“No you’re not, Captain. I need you here.”
“R’shiel needs me.”
“There is nothing you can do for her, Tarja,” Jenga reminded him with cold practicality. “It would take you weeks to reach the Citadel and for all you know she’s already dead.”
Tarja’s eyes blazed defiantly, but he could not deny Jenga’s logic. “That’s it then? We just roll over and die? Shall we send an emissary to the Kariens with our surrender, or were you planning to do the honours yourself, my Lord?”
“I don’t think we should do anything just yet,” Damin advised. “Who else knows about this?”
“Just the three of us at present.”
“Then let’s keep it that way for a little bit longer. I want to have a word with Her Serene Highness, first.”
“What can she tell you that we don’t already know?” Jenga asked. He did not baulk at holding off carrying out his orders, Damin noticed with relief.
“I’m not sure. I just have a funny feeling about this. I’ll tell you after I’ve spoken with her. Can you have her brought to my tent?”
“She’s right up those stairs, Damin,” Tarja pointed out. “Why not just go up and ask her now?”
“I want this discussion to take place on my territory, not hers.”
It was a measure of his distress that Tarja didn’t even smile.
An hour or so later, two Defenders arrived in the Hythrun camp escorting Adrina. Damin had spent the intervening time mentally rehearsing what he was going to say.
He had not quite recovered from their last encounter. Adrina had caught him unawares, and that irked him no end. What really annoyed him was that he had been expecting her to try something like that ever since he first laid eyes on her and had steeled himself against it. He knew her background too well. Knew that if she couldn’t get her own way by demanding it, she would eventually resort to using her body. But she took him by surprise and he’d reacted exactly as she’d wanted him to. His only comfort was that she seemed to have been as unnerved by the incident as he was.
When she arrived, Adrina was dressed for warmth, rather than effect, wrapped in the woollen shirt he had given her and a warm Defender’s cloak. Her skin was flushed from the walk, her dark hair piled loosely on top of her head. Gods, she was stunning. He wondered why he’d never noticed how green her eyes were. Dark lashes almost too long to be real framed eyes the colour of cut emeralds. Damin mentally berated himself for a fool as she shook off the cloak and stepped up to the brazier to warm her outstretched hands.
“You wanted to see me, my Lord?”
“I thought we might continue our discussion from the other night.”
“Which one?” she asked calmly. “The one about Cratyn’s intentions, or the one about us?”
“There is no us, your Highness, so I guess that leaves Cratyn.”
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Then tell me again.”
“I don’t see the point.”
“You don’t have to.”
Adrina’s eyes narrowed cannily. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry, I’m being very remiss as a host. Can I offer you some wine?” He turned his back, reaching for the jug on his writing desk.
“Don’t avoid the question, Damin. What’s happened?”
He poured the wine and turned back to her. “The Medalonians have been ordered to surrender.”
Now why had he told her that?
Her face was a portrait of shock. He doubted even Adrina could fake such a genuine reaction. “In the name of Zegarnald, why? They’re winning!”
“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call this stalemate winning,” he said as he handed her the wine. “But they certainly aren’t in danger of imminent defeat.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“Neither do I. That’s what I wanted to see you about. Could this have anything to do with Setenton’s absence from the front?”
“It might,” she nodded thoughtfully. “I thought it a little odd that Jasnoff sent Cratyn to the border without Terbolt. But the Kariens are very big on honour and distinguishing themselves in battle. I always supposed he wanted to give Cratyn a chance to prove himself to the Dukes.”
“If he’s behind this sudden turnabout, that would explain it. What about the treaty with your father?”
Adrina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “What I told you before was the truth, or most of it. Father agreed to invade Medalon from the south come summer, and to supply the Kariens with cannon.”
“Cannon? Are they really as devastating as they claim?”
She nodded grimly. “The truth? They’re proving more trouble than they’re worth. They blow up when you least expect it, only work sometimes and we still haven’t found the right sort of alloy that won’t split after a few shots and kill the men manning the guns. My father’s cannon are as much the result of clever rumours as they are fact.”
