“Stop flattering my lady-in-waiting!” Alenor scolded with a laugh. “You'll turn her head, your highness, and I'll never get any work out of her!”
Antonov smiled at Alenor. “It's good to see you smiling and laughing again, Alenor. If your cousin has achieved that remarkable feat simply by arriving in Avacas, then she is already firmly in my favor.”
“She's probably exhausted, too,” Alenor declared. “May we be excused, your highness, so I can arrange for my mother and my lady to get settled in?”
“Of course you may. Shall we see you at dinner tonight?”
“I'll see how I feel,” Alenor promised. “All this excitement has drained me, I fear, but if I'm feeling up to it, we'll be there.”
Alenor curtsied and turned to leave, her mother and her new lady-in-waiting following meekly behind her.
As soon as they were alone in Alenor's room, she turned to Jacinta. “What did you think of the Lion of Senet?”
“I think I was very fortunate to have been raised away from court,” she replied with a frown. “Is he always so overpowering?”
“No,” Alenor assured her with a smile. “Sometimes, he's worse.”
“You should see him when he's angry,” Rainan added as she checked the doors to the bedroom and the bathroom to ensure they were alone. “Alenor, what is going on?”
Alenor sank down on to the settee with a sigh. “I hardly know where to begin.”
“Let's start with that treacherous little bastard, Dirk Provin.”
“Funny,” Alenor remarked, a little hurt. “I thought your first question might be how I was feeling, Mother.”
“I'm sorry, darling,” Rainan said, instantly remorseful. “It was thoughtless of me not to ask. How are you doing? You look very pale.”
“I've barely left the palace since … it happened.”
“And are you fully recovered?” Jacinta asked with concern, taking the seat opposite.
“I'm not sure if recovered is the right word. I'm feeling stronger and the bleeding has finally stopped. But I feel like a part of me is… missing … somehow.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don't know how to explain it.”
Jacinta leaned forward, took Alenor's hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “There'll be other babies for us to spoil rotten.”
She nodded, forcing a smile. “I suppose.”
“This is obviously upsetting you, Alenor. Perhaps we should discuss Dirk Provin, after all. It might be a little less harrowing for you.”
For once, Alenor agreed with her mother. She discovered she really didn't want to talk about the miscarriage. “I'm not sure what to tell you, Mother. He's joined the Shadowdancers, is now the right hand of the High Priestess—which is another saga—and is called Lord of the Shadows. He's with Kirsh at the moment, invading the Baenlands.”
“I'd like to meet this Dirk Provin of yours.”
“Are you so anxious to involve yourself in the treachery and politics of Avacas, Jacinta?” Rainan asked with a frown.
“Dirk asked me to trust him, Mother,” Alenor said. “I don't believe he's doing this to hurt us.”
“And, like a fool, you believe him. Stay away from Dirk Provin, Alenor. He will bring us nothing but trouble.”
“What do you mean he asked you to trust him?” Jacinta asked, ignoring the queen's disapproval.
Alenor glanced at her mother and realized that to tell Jacinta anything further, she would have to admit to meeting the Baenlanders in Nova.
“Nothing really …” she said, lowering her eyes.
“Tell us about the Lord of the Suns, then,” Jacinta asked, taking the hint. “Is it true he's dying?”
“He's clinging to life rather tenaciously at the moment,” Alenor told her. “He took a bolt in the neck from a crossbow meant for Dirk. He was recovering nicely for a while, but the wound became infected, and now Master Daranski is desperately worried about him.”
“Paige Halyn dying is not such a bad thing,” Rainan remarked, taking a seat next to Alenor. “We might get lucky and find ourselves with a Lord of the Suns who is actually strong enough to control the Shadowdancers.”
“Don't hold your breath, Mother. There's a rumor in the palace he's already named his successor, and it's Madalan Tirov.”
“Belagren's old partner in crime?” Rainan sighed unhappily. “Things just seem to be going from bad to worse, don't they?”
“And this new High Priestess we've heard of?” Jacinta asked. “What do you know about her?”
“It's Marqel.”
