Adrina smiled. It was the same sort of intimate smile R’shiel saved for Tarja. The sort of smile Adrina had never bestowed on his prince.
“That’s all this is, you know. A simple case of two well trained and rather bored people amusing themselves far from home.”
“I grant you that we’re both well trained,” Damin agreed, unwrapping her arms from around his neck. He held her hands for a moment and then turned them over, kissing the palms. “And I’ve no doubt you’re bored. But this is far from simple, Adrina.”
She sighed. “I know. So what are we going to do?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m heading home while I still can.”
“How noble of you. What happens to me?”
“That’s up to you. You have two choices. Stay and face Cratyn, or come with me.”
Adrina’s eyes widened. “Follow you to Hythria? You’re pretty damn certain of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I wish I could say my offer was entirely motivated by the knowledge that you’d rather die than live without me, but the fact is, neither you nor I want a Karien heir to your father’s throne. The whole world will be safer with you in my bed, rather than Cratyn’s.”
“You are the most arrogant pig I have ever met.”
“Probably. Will you come with me, or not?”
“Is sharing your bed a condition of the deal?”
“No. If you want, I’ll never touch you again. I’ll escort you to Hythria and kill any man who tries to lay a hand on you against your will. Myself included.”
“You’d throw yourself on your sword for me? Somehow, I doubt that, Damin.”
“It sounded rather noble, though, don’t you think?”
Adrina kissed him again. Mikel couldn’t tell how long it lasted. He was too busy wiping away tears of anger and disappointment. Adrina knew that Cratyn was on his way to rescue her. The only reason she was doing this was the one he had refused to contemplate until now.
“I have conditions,” she said, when they finally broke apart.
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Damin gathered up the mare’s lead rope and led her to an empty stall next to the one where Mikel was hiding. He held his breath.
“I’m a princess of royal blood, Damin, not some whore you picked up in the followers’ camp. I expect to be treated as such.”
“My men shall treat you with the utmost respect, your Highness, or I’ll whip them myself.” He closed the gate on the stall and walked back to her. The sun had almost set and it was getting hard to see them in the gloom.
“I wasn’t referring to your men, I was talking about you.”
“I’ll ignore that. What else?”
“The remainder of my Guard, those men the Defenders are holding prisoner, are to be released.”
“I think I can arrange that.”
“And I’m not your damned prisoner, either. If I go with you, I go of my own free will. I’ll be free to leave anytime I want.”
“Was that all?”
“No. I want it clearly understood where we stand with each other.”
“And where is that, exactly?”
“I don’t love you, Damin, and I’m damned sure you don’t love me. I’ll admit that there is a certain... physical attraction... between us, but that’s all it is. I get a thrill out of flirting with danger and you are about the most dangerous thing around. I don’t want you mistaking this affair for something it’s not.”
Damin didn’t answer her for a long moment. Then he smiled. “You’re a consummate liar, Adrina.”
“I assure you, sir, I meant every word.”
“That’s what makes you so believable. Very well, I agree to your conditions. I’m planning to break camp the day after tomorrow. Be prepared for some hard riding. If your husband should happen to discover where you are, we’ll have every Karien on the border chasing us all the way to Hythria.”
“Then you’d better hope your Medalonian friends don’t tell him. I wasn’t planning to leave him a note, you know.”
“Now there’s a thought,” he laughed. He picked up her cloak from where she had thrown it over the railing and held it out for her. Adrina turned and allowed him to drape it over her shoulders. “Let me see, how would it go? Dear Cratyn —”
“Cretin,” she corrected. “I always called him Cretin. The Kariens thought it was my accent.”
“Very subtle... Dear Cretin, sorry I can’t be here to meet you dear, but I’ve run off to Hythria with a dashing warlord —”
“Dashing?”
“Handsome sounded a bit arrogant, I thought... Anyway, where was I? I’ve run off to Hythria with a dashing warlord with whom I’ve been making wild, passionate love every night for... how long has it been?”
“One week and two days...”
“Are you counting?”
“Only out of curiosity.” She turned to face him, her expression suddenly serious. “We shouldn’t joke about this, Damin. He’ll kill us both.”
Damin kissed her forehead. “It will take more than – what did you call him? Prince Cretin the Cringing – to kill me. And I swear I’ll kill you myself before I hand you back to him.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better.”
Mikel shrank down as they walked past his stall exchanging that odd mixture of intimate secrets and insulting banter that seemed to characterise their conversations, tears of bitter disappointment sliding down his cheeks.
The truth burned in his stomach like a bad meal. He waited in the darkness surrounded by the moist smell of the horses for a long, long time after they were gone. His heart was breaking; his childish illusions well and truly shattered.
By the time he forced himself to move, his fingers were numb with cold. But he had made a decision. When the Karien army crossed the border, Mikel would find a way to gain an audience with the prince.
He was going to have to explain to Cratyn that his beautiful, noble princess was nothing more than a traitorous slut.
Part 4
CONSEQUENCES
Chapter 54
The walls of the Citadel defined Brak’s prison. He had discovered this annoying detail quite by accident as he had tried to follow Lord Terbolt to a meeting with another Karien agent in the small village of Kordale, west of the city. He had met an invisible wall as solid and impenetrable as the wall that cut him off from his power. Brak had tested its limits right around the Citadel, but could find no weak point. He wondered if it was entirely Zegarnald’s doing or if the Citadel itself was aiding the War God, although he could think of no reason why the Citadel would ever cooperate with Zegarnald.
He spent his days watching and worrying over R’shiel. His frustration was a palpable thing and his worry enough to make him physically sick. He had watched Loclon tormenting her and the demon, helpless to intervene. He had watched him punish her then cut off her hair, tearing uselessly at the invisible barrier that separated him from the ordinary world. But worse, he watched as every day R’shiel sank a little lower into despair; a little closer to giving in; a little closer to the day he might have to kill her.
Brak had an odd relationship with R’shiel. Part guardian, part teacher, he had been sent to find the demon child and bring her home to Sanctuary. His first impressions of her had not been good – she was spoilt, manipulative and rebellious. She bore long grudges and tended to be rather single-minded when it came to getting even. Brak had not liked her much in the beginning. It had taken a long time for him to discover how much of R’shiel’s behaviour was a result of her upbringing as much as her true nature. She carried a lot of hurt inside and those who hurt her would suffer for it. He was also cynical enough to realise that the very qualities that made him distrust her were just the sort of characteristics one needed if one was destined to destroy a god.