Tarja shook his head. “Kid yourself all you want, Adrina. He’s in love with you. Probably almost as much as you are with him.” He held up his hand to forestall her protest. “Don’t bother to deny it. The only two people in Medalon who can’t see what’s going on are you and Damin.”
“You’re imagining things!” she scoffed.
“Am I?” he asked. “In that case, it doesn’t matter where you go, simply that you stay free of Cratyn. I’ll go and tell Damin you’ve decided to come with R’shiel and me instead, shall I? That way he’s free to head back to Hythria and you can —”
“No!” Her panic at his suggestion had surprised her.
He smiled. “See? It’s not really that simple at all, is it?”
Adrina was not willing to concede the unthinkable. “You’re jumping to conclusions, Tarja. If I go with Damin, I’ll be closer to home. The gods alone know where you and R’shiel are liable to wind up.”
Tarja shook his head and smiled knowingly. “Have it your way, your Highness. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then led her back to the others.
Have it your way. Adrina stamped her feet against the cold and replayed the conversation in her mind. It was her own fault, she knew. These Medalonians simply didn’t understand. She’d had scores of lovers... well, that was an exaggeration, but she’d had several. They were fun for a while and then they left. Of course, they had all been court’esa, and in the employ of her father, but that didn’t make them any less intimate... well... maybe it did. A court’esa’s livelihood depended on their ability to satisfy and entertain their employer. She was the king’s daughter so she had only ever been provided with the very best.
Damin was her first – her only – lover who did not need her approval or her patronage. He did not need her wealth. He did not need her position to advance himself. He could not even marry her as she was already married to someone else. On the contrary, he courted danger by courting her.
Perhaps that was the attraction for him. It certainly wasn’t love. The heir to the Hythrun throne did not fall in love with the King of Fardohnya’s eldest daughter. That, along with lovers who rode all day and made love all night, belonged in a bard’s tale. It was the sort of plot one could expect to find in a badly acted tragedy by a band of travelling minstrels. It simply didn’t happen in real life.
She would not allow it to happen.
One of the horses snorted irritably. Adrina patted the gelding’s neck, whispering soothing nothings to him, hoping nobody could hear them. What in the name of the gods is taking them so long? Adrina peered into the darkness, wishing she knew how long they had been waiting. It seemed to be forever, but she was not good at judging time. Others who took care of such mundane things had always regulated her life. She glanced at Tamylan who was standing by the other horses. The day’s rest had done her good, but she was still stiff and sore. She held the reins, standing close to the horses for warmth, her whole body listening for danger.
Perhaps I should ask Tam what she thinks?
Adrina knew that if asked for, Tamylan’s opinion would be as honest as it was tactless.
I should do something for her when we get home. Free her, maybe, and gift her with some property. Enough that she need never work again. She really has been a tower of strength through all of this. I wonder what I ever did to deserve such loyalty?
Not much, that Adrina could recall.
How did I ever come to this? she wondered. I am standing here in the dead of the night, freezing to death, a bare fifty paces from a camp full of Defenders, in the middle of nowhere and the only people I can count as my friends are a slave, a man wanted for murder and an enemy warlord.
Which brought her back to wondering about Damin.
She was determined not to believe what Tarja told her, but when they had sneaked away into the darkness Damin had slipped back to kiss her goodbye. It was, short, hard and passionate. Not the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of a daredevil stealing a moment of pleasure in the midst of danger.
He wasn’t in love with anyone but himself.
All thoughts of Damin Wolfblade’s failings were suddenly forgotten as a high-pitched, agonised scream split the night. The horses reared at the sound, almost jerking Adrina’s arm out of its socket. She and Tamylan struggled to keep the beasts under control as all hell broke loose in the Defenders’ camp.
Torches flared brightly as the camp was roused, the sound of shouting, of orders issued then countermanded, overlaid the screams that tore into Adrina’s soul.
The screams were female. Whoever it was, she sounded like she was dying.
“Mount up, Tam!” she whispered urgently. When Damin and the others made it out of the camp, every second would count. The shouting grew closer and the torches were so near that she could see the flames clearly, although the fold of the land still concealed their bearers. Tam scrambled into the saddle of the nearest horse, but dropped the reins of the other two. With a curse, Adrina kicked her mount forward and leaned down to reach for the reins of the nearest beast.
“Go! Get out of here! Now!”
She turned toward the shout and discovered Damin, Almodavar and one of the Raiders barrelling down the small slope behind them. On their heels were so many Defenders she could not begin to count them. She froze for a moment, torn between escape and assuring herself that Damin would win free of his pursuers.
“Run!” Damin screamed, seeing her hesitation.
The slope was swarming with Defenders now. Torches dotted their ranks, lighting their red coats in scattered patches along the ridge like drops of hot blood. Tam gave up trying to catch the other horse and looked to her mistress desperately.
“Adrina! Let’s go!”
She wavered for another instant. Long enough to see first Almodavar and then the Raider, overcome by the Defenders. But Damin still ran free.
Turning her horse savagely, she galloped toward him. Tam’s desperate cry of protest was drowned out by the shouts of the Defenders and the tortured screams that tore relentlessly through the darkness. The gap between them narrowed as the distance between Damin and the Defenders closed even faster.
The arrow, when it hit her in the shoulder, took her completely by surprise. She toppled from the saddle just as Damin reached her and that was only seconds before the Defenders overcame them both.
She had time to notice that the screams had stopped, just before she fainted.
When Adrina came to she was in a tent, which was bare of anything but the centre pole supporting the roof. She realised there was another body that lay groaning softly on the other side of the tent. She rolled over and cried out in pain. Her shoulder ached abominably and her fingers came away sticky with blood when she gently probed the source of her agony.
She tried to recall what had happened, but the details were sketchy. She remembered trying to help Damin. And the screams. Gods, she would never forget the screams. Something had hit her and she had fallen. Had Damin won free? She seemed to recall seeing his face, his eyes full of anger. Why had he been angry? Because she had tried to come to his rescue? Typical.
And what in the name of the gods had happened to Tam? Her last sight of the slave was her desperately calling Adrina back. Had she been captured too? Why wasn’t she here? The fate of a female slave in a Fardohnyan war camp was a foregone conclusion, but the Defenders were better disciplined. The Sisterhood who ruled them would not countenance such behaviour. Tamylan’s absence meant she had escaped – or she was dead. Adrina prayed it was the former. She feared it was the latter.