“I always miss you. And I’ll miss you more still. The emperor has ordered me to go to Hylo and find out who defeated a Tarsan army there.”
Valaran kissed him ardently. “I can ask Amaltar to keep you here-”
“No! You don’t understand-I asked to go.”
“You want to fight?”
Tol sat on the low wall that encircled the fountain pool. He pulled Valaran down beside him.
“I’m tired of chasing footpads through back alleys and brawling with Nazramin’s thugs!” he said. “A warrior must fight, else he’s just an over-dressed fool in an iron hat.”
Valaran trailed her hand in the cool water, causing the reflected stars to shatter and shimmer. She looked up from the moonlit basin and regarded him seriously. “You must obey the emperor’s will, as I must. But it will be terrible, being apart from you.”
She leaned toward him and pressed her fist against his chin, saying sternly, “If you get yourself maimed, I’ll never forgive you. Killed, however, is acceptable. I’ll grieve most ardently, then find another lover. But I can’t bear the sight of cripples.”
Feigning shock, Tol twined his fingers in her long, soft hair and gently drew her head back. “You are a heartless woman,” he said.
“I am.”
“You admit it?”
“Certainly. I gave my heart to a peasant boy long ago. He keeps it still.”
They read no books that night.
Valaran lifted the hem of her skirt to keep it out of the dust as she hurried across the plaza to the palace. She entered through the stifling hot kitchens, quiet now that no meal was expected until breakfast. In a small room beyond the kitchens, she found Kiya and Miya. They sat at a table, heads resting on their arms, asleep. Her arrival woke Kiya, the lighter sleeper.
“Ah, it’s you, Princess,” Kiya muttered. “Is your visit done?”
“Done. Thank you again for helping Tol and me.”
The oft-repeated words were like a ritual among them. The Dom-shu sisters were part of Valaran’s deception. Anyone in the crown prince’s suite who went looking for the princess would be told she was with Kiya and Miya, collecting information about their forest tribe for a book she planned to write.
Kiya re-tied the thong that held back her long blond hair. “Don’t mention it. What’s a wife for, but to help her husband meet his lover?”
Kicking her sister’s ankle, Kiya said sharply, “Miya! The market’s open! Go buy us some venison!”
“No more ’n three silver pieces apiece,” murmured the sleeper.
Val laughed softly, but Kiya rolled her eyes. “She’s always been like this. Our mother used to pinch her nose shut just to wake her.”
“Why don’t you do that now?”
“Same reason Mama stopped doing it: Miya punches hard!”
Kiya hauled Miya to her feet, and hoisted her over one shoulder. Valaran led her through the empty kitchens.
Outside in the fresh air, the princess said, “Tol is going away, to Hylo.”
“We heard. News moves like the wind in this pile of stone.”
“Will you be going with him?”
Kiya yawned. “I think so. Do us good to get out of the city for awhile.”
“I envy you. You get to go with him. I must stay here.”
The towering Dom-shu woman patted Valaran on the shoulder, and the princess said, “Take care of him. Bring him back to me.”
“He doesn’t need much care. But we’ll watch his back, Miya and me.”
With the inert Miya over her shoulder, Kiya strode off. Some distance away, she stopped and dumped her sister unceremoniously on the ground. Miya awoke, flailing her fists. After an exchange of familial insults, the women walked away together. Valaran could hear them sniping at each other long after the night had wrapped them in darkness.
She re-entered the palace. She needed no candle to light her way through the echoing, darkened corridors. So familiar was every inch of the sprawling palace, she could have run to her room blindfolded and never touched a wall or piece of furniture.
In the crown prince’s suite, she ascended the stairs. As she turned off the landing, headed for her own rooms, someone stepped out of an alcove and seized her by the arm. A cry of alarm formed in her throat, but a large gloved hand covered her mouth, stifling it.
“Quiet, lady, if you please. You’re in no danger. It’s your brother, Nazramin.”
Heart hammering, Valaran nodded her head to show she understood. His hand came away from her mouth.
She jerked her arm free, and said icily, “Brother by marriage. What is the meaning of this rude imposition?”
“Nothing of import, lady I wanted to inquire after your health. Cavorting outdoors at night can be hazardous. All sorts of nasty vapors lie in wait for the unwary.”
Valaran had mastered her surprise at his sudden appearance. “Speak plainly, sir, or do not hinder me further!”
“Fine. Hear me, Princess Betrayer: You deceive my brother with a peasant upstart!”
Alarmed anew, she drew back a step. Nazramin advanced the same distance. He was taller than his half- brother Amaltar, and more strongly built.
“Mind what you say,” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “I am not some serving wench you can bully into submission!”
Nazramin came closer. “You and that farm boy are lovers, and have been for years.”
“Spare me your dirty insinuations. I know the penalty for infidelity.” Under Ergothian law such petty treason was punishable by burial alive. Haughtily, Valaran added, “Would I risk disgrace and death for any man? Now stand aside and let me pass!” He advanced on her until she was pressed against him. She stared up at her tormenter not with fear but stubbornness and contempt. Nazramin rested his hand on the wall, just over her shoulder, and smiled.
“Princess, I have informants everywhere. I’ve known about you and the peasant from the first. Days, places, how long you were together-would you like to see the catalog of specific infidelities I’ve compiled?”
Valaran regarded him without any change of expression, yet inside she was quaking, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn’t doubt for a moment Nazramin had her and Tol dead to rights. He could have denounced them already, but he hadn’t, which meant he wanted something other than their destruction.
After only a moment’s pause, she spoke, and was proud that her voice still sounded cool and steady.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Gold? You’re richer than my entire family. Power? You’re second in line to the throne, with all the privileges and none of the responsibilities my husband has to bear. What more does a serpent like you crave?”
He smiled, a flash of teeth behind his red mustache. His breath smelled of stale beer. “I’m not here to avenge my dear brother’s honor,” he admitted. “I’m more interested in having an informant in his innermost circle.”
Now she was confused. “Amaltar tells me nothing-”
“Not your husband’s circle, lady, your swain’s.”
Fury rose up in Val’s breast and she cried, “I’ll not betray Tol!”
“Mishas bless you, lady, of course you won’t!” he said, chuckling. “And if I wanted to hurt him, I would simply reveal what I know to the prince. So please do continue your dalliance with Lord Tol. All I want from you is a record of his plans and movements-plus any letters he writes to you. Share that with me, and I won’t ruin you both.”
“Lord Tol” was a deliberate insult, but Valaran hadn’t heard it. She was busy turning over in her mind how to escape Nazramin’s suffocating coils. In spite of her outward show of bravery, she knew her fate was in the prince’s grasping hands. He would certainly be believed, especially if he had specific information about her activities. For what she’d done, there was no clemency. Amaltar could not spare her even if her wanted to. She’d he entombed
