“Arrest this man on charges of treason and plotting to assassinate the High Prince.”
“This is absurd!” Parkesh protested, as the guards closed in on him. “You’re making this up!
There is no plot!”
“There is if I say there is,” Lieutenant Taranger insisted. “And it’ll be your word against mine.”
He was only a few steps away from Ameel now. He stopped and leaned forward a little, adding, “Care to wager on who the High Prince is more likely to believe if I tell him I’ve uncovered a conspiracy?”
To Luciena’s astonishment, Ameel Parkesh held his hands up in defeat. “All right! You win. For now.”
Xanda Taranger smiled. “Perhaps your involvement in this heinous plot against the High Prince deserves a little more investigation after all,” he conceded. “Let him go.”
The soldiers stood back as Ameel straightened his vest angrily and then glared at Luciena. “Your friends at the palace can’t protect you against what’s legally mine, Luciena Mariner,” he warned. “You have that money by the end of the week or this house and everything in it is mine. And trust me, I do mean everything.”
“Sergeant, escort Master Parkesh off the premises, please.”
Parkesh shook off the sergeant and strode out of the hall without another word, although he did stop as he passed Xanda Taranger and made some comment that Luciena couldn’t hear. Then he left the house, the hollow boom of the door slamming shut announcing that, for the moment at least, she was safe.
Luciena felt faint. Aleesha ran to her but she shook her off, trembling so hard she was afraid she might fall. But she was determined not to let her tears of relief at her narrow escape be witnessed by anybody, least of all some lackey in the pay of Marla Wolfblade.
“Luciena . . .”
“Leave me alone, Aleesha,” she said. Pushing past the slave, Luciena ran from the hall and out into the courtyard where nobody could see her give in to the overwhelming despair that threatened to bring her completely undone.
Chapter 6
Luciena looked up and hurriedly wiped her eyes as the young officer stopped in front of her. She was hiding in the small grotto dedicated to Kalianah that her mother had loved so well. The grotto was screened by a tall hedge but the courtyard wasn’t that large. It wouldn’t have taken much effort to find her.
“Are you all right, Miss Mariner?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she snapped, and then smiled weakly to soften her words. This young man really didn’t deserve such anger. She was angry with herself mostly—and the fact that she had needed saving in the first place. “Really, Lieutenant, I am.”
Without asking her permission, he took a seat beside her on the marble bench. “Ameel Parkesh won’t be back to bother you.”
She snorted sceptically at his optimism. “Your arrival was timely, I’ll grant you, but I don’t think you’ve scared him off for long.”
“You misunderstand me,” the young officer explained. “Ameel Parkesh won’t be back because he has no reason to bother you any longer. By now, Princess Marla has taken over the debt on your house. You no longer owe him anything.”
Beyond surprise, Luciena shook her head and sighed with resignation. “So I’m delivered from the clutches of one ruthless despot and into the hands of another.”
“Ruthless despot?” he repeated with a puzzled look. “What has Princess Marla ever done to you, Luciena, to engender such feelings? You don’t even know her, yet you seem to have this insane notion that she’s some sort of evil-spawned monster whose sole purpose in life is to torment you. Why?”
“Why do you care?”
“She’s my aunt.”
Luciena stared at him in surprise. “But you’re not a Wolfblade, are you?”
He shook his head. “My mother was Darilyn Taranger, the sister of Laran Krakenshield, Princess Marla’s first husband.”
Ameel Parkesh’s inexplicable capitulation suddenly made sense. Care to wager on who the High Prince is more likely to believe if I tell him I’ve uncovered a conspiracy? What Xanda Taranger was really saying to the moneylender was: Who do you think the High Prince will believe—a common-born moneylender or his sister’s nephew? No wonder Parkesh had given in so easily.
“You’ve met the princess, I suppose?”
“Well, of course.”
“And doesn’t she strike you as being manipulative and cold?”
“Certainly not!”
Luciena rose to her feet and glared down at the young man, angered by his irrational defence of someone so heartless and cruel. She was angry that Princess Marla had paid her debt, too. She was now effectively a slave to the princess, just as she would have been Ameel’s slave if she’d defaulted on him.
Suddenly, the moneylender didn’t seem so awful. At least, with him, she’d know when the rape was over. This way, she might be paying for the rest of her life.
“Princess Marla left us to starve, Lieutenant. Your precious aunt married my father, stole his fortune and left my mother no choice but to borrow money from men like Ameel Parkesh, just so we could eat. She promised my father the world when she married him. She promised I’d be adopted into her family. That I’d have a family. But she lied. She waited until he died and then turned her back on every promise she made. That’s the real Princess Marla. The one you don’t see across the dining table.”
She turned on her heel and walked across the small gravelled clearing, the pain of her disappointment still raw, even after all these years. And she was furious with herself for trying to defend her position with somebody as stupidly loyal as the princess’s own nephew. I knew he was too good to be true.
“Do you know why Princess Marla never tried to keep her promise to legitimise you before now, Luciena?” he called after her.
