Treason Keep

cold and hard. She turned her head, ignoring the pain the movement caused as the square of bright light intruded. It was blocked a moment later by the figure of a man stepping through, followed by several others. They were Defenders, but that meant nothing. The Defenders were her enemies now.

Someone pulled her to her feet, along with another prisoner. R’shiel did not have time to wonder who she was before they were both hustled out of the tent and led through the camp to Lord Terbolt’s tent.

Waiting inside was Lord Terbolt, a young man with brown hair and angry eyes, and in the corner, the young Karien boy who had been a prisoner in the Defenders’ camp. She could not imagine how he came to be here.

“Your Highness,” Terbolt said with a short bow.

R’shiel was a little surprised to hear her fellow prisoner being addressed so formally. It hurt too much to move her head so she tried to study her out of the corner of her eye.

She was shorter than R’shiel, but even her rough clothing and her dishevelled appearance could not conceal her innate beauty. She was foreign; her skin was dusky and her hair much darker than R’shiel’s, and she had startling green eyes. Perhaps she was Fardohnyan. She certainly wasn’t from Medalon and Karien never produced such exotic looks.

“And this is supposed to be the demon child?” the young man asked sceptically. “She doesn’t look much, does she?”

“I recall thinking the same thing when I met you, Cretin,” the woman snapped with a surprising amount of venom.

The young man leapt to his feet angrily. “You will only speak when spoken to, whore!”

R’shiel fought to stay conscious, the argument between the angry young Karien and the beautiful Fardohnyan woman giving her something to focus on. She didn’t know either of them, but their conflict kept the nothingness at bay. It kept away Xaphista’s persistent attempts to coax her back down into the hole. If she went back now, she would never escape. She knew that with a certainty.

“Don’t you dare speak to me in such a tone!” the Fardohnyan declared. “When my father hears about this —”

“When he hears about what, Adrina? Your treachery or your Hythrun lover?”

Adrina. Damin’s floozy in the see-through dress. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her but she fought it down. The sobering process was helped considerably by the realisation that this young man was probably Prince Cratyn. And the Hythrun lover? Even in her semi-conscious state, R’shiel could easily guess who that was.

“What lover?” Adrina scoffed. “Is this some pathetic story you’ve invented to provide an excuse to have me stoned? No one will believe you, Cretin. I am a loyal and dutiful wife. It is you who could never get the job done.”

Cratyn smiled coldly. “I have a witness, Adrina.”

R’shiel’s eyes fixed on the Karien boy, who looked as if he would rather be any place but in this tent. He was so guilty he was trembling with it.

Adrina glanced at the boy also, then laughed. “Mikel is your witness? A boy who’s spent as much time with the enemy as he has with you? He’s not even a disciple of the Overlord. He follows Dacendaran, the God of Thieves, and I have that from the god himself.”

“There are no other gods,” Cratyn retorted.

Good, then you don’t need me, R’shiel said to herself.

Terbolt turned to the boy who cowered under his gaze.

“Is this true, boy? Do you follow a false god?”

“No!” he cried. “I follow the Overlord.”

“That’s not what Dace says,” Adrina said smugly.

“Dace?” The boy looked utterly confused. “But he’s just a thief.”

“Then you do know him?” Terbolt asked.

“Well, yes, but —”

Cratyn grabbed the boy and shook him savagely. “Is this true? You are an agent of the God of Thieves?”

“Pick on someone your own size, Cretin.”

He threw the boy down and turned on the princess, slapping her with a vicious backhanded blow. “Shut up!”

Adrina stumbled backward but when she looked back at him, once she regained her balance and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, her eyes were full of defiance.

“It’s not going to work, is it, Cretin. What was your plan? Hunt me down and kill me and claim the Hythrun did it? Only the Defenders found me first, so you had to fall back on your other plan, didn’t you? Accuse me of adultery and have me stoned. But your star witness can’t testify for you, can he? He isn’t just a disciple of Dacendaran, he counts him as a friend! Now what are you going to do?” Cratyn hit her again. Adrina staggered backwards, then turned on R’shiel. “Hey! Demon child! If you’re thinking of doing anything useful, now would be a pretty good time!”

Cratyn struck her again. His anger had slipped beyond reason.

“Leave the princess alone!” Mikel cried in protest but Lord Terbolt held him back.

Come to me, R’shiel. Through love or fear, the end result is the same.

The boy struggled against Terbolt as Adrina launched herself at Cratyn. She hit him with a clenched fist, almost knocking him off his feet. Princess she might be, but she fought like an alley cat, although she cried out as fresh blood seeped from the wound in her shoulder. But neither the pain nor the fact that Cratyn was bigger and stronger than she was seemed to deter her.

There are people here who need you.

It was Adrina who had spoken those words, R’shiel realised with a start.

Cratyn managed to push Adrina off him and draw his sword. At the sight of the blade, Adrina knew she was done for, R’shiel could tell by the look in her eyes. Mikel was sobbing as he realised what Cratyn intended.

But not Adrina. She was defiant to the last.

“Go on, Cretin. Kill me. But before you do, I want you to know that I did take a lover. And do you know what? It was wonderful! He was strong and passionate and I made love to him every chance I could, anywhere I could. But the best part... the best part... was that he made me forget you and your evil, insidious Overlord.”

If you’re planning to do anything useful, now would be a pretty good time.

Your evil, insidious Overlord.

Cratyn raised his sword at the same time that R’shiel reached into her boot and drew the small dagger that Garet Warner had given her. Her aim was unerring. It took Cratyn in the chest with a solid thunk.

The young prince looked down in astonishment at the blade that was buried up to the hilt in his tabard, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the floor.

Adrina stared at R’shiel for a moment then smiled. “I’ll give you one thing, demon child, your timing is impeccable.”

She had no chance to reply. Terbolt threw the boy aside and opened his mouth to call the guards. R’shiel’s eyes darkened as she drew on her power. The burning seared through her but she ignored it.

She understood now. The collar worked on fear as much as pain. Xaphista had told her that himself. Come to me, R’shiel. Through love or fear, the end result is the same. Fear, not pain. It was her fear of the pain the blocked her power, not the pain itself. If Adrina could stand fearlessly in the face of death, R’shiel could cope with a little burning agony.

She raised her arm and pointed at Terbolt. The duke dropped to the ground before he could utter a word, dead or unconscious – even R’shiel didn’t know for certain. She turned her attention inward then and focused on the collar. It disintegrated with a thought, falling away from her neck like sparkles thrown at a children’s party. With it went the pain. In the back of her mind she caught the echo of an anguished cry. Xaphista realising she was lost to him.

For the first time in weeks, R’shiel felt whole again. The power coursing through her eased her pain and healed the burns. The feeling was the closest thing to pure ecstasy she had ever experienced.

R’shiel turned her black eyes on Adrina. She liked this fearless Fardohnyan princess. She reached out and