“What do you know of the princess?” he demanded without preamble.
“She was here, my Lord.”
Roache’s expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. “Are you certain?”
He nodded. “I fled Karien with the princess and her servant. The Hythrun captured us the morning after we left. The princess has been here ever since.”
“And where is her Highness now?”
“I’m not sure. I think she left with Lord Wolfblade.”
“I see.”
“My Lord? There... there is something else you should know.”
“What?” Lord Roache sounded impatient, as if his mind was already on other things.
“The princess and Lord Wolfblade... they’re... well...”
“Out with it, boy!”
“She was kissing him, my Lord,” Mikel blurted out.
Roache’s eyes narrowed. “Who else knows of this?”
“Nobody, my Lord! I —”
“Come with me,” Roache demanded, not in the least interested in what else Mikel had to say. He pulled Mikel along in his wake and thrust him at Andony.
“Take the boy back to our camp. Now!” Roache ordered. “You are to stop for no one. Nor must you allow anybody to speak to the child. He is to be held in my tent until I return.”
Andony nodded, too well conditioned to question his orders. Before he truly understood what was happening Mikel was sitting in front of Andony on his big warhorse, riding away from the Medalonian camp and heading for home.
It was close to midnight before Roache returned and when he did, he had Prince Cratyn with him. Mikel’s determination to reveal the true depth of Adrina’s treachery wavered in the Prince’s serious presence.
“Tell his Highness what you told me,” Roache ordered, waking Mikel from a light doze. The boy jumped to his feet and brushed his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.
“The Princess is with Lord Wolfblade,” Mikel told Cratyn. The young prince’s expression was shadowed in the light from the smoking brazier.
“Then she fled to Medalon, not back to Yarnarrow as we thought.”
“She told me she was going to Fardohnya, your Highness. To seek aid from her father.” Mikel thought it important that he establish his own innocence as soon as possible. “I thought I was following your orders, Sire.”
“Lying bitch,” Cratyn muttered. “What else?”
Mikel glanced at Lord Roache uncertainly.
“Tell him the rest of it, boy.”
“I saw them kissing, your Highness.”
“You mean Wolfblade was forcing himself on her?”
Mikel shook his head sadly. “No, your Highness. She was... well, she didn’t seem to mind at all. She called you...”
“What? What did she call me?”
Mikel stared at his boots with determination. “Prince Cretin the Cringing.”
“I see. And what else did she say?”
Mikel looked to Lord Roache desperately for help. He did not want to repeat what he had heard, despite his promises to himself.
“The prince must know the truth, boy,” Roach said, almost sympathetically. “Tell him.”
Mikel nodded and told him everything he had heard. He told him of the meeting on top of the tower. He told him of what he had seen and heard in the stables. He told him everything he knew, although it broke his heart to be the bearer of such dreadful news.
Cratyn swore under his breath and then turned to Roache. “This is intolerable! I will send a party out to hunt her down. By Xaphista, I will see the bitch burn!”
“We’ll hunt her down,” Roache agreed. “But do you really want it made public that the wife you could not satisfy turned to a Hythrun for comfort?”
Cratyn paced the tent angrily. “She can’t be allowed to get away with this!”
“Nor shall she, but there are other things to consider.”
“What other things? She has publicly humiliated me!”
“And she will humiliate you even more, should the truth get out. You do not want to put her on trial, Cratyn.”
The Prince glared at Lord Roache. Mikel seemed all but forgotten.
“You’re surely not suggesting that I take her back?”
“Of course not! I am suggesting that you do everything in your power to rescue your wife from the clutches of the barbarian warlord who has kidnapped and raped her. It will be unfortunate, but she will be killed in the attempt.”
“We’ll have no chance at an heir if she’s killed.”
“She has been sullied by another man. No heir could come from your union in any case.”
Cratyn nodded, savagely pleased with the duke’s suggestion.
“I will lead the rescue party, myself.”
“That would be most heroic of you, your Highness. Your grief, on the discovery of your wife’s fate, will be inconsolable, of course. But I’m sure you will recover. In time.”
Cratyn smiled coldly. “I’m sure I will. And what of the boy?”
Lord Roache glanced at Mikel for a moment before turning back to the prince.
“Perhaps he should accompany you, your Highness. He can, after all, give testament to your wife’s... indiscretions.”
The prince nodded. “It would be most unfortunate if something were to happen to him.”
“Most unfortunate,” Lord Roache agreed.
Mikel studied the prince and the duke, not at all certain he understood.
Chapter 57
The darkness into which R’shiel retreated was comforting at first. The memories of the Gathering and everything that had happened since that awful night could gain no toehold here. There was no pain, no unbearable guilt, and no despair. Just blessed emptiness. A nothing place where nobody could hurt her.
She had been here before. She first discovered it on the road to the Grimfield, when Loclon had chosen her as his instrument of revenge on Tarja. It welcomed her the night she had confronted Loclon and almost succeeded in killing him. For a time, on waking to find herself in Sanctuary amid the Harshini, she had fled there again, until Korandellan’s magic had suppressed her emotions and made it bearable to face reality. It was a tantalising, alluring place, and each time she retreated there, it became a little harder to leave.
A part of R’shiel still existed in the real world. A part of her responded when someone spoke to her, ate the meals she was served, and rode in the carriage each day staring blindly at the winter-browned plains as they wound their way north. But it was a small part only. Just enough to pretend she was alive.
Within herself, R’shiel knew that she could not stay here indefinitely. Comforting it might be, but it was her Harshini side that fled from the violence and the pain. Her human side hankered to return, to wreak havoc on those who had caused her suffering.
It was her human side to whom Xaphista spoke.
R’shiel did not recognise his voice at first. The sensuous, soothing tones seemed like a distant echo that she hardly noticed. It took a long time to recognise it for what it was. It took even longer before she bothered to respond.
You run from the pain, demon child. Let me ease it for you.
Calling her the demon child finally evoked a response. She had never liked that name.
Don’t call me that.
What would you have me call you?
Don’t bother calling me anything. Just leave me alone.
The voice did not reply and R’shiel did not particularly care.
Later, she had no way of judging time in this place, the voice returned. It was stronger, as if by acknowledging it the first time, she had given it strength.