Rainan looked her, clearly shocked. “The Shadowdancer that Kirsh …”
“The one and the same.”
“How did that come about?” Jacinta asked, just as surprised as Rainan.
Alenor looked at her mother closely before answering Jacinta's question. “Do you really want me to tell her, Mother? It involves admitting to a few distasteful truths you've managed to ignore up until now.”
Rainan did not answer her.
“Well, I'd like to know,” Jacinta said. “Unpalatable truths or no.”
“Dirk arranged it,” Alenor explained to her cousin. “After Misha was kidnapped, he told her the way though the delta to the Baenlands. Armed with that information, Marqel told Antonov she'd had a visit from the Goddess. Much the same as Neris told—”
“Alenor! That's enough!” Rainan gasped. “You could be burned at the stake for even thinking such heresy, let alone voicing it aloud in the palace of the Lion of Senet!”
“Even if it's the truth?”
“Especially if it's the truth,” Rainan snapped. “Dear Goddess, did I teach you nothing? You can't listen to such things! You certainly can't repeat them!”
“And therein lies the root of all Dhevyn's ills,” Alenor said to Jacinta. “We can't speak the truth, we can't even think it. This is the fear that fills our streets with Senetian troops and taxes our economy into oblivion to support them.”
“We could use this,” Jacinta suggested. “If Dirk Provin is providing the High Priestess with information she is claiming comes from the Goddess, why can't we have him suggest to her the Goddess wants Senet to withdraw from Dhevyn?”
“You'll do no such thing!” Rainan cried in horror.
Alenor ignored her mother's outburst. “To be honest, Jacinta, I don't know Dirk would do it even if I asked it of him. He's got his own plans, and I wish I could say I knew what he was up to, but I don't.”
“He's looking after Dirk Provin,” Rainan snapped. “That's what he's up to.”
“What are we going to do, then?” Jacinta asked Alenor. Like her cousin, she was not nearly so timid as Rainan about offending Senet.
“I want to go home.”
“Will Antonov allow it?”
“He's been very reluctant to even discuss the matter,” Alenor said.
Jacinta smiled. “I wonder if he's suffering any guilt over the fact that his new lover once belonged to his son?”
“Jacinta!” Rainan gasped. “You mustn't listen to such dreadful gossip. And you shouldn't be upsetting Alenor with it.”
“Kirsh's affair with Marqel is no secret, your highness. And I think you'll find Alenor is not nearly as blind to the truth as you imagine.”
“She's right, Mother,” Alenor said. “I know about Kirsh and Marqel. As for Antonov taking the High Priestess as his lover, that hasn't happened … yet. Marqel was taken back to the Hall of Shadows, and we haven't seen her for weeks. Antonov's getting a little peeved about it, but with everything else going on, I don't think it's the most important thing on his mind right now.”
Jacinta smiled. “I don't imagine Marqel's too pleased about being trapped in the Hall of Shadows, High Priestess or not.”
“I don't really care, Jacinta,” Alenor shrugged.
“Perhaps I should pay my good friend Marqel a visit,” Jacinta suggested.
“To what purpose, Jacinta?” Rainan snapped. “You just can't help interfering in things that are no concern of yours,
can you? I knew it was a bad idea to let you come to Avacas.”
“It was a wonderful idea, Mother,” Alenor corrected, with a smile at her cousin. “I feel better already.”
hen Dirk returned to his cabin on the Tsarina, he received a shock, for sitting on the bunk, talking to Caterina, was Eryk. The boy flew off the bed and threw himself at Dirk the moment he entered the cabin, blubbering and stammering as he tried to explain everything that had happened to him in the last few months, all in the same breath.
Dirk hugged him for a moment, letting Eryk prattle on, and then looked over his head at Caterina.
“One of Prince Kirshov's men delivered him a few hours ago,” she explained. “They ordered me to wait here with him until you got back.”
That was typical of Kirsh's Senetian Guard. Eryk was an unimportant half-wit. They would think nothing of leaving him in the care of someone who was essentially a prisoner herself. He disentangled Eryk's arms from around his waist and smiled down at the boy.
