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Irene paused again. “That much,” she murmured. It was evident that men dominated the society of Onesti, while in Xanth the sexes were fairly even, except for the rule about who could be King.

Dor thought of living the rest of his life in Mundania, unable to utilize his own magic or participate in the magic of others. The notion appalled him. He doubted Irene could stand it long either.

“And I’m in love with another man,” Irene finished.

“But the girl’s love has nothing to do with it!” King Omen protested. “This is a matter of state.” His eyes traveled along the length of her legs.

King Trent considered. “We conduct such matters differently in Xanth, but of course compromise is essential in international relations. If you really desire my daughter-“

“Father!” Irene said screamingly.

“Now don’t embarrass your father,” Queen Iris said. Irene reacted with a rebellious frown that she quickly concealed. It was the old syndrome; if her mother pushed something, Irene did the opposite. Dor’s secret ally had struck again. Bless the Queen!

King Trent’s gaze passed across them all, finishing with the Queen, who made the slightest nod. “However,” he continued, “I understand that in some societies there is a certain premium on the, shall we say, pristine state-“

“Virginity,” Irene said clearly.

“But we never-“ Dor started, just before she stomped on his toe.

King Omen had caught the motion. “Ah, I did not realize it was you she loved, blood brother! You came all the way here at great personal risk to help restore my throne; I cannot-“

“Yet a liaison would certainly be appropriate,” King Trent mused.

“Father!” Irene repeated sharply. Queen Iris smiled somewhat smugly in her daughter’s direction. It was strange, Dor reflected, how the very mannerisms that had annoyed him in the past now pleased him. Irene would never go with King Omen now.

“Yet there is that matter of pristinity,” King Omen said. “A Queen must be above-“

“Do you by chance have a sister, King Omen?” King Trent inquired. Dor recognized the tone; Trent already knew the answer to his question. “Dor might-“

‘What?” Irene screeched.

“No, no sister,” Omen said, evidently disgruntled.

“Unfortunate. Perhaps, then, a symbolic gesture,” King Trent said. “If Prince Dor, here, is taking something of value to King Omen, or perhaps has already compromised the value-“

“Yes,” Irene said.

“Shame!” Queen Iris said, glaring at Dor with only the tiniest quirk of humor twitching at one lip.

“But-“ Dor said, unwilling to confess falsely.

“Then some token of recompense might be in order,” King Trent concluded. “We might call it a gift, to preserve appearance-“

“The midnight sunstone!” Dor exclaimed. After an, it was just about midnight now. Without waiting for King Trent to take the matter further, Dor drew it from his pocket. “King Omen, as a sincere token of amity between the Kingdom of Xanth and the Kingdom of Onesti and of my appreciation for the manner you saved my life, allow me to present you with this rarest of gems. Note that it shines in the presence of magic-but turns dull in the absence of magic. Thus you will always know when magic is near.” He gave the gem to King Omen, who stepped out of the magic aisle, then back in, fascinated by the manner the gem faded and flashed again.