“Your Highness?”
Tamylan’s startled greeting brought her back to her senses and she pushed Damin away with a shove, gasping for air. Her slave stood in the open doorway to her chamber, her expression a mixture of astonishment and horror.
“Are you alright, my Lady?” she asked with concern, glaring at Damin.
“I’m fine Tam. Go back to bed. I’ll be in shortly.”
The slave nodded warily and moved away from the door. Only then did Adrina feel composed enough to meet Damin’s eye.
“I think I’ve proved my point, don’t you?”
Damin’s expression was far too smug. “You think so?”
“I hope you enjoyed it, my Lord. You’ll never receive another. From now on, you’ll just have to dream about what you’re missing.”
Adrina still had enough of her wits about her not to wait for his answer. She turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her with a resounding, and most satisfactory, thump.
“What are you playing at, Adrina?” Tamylan demanded as soon as the door banged shut. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“You forget your place, Tamylan.”
“So have you, your Highness,” the slave retorted. “Have you forgotten where we are? Who he is? What he is?”
“Be silent!”
Tamylan shook her head in disgust and left the rest of it unsaid.
Chapter 46
For the second time in her life, R’shiel entered the Great Hall to attend the annual Gathering of the Sisters of the Blade, although on this occasion she did not have to scale the outside of the building in the rain.
This time she walked through the main doors quite brazenly, concealed by a glamour that made her unnoticeable. She broke from the crowd at the entrance and made her way to the narrow stairs leading to the gallery. Once she had climbed the stairs, she walked along the gallery to almost the exact spot from which she had watched the Gathering two years ago with Davydd Tailorson. It was odd, and a little disconcerting that she could barely remember his face. Davydd had died trying to help her and Tarja escape the Citadel. He deserved to be remembered more clearly.
R’shiel watched the Hall filling with blue-robed sisters, fidgeting nervously. She wanted to call Dranymire, to ensure the demon knew what was expected of him and his brethren, but she could not risk them being noticed before she took control of the Gathering. She wanted to know where Mahina was. She wanted to get a message to Affiana, concerned that the woman had not been at the pre-arranged meeting place. It could simply be that she had not waited around. R’shiel and Brak had been late arriving at the tavern. R’shiel was worried. Affiana had not even left a message for them.
She leaned on the balustrade, watching the growing crowd. Garet Warner, the ranking officer in the Citadel, stood off to the left of the dais with two other officers, where Lord Jenga and Tarja had stood the night Joyhinia had been appointed First Sister. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. Wished she knew how far he could be trusted.
R’shiel also wished Brak had come with her, but he had insisted he wait outside with the horses, ready for a quick departure. He wanted her away from this place with a determination that bordered on obsession. Brak was a hard man to read. The only thing R’shiel was certain of was that he would stay by her, regardless of how he felt about what she was doing. She wasn’t even sure that Brak liked her very much, but he took his responsibilities seriously. He had killed the Harshini King to ensure her survival. To desert her now would make that act meaningless.
The doors closing with a hollow boom signalled the start of the meeting and every eye turned forward as the white-robed members of the Quorum filed on to the dais from the door at the back of the Hall. Traditionally, the First Sister entered last, a custom R’shiel was extremely grateful for. She sent out a mental call for Dranymire. The demon responded instantly, popping into existence beside her, his too-large eyes glittering in the gloom.
Are you ready?
May the gods be with us, Dranymire responded before he disappeared again.
“Be careful,” she whispered to the vanished demon.
She turned her attention to the dais, as Francil began reciting the ritual thanksgiving to the Founding Sisters. On the edge of her awareness, she could feel the demons forming the meld that would be Joyhinia. She pushed aside the distraction and reached inside herself, feeling the glow of the Harshini magic that nestled in her mind. She drew on the power carefully, as Brak had shown her, and formed the thoughts she wanted to impose on the Gathering although she held back releasing them. Her eyes darkened until they turned completely black, the whites of her eyes consumed by the power she gathered to her. As Francil’s dry voice finished the litany, the door leading from the small anteroom opened and the demon meld stepped onto the dais.
Dranymire and his brethren had done an impressive job. The Joyhinia they had formed was a little too tall perhaps, and her eyes had never been quite that shade of blue, but one would be hard pressed to tell her from the genuine article. Joyhinia stepped up to take her place with a commanding air, nodding in acknowledgment to the Quorum before turning to face the Gathering. It was against protocol, R’shiel knew, but she did not want to risk the meld for a moment longer than she had to. Joyhinia would stand up, make her announcement and then leave. R’shiel could not pick out Mahina among the sea of blue-robed sisters, but she trusted the old woman to be in place.
She held back the coercion with difficulty. The power, once tapped, did not like to be restrained. Sweat beaded her forehead and her eyes burned as she gripped the balustrade. Unconsciously, R’shiel mouthed the words of Joyhinia’s rehearsed speech, as the demon meld addressed the crowd.
“Sisters! It is good to be back among you, in these trying times.” The voice was too low, almost masculine, but it was so long since any of the sisters had heard Joyhinia speak, R’shiel doubted anybody would notice. “I have been on our northern border, supervising our efforts to repel the insolent Karien invasion of our sovereign nation.” The Gathering was silent as they listened to the First Sister, more curious than concerned. “Medalon will be safe in the hands of the Defenders and we must press all our efforts in that direction.”
“From what I hear, it was a Defender who got us into this mess!” a voice called from the back of the Hall.
R’shiel grimaced. She had not coached Dranymire to trade taunts with hecklers. The coercion laboured to be released. Her knuckles were white with the effort of holding it in. Dranymire ignored the comment and carried on, oddly enough, making the meld seem more like Joyhinia than ever.
“The single most important issue facing Medalon is our survival. Everything else is insignificant in comparison to this. Personal ambition, feelings and prejudices must be put aside.” That actually drew a spattering of applause. There were many Sisters who were more concerned with their duties than their careers. Having grown up in Joyhinia’s shadow, R’shiel had to occasionally remind herself of that.
Joyhinia waited a moment before she continued. R’shiel fervently hoped it was Dranymire pausing for dramatic effect, not fighting for control over the meld.
“To this end, I plan to step down from the position of First Sister and nominate the woman who I believe is the only one among us strong enough to see us through this: Mahina Cortanen.”