“Indeed,” she agreed wryly.
The duke's eyes narrowed, sensing her disapproval. “You shouldn't be too hard on him, my lady. I understand you have been testing the limits yourself, lately.”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, quite offended.
“I speak of your application to enroll at the university in Nova, Lady Jacinta, under an assumed name. And a boy's name at that.”
“A deception that would not have been necessary, my lord, if your narrow-minded academics were willing to acknowledge a woman is just as capable of higher learning as a man.”
“Even if that were the case, my lady, a young woman of your station in life should not even be thinking of such a future. You have a duty to your class to bear the next generation.”
“And breeding cows don't need an education.”
Saban Seranov smiled. “A crude but effective way of putting it, my lady.”
“You know, someday, my lord, you may find yourself having to reassess your position on that matter.”
Saban shrugged. “I live for the day the only thing I have to occupy my time is debating the advisability of allowing women access to my university, Lady Jacinta. It would mean a great many of the ills that plague our world are no longer an issue.”
She studied him closely for a moment, wondering if she was reading his meaning correctly. “Perhaps with the unexpected elevation of one of our own countrymen to the position of the Lord of the Suns, we might begin to hope a little, my lord.”
“Do you believe that's the case?” he asked cautiously.
“I'm really not in a position to say.”
“You've met with the Lord of the Suns, I understand, Lady Jacinta, which is more than anybody else has been able to manage. What is your opinion of him?”
“I think he's very …” She hesitated for a moment. The first word that leapt to mind was dangerous, but she didn't think that was what Saban Seranov wanted to hear. “He's very interesting, my lord. And very intelligent. Don't make the mistake of underestimating him.”
“One rather hopes it will be the Senetians who make that mistake, my lady,” he suggested with the faintest hint of a smile.
Jacinta was reluctant to be drawn into commenting. She knew Saban's youngest son, Alexin, was loyal to the cause. Even if Alenor hadn't been his lover, he had quite a history with the Baenlanders. She was reasonably confident about his eldest son, Raban, too, despite his rather inappropriate taste in bed partners. But nobody, not even his sons, was really certain where Saban Seranov's loyalties lay.
“I'm not sure I understand your meaning, my lord.”
Saban flicked the hair out of his eyes and smiled. “And you … clever enough to gain entrance to the university.” He bowed, and added more loudly for the benefit of those around them wondering what the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy and the Duke of Grannon Rock were discussing, “May I offer you the use of my carriage tomorrow, Lady Jacinta? I'd be more than happy to escort you to the temple for the ceremony.”
“Thank you, my lord, but I have hired my own carriage.”
“Then I'll see you at the ceremony tomorrow, perhaps?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Saban bowed elegantly and turned and walked away from her, leaving Jacinta to climb the polished staircase to her rooms, wondering what the Duke of Grannon Rock had really been after.
The ceremony to formally appoint the Lord of the Suns was scheduled to take place at first sunrise the following day.
Jacinta was delivered to the massive onion-domed temple in plenty of time to make her way inside and find a good vantage from which to watch the confirmation of Dirk Provin as the Lord of the Suns. The Lion of Senet had already arrived and was standing just below the altar with the High Priestess at his side. Marqel was enjoying her role as his mistress and clung to his arm, looking up at him adoringly whenever he spoke. Jacinta wasn't sure what annoyed her the most—Marqel's obvious coquetry or the fact that Antonov Latanya was lapping it up. Is he really fooled by her, or is he simply taking advantage of the fact that a stunning young woman less than half his age is willing to share his bed? And what must Kirshov Latanya be feeling, now that his precious Shadowdancer had become his father's mistress?
Jacinta was still puzzling over it when the trumpets blew and announced the start of the ceremony. From an anteroom to the right of the altar a door opened and a number of Sundancers filed out, followed by Lord Varell and lastly Dirk Provin. He was wearing the yellow robes of a Sundancer, something she realized he hadn't been wearing when she met him yesterday. The color didn't suit him, making his complexion look sallow. In fact, he hardly looked a daunting figure at all, which made him even more dangerous, because to look at him, there was nothing about Dirk Provin that gave any warning about the intelligence lurking behind those unreadable eyes. He looked young, uncomfortable and even a little uncertain.
