soaring eagle of Dregian Province. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“That's a rather relative term under the circumstances. Untie me at once!”
“Can't do that, Your Highness.”
“Why not? Are you afraid I'll escape? With all these big, nasty sailors surrounding me? I'm flattered.”
“Lord Eaglespike said...”
“Ah! Lord Eaglespike! Did he give orders that I was to be treated like some galley slave you snatched for a bit of sport? Untie me this instant!”
Her tone almost had him convinced. He was reaching for the ropes when another man stopped him, looking down at her with contempt.
“Leave her be, Avrid,” the other man ordered. “Don't let her trick you.”
Avrid lowered his hands, almost apologetically. Adrina glared at the Raider with all the regal scorn she could muster while sitting in such an inelegant position.
“I promise I will personally see to it that you all die a very slow and painful death. I will supervise your torture and execution myself. I enjoy watching my enemies suffer long, excruciating punishments. I'm Fardohnyan, you know. We have ways of making a man live in agony for weeks without killing him.”
“Shut up!” the Raider ordered, noticing the looks on the faces of the men who could hear her.
Adrina smiled coldly. “Then, there's always a chance I won't get to do a thing to you myself. Once the demon child hears of this, your days left in this world will be so few even you could count them. Did I mention that the demon child is a friend of mine?”
“I told you to shut up!” The Raider's voice had an edge of panic to it. “Don't say another word!”
“Am I scaring you?” she asked cheerfully.
The Raider punched her in the face rather than answer her question.
Just before dawn, they reached their destination, a small stone jetty that jutted out into a small churning bay in the shadow of a massive white tower that seemed to grow out of the cliff-face. Adrina was hauled from the boat by another pair of Dregian Raiders and dragged along the slimy dock to a narrow staircase that wound upwards towards a square of yellow light. Shivering in her damp clothes, she shook off the man who was holding her and climbed the steps without assistance, despite the effort it cost her. She was cold and stiff and aching in places she didn't know existed until now. Her head ached, her stomach was queasy and her face felt as if it had swollen to three times its normal size.
At the top of the stairs was a small guardroom where more Raiders waited for her with another man dressed in gold-chased armour. He studied Adrina with concern then turned to the Raider who had hit her in the boat.
“Lord Eaglespike said not to harm her, you fool!”
“She's not hurt bad,” the man replied defensively. “Nothing's broken. But she's got a mouth on her.”
The young lord turned to Adrina apologetically. “I'm sorry, Your Highness. You were not meant to be injured.”
“That's a fairly hollow apology, don't you think?”
“We've brought you here for... political reasons,” the young man explained uncomfortably.
“Is that what you call it? Where I come from, we don't usually start our political negotiations with criminal acts.”
“If you'd stayed where you belong and Damin Wolfblade had heeded our warnings, we wouldn't need to commit criminal acts, Your Highness,” he shrugged. “I am Serrin Eaglespike, Lord Cyrus' brother.”
“Bully for you,” Adrina replied, unimpressed.
“Lord Eaglespike will be here later. He may wish to speak with you then, or he may wait until Wolfblade has met his demands. In the meantime, you may consider yourself... our guest.”
He stood back as Adrina was pushed forward from the small guardroom to a long, narrow corridor. The walls were made of rusted iron bars, each one revealing a damp cell beyond. Most of them were empty, and the occupants of the few that weren't looked up disinterestedly as she passed.
About halfway up the corridor, her escort stopped and unlocked the cell on her left. They pushed her through the door with little ceremony and locked it behind her.
Serrin followed the guards and stood outside the bars, watching her as she took in the small high window, the damp, salt-pitted floor and the mouldy straw that served as a bed. A guard untied the ropes that bound her wrists and she rubbed at the raw skin absently as she looked around.
“Not exactly what you're used to, I imagine?”
“If you want to use your imagination for something fruitful,” she suggested frostily, “use it to imagine what I'm going to do to you when I get out of here. Have you any idea how long we Fardohnyans can hold a grudge? Do you have any concept of the lengths we are prepared to go to for revenge? Perhaps you've heard of the ancient Fardohnyan tradition of
Rather than looking fearful, Serrin actually smiled. “You don't think the threats of a woman frighten me, do you?”
“Then what does frighten you, my Lord? You'll go to war over this, you know that, don't you?”
“Know it? We're counting on it! Damin Wolfblade will gather up the thousand men he has in Greenharbour and come storming over our border as soon as he hears you are missing.”
“Then why aren't you out there getting ready to face him?”
“We
Adrina burst out laughing, despite how much it hurt her split lip. “This is your grand plan? There's a fatal flaw in your logic, I'm afraid.”
“What flaw?”
“You're assuming Damin loves me.”
“Well, doesn't he?” Serrin asked, a little confused.
“I hate to disappoint you, Serrin,” she said, holding her sides against the bitter laughter that shook her. “But you've not provoked Damin, you've played right into his hands. He won't care if you send me back to him in little pieces. You've kidnapped the one thing he wants to be rid of!”
Serrin glared at her in disbelief. “You're just saying that.”
Adrina's laughter had almost reached the point of hysteria. She could not believe they had actually kidnapped her for such a mistaken reason.
“You poor, misguided fools!” she cried, sobbing with mirth. “Love me? Dear gods, he despises me!”
Serrin turned away and left her alone, his footsteps echoing angrily along the passage. Still crying with laughter, Adrina sank down onto the floor of her cell and hugged her knees. Her mirth abated slowly but the tears did not as the harsh truth of her predicament hit her with full force.
Damin would not risk a civil war for her. She knew that. Even if he wanted to, Marla would prevent him from taking action, or worse, she would convince him to go to war, but not until after her despised daughter-in-law had been conveniently disposed of. There was a chance that R'shiel might come to her rescue, but with everything else that was going on, saving Adrina was probably far down on her list of priorities and the demon child could be as ruthless as Marla when the mood took her.
The worst of her predicament was the dreadful realisation that at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be warm and dry and safe in Damin's arms somewhere far from this place.
And Tamylan - dear, sweet, loyal Tamylan - had died for her.
She cried anew for her slave, realising now, when it was too late to do anything about it, that Tam had been her one true friend. The loneliness that settled on her seemed worse than her small cell, worse than her bruised and battered face, worse even than the bitter knowledge that she had fallen for Damin Wolfblade and she would probably never get the chance to tell him.
