Treason Keep

“She is,” Damin agreed. “But she’s also as sharp as a new sword. Now we’ve deprived her of her purchasing power, she’ll resort to more direct methods. She’s court’esa trained. That may not mean much here in Medalon, but trust me, it makes her more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”

“What do you mean, court’esa trained?” Tarja asked. “She’s a princess.”

“Your definition of a court’esa and ours is very different, Tarja. What you call court’esa in Medalon are merely common whores. In Fardohnya and Hythria, they are highly trained specialists, worth a small fortune to those who can afford them. Adrina was probably given her first one around the age of sixteen. He would have been a skilled musician, an artist maybe or a linguist. But first and foremost, his job would have been to make Adrina more valuable as a wife by teaching her the art of giving pleasure in the marriage bed.”

“So our princess is a whore?” Tarja asked with a grin.

Damin shook his head impatiently. “You’re missing the point. She’s Hablet’s daughter. She’s been trained by the very best and if she thinks it will help her cause, she’ll use every skill at her disposal to get her own way. And in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s not exactly hard to look at. If you don’t believe me, go up there now and spend an hour in her company.”

“No thanks, I’ve seen all of Her Serene Highness I want to.”

“You two can argue the lady’s finer points some other time,” Jenga snapped. “Right now, I have to decide what to do with her.”

“We could ransom her back to Cratyn,” Tarja suggested. “Surely he will sue for peace if it means the return of his wife.”

“I’m not so sure,” Damin said with a shake of his head. “She seemed very determined not to go back to Karien. And if that Fardohnyan you killed was to be believed, then the Kariens have betrayed them.”

“But Adrina never got the message. There has to be another reason she left.”

“What of Hablet?” Jenga asked. “Perhaps knowing his daughter is our hostage will stay his hand?”

Damin shrugged. “He’s a treacherous bastard. He could just as easily abandon her to her fate as try to get her back.” He smiled sourly. “We’ve more chance of trading the jewellery, I fear.”

“Maybe we should consult her Highness on the matter?” Tarja suggested. “She did, after all, demand to be informed of any negotiations regarding her ransom.”

“You jest, surely,” Jenga said.

“If only he was joking,” Damin sighed.

“Well, I’ll leave it up to you, Lord Wolfblade. You captured her, so I’m making her your responsibility. You may use whatever men you need to keep her guarded, but I don’t have time for this distraction. Give me your recommendation when you’ve decided what to do. And put those gems somewhere safe. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

Damin watched the Lord Defender leave with an unfamiliar feeling of despair. He turned to Tarja, who seemed more amused than concerned. The captain wrapped the jewels in their velvet cover and tucked them into his belt.

“You’ve a fortune there, you know.” Damin finished his wine with a grimace and then glared at Tarja. “Don’t look at me like that, you have no idea what she’s like.”

“Oh, I got an inkling today. You’re welcome to her.”

Damin rose from his seat by the fireplace and poured himself another cup of wine. He drank it in a gulp.

“She tried to kill my uncle, you know.”

“Adrina?”

Damin nodded. “Hablet sent her to Greenharbour for Lernen’s birthday a couple of years ago – the same year you were recalled to the Citadel, as I remember. Adrina had obviously been well briefed about my uncle’s various weaknesses before she arrived and she pandered to them very effectively. She dragged him along to the slave auction and coaxed him into buying a pair of twin boys. The cunning little bitch even made the boys ride back to the palace in his carriage, no doubt hoping to whet his appetite. That night they slit their wrists in my uncle’s bed and bled to death while he slept. The blade they used was Adrina’s table knife. She must have slipped it to them in the carriage. I wonder how she sleeps knowing they killed themselves rather than do as she demanded.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go to war with Fardohnya over an attempt on the High Prince’s life.”

Damin shrugged and poured another cup of wine. “Nothing definite could be proved. I was out hunting that day, and didn’t return until late, but I was told Adrina claimed at dinner that she had lost her knife. We could never connect the boys to her afterwards, and we tried every avenue of investigation. In the end, we had no choice but to let the matter drop.” He swallowed the wine and thumped the cup down on the table. “You know what really irks me?”

“What?”

“That bitch and her slave are wearing the collars Lernen gave those two dead boys. I’d recognise them anywhere. Lernen and I had quite an argument over their cost. It’s how my mother met her gem merchant, incidentally. Adrina no doubt kept them as a souvenir.”

Tarja frowned, as if he could not conceive of anything so callous. “So take them back.”

“No, I think I’ll leave them right where they are for now. Another thing you may not understand about Fardohnyans and Hythrun, Tarja, is that for a noblewoman to be collared like a slave is the worst kind of insult. Her Serene Highness could well do with a little humiliation. Anyway, she thinks I need a key to open them. I can keep her collared for quite some time, while I’m waiting for the keys to arrive from Hythria.”

“Have you sent for them?”

“No need. There’s a concealed clasp. But the idea that her good behaviour will earn her release might keep her tractable for a time.”

“I could always offer to dismember her slave,” Tarja suggested with a grin. “It worked on the Karien boy.”

“Adrina would probably tell you to go right ahead and then ask if she could watch,” he predicted sourly. “Speaking of the boy, he is your responsibility. I don’t want him anywhere near her. He’d probably run one of us through if she asked him.”

Tarja nodded, his expression suddenly glum. “I miss R’shiel already. She seemed to be able to get through to the child. And I’d be happier if Mahina were here to deal with Adrina.”

“So would I,” Damin agreed. He poured a cup of wine then poured another for Tarja and pushed it across the table to him. “Here. If I’m going to get drunk, then you’d better join me. It has been a thoroughly unsatisfactory day. That battle was as glorious as a cattle cull.”

Tarja took the wine and sipped it as Damin downed his in a gulp. They were silent for a while, only the crackling fire and the hissing torches disturbing the silence. Damin filled his cup again.

Tarja glanced at him curiously. “You said it was common practice among Hythrun and Fardohnyan nobility to have their sons and daughters trained by court’esa. Does that mean you were?”

“Absolutely!” Damin could feel the wine making his head spin. It was a rough blend, too young to be drunk with such determination. He drank it anyway. “Her name was Reyna. I was fifteen when she came to Krakandar.”

“It beats fumbling around in the stables with a nervous Probate, I suppose.”

“Having never fumbled around in a stable with a nervous Probate, I’m not in a position to comment on the comparison, but I imagine you’re correct. Drink up, Captain. I’m getting very drunk here and you haven’t finished your first cup.”

“Perhaps you should get some sleep, Damin. It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, mother.”

“I only meant —”

“I know what you meant.” He studied the bottom of his cup for a moment. “You know, we call rough wine like this ‘Fardohnyan courage’ in Hythria.”

Tarja smiled. “We call it Hythrun courage.”

“I shall ignore such a heinous insult, Captain, because I like you.” Suddenly, he hurled the cup at the fireplace where it shattered into thousands of clay shards. “Dammit! Why couldn’t she stay on her own side of the border?”

“You really should get to bed, Damin. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking straight.”