As the fanfare ended Dirk turned to face the crowd. The temple was packed to overflowing with Sundancers, Shadowdancers and members of both the Senetian and Dhevynian nobility.
“We gather here today to hear the oath of the Lord of the Suns,” Dirk announced.
There was the faintest hint of a quiver in his voice, so slight Jacinta wondered if she imagined it. It was the only sign of Dirk's nervousness.
“I am the successor appointed by the Lord Halyn,” he continued. “Named in his will, which has been proved to be a true and legal statement of his final wishes. If any person present can show cause why Lord Halyn's successor should not be appointed, let them speak now, or accept this as the will of the Goddess.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Claudio Varell stepped forward and coughed nervously.
“You have an objection, my lord?” Dirk asked, a little surprised. Jacinta doubted anybody else in the room was. There was no way Dirk Provin was going to take this oath without a fight.
Claudio didn't answer Dirk, but turned to the gathering and addressed the congregation instead. “This boy is a murderer, a rapist and an arsonist! I charge that even if it was Paige Halyn's will, he is not fit to assume the post of Lord of the Suns!”
A shocked murmur rippled through the temple. Nobody was surprised by the accusation—Dirk Provin's nickname was the Butcher of Elcast, after all—what shocked them was that the Sundancers would openly admit such a thing.
“I have never been charged with any crime, my lord,” Dirk pointed out. Jacinta was impressed by how calm he sounded for a man on the brink of losing everything.
“The issue does need to be put to rest, though,” Antonov agreed, staring at Dirk with an odd look. “Are you willing to answer your accusers, Dirk?”
“Bring them on, your highness,” he declared gamely.
Claudio turned on Dirk. “Then I accuse you of the murder of Johan Thorn, and I ask the Lion of Senet to stand as witness to your guilt.”
A gasp rippled through the hall, mostly from the Dhevynians present. Alenor had told Jacinta what happened that night in Avacas. With a terrible feeling of impending doom, she suspected Dirk's only defense would destroy any shred of trust the large number of Dhevynians in the temple might have had in him.
“You've no need to call Prince Antonov as a witness, my lord,” Dirk replied. “I willingly admit I killed the Heretic King and would do it again tomorrow, if the Goddess asked it of me. I would kill every heretic on Ranadon if I could. Isn't that the role of the Lord of the Suns? To stamp out heresy?”
Claudio glared at him. “You committed murder!”
“Be careful how you define murder, my lord,” he warned. “If killing heretics is murder, then the Shadowdancers—conse-crated members of your Church—have more to answer for than I do.”
Claudio must have realized he was stepping onto dangerous ground so he backtracked hurriedly. “You destroyed the Calliope.”
“Reithan Seranov burned the Calliope, my lord, a fact that any number of the Lion of Senet's men can attest to. They were pursuing me across Elcast Common at the time the shi
p caught fire.”
Antonov nodded in agreement. “Did you have anything to do with it at all, Dirk?”
“I asked Reithan Seranov to create a diversion, your highness. He took me literally.”
The Lion of Senet smiled briefly, and Jacinta realized Dirk had a powerful ally. Antonov was still on his side. No doubt he liked the idea of Johan Thorn's bastard being the Lord of the Suns. It suited his ambition much better this way.
“And how do you intend to wriggle out of the charge of rape?” Claudio asked, paying his trump card with an edge of desperation.
“There is no charge, my lord.”
Dirk's eyes sought out Marqel standing beside Antonov. She was staring at him thoughtfully. Now what's she got to do with it? Jacinta wondered curiously.
Claudio also turned to look at Marqel. “My lady?”
Marqel hesitated for a very long time before she answered. “The Lord of the Suns is right, my lord. There is no charge.”
