impressive bosom.”
She snatched her hand from his angrily. “You are an intolerable bastard! I was trying to be gracious!”
“Gracious?” he laughed softly. “That wide-eyed look? Those slightly parted lips? That eloquent sigh? What’s next? ‘Oh Damin, won’t you
“You flatter yourself, my Lord,” Adrina said, her voice colder than the rapidly darkening night. “In the unlikely event I ever turn my skills on
“Don’t try playing that game with me, Adrina. You might find the rules a little different this far from Fardohnya.”
“Rules?” she laughed softly, savagely. “In this game, my Lord, there
Adrina vanished from Mikel’s sight as she descended the stairs, followed closely by Damin. Mikel’s breath came out in a rush and he discovered he was trembling. He wished he could make sense of even half of what he had seen and heard. The princess must be very upset to lie about Prince Cratyn like that. What were they doing to her?
“Psst!”
Mikel glanced in the direction of the thief who sat squashed in the dark cavern.
“What?”
“You have to steal the eggs!”
Annoyed, Mikel reached in and snatched the fragile speckled eggs from the nest.
“There! Satisfied?”
Dace nodded, grinning broadly. “You have honoured the God of Thieves.”
“If you say so,” he agreed distractedly. It was a measure of his distress that he did not bother to correct the youth. Normally such a statement received a sharp denial of the existence of any other god.
“Your soul belongs to me now, Mikel,” Dace said, sounding enormously satisfied with himself.
“My soul belongs to the Overlord,” he replied mechanically.
“That’s what you think,” the God of Thieves smirked.
Chapter 45
The Medalonians celebrated Founder’s Day with a degree of abandonment that Adrina considered rather inappropriate for men in the middle of a war. Admittedly, there wasn’t much of a war going on at present, so they might as well take this opportunity to enjoy themselves. Even the Hythrun Raiders joined in as if it were a festival of the gods. They didn’t care much for Founder’s Day, she suspected, but they weren’t going to ignore an excuse for a party. There was precious little else to do. One senseless battle and now Cratyn was sitting on the other side of the border with his vast army doing precisely nothing.
The hall was filled with people, as Jenga had declared an open house and many of the officers whose wives and lovers were in the followers’ camp had brought their women to the party. Someone had managed to find a quantity of blue linen and had made a hopeful attempt to decorate the crumbling walls, but there had not been enough to go around. The decorations had a forlorn, unfinished look. The only source of heat was the abundant torches and the huge fireplace near the far end, but the heat of so many bodies pressed together seemed to take the chill off the air.
There were quite a few
With his hand on her elbow, Damin guided Adrina through the crush towards Lord Jenga, who stood by the stairs that led up to her quarters, talking to Tarja Tenragan.
Adrina studied him curiously. She had never been able to crack that calm certitude, even when he admitted to killing her brother. And it was not for lack of trying. The captain showed no interest in her – or any other woman present, she noted, slightly mollified. Perhaps Damin was right. Perhaps there was nothing any woman here could offer him that compared with what he already had.
“I’m so glad you could join us, your Highness,” Lord Jenga said as they approached.
“I wasn’t aware that I was given a choice in the matter, my Lord. Good evening, Captain.”
“Your Highness. Damin.”
“I thought you’d be taking part in the festivities, Captain. I’m sure there are any number of young ladies here who would be delighted to keep you company.”
Tarja shook his head with a faint smile. “I’m sure there are, your Highness, if I was willing to spend the coin and didn’t mind what diseases I caught. May I get you some wine?”
“Thank you,” Adrina replied, a little startled by his blunt answer.
Damin caught her look and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You deserved that.”
She glared at him for a moment then turned to Lord Jenga. “So what is this party in honour of, my Lord?”
“Founder’s Day, your Highness. It’s the day we celebrate the foundation of the Sisterhood’s rule over Medalon.”
“And you find that worthy of celebration?”
“It’s tradition, your Highness,” Jenga replied. “I’m sure you have many such traditions in Fardohnya.”
“Of course, my Lord. I apologise if you took offence.”
“Don’t listen to her, Jenga,” Damin warned. “She’s not in the least bit sorry.” He ignored the look Adrina gave him, and gave her no chance to defend herself. “Her Serene Highness did tell me something though, that she’s conveniently neglected to mention until now. The Duke of Setenton isn’t with Cratyn.”
Jenga’s weathered brow furrowed. “That would explain their tactical stupidity. Is he out of favour with Jasnoff?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Adrina told him.
“Why did you wait until now to tell us?”
“I didn’t realise you would consider it so important, my Lord.”
“Tell us what?” Tarja asked, returning with a cup of wine for both Damin and Adrina. She took the tankard and swallowed the wine with a gulp. How was she supposed to know Lord Terbolt’s absence was such a big issue?
“The Duke of Setenton isn’t in the Karien war camp.”
“Then where is he?”
“That’s a question I’d like answered,” Damin replied, looking pointedly at Adrina.
“I told you! I don’t where he is.”
“You’ve told us a great deal, your Highness, half of which is probably outright lies, and the rest of which is doubtful.”
“If we were in Fardohnya, sir, you would be put to death for insulting me so.”
“If we were in Hythria, your Highness,
“Damin!” Tarja warned.
Fortunately, the Warlord didn’t finish the threat. Adrina smiled at Tarja gratefully, but it was time to escape the company of such an intolerable man.
“Do you dance, Captain?”
“Only when I can’t avoid it,” Tarja replied with a grimace.
