She looked over her shoulder at Brak, seeking his support. She did not look at Tarja.
“I can appreciate your desire to get the Kariens out of the Citadel, Commandant,” Brak agreed reasonably. “But R'shiel is right. Loclon poses a danger that you would be unwise to ignore.”
“A danger to whom, exactly?” Garet asked. “He's your enemy, not mine.”
“Don't you understand?” R'shiel cried in frustration. “Loclon was the one controlling Joyhinia's body! It was Loclon who was aiding the Kariens ever since we tried to remove Joyhinia at the Gathering. Founders, Garet, he's the single, most heinous traitor ever to draw breath in Medalon!”
Suddenly she turned on Tarja. “Tell him, Tarja! Tell him I speak the truth!”
The pain in her eyes almost broke his heart. She needed his support. But finding Loclon in the Citadel would be like sifting through a pile of sand looking for one particular grain.
“She's right,” he admitted. “He's a traitor, and if we can find him, we should.” R'shiel smiled at him gratefully, which made him feel even worse, knowing what he was going to say next. “But we can't afford to hold those Kariens. We don't have the men to guard them, or the resources to feed them. Until we're relieved, every mouthful of food in the Citadel is going to be rationed. I'm sorry, R'shiel. I know what this means to you and I want to see Loclon brought to justice as much as you do, but I agree with Garet. We open the gates tomorrow.”
She stared at him, stunned by his response. Brak stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder, as if preparing to restrain her. Tarja wondered for a moment about the half-breed Harshini. For all his laconic scepticism, he seemed to truly care for R'shiel. There was a time when Tarja thought Brak loathed her.
“There! You have it from the Lord Defender, himself. The Kariens leave first thing tomorrow.”
“From who?” R'shiel demanded, shaking Brak off.
“The Lord Defender,” Garet repeated calmly.
“Tarja is the Lord Defender? When did that happen?”
“Just now. The position became available, and as the ranking officer in the Citadel, I decided to appoint him.”
“You're going to let Loclon get away with everything he's done to you, to me, to Medalon, just so you can be the Lord Defender?” She was trembling with suppressed rage. Her violet eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“It's not like that, R'shiel.”
“Isn't it?” she asked bitterly. “You've been marked as the next Lord Defender since the day you joined the Cadets, Tarja. Everybody in the whole damned Citadel knew you'd eventually get the job. Well, I hope the title makes you happy. I never thought you would stoop so low to take it.”
She turned and fled the room. Tarja expected Brak to follow her, but he did not move.
“Sort this out now, Tarja,” he advised. “It'll only get worse if you don't.”
Tarja stared at him for a moment then swore softly as he rose to his feet to follow her.
“R'shiel!” he called as she ran down the wide marble staircase leading to the dark deserted foyer. “Damn it, R'shiel! Wait!”
She turned to look up at him. The torches set high in the wall sconces cast deceptive shadows over her face. He stopped several steps above her, panting from the chase.
“I didn't mean to hurt you, R'shiel. I'm sorry.”
“No, you're not.”
“Then what do you want me to say? Don't you think I want Loclon as much as you do? But Garet's right, and you damned well know it. We can't hold the Kariens here.”
“There was a time when you would have done anything for me.”
He found he couldn't answer her. Memories flooded through him, reminding him that she spoke an awful truth he was not prepared to face. She studied his face, reading the conflict, the confusion, and even the self-loathing that had plagued him since he recovered from the wound he received trying to save her from the Kariens.
“That time is past, now, isn't it?” she said softly, bitterly. She knew about the geas, he realised. And that he was no longer bound by it.
“R'shiel...” he murmured helplessly. He had no idea what to say. No words to express what he felt.
She nodded, as if accepting the inevitable. “The irony is, I saved your life because I couldn't bear the thought of being parted from you and I ended up losing you, anyway. Did you ever truly love me, Tarja?”
For a long, dreadful moment, he did not answer her. In the end, he settled for the truth. “I don't know.”
She looked away for a moment, perhaps to prevent him seeing her pain. When she turned back to him, her eyes were cold.
“Free the Kariens if you must, Tarja. I'll just have to keep a watch on the gate for Loclon myself.”
“We'll find him, R'shiel,” he promised.
She shook her head sadly. “No, Tarja, we won't be doing anything together any more. I'll find Loclon and deal with him on my own. You're the Lord Defender now. You have Medalon to rule.”
Like a man donning chain mail before a battle, she had surrounded herself with an impenetrable shell, constructed of bitterness and pain. Relief warred with a sense of inexplicable loss as he watched the transformation. He knew then that the R'shiel he had known was gone forever. In her place was a hard, determined and powerful young woman who would never let anyone close to her again.
As she turned and slowly walked down the stairs away from him, Tarja felt he was staring at a stranger.
CHAPTER 43
For a long time, R'shiel walked blindly through the deserted streets of the Citadel, paying no attention to where she was going. She was calm - even serene - uncaring of the light rain that fell softly on the glistening cobblestones. Her mind did not seethe with grief for her loss, or rail at the tragedy of unrequited love. She was numb; totally devoid of any human emotion that could rise up and cause her anguish.
R'shiel wondered if this was what it felt like to be fully Harshini.
After a while, she discovered that her wandering had led her to the Lesser Hall of the Citadel. Without any conscious decision, she climbed the steps and pulled open the massive bronze door, letting it swing shut behind her with a hollow boom that echoed through the empty darkness. Night was trapped within its walls, the whitewashed ceiling lost in the shadows. She tried to recall the picture Brak had painted in her mind of the Great Hall, the Temple of the Gods, when it had dazzled the world with its glory and wondered if this smaller temple once dedicated to the Goddess of Love had been just as impressive. She could not do it. The Lesser Hall was nothing more than a big, cavernous room with no life or beauty to recommend it.
“Why, Kalianah?” she asked the darkness.
A pillar of light pierced the shadows as she named the goddess. Assuming the form of a child, the Goddess of Love crossed her arms and glared at her. R'shiel stared at the goddess, oblivious to the aura of adoration that surrounded the pale little girl whose feet hovered just above the ground.
“Why?”
“Don't you know that it's extremely ill mannered to summon the gods as if they were —”
“Why did you make Tarja fall in love with me?”
“Oh!” the Goddess said with the guilty air of a child caught playing with something she was forbidden to touch. “That.”
“Yes, that! Why did you do it? What gives you the right to interfere in my life?”
“I was only trying to help.”
“You're supposed to be the Goddess of Love. How can you cause such pain?”