Jacinta almost fainted with relief. Marqel must be enjoying her role as Antonov's mistress too much to endanger her position by helping Claudio Varell unseat the man who had put her there.
At that point, Claudio realized he'd lost the fight, but Jacinta knew the battle was far from over. That he had voiced his doubts publicly was enough to disturb even the staunchest supporters of the Church. There was a tense moment of silence and then a slight disturbance to Jacinta's left.
A red-robed Shadowdancer stepped forward.
“I can also show cause,” the woman announced.
“Lady Madalan Tirov,” Claudio replied, vastly relieved. “You are the right hand of the High Priestess. You will be heard!”
“I bid you show cause or step back and be silent,” Antonov suggested with an edge of impatience.
“Dirk Provin cannot be appointed Lord of the Suns,” Madalan announced. “He's not come of age yet. This boy is just that—a boy. He is only nineteen years old. Under Senetian law he cannot be considered an adult until he reaches the age of twenty. He doesn't come of age until after Landfall. Regardless of the will of the late Lord Halyn, we cannot legally appoint him Lord of the Suns.”
“The Lady Madalan speaks truly,” Claudio agreed so quickly Jacinta suspected it was rehearsed. She glanced up at Dirk but his expression still betrayed nothing. He must be shocked, she thought. Had he overlooked such a minor but important detail? Like everyone else in the temple, she held her breath, waiting for somebody to explain what happened now.
Finally the Lion of Senet stepped forward. Although this was Church business, and strictly speaking he had no power here, nobody chose to challenge him when he took charge.
“I believe this needs to be cleared up before the ceremony proceeds,” he declared. “I suggest an adjournment of one hour. We will reconvene then and continue … one way or the other.”
Jacinta didn't wait around to find out what would happen next. She pushed and shoved her way back through the crowd until she reached the doors and then ran outside. She hailed the driver she'd hired for the day as she ran down the steps and ordered him to bring her carriage up, catching her escort off guard. As soon as it arrived, she climbed in and ordered the driver to move off.
Tael Gordonov countermanded the order and jerked the carriage door open.
“Lady Jacinta? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all, Captain. Please close the door.”
“Back to the Widow's Rest, my lady?” the driver asked.
“No,” she told him. “I don't want to go back to the inn. Take me to the library.”
Tael looked at her in alarm. “The library, my lady?”
“They do have a library in Bollow, don't they?”
“Yes, of course, my lady! It's just …”
“Just what?”
“Well, it's not the sort of place one expects to find a lady…”
Jacinta muttered a very unladylike curse under her breath. “Just get me there!”
Tael shook his head and closed the carriage door as she commanded. “As you wish, my lady.”
he difference in himself being free of the poppy-dust astounded Misha at first. Having lived most of his life in the cycle of high awareness followed by the savage letdown of the drug, to awaken each morning and know by the end of the day he would not be trembling and nauseous filled him with a sense of elation he found hard to describe. There were times when he could feel his body calling for the drug, but for now, at least, it was easy to refuse. He was too enamored of the unusual feeling of well-being to give in to it.
Lexie's arrival with Reithan did much to distract him, and the news she brought about what had happened in Mil did nothing but strengthen his suspicion Dirk was playing his own dangerous game, a game in which only he seemed to understand the rules. Tia was adamant he was simply a traitor. Misha was privately of the opinion it didn't matter what Dirk did, she would always think that of him.
Although it was wearing at times, Misha didn't mind Tia's prejudice. That she and Dirk had been lovers for a short time was no longer a secret between them. What Misha wanted to be sure of, what he hoped for beyond reason, was that she was over him; that the unreasonable hatred she had for Dirk Provin was not simply her way of covering up her true feelings. The expectation she had awoken in Misha that day she kissed him was more powerful than a dose of poppy-dust. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel her lips on his. Unfortunately, every time he opened them again, he recalled the look of shock and despair she had worn afterward.