She hesitated, wondering how Xanda Taranger had known about that, then turned back to look at him. He was still sitting on the bench, watching her curiously.
“Because she’s a liar and a thief?”
Xanda smiled. “Other than that.”
“I was too much of an embarrassment to her, I suppose.”
“Legitimising you meant adopting you into her family,” the young man explained.
“I know that—”
“Which meant taking you from your mother,” he added, cutting her off before she could object.
“You were nine years old when your father married my aunt and barely eleven when he died. Princess Marla held off keeping her promise because you’d just lost your father and she didn’t think it fair to take your mother from you, too. And make no mistake about it, Luciena. Adopting you into the royal family would have meant you never laid eyes on your court’esa mother again. Katira Keyne was a slave. The insult to the princess would have been unconscionable if she’d openly remained in a position of privilege as your father’s mistress or the mother of his child. Your mother only kept this house because you lived here. If you’d been taken from her, she would have been sold, the house would have been closed up and you would never have seen her again.”
“So Her Royal Sweetness and Light let us fall into ruin out of the goodness of her heart? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Xanda shook his head impatiently. “Your father left you nothing, Luciena. You’re his illegitimate child. And he couldn’t leave your mother anything. She was a slave. Who do you think arranged the stipend you’ve been receiving since your father died?”
“Nobody,” Luciena pointed out tartly. “That’s how we fell into ruin.”
“There was plenty of money coming in, Luciena. Marla made certain of it. She merely siphoned it through Farlian Kell so it couldn’t be traced back to her. And it was more than enough to keep you in the manner to which you were accustomed. Your mother’s gambling brought you undone, not anything Princess Marla did.”
“My mother’s gambling?” she sputtered indignantly. “Is that your excuse? Suddenly my mother has a gambling problem?”
“If you want
proof, go ask your good friend, Ameel Parkesh. He didn’t get the papers on this house because of his charm and wit, you know.”
Luciena shook her head in denial, more than a little annoyed that he seemed to know so much about her private family matters. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth, Luciena. Whether you believe me or not won’t actually change it.”
“I spoke to Farlian Kell this morning. He said nothing about any money coming from the princess. In fact, he insisted it was part of my father’s will.”
“You seem to forget Kell works for my aunt. He’ll tell you anything he’s told to.”
“But I’ve known him all my life. Why would he lie to me?”
“Given a choice between keeping you happy and keeping Marla Wolf-blade happy, I know which one I’d choose.”
She glared at him, incensed that he could sit there so calmly while he shattered every delicate myth Luciena believed in. She knew her mother liked to gamble, but then so did most of the adult population of Greenharbour. Now she was forced to wonder if the chips her mother gambled when she played cards with her friends were simply wooden tokens, as Katira always insisted, or did they represent real money—real money they didn’t actually have? Was that how the papers on their house had wound up in the hands of Ameel Parkesh?
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to meet my aunt. Give her a chance.” He rose to his feet and took a step towards her. “And stop jumping to conclusions.”
“There’s nothing you can say to me that will change my mind,” Luciena warned, knowing she had little choice but to agree. She’d been sold along with her debts and, for all intents and purposes, she belonged to Princess Marla now, a slave in fact if not in name. But she wasn’t going to be hurt twice by the lure of a bright future full of false promises.
“I’m not trying to change your mind, Miss Mariner. I’ll be content if you just come along quietly.”
“She sent you here to bring me to her, didn’t she?”
“No. This time, the Palace Guard came in response to your devoted slave’s panicked insistence that the house had just been overrun by scores of evil, hairy brutes all determined to ravish you both.”
Despite herself, Luciena smiled. “Aleesha does have a tendency to exaggerate.”
“I’m glad she did. It’s nice to be asked to rescue a pretty girl every once in a while.”
To her horror, Luciena discovered she was blushing. She turned away from him, the compliment so unexpected she was left speechless.
“Of course, seeing as how I did rescue you,” he continued, “I think I deserve a boon, don’t you?”
They’re all the same, she thought, squaring her shoulders angrily as she turned back to face him.
Just because he was younger and marginally better looking, it didn’t make him any nobler than Ameel Parkesh. In the end, all men wanted the same thing. Her mother had warned her about that.
“Let me guess?” she asked scathingly. “You want a kiss, I suppose? Or did you also wish to discover if my mother taught me all the skills for which she was so rightly famous?”
Xanda seemed more than a little amused by her question. “Well . . . um . . . I probably wouldn’t refuse a kiss, Miss Mariner, if you felt that strongly about it. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little curious to discover what your mother taught you, but I actually had something a little less . . .
physical . . . in mind.”
She felt the blood rush to her face once more, as she realised how badly she’d misjudged him.
“What . . . what did you want from me then?”
“I want you to come back to the palace with me. To meet Princess Marla.”
“Suppose I refuse?”
“Then . . . I’ll arrest you.” Xanda laughed, as if he knew how embarrassed she was. “And deliver you to the princess in chains.”
“Arrest me for what?” she asked warily, not entirely certain he was joking. “Plotting against the High Prince like you threatened Ameel Parkesh?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. If not, I’m sure I’ll have thought of something else by the time we get back to the palace.”
