Harshini

“No, sir,” Mikel replied weakly.

“As for your brother, he's alive and well. He was with the party I took to meet Lady Lionsclaw.”

Mikel brightened considerably at the news. “He was?”

“Yes, he was. Now, pull yourself together, lad, and get your arse down to Captain Almodavar and tell him I said to find you something useful to do. We need every man we've got at the moment and I don't have time for you to sit here bawling like a baby.”

“No, sir.” Mikel squared his shoulders and smiled tentatively at Damin. “Are you going to rescue the Princess, my Lord?”

“If I don't keep getting distracted,” he agreed, with an impatient glance at R'shiel.

She smiled at Mikel, then on impulse she summoned the little demon who seemed so fond of getting Mikel into trouble. He started as the creature popped into existence beside him.

“The demon will stay with you, Mikel, until we get back. But you mustn't tell anybody that we've gone.”

Mikel stared at it for a moment then turned to R'shiel. The demon chittered at him unhappily, sensing the child's misery. “What's his name?”

“She doesn't have a name yet. Maybe you can help her think of one.”

He nodded and sniffed back the last of his tears.

“Off you go, boy,” Damin ordered. He was chafing at the delay.

Mikel fled without another word, the little grey demon tumbling down the stairs in his wake. R'shiel watched them go and then turned to Damin with a smile.

“You handled him very well.”

“You gave him a pet demon.”

She shrugged. “It'll keep him company.”

He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Come on. And I don't care what we find on the next landing, we're not stopping.”

* * *

The roof garden was a riot of greenery, intricately laid out paths and fountains that filled the night with their musical splashing. Damin led her to the paved clearing in the centre of the garden and glanced up at the starlit sky.

“Another few weeks and the rains will start.”

“A pity they aren't here now. We could do with a bit of cloud cover.”

“Can't you make us invisible?”

“I'm not even sure how to ride a dragon, Damin.”

“But you said —”

“I know what I said. I wish Brak were here.”

Damin glanced at her for a moment then shook his head. “You really are a bit of a fraud, aren't you?”

“I'm the biggest fraud in the whole world. I have no idea what I'm doing and only the vaguest idea of what I'm supposed to be doing. I just have to hope that if I keep pretending long enough, I'll figure out what's going on.” She frowned then, turning to look at him. “I have to leave soon, Damin. You don't need me to take your throne for you. You have Adrina. She's actually a lot better at politics than I am.”

“You seem to get by,” he noted with a faint grin.

“I've Joyhinia to thank for that.”

Damin wasn't sure how to answer that, so he turned and looked up at the sky again. “Summon your demons, demon child. I'm sure the gods will watch over us.”

She frowned, wondering if she should mention that his assurance gave her little comfort. Then another thought occurred to her - something that should have been dealt with, long before this.

“Damin, there's something you should probably know. About Adrina.”

“What about her?”

“She's pregnant.”

“I know.”

“You know? Who told you? Marla?”

He smiled smugly. “I am neither blind nor stupid R'shiel. And I can count.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“It was more fun watching Adrina trying to work up the courage to tell me herself.”

“You can be a real bastard, Damin Wolfblade. You don't deserve her.”

He sighed, suddenly serious. “No, I think we actually deserve each other.”

“Then you admit you feel something for her?”

“When I heard she'd been kidnapped, I thought I would die, R'shiel,” he admitted, albeit with some reluctance. “I've never felt that way about anyone before.”

“Not even your horse?” she asked.

“My horse?”

“It's something Adrina said once. That the only thing you truly cared about was your horse.”

Damin thought for a moment and then smiled. “No, I think I actually care about her more.”

“Well make sure you tell her when we get her back. I'm sick to death of you two. Everyone's life would be considerably easier if you devoted all that effort to making peace instead of war.”

* * *

Dranymire responded almost instantly to her summons, although he seemed unimpressed when she explained what she wanted of him.

“Riding a dragon is a skill that takes a great deal of time to learn, R'shiel,” he warned in his deep voice. “You can't just hop on and hope for the best.”

“But we need to get to Dregian Castle. Tonight. It's three days by road and they'll see us coming from leagues away if we take a ship.”

“Getting there late is better than not getting there at all.”

“Please, Dranymire.”

The little demon cast his liquid eyes over Damin and frowned. “I suppose you want us to carry him, too?”

“Yes.”

“When next you are at Sanctuary, Your Highness, you and I need to have a long discussion regarding the nature of the relationship between demons and the Harshini. Specifically, the wanton use of demon melds.”

“And I promise I'll listen to every word. But right now, I need a dragon.”

“You need some discipline,” the demon corrected loftily. “However, I am in the mood to indulge you, and there are a number of my brethren who will benefit from the experience.”

“Thank you,” she said with relief, bending down to kiss his wrinkled grey forehead. “I won't forget this.”

“Neither will I,” the demon promised, somewhat ominously.

They stepped back as more demons began to materialise and gather around Dranymire. R'shiel quickly lost count of them. The demons bonded to the te Ortyn family were among the oldest and most numerous of all the brethren, which accounted for the size and stature of the dragon they could form. She watched in fascination as the meld began, demons flowing into each other almost too fast for the eye to take in.

The dragon grew before her until its wings blocked out the stars.

“Climb on, Your Highness, and try not to fall off.”

R'shiel used the dragon's leg as a step and pulled herself up, surprised at how warm the metallic scales felt under her hands. Damin clambered up and settled himself behind her, his arms around her waist. R'shiel tried to find something to hold onto, but there was nothing.

“You must grip with your thighs,” Dranymire informed her. “Riding a dragon is simply a question of balance.”

“Balance,” she repeated dubiously, seriously doubting her wisdom in deciding to use a dragon to rescue