Treason Keep

Tarja nodded his agreement. “I believe the boy is telling the truth, but it’s the truth your princess fed him. She could hardly announce her intention to run away.” He was sitting in front of the inadequate blaze, warming the soles of his boots, obviously pleased that the decision about what to do with Adrina was not his to make.

“Will you stop calling her my princess!”

Tarja grinned. “We’ll she’s your problem. And you’re always telling me how much better you understand the Fardohnyan nobility than us poor peasants here in Medalon...”

“Very funny.”

“I was merely trying to point out that —”

“Enough, Tarja,” Jenga cut in wearily. “Lord Wolfblade, would it be fair to say that you really have no idea what she is doing here?”

Damin nodded. “That would be fair.”

“And we’ve had no emissaries from the Kariens seeking her out.”

“I’d be surprised if we did,” Tarja said. “If she’s on the run, the last place Cratyn would look for her is Medalon.”

“And if she’s telling the truth, then he needs to pretend that nothing is amiss,” Jenga agreed.

“You know, we’d get a lot more out of Her Serene Highness if she thought we believed her.”

“The rack and a red hot poker would do me just as well,” Damin muttered. Jenga threw him an annoyed look before turning to Tarja.

“Explain.”

“Perhaps, if her status was one of honoured guest rather than prisoner, she might let something slip.”

“She won’t let anything slip. She’s too smart for that.” Damin glared at Tarja, not liking the direction this conversation was heading.

“Maybe,” Jenga mused. “What are you suggesting exactly?”

“Release her. Give her the freedom of the camp. We should ask for something to prove her story, of course. Some piece of intelligence we can easily verify, as a gesture of good will. And we’d have to put a guard on her – there’s no telling what she’d get up to on her own, but we can claim it’s for her protection. We can’t let her get her hands on her jewels, either, but there is no reason why she shouldn’t think we believe her.”

“If we believed her, we’d send her back to Fardohnya,” Damin pointed out. “She won’t fall for it.”

“Oh, yes, she will. Because you, my Lord, are going to start acting as if she’s an ally, not your sworn enemy.”

“The hell I will!”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Tarja?” Jenga said. “How would that help?”

Tarja sighed patiently. “As Damin keeps reminding us, she’s a very smart girl. But she never got the message from her brother and she knows nothing of the Hythrun Raiders stationed in Bordertown. If we release her, at least conditionally, and our Warlord here can keep a civil tongue in his head, she’ll come to believe we need her help in holding back her father’s troops. I’m not saying she’ll believe us right away, but if we act as if we think she’s on our side, even if she’s lying, she has to play along with it.”

“So you think she may end up betraying herself, simply to maintain the illusion of cooperation?”

“Relax your vigilance for more than a heartbeat, and she’ll slip a knife between your ribs,” Damin warned.

“Ah, but she’s your princess, remember?” Tarja said with a grin. “I don’t plan on getting that close.”

Damin glared at Tarja. “Nice plan, my friend, but in case you hadn’t noticed there’s a war going on out there. I have too much to do to waste time playing games of intrigue with a Fardohnyan princess. The Kariens could attack again at any moment.”

Jenga shook his head confidently. “Not likely. They’ve still not recovered from the last battle and it will snow any day.”

“Besides, your troops seem to get along very nicely without you,” Tarja added, taking far too much pleasure in Damin’s misery. “Almodavar coped quite well while you were off consulting your god for nearly a month.”

Damin considered that an entirely unfair argument. “It’s not the same thing. My men knew I was gone to consult with the gods. They’re not likely to be nearly as understanding if they think I’m neglecting them for a woman.”

“I disagree,” Jenga remarked with a rare smile. “From what I’ve seen of your men, Damin, they’d give that just as much credence.”

Damin chose to ignore that one. “It won’t work.”

“Of course it’ll work,” Tarja assured him. “Just pray to one of your gods.”

Damin gave the captain a withering glare. “We don’t actually have a god of Bloody Stupid Ideas, Tarja.”

Damin did not bother knocking. He ordered the guards to open the door to Adrina’s chamber and marched in unannounced. He was a little disappointed to discover Adrina and her slave sitting on the pallet that served as a bed, apparently engaged in nothing more sinister than idle chatter, their legs covered by a blanket to ward off the cold. Adrina still wore the shirt he had given her in his tent, and someone had given the slave something warmer to wear as well. The women looked up as he entered.

“Out!” he ordered the slave. She responded to the authority in his voice without thinking and scurried from the room, leaving them alone. Adrina did not move. He was quite impressed with the way she managed to look down on him, even though she was sitting and he was standing.

“You have the manners of a barbarian.”

“You seem to bring out the worst in me, your Highness.”

Surprisingly, Adrina smiled. “I have a feeling I’ve not seen anything closely resembling your worst, Lord Wolfblade. What do you have there?”

She pointed at the sack he carried which he placed on the bed beside her.

“Jenga ordered your things returned to you. He thought you might be more comfortable in your own clothes.”

“That was considerate of him,” she remarked as she felt around inside the bag. “However, my jewellery seems to be missing.”

“The Lord Defender was concerned about such valuable property laying about unguarded. He will keep your jewels for now. For safe keeping, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed sceptically. “Am I to assume this sudden desire to see to my welfare means you have come to a decision about me?”

“In a manner of speaking. Although I, for one, don’t believe a word of your unlikely tale.” It wouldn’t do to completely change his tune. She would see through that in an instant. “The Medalonians, unfortunately, are much more naive. Jenga believes your story and has ordered that you be treated as an honoured guest from now on.”

“Then I am to be released?” Damin could detect the glimmer of hope in her voice.

“I said they were naive, your Highness, not stupid. The Lord Defender wants proof. Once he is convinced, then he will endeavour to have you returned to Fardohnya. In return for an assurance from King Hablet that he won’t step foot outside his own borders, naturally.”

“And if my father refuses such an assurance?”

“Then you’d best learn to like Medalonian cooking, your Highness, because you won’t be going anywhere without it.”

Adrina thought for a moment, but Damin could not tell what was going on behind that lovely face. She was like some exotic piece of coral that grew on the reefs south of Greenharbour – glorious to look at, deadly to touch.

“What sort of proof does he require?” she asked eventually.

“Information. Something he can corroborate from another source.”

Adrina nodded. “I’m not certain I know anything of strategic value, my Lord, but I will try to think of something.”

“Just let the guards outside know, when you think of it. They’ll see the message gets to the Lord Defender.”