“Have you got anything to drink, or is this going to be one of those long, boring
Tarja smiled and ordered a Defender to bring wine. He came back with a carafe, two goblets and the clean shirt he'd requested. Damin drank the first one down without taking a breath, changed his shirt and then poured another drink down his throat, before collapsing into one of the high-backed chairs around the table.
“So, I take it we're having this little chat in here to intimidate the Karien dukes?” he inquired as he poured himself another drink.
“That thought did cross my mind, yes.”
“Good idea. Where are they?”
“I want to wait until Hablet and Shananara get here before I let them in.”
Damin nodded approvingly. “You're getting very good at this, aren't you?”
“I suppose. How do you like being a High Prince?”
“I loathe it. I had to kill that Karien child a few weeks ago. He tried to poison R'shiel. I've never had to make a worse decision in my life.”
“R'shiel never mentioned it.”
“She wouldn't. Not after Brak stepped in. Where is he, by the way? Watching over the demon child?”
“He's dead.”
The news surprised Damin almost as much as Tarja's obvious lack of remorse. “Well, that will make Adrina happy. She was planning to kill him herself.”
The doors opened at the far end of the Hall and a woman stepped through. At first, Damin thought it was R'shiel. As she drew closer and he saw her black eyes and her air of serene calm he knew it could only be the Harshini Queen. He jumped to his feet and bowed low as she approached.
“Your Majesty.”
“High Prince,” she replied graciously, then turned to Tarja. “I hope you don't mind, Tarja, but I have sent my people out to help the wounded.”
“Of course I don't mind, but won't they be distressed roaming a battlefield?”
“We abhor violence, my Lord, but we abhor suffering even more. Don't fear for my people. They are not as fragile as you think.”
“Tarja!”
The man who called out from the entrance of the Hall was Garet Warner, the commandant the Sisterhood had sent to investigate the goings on when they were on the northern border. Tarja excused himself and hurried to speak to him and then walked back to the table. His expression was thoughtful.
“What's wrong?”
“We've just received a bird from Yarnarrow. Jasnoff is dead. He killed himself the same day R'shiel claims she killed Xaphista.”
Shananara took the news stoically. “He ruled Karien by divine mandate. With Xaphista gone, so is his crown.”
“So who's in charge now?”
“With Cratyn dead, the next in line is someone called Drendyn. He's Jasnoff's nephew. Apparently, we're holding him here. He's one of the dukes.”
“
“Well, we'd better break it to him gently. I'm not sure how he's going to take the news that he's now their King.”
“If you want my advice, talk to him alone and leave the other dukes out of it. They'll just try to manipulate him. Maybe, with a bit of guidance, we can mould him into a half-decent King.”
“It is not for you to manipulate other nations to suit your own purposes, Your Highness,” Shananara scolded.
“Actually it is, Your Majesty. We've just spent thousands of lives out there for no good reason. If we can take this boy and turn him into a King, one who thinks before he attacks, we'll all benefit.”
The Harshini Queen suddenly smiled. “Perhaps we should consider returning to the old custom of Harshini advisers at court, Your Highness. You saw how effective it can be when scattered parties can communicate quickly with each other.”
“And that would include my court, I suppose?” he asked, admiring her quick mind - and her own blatant manipulation.
“We would not want to be seen playing favourites, Your Highness,” she replied ingenuously.
“Of course not,” he agreed with a wry smile and then turned to Tarja. “It's not a bad idea, you know. With Xaphista gone, the Collective will move in to Karien. But with a Harshini looking over his shoulder, we should be able to keep young Drendyn out of trouble while he grows into his crown.”
“The plan has merit,” Tarja agreed hesitantly.
“I do have one condition, though, Your Majesty,” Damin added, turning to the Queen.
“And what is that, Your Highness?”
“I want to be there when you break the news to Hablet,” he said with a malicious grin.
CHAPTER 63
R'shiel was awake for some time before she opened her eyes. She waited, feigning sleep until she heard Mandah leave the room. Once she was certain she was alone, she swung her feet to the floor and rubbed her eyes. The remains of what must have been a mammoth headache lingered behind her eyes, but other than that she bore no obvious evidence of her battle with Xaphista.
Climbing out of the bed, she padded barefoot to the door and opened it a crack. Mandah was talking to Tarja. She could not make out what they were saying, but when he was finished telling her what he had come to say he kissed her, hard and hungrily, before letting her go. Mandah shut the door behind him with a smile and headed back towards the bedroom. R'shiel raced back to the bed and pulled the covers over herself, closing her eyes and forcing her breathing into a deep rhythm. She heard Mandah cross the room, felt a cool hand on her forehead and then heard the door open and close, followed by the fainter sound of the apartment door closing.
So Mandah had gone; perhaps to join Tarja. It hopefully meant they were going to be occupied for a while. She hunted around the room for her clothes, finally finding them pressed and folded in a drawer under the window. Typical, she thought with a frown. Not only was Mandah insufferably nice, but she was neat as well. She shook out her clothes and dressed quickly, throwing the nightgown onto the floor.
There was a hairbrush on the dresser and she picked it up, running it through her tangled hair. She glanced in the mirror and froze mid-stroke. An alien reflection stared back at her. She was not drawing on her power, yet her eyes were Harshini black. The whites of her eyes were gone and her skin was as golden as a full-blooded Harshini. Whatever she had done in the Temple of the Gods had left an indelible mark on her. R'shiel slowly replaced the brush, aware that she would never be counted as human again. For some reason the thought did not bother her as much as she thought it would. Along with the change in her eyes came a sense of rightness, a sense that she was somehow complete.
She was Harshini.
R'shiel glanced around the room and realised there was nothing here that belonged to her. Nothing she need take. Her life was headed in a different direction and nothing here in the Citadel offered her any sense of ownership. Feeling suddenly cast adrift into an unknown future, she turned her back on the mirror and headed into the next room.
When she reached the outer door she pressed her ear against it and heard faint male voices in the hall. Tarja's guards - there to see that she wasn't disturbed. R'shiel reached inside herself cautiously and drew on her power. She surprised herself with the control she now had. Perhaps being linked so closely with Shananara she had
