. "You got those, right Alverdyne?"

Sedgewick's eye twitched but Feyla could see he was making an effort to restrain himself.

"Certainly," he said sharply.

"Great! Now you'll both be staying at my villa..." said Beryn as he continued to discuss their accommodations while leading them away.

Biting her lip to hide the smile that had been forming since Sedgewick's eye twitch, Feyla began to reconsider her attitude towards this trip. She didn't see someone get the upper hand on Sedgewick often and if that someone was Beryn...

This could be more fun than she thought.

***************************************************************************************

Lavish would be the only way to describe Beryn's villa. Seated on a small cliff side overlooking the lake, it featured the traditional circular layout found in Kingsford, making it appear like a collection of circles placed either next to each other or separated by airy, window-lined hallways. An elegant garden spread out towards the inland, filled with fruit trees and flowers that would have been relegated to hothouses in other parts of the world. Several paths led down to the beachfront below where a little way off, Beryn's private ship was docked. The villa featured several dining areas but this particular one was a large, open balcony that afforded a beautiful view of the setting sun shining off the lake.

Sedgewick tapped his foot against the mosaic stone tile, unable to relax enough to appreciate the beauty of his surroundings.

Feyla huffed. "Would you stop that?"

"He's doing this on purpose," Sedgewick grumbled, glancing towards the door again.

"Of course he is. This is just like Beryn. If you hadn't acted so impatient when we got here, he probably would have talked to you by now," she said before taking a sip of water from an expensive-looking glass goblet.

"Well, you ought to know, considering you're apparently an expert on all thing Beryn," he said, swatting at the only gnat that had dared to show up.

She narrowed her eyes and her voice took on a familiar warning tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, except that for someone who didn't particularly want to come, you certainly were acting awfully chummy after we got here."

"Unlike some people, I was actually trying to be friendly and polite. I lost count of how many times I had to kick or tap you," she said, speaking of the signal they had devised whenever Feyla felt Sedgewick was about to say something less-than-diplomatic.

"I still don't think-"

"Yes, Sedgewick, saying his prized instrument collection is a waste of living space is VERY undiplomatic," Feyla said, kicking him again for good measure. "And anyways, this trip isn't turning out as bad as I suspected." She smirked. "It's certainly more entertaining than I thought it would be."

Sedgewick's ears drooped as he placed his head in his hands. "Have you no loyalty, woman?"

Her laughter rang in his ears as she gave him a playful shove. "Relax, if I know Beryn, he's waiting for just the right moment to make an--"

The double doors flew open as their host entered the room.

"—Entrance," she finished with a whisper.

"Sorry to keep you waiting; I had some last-minute business to attend to," Beryn said as he took a seat next to Feyla. "I hope you still like salmon, Feylie."

Sedgewick picked up his glass of wine as he blocked out whatever Feyla said in reply. As their plates were placed before them, his mind wandered back to the purpose of this trip and his already fraying patience grew that much weaker. Taking a sip of his glass, he prepared himself to force the subject. Just before making a move to speak, he felt a sharp kick to his leg. Jolting back to his surroundings, Sedgewick was met with a rather tight-lipped Feyla inclining her head ever so slightly towards their host, who was also staring at him.

Gates, he thought. What had he missed?

"Come again?"

Feyla grimaced and Beryn laughed, sending Sedgewick's ears twitching in annoyance.

"Returned to us at last, Master Alverdyne? I asked how my dear cousin was faring," said a still grinning Beryn.

Sedgewick nodded slightly. Beryn's father had been their former ruler's younger brother. Before King Eldain had passed, there had been rumors that their parents were trying to arrange a match between Eleyna and Beryn. Although the man was slowly growing more irritating, he couldn't help but think that Beryn would have been infinitely more tolerable than Fenroy.

At least Beryn has excellent taste in wine, he thought, swirling the liquid around in his glass.

"Her Majesty is fine, as are the little ones."

"Good, good. Now—" His smile faded, morphing into a serious, analytical mask. "Let's get down to business."

Finally, thought Sedgewick.

"The only reason you would come to me for a border pass is because either Eleyna won't give it to you or you're trying to hide something from her. Tell me which one it is," said Beryn as his friendly demeanor vanished with the setting sun and his professional--and occasionally cutthroat--political one rose with the moon.

