Harshini

towards them. It was hardly their fault that Cyrus had let his ambitions run away with him, and anyway, he doubted he could bring himself to order the execution of a child, no matter how sound the logic behind the decision.

There were other issues to be resolved, too. Dregian, Greenharbour and Krakandar now needed Warlords, and everyone from Tejay Lionsclaw to the palace gardeners had an opinion on who should be awarded the positions. Although there were numerous candidates among the nobility, it was not uncommon for a Warlord to be appointed from the lower classes. Talent still counted more than bloodlines in Hythria, and Damin was seriously considering looking further afield for the new Warlords. He'd had enough of bored noblemen with delusions of grandeur. A few young bucks who were more interested in holding onto their own provinces than eyeing off his throne would let him rest much easier at night.

Then there was the problem of the Defenders.

Tarja was not with his men, which worried Damin a great deal. Denjon had told him what Tarja had planned to do, but the fact that he had not returned from his mission to sink the ferries on the Glass River was a bad sign. Damin felt he owed the Defenders an enormous debt. With Tarja missing, and with an administrative and political nightmare ahead of him, he was tempted to drop everything, gather up his forces, head for Medalon and leave Adrina to sort out the details here at home. He smiled grimly at the idea. Trusting Adrina was still very new to him. He could not bring himself to tempt fate by handing her that much power.

It was five days since the battle and his hope that things would improve had proved optimistic in the extreme. Although gradually being brought under control, disease still raged throughout the city. There were thousands of homeless, as many wounded, and another five thousand Fardohnyans and Medalonians to feed.

Cyrus had stripped the countryside of what food there was close to the city. Damin had a vast number of his men out scouring the land for grain to tide them over until supplies could be brought in from the outlying provinces. The fishing fleet had put to sea again, which prevented the situation from becoming desperate, but he was so heartily sick of fish for every meal, that he was certain he would never be able to face it again once this crisis was over.

The door to his study suddenly flew open and slammed against the wall. Adrina stormed into the room. The candles wavered in the breeze caused by her anger. She was shaking with fury.

“Do you know what she's done?”

“Tell me who 'she' is, and I might be able to answer you,” he replied calmly. Adrina's tantrum was a welcome distraction.

“R'shiel!”

“She sent your brother and three thousand men to save our necks?” he suggested.

Adrina actually stamped her foot at him. He fought very hard not to smile.

“Don't be so bloody obtuse, Damin! She promised Hablet a son!”

“I know. Gaffen told me.”

“You knew about this? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I have been rather busy lately.”

“Then what are you doing about it?”

“Nothing.”

“You can't do nothing! She has just cost you the throne of Fardohnya!”

“Well, as I never actually wanted the damned thing in the first place, it hardly seems worth getting upset over the fact that I've lost it.”

“How could you not want it?” she asked, genuinely puzzled by his lack of ambition.

“Not everybody shares your desire to wear a crown, Adrina,” he told her. “Anyway, you were furious at me for being the heir to the throne. Now you're angry because I'm not. Make up your mind.”

She glared at him for a moment then flopped inelegantly into the chair on the other side of the desk. “I'm in no mood to be reasonable, Damin. Fight with me.”

“I will,” he promised, “when the occasion warrants it. But in this case, it's not worth it. I've got my hands full holding onto to Hythria. I don't need your father's kingdom as well. The whole idea of splitting Fardohnya and Hythria in the first place was because they were impossible to govern as one nation.”

“We could have done it,” she grumbled.

“We? Ah, so that's what this is all about. If I don't become the King of Fardohnya, you don't get to be Queen. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to settle for being the High Princess of Hythria.”

She smiled faintly, as if she understood how childishly she was behaving. “You have no idea how good it would have felt to return to Fardohnya as her Queen. My father sold me like a side of beef to the Kariens because that's all I was worth to him. And for no better reason than I was born a girl. It didn't matter how clever, or well educated, or politically astute I was.”

“Personally, I think your political acumen had a lot to do with it,” he suggested. “You are far too clever for a disinherited Princess. If I was in your father's position, I'd have shipped you off to a temple somewhere when you were five.”

“I think he wishes he had,” she agreed. “But there's more to this than me losing my chance to revenge myself on my father, Damin. Do you know what's going to happen once this child is born?”

He shrugged. “You mean other than a very big party?”

“Once my father has an heir, he will remove any threat to the child's claim on the throne.”

“But there are no other claimants to the throne.”

“I have thirteen living baseborn brothers, Damin. Hablet was quite prepared to legitimise one of them if he couldn't get a son. Each of them is a potential threat.”

Damin looked at her aghast. “Are you telling me he'll kill his own children?”

“He'll kill them and not lose a moment's sleep over it. This may be hard for you to understand - Hablet loves every one of his bastards - but they know as well as he does what fate will befall them should he produce a legitimate heir.”

“You're right. I don't understand.”

“It's tradition. When Hablet was born, his father had seventeen baseborn children and his three unmarried daughters put to death. When my father took the throne, every pregnant concubine and court'esa in the harem was executed. His own sister committed suicide as proof of her love for him. She was hailed as a heroine.”

“And you call me a barbarian.”

She shrugged, helpless to make him understand. “It's the Fardohnyan way.”

“Then I'm glad I won't ever have to sit on a throne that is soaked in so much innocent blood.”

“Don't you see the irony? You would never have countenanced such slaughter. I think that irks me more than anything else does. We could have put an end to that dreadful custom.” She rose to her feet and smiled at him sadly. “I'm sorry to burden you with this, now. I know you have a lot to do. Is Gaffen back yet?”

Damin nodded. “He arrived back with Narvell this morning.”

“Then I'll go find him and leave you in peace. As soon as I've slapped him around a few times for being such a pig to me when he arrived, I shall endeavour to make the most of what little time we have left together.”

Adrina walked to the door, leaving Damin staring at her back. It wasn't learning of the fate awaiting her siblings that disturbed him as much as her quiet acceptance of its inevitability.

“Adrina, wait!”

She turned and looked at him questioningly.

“If you can't be Queen, would you settle for Regent?”

“Regent of Fardohnya? How?”

“Your father's how old? Sixty? Sixty-five?” he asked, suddenly excited as the idea formed in his mind. “He'll live another ten years, perhaps, less if we're lucky. His son won't be old enough to take the throne when he dies.”

“He would never appoint me Regent.”

“He will if we make him an offer he can't refuse.”

“Like what?” she asked suspiciously.

“I'll renounce the Wolfblade claim on the Fardohnyan throne. I'll remove forever the threat of Fardohnya having a Hythrun King.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And in return, he appoints me Regent? You know, that may actually work. But