“I see. And what does Hablet get in return for all this?”
“Gold and timber. Lots and lots of it.”
“I know your father’s greedy, Adrina, but there has to be more to it than that.”
“The prize is Hythria, Damin,” she said softly. “I thought you’d already worked that out for yourself.”
He stared at her for a moment, wondering why she had chosen this moment to reveal Hablet’s plans. “Hablet doesn’t need the Kariens to invade Hythria.”
“No, but he needs the Defenders occupied. You know as well as I do how futile it’s been, trying to attack Hythria over the Sunrise Mountains. There are only a few navigable passes and they can be defended by a handful of men against the entire Fardohnyan army. A naval invasion would be just as futile. Your ports are too well defended. Hythria’s only vulnerable point is the border with Medalon. If the Medalonians had territorial ambitions, you’d have been overrun a century ago.”
“So Hablet plans to turn south, once he reaches Medalon.”
“And you’ve made the job even easier for him. Your province borders Medalon. You’re supposed to be Hythria’s first line of defence.”
Damin really didn’t need Adrina pointing out his tactical error at that point. He was more than capable of punishing himself for being so arrogant.
“Did your father know anything about the Karien plans for Medalon?”
“If you mean, was he expecting them to surrender, of course not. His entire strategy is based on the Kariens keeping the Defenders off his back. Hablet doubts the Defenders would care if he invaded Hythria, one way or the other, but they’re likely to take a very dim view of him marching through Medalon to do it, particularly since they allied themselves with you, Damin.”
That was the second time today she had called him by name. He wondered if she realised that she was doing it.
“And if Medalon surrenders?”
“Jasnoff will have time to wonder what my father is up to. The Kariens are religious fanatics. It’s bad enough the entire southern half of the continent is devoted to pagan worship. They certainly don’t want it united under one crown. Hablet will invade Hythria and Karien will follow to stop him. Either way, Hythria will lose. Your only hope is to keep me safe from the Kariens.”
Damin smiled. It was amazing the way she could twist any situation to her advantage. “Exactly how would that make a difference?”
“Any child of mine by Cratyn would have a claim on Hablet’s throne. With Medalon defeated, if Hablet ruled Fardohnya and Hythria, the Kariens would own the entire continent on his death.”
“A death that would be sooner, rather than later, knowing the Kariens.” Damin shook his head at the vast scope of the Karien plans for world dominance. Or perhaps they were Xaphista’s plans.
And the demon child, the only one who could stop him, was probably dead.
“An heir and a spare – and I too become surplus to requirements,” she reminded him grimly.
He studied her for a moment, wonderin
g if he was seeing the real Adrina for the first time. The woman whose life depended on staying one step ahead of the men who controlled her. Her father. Her husband. Even him. Every one of them was trying to use her to further their own ambitions.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me, Adrina?”
She sipped her wine, looking at him over the rim of her cup. “Haven’t I told you enough?”
“That depends on what critical piece of information you’re holding back.”
She lowered the cup and smiled. “You’re the most suspicious man I’ve ever met.”
“With just cause, around you.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Damin, but you know just about everything I do.”
“It’s the ‘just about’ that concerns me.”
“I’ve nothing to gain by lying to you. If Medalon surrenders, I will be returned to Karien. I would rather die.”
Oddly, he believed her. If what she had told him was true, the Kariens would allow her to live long enough to produce the requisite heir – and not a moment longer. She had already betrayed them once. They wouldn’t be so lax in their vigilance a second time.
Then something else occurred to him, which changed his opinion of her rather radically.
“Cratyn’s impotence was all your fault, wasn’t it? You didn’t want to give him an heir to your father’s throne.”
The question startled her at first, then she smiled smugly. “As you pointed out the first time we spoke, my Lord, an inexperienced Karien princeling is no match for a court’esa-trained Fardohnyan princess.”
“It seems I’ve misjudged you, your Highness.”
“Something else I warned you about.”