With Reithan and Lexie here in Garwenfield, there was little chance to speak to Tia alone. Lexie had been unaware of what was happening in Senet while in transit with Reithan on the Wanderer, so once everyone had been brought up to date, much of their discussion centered on what their next move should be. Tia wanted to go straight back to Bollow and put an arrow though Dirk's forehead herself. Reithan counseled caution, suggesting they wait until the eclipse before taking any action. Lexie wanted to keep Mellie hidden and Misha wanted to return to Avacas to see his father and do something about removing Ella Geon from her position of trust in the palace. They talked around and around, but the decision was not an easy one and a week after Lexie and Reithan had sailed into Garwenfield, they still hadn't decided what to do.
Tia avoided his eye as they sat around the kitchen table, and found any number of excuses not to be alone with him. Mellie seemed never to leave her side, or she was with Reithan, or Lexie. He knew Tia was avoiding him. He also suspected Tia knew he knew it. But he could do nothing to force the situation. To push Tia now might be to lose her forever, and that was something he didn't even want to contemplate. So he waited, took long walks on the beach in the soft sand near the tree line to strengthen his legs and hoped given enough time, Tia would come to him of her own accord.
The second sun was almost set as Misha limped along the sand, brooding on what might have been—on what might yet be. They'd spent the day talking over what action to take next and Misha had a bad feeling Tia was winning the argument. For all her passion and unreasonable hatred of Dirk Provin, she could put forward a rational and convincing argument when she wanted to. She had modified her original suggestion that she simply kill Dirk to one where she and Reithan returned to Senet to find out what was happening, before allowing either Misha or Mellie to leave Garwenfield. It was probably the best idea anyone had put forward so far, and Misha thought they would agree to it, sooner rather than later.
Within a few days, Tia might be gone. The chances were good he might never see her again. The prospect was almost unbearable.
Reaching the end of the beach, Misha turned back toward the house as the first sun bled into the sky, lost in his morose thoughts. He could make it all the way to the rocks and back without the crutch now. Although Master Helgin had warned him his left side would always be weaker than his right, he was walking unaided and had never felt stronger. He was looking forward to walking back into Avacas palace.
Let them sneer at the Crippled Prince n
ow.
He looked up and noticed a figure walking along the beach toward him and stopped dead when he realized it was Tia. She was alone.
Misha waited for her, partly because he was too surprised to continue, and partly because he was still a little self-conscious about his limping gait. Tia walked toward him slowly, almost reluctantly. When he saw the look on her face as she neared him, his heart sank.
“Hello, Tia.”
“You've come a long way,” she remarked. “I remember when we first brought you here. It almost killed you just walking from the Wanderer to the house.”
“A lot's happened since that day,” he reminded her.
“Hasn't it,” she agreed with a noncommittal shrug. She said nothing for a time and Misha was too afraid to break the silence, certain whatever he said, it would be the wrong thing.
“I'm leaving tomorrow with Reithan,” she told him eventually. “We're going to Senet to see if we can figure out what Dirk's up to. And maybe put a stop to it.”
“I thought you might.”
“Once we know it's safe, Reithan will come back for you and Lexie and Mellie.”
“Lexie's staying?”
Tia nodded. “She doesn't want to leave Mellie again.”
“That's understandable, I suppose.”
They said nothing more for a time. Misha found the silence unbearable.
“Tia …”
He had no idea what to say. And there was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to thank her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her again the way she'd kissed him the day he woke free of the poppy-dust …
But for some reason, he couldn't find the words. Or the courage.
“You will be careful, won't you?” he warned, cursing his own cowardice. “There's a price on your head, remember.”
“I'll be careful.”
“I'll miss you.”
“I'll miss you, too.”
He wondered if she meant it, or if she was just saying that to be polite. “I would have thought you'd be relieved to see the back of me.”
“No. I think I really will miss you,” she said, and then she smiled. “I probably won't know what to do with myself if I start getting a full night's sleep.”
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