“R'shiel!”
She stopped and turned, waiting for Mandah to catch up with her. The young rebel closed the door of the First Sister's office and hurried towards them along the carpeted hall.
“What is it, Mandah?”
“Could I speak with you?”
R'shiel shrugged. “I suppose.”
“About Tarja.”
“What about him?”
Mandah stopped before her, taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself mentally for what she planned to say. Brak walked on ahead, leaving them some semblance of privacy. “You know what happened, don't you? About the geas?”
“Yes, but how did you know about it?”
“You forget that I'm a pagan, R'shiel. I know more about the gods and the Harshini than you do.”
“That's not difficult,” she agreed with a wan smile.
“It's just... well, I wanted to know...”
“What? If I still have some claim on him?”
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“No, but I've seen the way you look at him. You've done it since we first met. Remember that night in the stables in Reddingdale, when you helped us escape the Defenders? You could have found a dozen other ways to hide Tarja, but you had to throw yourself down on top of him and start kissing him.” R'shiel smiled suddenly. “He's yours if you want him, Mandah. He certainly doesn't want me any more.”
“R'shiel, I don't want you to think that... well, that I'm benefiting from your misfortune.”
“Don't worry, Mandah. Tarja is yours if you can hold him. He's not mine. He never really was.”
Mandah studied her for a moment, as if trying to detect some glimmer of falsehood in R'shiel's assurance.
“You've changed, R'shiel. There was a time when you would have denied me out of spite.”
“There was a time I would have done a lot of things, Mandah,” she said. “But I know when I'm beaten. I won't stand in your way.”
“Then I have your blessing?”
“I wouldn't go that far.”
Mandah impulsively hugged R'shiel and then ran back towards the First Sister's office. And Tarja. R'shiel watched her disappear inside and turned to find Brak leaning on the banister at the top of the stairs, staring at her thoughtfully.
“What?”
“That was very noble of you.”
“You shouldn't have been listening.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed that for the world.”
She stalked past him in annoyance. “Are you coming?”
“Of course, demon child,” he replied mockingly, as he followed her down the stairs. “Although, I have to say, you were wrong about one thing.”
R'shiel stopped and glared over her shoulder at him. “What was I wrong about?”
“You do
PART 4
DESTINY
CHAPTER 47
Damin's coronation as High Prince was a subdued affair, for which he was grateful. He had no wish to indulge in the orgy of excess that normally accompanied such an event. Greenharbour was still getting over the siege and the battle that had raged through the city streets. There were thousands of homeless and some foods were still being rationed. It would have been asking for trouble if he had sanctioned such indiscriminate waste. Adrina had agreed with him, although Marla had been rather put out. She had spent her life imagining the day when her son would finally be crowned High Prince and was rather annoyed that her grandiose dreams were to be so easily dismissed.
Kalan had placed the crown on Damin's head with a wink that only he could see, then placed the High Princess' crown on Adrina's dark hair with only the faintest hint of reluctance. There had not been a High Princess in Hythria for more than fifty years and the last one had been a small, timid girl who had struggled through two pregnancies and then finally given up on life when she delivered a healthy girl. She had not lived long enough to learn that the baby had been named Marla. In fact, since the death of one of her twin boys she had delivered the year before, she had not paid much attention to anything. Damin glanced at Marla and wondered what she was thinking as her mother's crown was placed on his Fardohnyan wife's head. Her expression was unreadable.
Following the coronation, they retired to the banquet hall for a moderately extravagant feast, at which all the Warlords of Hythria lined up to pay their respects and renew their allegiance to the House of Wolfblade.
The four Warlords who had supported him during the civil war approached the high table one by one, and repeated their oaths without hesitation. Tejay Lionsclaw was jovial, Rogan Bearbow grave and respectful. Narvell could barely contain his glee. Only Toren Foxtalon appeared a little wary, no doubt still thanking the gods that he had changed sides before it was too late.
Once the oaths were out of the way, Damin stood up and silence fell over the gathering. The hall was full, crowded with the Hythrun nobility he could not afford to offend, his new Fardohnyan allies and the Defenders who had arrived in time to save them all. He cast his gaze over them, wondering if ever a High Prince had addressed such an oddly assorted gathering before.
He raised his cup. “To Hythria!”
“Hythria!” the guests responded dutifully.
“It is customary, when a new High Prince takes the throne, to reward those who deserve it, and to punish those who deserve it also. I think we can dispense with the latter. Most of the punishments that needed meting out were taken care of
A smattering of laughter wafted through the hall. Damin had been ruthlessly efficient in dealing with his enemies. He had no intention of bringing his child into a court riddled with potential assassins. If there were any souls left who wished him harm they were keeping very quiet about it.
“It now falls to me to name the Warlords of the provinces that find themselves without a ruling lord. The first province I wish to award is Krakandar, and I gift it to the man who deserves it better than I did. Step forward Lord Almodavar Krakenshield.”
Almodavar had been warned, of course. One did not hand out entire provinces on a whim and the Convocation already had ratified in secret every decision he would announce tonight. But Almodavar still looked stunned. He had worn the same look of blank surprise since Damin had told him about this three days ago.
The condition for Almodavar's acceptance had been that he take the name Krakenshield, so that Laran's name might live on. Almodavar had been his father's closest friend and had not objected to the condition. No one but he and Almodavar knew of the other condition that Damin had imposed. It made him smile with immature,