"Why must you assume it's either? Perhaps I've simply seen the light and finally decided to treat you and the other lords with more respect when dealing with magical issues in your territories."

Beryn chuckled darkly before leaning over the table. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"

A scathing remark jumped to the tip of his tongue before a kick to the shin by Feyla caused it to whither. "It's a...personal issue. One that I would prefer to avoid involving Eleyna in."

"Elaborate for me, Alverdyne. Explain what has gotten you so desperate that you're asking a lord for help," Beryn leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow critically.

Sedgewick's mouth went dry as his mind flashed back to all those debates and presentations he'd given to the Lord's Council when he was trying to get the Magic Ministry off the ground. He took another sip of his drink and used the moment to collect himself. This was delicate territory. He needed to strike a difficult balance between telling enough to get what he wanted and holding enough back to avoid potential blackmail—or worse—rumors of incompetence.

He took a deep breath and set down his glass.

"I have reason to believe a certain sorceress in the Northlands has placed a curse on me. Although I'm capable of breaking it myself, I believe confronting her will expedite the process and allow me to prevent her from attempting something similar in the future."

Beryn nodded thoughtfully. "Your reasoning seems sound enough. But you stated that this was 'a personal matter'; one that you didn't want Eleyna to know about."

Sedgewick licked his lips and adjusted his glasses. "The sorceress's name in Bilara; are you familiar with— "

The lord's hands clenched slightly. "I am."

"She and I have a past history— "

"I've heard the stories," said Beryn, unclenching his hand and waving it dismissively. "Get to the point, Alverdyne."

"I'm uncertain if this attack is personal or simply the first step in a grander scheme and just breaking the curse won't tell me that. And I'm certain you're aware that that utter— "

Feyla kicked him in the leg.

"King Fenroy," he spat out. "And I have a less-than-hospitable relationship."

"That's an understatement."

Sedgewick smirked. "Indeed. Which is why I'd like to avoid providing further doubts he can drip into Eleyna's ears."

Beryn sighed and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What, exactly, is this curse doing to you?"

Here was the tricky part. "It's some form of magic limiter," he said vaguely.

Beryn frowned. He twirled his fork between his fingers before stabbing it into his half-eaten meal. "You're not exactly well-liked in the Northlands, Alverdyne. Not since the last war." He took a piece of fish on his fork and held it up, examining in for invisible defects. "And the current treaty has very specific rules regarding the retrieval of criminals from across the border. You tend to lean towards effective over legal."

"I've found it's often simpler."

The lord slammed the fork back down. "Not for me. And with this...whatever you're calling it 'limiting' your magic, I'm not exactly feeling overwhelming confidence."

"It is nothing my power and experience can't compensate for." Sedgewick shot back, practically growling and receiving another kick for it.

Beryn raised an eyebrow and stared at his critically. He then turned to Feyla. "You're the honest one among us, Feyla. Can he handle this or do I have a future international incident on my hands?"

Sedgewick's eyes widened and he could see hers had too. Feyla was a considerate, tactful person but he knew she wouldn't lie for him. She wouldn't lie for anyone. Panic hit his chest and a cold, clammy feeling spread over his palms. If she had even the slightest inkling of how he'd felt on the boat, his border pass would vanish just as quickly as his magic was.

Feyla's brow wrinkled as she twisted a part of her dress in her hand. "I..." She looked up at Beryn and took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't like this."

Sedgewick's heart dropped.

"But I trust Sedgewick; if he says he can handle it, then he can."

He felt a grin rising but managed to taper it down to slight smile. He made eye contact with Feyla and hoped that she could see the gratefulness in his gaze. She smiled back before blushing and glancing down.

"Even if that's the case, it still doesn't give me a very compelling reason to become involved."

Sedgewick waved his empty hands forward. "And what would make it compelling, Lord Beryn?"

Beryn smiled, but instead of a charming grin, it was the face of a hunter who had cornered his prey. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."

***************************************************************************************

Hello everyone! I'm back and here's an extra-long chapter to make up for my absence. So what do you guys think of Beryn?  On an unrelated note, I noticed that chapter 8 has about 20 reads fewer than chapter 9, so y'all might want to double check that you didn't accidentally skip it. It has some important info in it.  Thanks for reading!

Chapter 11 Excerpt:  "This is important to me, Alverdyne. Mess it up and it won't go well with you."