Surprisingly, Adrina smiled. “I have a feeling I’ve not seen anything closely resembling your worst, Lord Wolfblade. What do you have there?”
She pointed at the sack he carried which he placed on the bed beside her.
“Jenga ordered your things returned to you. He thought you might be more comfortable in your own clothes.”
“That was considerate of him,” she remarked as she felt around inside the bag. “However, my jewellery seems to be missing.”
“The Lord Defender was concerned about such valuable property laying about unguarded. He will keep your jewels for now. For safe keeping, of course.”
“Of course,” she echoed sceptically. “Am I to assume this sudden desire to see to my welfare means you have come to a decision about me?”
“In a manner of speaking. Although I, for one, don’t believe a word of your unlikely tale.” It wouldn’t do to completely change his tune. She would see through that in an instant. “The Medalonians, unfortunately, are much more naive. Jenga believes your story and has ordered that you be treated as an honoured guest from now on.”
“Then I am to be released?” Damin could detect the glimmer of hope in her voice.
“I said they were naive, your Highness, not stupid. The Lord Defender wants proof. Once he is convinced, then he will endeavour to have you returned to Fardohnya. In return for an assurance from King Hablet that he won’t step foot outside his own borders, naturally.”
“And if my father refuses such an assurance?”
“Then you’d best learn to like Medalonian cooking, your Highness, because you won’t be going anywhere without it.”
Adrina thought for a moment, but Damin could not tell what was going on behind that lovely face. She was like some exotic piece of coral that grew on the reefs south of Greenharbour – glorious to look at, deadly to touch.
“What sort of proof does he require?” she asked eventually.
“Information. Something he can corroborate from another source.”
Adrina nodded. “I’m not certain I know anything of strategic value, my Lord, but I will try to think of something.”
“Just let the guards outside know, when you think of it. They’ll see the message gets to the Lord Defender.”
He gave her a short bow, out of politeness rather than respect, and turned to leave, a little surprised that he had managed to remain so calm.
“My Lord?”
He turned back. “Was there something else?”
“May I leave this chamber, now that I’m a guest, as opposed to a prisoner?”
“Only under escort, I’m afraid. You are in the middle of a war camp, your Highness. The Lord Defender would not wish any harm to come to you.”
“You wouldn’t mind a bit, though, would you?” She met his eye evenly, her gaze a blatant challenge. Damin almost let his desire to strangle this woman get the better of him, before he swallowed his annoyance and forced himself to smile.
“I am also a guest here, Adrina, and I’m compelled to abide by the wishes of my hosts. The Lord Defender wishes to see you treated well, and I will see that you are. But don’t mistake my cooperation for weakness. If I can prove you are lying, I will cheerfully slit your throat myself.”
If his declaration frightened her, she gave no sign. Her gaze never wavered; her expression did not change. “I find your honesty a refreshing change in a Wolfblade, my Lord. Perhaps there is hope for your family yet.”
“Unlike the Fardohnyan Royal Family, we Wolfblades strive for quality, not quantity.” Damin almost enjoyed her refusal to cower in the face of his unveiled threat.
Adrina’s eyes glittered; they were quite a remarkable shade of green. “Ah, quality. Is that what you call it? One can only hope your striving for quality has been more successful in your case than it has been in your uncle’s.”
Damin was far too aware of his uncle’s peculiarities for her barb to have much impact, but he admired her courage. You did not trade insults with a Hythrun Warlord, or impugn the character of the High Prince, unless you were very, very sure of yourself. Then she unconsciously touched her hand to the glittering wolf collar, reminding him sharply of her true nature. His momentary admiration withered and died in an instant.
“Perhaps, if you live long enough you’ll find out, your Highness.” He turned from her again, unsure how much longer he could keep his temper.
“I’d like to get out of here. Out of this keep. I want to go riding.”
Damin stopped with his hand on the latch. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“And I want this collar off.”
He shrugged. “It will take time, your Highness. I don’t make a habit of carrying court collars and their keys to war.”
“Not even for your own court’esa?”
“I don’t make a habit of bringing court’esa to war, either.”
She smiled maliciously. “I suppose you hardly need them, with all these big handsome soldiers around.”
He was across the room, his hands around her throat, before he realised what he was doing. The collar was warm to the touch, and ironically, was the only thing stopping him from squeezing the life out of her, there and then.
“Don’t push me too far, Adrina! I could kill you for even having possession of this collar!”
“Get... your... hands... off... me!” Her voice was fury coated in ice.
He let her go with a shove and strode from the room, shaking with anger, slamming the door behind him.
Tarja was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “How did it go?”
“Wonderful!” he growled as he walked past without stopping.
“So you didn’t try to kill her, then?” Tarja called after him with a laugh.
“Only once.”
It took Tarja a few moments to realise he wasn’t joking.
Chapter 38
The next time Mikel met Dace, he had a little girl with him. She was a pretty little thing and looked to be about five or six. She had bare feet and wore nothing but a flimsy, sleeveless shift, despite the cold, although she hardly seemed to notice the weather. The child examined him with a slight frown then looked up at the older boy.
“He’s so sad!”
“What do you expect?”
Mikel glared at the pair, annoyed that they spoke as if he wasn’t there. “What are you doing here? Have you come to steal something?”
Dace grinned. “In a manner of speaking. This is Kali. She’s my sister.”
The little girl smiled up at him. “Do you love me?”
“I don’t even know you!” Mikel retorted, a little taken aback by the odd question.
She sighed. “Oh well, once you get to know me, you’ll love me then. Everybody does.”
Mikel frowned and wondered what sort of home this odd brother and sister came from, that Dace would proudly claim to be a thief and Kali would expect everyone to love her on sight. He glanced around, expecting Monthay to yell at him, but the sergeant was talking to another Defender and seemed oblivious to the fact that Mikel had stopped to talk to the children.
Dace noticed the direction of his gaze and grinned. “Don’t worry about him.”
“Easy enough for you to say,” Mikel grumbled.
“Did you want to come and play with us?” Kali asked.
“I can’t. I’m a prisoner.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. I’m a prisoner of war.”
“But you’re just a little boy!” Kali sounded quite upset. She turned to Dace and tugged on his sleeve. “Go and make that man in the red coat let him go. For the afternoon at least. Then we can have some fun.”