“All right, Eryk, that's enough,” he said gently. “Everything's going to be fine now. You can tell me all about it in a little while. Have you eaten?”
Sniffing loudly, Eryk shook his head.
“Can you fetch him something?” Dirk asked Caterina.
She slipped off the bunk, squeezing past them to the door.
“Fetch something for yourself, too,” he suggested. “It might be a while before I get back.”
Caterina nodded and let herself out of the cabin.
“You're not going away again, are you, Lord Dirk?” Eryk asked with a panicked edge to his voice.
“I've got a meeting with Kirsh and Captain Clegg, that's all.”
“I like Caterina,” he said, sniffing again. “She's nice.”
“I'm sure she is.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
Dirk smiled. “No.”
“She said she's your prisoner. She says you kidnapped her because you were overcome by her beauty.”
“She also has a rather vivid imagination, Eryk. The first part is true enough, though. She is my prisoner.”
“Are you going to do something terrible to her?”
Dirk looked at him oddly. “Why would you think that?”
Eryk looked away. “Tia said… well, she said some pretty horrible things about you when she got back. I tried to make her take them back, but she wouldn't listen to me …”
“It's all right, Eryk. There is nothing you could have said or done to make her take it back. Tia's got good reason to hate me.”
“They said you betrayed everyone in the Baenlands.”
“I did, Eryk. I led the Senetians to them.”
“But why?” he cried.
“Do you trust me, Eryk?”
The boy nodded dumbly, sniffing back a fresh round of tears.
“Then don't ask any more questions. There is a reason for this; I just can't explain it to you. I couldn't even explain it to Tia, which is why she's so angry with me. But one day you'll understand. I promise.”
“I didn't tell Prince Kirsh anything,” Eryk assured him. “He asked me all sorts of questions about where everybody was hiding but I didn't tell him. Did I do the right thing, Lord Dirk, or should I go back and tell him about the caves?”
“You did the right thing, Eryk,” Dirk assured him, almost faint with relief. It had never occurred to him Kirsh might think of interrogating Eryk. He was expecting him to line up a few hapless sailors and beat the truth out of them, but Dirk was confident most of the Baenlanders would die, even under torture, rather than betray their people. Eryk, however, was liable to blurt out anything. “Look, I really have to go. Kirsh is waiting for me. Will you be all right here with Caterina until I get back?”
Eryk nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yes.”
Dirk turned for the door, and then he looked back at Eryk curiously. “Do you know where Tia went, Eryk? Where she took Misha?”
The boy shook his head. “One day they were just gone. Even Eleska didn't know where Mellie went.”
“Tia took Mellie with her?”
“You don't think Tia would hurt her, do you, Lord Dirk?” Eryk asked, rather alarmed by Dirk's tone.
Dirk smiled and shook his head. “No, Eryk, I think Tia did the smartest thing in the world taking Mellie from Mil. She won't hurt her. She probably saved her life.”
“You're late,” Kirsh said, looking up from the chart table as Dirk let himself in to Captain Clegg's stateroom.
“Why didn't you tell me you'd found Eryk?”
“You didn't ask,” Kirsh replied, turning his attention back to the map.
And that was all Kirsh was going to say on the subject, Dirk realized. But he had sent the boy to Dirk's cabin, not thrown him in with the other prisoners, which was probably Kirsh's way of helping Eryk without actually having to admit doing it.
“Have you decided what our next move is?” Dirk asked, thinking any further attempt to talk about Eryk's future would be wasted.
“We were just discussing it,” Captain Clegg informed him. “Did you have any suggestions?”
“Actually, I do,” Dirk told him, walking to the table where a map was spread out. “We've got nine ships. When we leave here, we should fan them out. Send one to each of the main Dhevynian islands, but don't waste time searching the cities. Have them sail around the islands. Have them stop in the smaller ports, where they wouldn't normally be seen. The Baenlanders will be in Dhevyn somewhere.”
“What about Senet?” Kirsh asked. “If they have sympathizers there, it would be a good place to hide.”