What must it be like, she wondered for a moment, to be so damned sure of yourself? To be so certain of your place in the world, as Xanda Taranger seems to be? So secure? So certain the world can’t change from a dream to a living nightmare in the space of a mere day?
“I’ll come,” she conceded with a great deal of reluctance. “But I am doing this under protest.
You may inform Princess Marla that I want no part of her plans for me or my future.”
“You can tell her yourself,” Xanda replied, stepping back as he raised his arm and pointed to the path heading back to the house, indicating she could go first. “After you.”
It wasn’t chivalry, Luciena knew, that prompted his elegant bow. Xanda Taranger wasn’t trying to be a gentleman. He was simply making sure she couldn’t run away.
Chapter 7
Marla Wolfblade rose to her feet as the door to her private sitting room opened. The whole house was stuffy this afternoon; the humidity almost unbearable. Greenharbour was always like this just before the rains settled in. The princess was counting the hours until she could leave the city and head north to Krakandar, where at least it cooled down at night and one wasn’t constantly bathed in perspiration.
As her visitor approached, Marla smiled warmly. She didn’t need to rise. Marla was a princess and the young woman being shown into her presence was a commoner, but she wanted to make a good impression. Marla wanted the girl to like her.
The princess stepped forward as the young woman reached the low table surrounded by brightly coloured silk cushions, looking her up and down with the same considering look the girl gave her. Neither of them spoke.
Dressed in a modest but well-cut gown of pale blue silk, Luciena Mariner was pretty rather than beautiful—the prettiness of youth and vitality, rather than the result of good breeding or a particularly fine bone structure. She was a little exotic-looking, Marla thought, with dark eyes and dusky skin that betrayed her Fardohnyan heritage. The girl’s mother had been a court’esa of Fardohnyan ancestry, and reputedly a very beautiful one. Marla had only rumour and gossip to rely on for that opinion. Although the woman had lived barely three blocks away in the house provided by Luciena’s late father, it was inconceivable that a slave who’d borne one of Marla’s husbands a bastard would ever be allowed in the presence of the princess.
“Your highness,” Luciena said eventually, with a graceful curtsey. Although common, she’d had the best education Marla could arrange, and that included the social niceties as well as the more traditional subjects.
“Luciena.”
“Is ‘your highness’ the correct form of address?” the girl enquired. “Or would you prefer that I call you ‘mother’?”
Marla smiled. The girl was either very brave or very foolish to declare herself with such hostility within a moment of meeting the person who could make or break her. “Did you want to call me mother?”
“I am at your highness’s mercy,” she replied in a tone that was anything but subservient.
“Yes, Luciena,” Marla agreed. “You are.”
Marla let that sink in for a moment as she reached across to the side table and rang the small silver bell resting there. The chimes had barely faded before the doors opened and a legion of slaves hurried into the room with refreshments stacked on several delicately wrought silver carts. They laid out the sliced fruits, the jellied meats and the chilled wine on the table in the centre of the room and then retreated silently, closing the door behind them.
“Please,” Marla invited with a sweep of her arm. “Won’t you join me?”
Luciena took her place on the cushions opposite Marla, studying the princess warily.
“Help yourself,” Marla suggested.
“Thank you, your highness, but I think I’d rather know what I must do to repay
the debt I now seem to owe you.”
Marla reached forward and picked up a slice of melon. It was sweet and beaded with condensation, kept cool in the deep cellars of the palace with snow brought in from the Sunrise Mountains during winter.
“Think no more of the debt. I have no need or wish to be repaid. I simply thought it was about time you and I got to know each other.”
“You never felt the need while my father was alive,” the young woman pointed out stiffly. “He’s been dead for six years and you have taken another husband. I can’t see that I matter to you at all.”
“On the contrary, Luciena. You matter to me a great deal.”
“You have an odd way of demonstrating your regard, your highness.”
The girl’s self-righteous manner was rather irritating. “You must understand, Luciena, it was protocol that dictated we could not meet before now. There was enough of a scandal when I married your father. The High Prince’s sister married to a commoner? There were dowager ladies fainting all over Greenharbour at the very thought of it. Acknowledging his baseborn child would have been going too far, even for a court as supposedly open-minded as this one.”
“Then why did you marry my father? You never loved him.”
“Your father owned nearly a quarter of the entire Hythrun shipping fleet, Luciena. Common-born or not, he was one of the richest men in Hythria.”
“So you admit that you married him for his money?”
“I tried marrying for love once. It was an unmitigated disaster.”
“But . . .,” Luciena stammered, obviously taken aback. “I . . . I don’t understand.”
“You are your father’s heir, Luciena.”
“I’m baseborn,” she reminded Marla. “I can’t inherit anything because you broke your promise to legitimise me.”
“I broke nothing,” Marla corrected, taking another slice of melon. “I’m simply working to my timetable, not yours. And, if I so choose, I can still arrange for you to inherit your father’s fortune. On three conditions.”
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