Harshini

arrival of the Defenders, assuming they get here. It won't do our alliance any good if my people start loosing arrows at them the moment they cross the border.”

“No, that's not all. I have something to tell you.”

“Let me guess. You want a divorce?” he asked with a grin.

Her eyes blazed dangerously. “By the gods, I wish I'd never agreed to this marriage. You are a child, Damin Wolfblade, in the guise of a man. You are incapable of taking anything seriously! How in the gods' name you expect to rule Hythria, I have no idea!”

He was surprised by her vehemence, and a little guilty. It wasn't often that she spoke to him like this. It was foolish to deny her the opportunity now.

“I'm sorry, Adrina. That was uncalled for. You've been keeping up your end of the bargain, and I do appreciate it. You've got Rogan wrapped around your little finger and Narvell would probably throw himself on his sword if you asked him. Even Kalan was forced to admit that once they meet you, the other Warlords might eventually come around.”

“You didn't mention your mother.”

He shrugged. “The best you're ever likely to get from Marla is begrudging acceptance.”

“I could live with that if I thought you trusted me.”

The comment puzzled him. “Trust you?”

“You treat every word I utter with suspicion. You have done since the day we first met.”

“Not without just cause,” he pointed out. “You lied to me then. For all I know you're lying to me now. How long have you been aware of the law that made me heir to Hablet's crown?”

“What are suggesting?”

“For all I know, you could have been planning this for years. You managed to manipulate Cratyn into taking you to the border. You betrayed him, fled to Medalon and gave your real name to the first Defender you met, almost guaranteeing I would come after you. All you had to do was get rid of Cratyn, marry me, wait till your father dies and I take his throne, then have me killed. You'd rule Hythria and Fardohnya.”

“That's preposterous! I didn't kill Cratyn.”

“No, that was the demon child. The same demon child who decided we should be married.”

“You think R'shiel is part of some twisted plan I have to rule the world? You're insane!”

She turned away angrily and began to walk towards the door, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. He couldn't hide his grin.

“You can be so gullible sometimes, Adrina.”

She punched his chest angrily. “Dammit, Damin! Can't you ever stop fooling around? Have you any idea what's going on around you? You're about to ride into Greenharbour to claim your crown from a usurper. You're likely to have assassins dogging your heels and a civil war on your hands and all you can do is play stupid, childish games!”

“I know what's going on, Adrina,” he assured her, suddenly serious. “I've had assassins dogging my heels since I was born. I was twelve years old before it was judged safe enough to let me sleep without an armed guard at the foot of my bed and that was only because Almodavar was convinced I was skilled enough to kill a full grown man. But I can live with the threat of assassination and the gods know I can deal with war well enough, but I'll tell you something that might surprise you. I wish I could trust you. I wish I knew what you were really after. I wish there was some simple way I could be sure about you.”

“You've never given me a chance, Damin,” she accused.

He was still holding her arm and when he pulled her to him, she did not object. She looked so open, so honest, so ingenuous, he almost believed her, and he truly wanted to believe her. But if he was wrong, it might cost him his life, although at that moment, holding her so near, her lips so close he could feel her breath on his, the prospect didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have.

“Sire, Lord Hawksword asks that when you... Oh, I do beg your pardon, Your Highness!” Almodavar stood at the door, clearly embarrassed to find them in such an intimate embrace.

Adrina stepped away from him with a fleeting look of regret, then turned to the captain. “It's all right, Almodavar. I was just leaving. I'll speak to you later, Damin. When you have more time.”

“Adrina?”

She hesitated at the door. “Yes?”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“It's not important. Some other time perhaps.”

“I'll see you later, then?”

She nodded. “If you wish.”

When she was gone, Damin turned his attention back to the organisation of Krakandar's defences, unable to shake the feeling that Adrina had left something very important unsaid.

CHAPTER 17

Teriahna was waiting for Brak in his room when he returned from his evening meal. He was quite partial to the spicy fare of Fardohnya, and had lingered over his dinner, enjoying the feeling of repletion that comes with a good meal accompanied by an excellent wine. For a fleeting moment he regretted his indulgence, but even had she searched his room, there was nothing for her to find here.

He did not bother to ask how she had got past the locks. Those skills were taught to apprentice assassins. Besides, he was expecting her. She had promised to arrange to get him into the palace in the guise of a visiting lord from southern Fardohnya, come to court to find a royal bride. Brak had been surprised by her choice of disguise, but she had assured him that with so many daughters to dispose of, Hablet would see any man willing to take one of them off his hands, particularly if he was an insignificant, powerless lord who lived far, far from Talabar.

“Any luck?” he asked as he closed the door behind him. She was sitting near the window, staring out over the gardens. The heady scent of frangipani filled the room, as it did every night once the sun went down. The room was shrouded in shadows and she did not turn when he spoke.

“Lernen Wolfblade is dead.” She looked at him then, her eyes curious in the gloom. “Does this alter your plans?”

“I'm not sure. What happened?” He lit the lantern on the table and dragged the only other chair in the room to the window beside her.

“He died of the pox, by all accounts. But that is neither unexpected nor surprising. What is interesting is that it happened nearly a month ago.”

“And you've only just heard of it? Who kept it quiet? The Sorcerers' Collective should have been tolling the bells of every temple in Hythria from the moment they heard the news.”

“The High Arrion isn't in Greenharbour. She's in Krakandar. There was a great deal of unrest because of Damin Wolfblade's alliance with Medalon. She went north after Princess Marla to sort it out.”

“So Marla was out of the capital when it happened, too? That's not good.”

“Not good for Damin Wolfblade, perhaps, but it proved a stroke of good fortune for Cyrus Eaglespike. He's named himself High Prince.”

“Without the sanction of the High Arrion? How long does he think that can last?”

“He's got the Warlords of Greenharbour and Pentamor on his side. It's a foregone conclusion that Narvell Hawksword will support Damin's claim, but there is still Rogan Bearbow and Tejay Lionsclaw to consider.”

Brak nodded thoughtfully. He had been away from the politics of the southern nations too long. There was a time when he didn't need the Assassins' Guild to provide his intelligence.

“Why has it taken the news so long to reach you? I would have thought you'd have heard about this within a day of it happening.”

“Normally, I would expect to,” she agreed. “However, in this case, someone went to a great deal of trouble