With his hand on her elbow, Damin guided Adrina through the crush towards Lord Jenga, who stood by the stairs that led up to her quarters, talking to Tarja Tenragan.
Adrina studied him curiously. She had never been able to crack that calm certitude, even when he admitted to killing her brother. And it was not for lack of trying. The captain showed no interest in her – or any other woman present, she noted, slightly mollified. Perhaps Damin was right. Perhaps there was nothing any woman here could offer him that compared with what he already had.
“I’m so glad you could join us, your Highness,” Lord Jenga said as they approached.
“I wasn’t aware that I was given a choice in the matter, my Lord. Good evening, Captain.”
“Your Highness. Damin.”
“I thought you’d be taking part in the festivities, Captain. I’m sure there are any number of young ladies here who would be delighted to keep you company.”
Tarja shook his head with a faint smile. “I’m sure there are, your Highness, if I was willing to spend the coin and didn’t mind what diseases I caught. May I get you some wine?”
“Thank you,” Adrina replied, a little startled by his blunt answer.
Damin caught her look and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You deserved that.”
She glared at him for a moment then turned to Lord Jenga. “So what is this party in honour of, my Lord?”
“Founder’s Day, your Highness. It’s the day we celebrate the foundation of the Sisterhood’s rule over Medalon.”
“And you find that worthy of celebration?”
“It’s tradition, your Highness,” Jenga replied. “I’m sure you have many such traditions in Fardohnya.”
“Of course, my Lord. I apologise if you took offence.”
“Don’t listen to her, Jenga,” Damin warned. “She’s not in the least bit sorry.” He ignored the look Adrina gave him, and gave her no chance to defend herself. “Her Serene Highness did tell me something though, that she’s conveniently neglected to mention until now. The Duke of Setenton isn’t with Cratyn.”
Jenga’s weathered brow furrowed. “That would explain their tactical stupidity. Is he out of favour with Jasnoff?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Adrina told him.
“Why did you wait until now to tell us?”
“I didn’t realise you would consider it so important, my Lord.”
“Tell us what?” Tarja asked, returning with a cup of wine for both Damin and Adrina. She took the tankard and swallowed the wine with a gulp. How was she supposed to know Lord Terbolt’s absence was such a big issue?
“The Duke of Setenton isn’t in the Karien war camp.”
“Then where is he?”
“That’s a question I’d like answered,” Damin replied, looking pointedly at Adrina.
“I told you! I don’t where he is.”
“You’ve told us a great deal, your Highness, half of which is probably outright lies, and the rest of which is doubtful.”
“If we were in Fardohnya, sir, you would be put to death for insulting me so.”
“If we were in Hythria, your Highness, you’d have been flogged for being —”
“Damin!” Tarja warned.
Fortunately, the Warlord didn’t finish the threat. Adrina smiled at Tarja gratefully, but it was time to escape the company of such an intolerable man.
“Do you dance, Captain?”
“Only when I can’t avoid it,” Tarja replied with a grimace.
“Consider this one of those times. I feel the need for some entertainment and I find the company in this part of the hall quite dull.”
Much to her annoyance, Damin laughed aloud at her comment. She thrust her wine cup at Lord Jenga and all but dragged Tarja to the centre of the Hall where a lively jig was in progress. She had no idea of the steps involved, and did not particularly care. She took her place in the line and followed the steps of the girl beside her, a young thing of about sixteen with a pretty face that was ruined by a missing tooth she displayed when she smiled. The dance was fairly simple and repetitive so it didn’t take long before she got the hang of it. She glanced across the hall and saw Damin watching her. She quite deliberately turned her head away and smiled winningly at Tarja.
“You don’t have to keep looking at him,” Tarja told her when the dance brought them together for a turn.
“Looking at whom?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“You know who I mean. Are you trying to make him jealous?”
“Don’t be absurd! That would imply I care what he thinks.”
“And you don’t, of course.”
“Of course not.”
They parted then and broke into two lines, men on the right, women on the left. The steps changed and Adrina found herself having to follow the toothless peasant girl for a time. When she looked up, she couldn’t see the Warlord, but she could feel his eyes on her. The dance took her back to her partner and she found herself confronting Tarja’s infuriatingly calm expression.
Was he really immune to her charms, she wondered? Is R’shiel so enticing that even when she is hundreds of leagues away, he can resist what is right under his nose?
The lines of dancers moved together. When Tarja took her in his arms for the next part she leaned into him and smiled, meeting his eyes with an open invitation. There weren’t many men who could deny her when she chose to be irresistible. Cratyn and Damin Wolfblade being rather notable exceptions, she recalled sourly.
Tarja’s reaction was not at all what she expected. His expression grew serious. “Damin wasn’t kidding when he said you were dangerous, was he?”
“Do you think I’m dangerous?” she teased.
“I think you’re a spoilt brat, actually,” he replied pleasantly. “I think that’s why you really left your husband. You’re so used to getting your own way that you ran away, rather than be denied.”
“And what would you know about it?”
“I’m something of an expert on spoilt brats, your Highness. R’shiel is fairly famous for it in some circles.”
Adrina’s anger evaporated in the face of such a startling admission. She had never heard Tarja speak of R’shiel before. She was more curious about the demon child than she cared to admit.
“Is she very beautiful?”
“Very.”
“More beautiful than me?”
Tarja laughed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to say yes, but I’m hardly what you’d call objective. Damin could probably give you a more accurate answer.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather not ask him anything. Tell me more about R’shiel. Is she truly the demon child?”
“So the Harshini claim.”
“Don’t you believe them?”
“I’m an atheist. I’m supposed to devote my life to eradicating the Harshini.”
“Yet you have a Harshini lover? A curious way of carrying out your orders, Captain.”
“I have a talent for complicating my life far more than is necessary, your Highness. And you are a complication I don’t want or need, so quit rubbing up against me like that, or I’ll end up doing something we’ll both regret, and when R’shiel gets back she’ll turn you into a toad and me into something that looks like a smudge on the road.”
Adrina smiled. “I like you, Captain. I’ve even forgiven you. Is the demon child really so fearsome?”