“Sympathizing with the Baenlanders is a long way from being willing to risk your life harboring them, or helping to keep the crown prince captive. Besides, you might be able to conceal one or two foreigners, but not scores of them. I wouldn't bother with Damita for the same reason. The only place the Baenlanders can reasonably hope for shelter is Dhevyn.”
Clegg nodded his agreement. “Dirk's right, your highness. Besides, your father's ground forces already stationed on the mainland can search Senet far more effectively. The same applies to Prince Baston's forces in Damita. We should concentrate our strength on Dhevyn.”
Kirsh thought about it for a moment and nodded. “That's what we'll do, then. The rest of the fleet can begin searching the Dhevynian islands. The Tsarina will return to Avacas.”
“You'll not be leading the search yourself, your highness?” Clegg asked, a little surprised by the announcement.
Dirk wasn't surprised. The news he had delivered regarding Marqel was eating Kirsh up. The Senetian prince had a gift for turning a blind eye to things he didn't want to know about, but that did not mean he was unaware of them. Kirsh knew his father and Belagren had been lovers, just as he knew much of his father's desire for her was because she was the High Priestess, not in spite of it. The chances that Marqel would now be called upon to fill her predecessor's role as the Lion of Senet's consort were extremely high. Kirsh had beaten Dirk savagely for sleeping with Marqel once. The idea that his own father might take Marqel as his mistress was intolerable.
Kirsh wasn't going to stay away from Avacas for one moment longer than he had to now that a quick resolution to this whole affair with Misha seemed unlikely.
“Searching the islands will take weeks, maybe even months,” Dirk told Clegg, as Kirsh seemed unable to come up with a plausible excuse. “His highness has other duties he can't afford to neglect for that long.”
Kirsh glanced at him with a look caught somewhere between annoyance and gratitude.
“Of course,” Clegg agreed. “When did you want to set sail, your highness?”
“As soon as the second sun rises tomorrow,” Kirsh ordered.
Clegg gave a short bow in acknowledgment of the order and let himself out of the cabin.
Kirsh straightened up from the chart table and indicated the decanter sitting on the shelf near the porthole. “Join me?”
Dirk nodded and waited in silence as Kirsh poure
d wine for them both. He accepted the glass from Kirsh and waited for him to say something. Kirsh drank down his first glass in one swallow and then poured himself another drink.
“When he learned about Marqel,” Kirsh said finally, “what was my father's reaction?”
“Skepticism,” Dirk told him. “He thought she was lying.”
“Is she lying?”
Dirk shook his head. “The Goddess has spoken to her, Kirsh. Even the Lord of the Suns confirmed it. I think the only thing preventing your father from believing her now is this expedition. Until he's sure we got through the delta, I don't think he'll fully accept her elevation.”
Kirsh laughed bitterly and downed his second glass of wine. “Then I've sealed my own fate.”
“What do you mean?”
“When we cleared the delta this morning, Dirk, I dispatched a bird to my father, letting him know the instructions we had were accurate. I've just handed her to him on a plate.”
“You don't know that for certain, Kirsh. Marqel might refuse him.”
Kirsh smiled skeptically. “Nobody refuses my father, Dirk. You, of all people, should know that.”
“Perhaps your father won't see her in the same light as he saw Belagren,” Dirk suggested, wondering why he didn't just come right out and tell Kirsh to grow up. He should accept the cold hard reality that Marqel was lost to him. “She's much younger than he is.”
“It wouldn't be the first time my father has bedded a woman even younger than me.”
Dirk thought it interesting Kirsh was laying the entire blame for this at his father's door. He seemed to think Marqel was the innocent party.
You poor, deluded fool, Kirsh. But he didn't say it aloud. Kirsh wanted to be reassured, not forced to face the truth. “I think you do your father an injustice. Whatever her role is now, Antonov knows how you feel about Marqel and how much she loves you. It would be cruel beyond comprehension for him to expect her to put you aside for him.”
“And do you honestly think my father is not capable of doing something cruel beyond comprehension?”
“That's not the point, Kirsh. Your father won't take Marqel against her will. She is the Voice of the Goddess and such a violation would be unthinkable to him. The question you should be asking yourself is whether Marqel is capable of such a thing.”
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