He refused to acknowledge her reprimand. “More wine?”
“Thank you, no. I’ve learnt the folly of consuming too much Medalonian wine on an empty stomach.” She held out her empty cup. “I should be going. Was there anything else you wanted?”
He took the cup from her outstretched hand. “Untie your shirt.”
“What?”
Damin smiled. “Untie your shirt.”
“You have got to kidding.”
“I’ve never been more serious. Untie your shirt, or I’ll do it for you.”
She glared at him, but to her credit, she didn’t back away. “You lay one finger on me and I’ll —”
“What? Scream?” he finished with a laugh. “You’re in the middle of my camp, Adrina. Who’s going to come to your rescue?”
“I’ll gouge your eyes out if you touch me.”
He shrugged and turned his back on her, replacing the empty cups on the desk. “As you wish. I was under the impression you wanted that slave collar off. I must have been mistaken.”
He waited with his back to her. She was silent for a very long time.
“You could have said that’s what you were planning.”
“And miss seeing you squirm like that?” he asked with a grin as he turned back to her. “I don’t think so. So, shall we start again? Untie your shirt. I can’t get to the thing with you bundled up like that.”
“Just give me the keys and I’ll do it myself.”
“No. And for being so uncooperative now you’re going to have to say please.”
“You are the most unbelievable bastard.”
“I know.”
She stepped around the brazier and the cushions, unlacing the shirt as she went. By the time she reached him the shirt was open far enough to expose the collar and a tantalising glimpse of pale throat – and not a thing more.
“There! Just take the damned thing off!”
“Say please.”
“Please!” Her eyes burned with fury.
Getting that much out of her was something of an achievement, so Damin decided not to push his luck. She might still try to gouge his eyes out, just on principal.
He took her hand and pulled her closer, then slid his fingers under the collar. Lernen had only shown him once how the catch worked, and he wasn’t at all certain he could find it. The jeweller who had designed the collars was a craftsman and they were manufactured to prevent a clever slave finding the means for their emancipation. Adrina closed her eyes rather than meet his. It was very distracting, holding her so close. He could feel her hot breath on his face, smell the faint perfume of the soap she used to wash her hair.
He found the catch and heard it open with a faint snick. Adrina heard it too. She opened her eyes, a little surprised to find herself so close to him. She looked up, met his eyes.
Later, Damin couldn’t say who moved first. One moment she was staring at him with those impressive green eyes. The next he was kissing her and she was kissing him back. The collar tumbled forgotten to the floor. It was almost as if she wanted to devour him. He cursed the layers of winter clothing they both wore as she tore at the lacing on his shirt. There was no logic to this, no rational thought.
“This is insane,” Adrina gasped between kisses, as she fumbled with the buckle on his sword belt. “I hate you.”
The sword belt dropped to the floor with a clatter. “I hate you too.”
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she added as she pulled the shirt over his head.
“We’ll talk about it later,” he promised as her shirt fell away, exposing her glorious pale breasts. They fell onto the scattered cushions beside the brazier. Adrina landed astride him. Her hair had come loose and it fell about them in an ebony wave that cut off the rest of the tent so that it was only Adrina that he could see. It was only Adrina that he wanted to see, in any case.
“Damin?”
He pulled her down and kissed her, but she pulled back impatiently.
“Damin!”
“You’re not going to ask me to be gentle, are you?”
She smiled wickedly. “No. I only want one thing from you, my Lord.”
“Name it, your Highness.”
Her smile faded, replaced with a look of unexpected savagery. “Make me forget Cratyn.”
The request did not surprise him nearly as much as her vehemence. But he understood it. “Say please.”
“Go to hell.”
He laughed softly and drew her down again. Before long it was doubtful if either of them could recall their own names, let alone the name of Adrina’s husband.
Chapter 49
“You did what?”
Tarja wondered if he’d mis-heard the warlord. He glanced across at Damin and feared he hadn’t.
They were supposed to be riding out to inspect the border troops, but Tarja realised now that Damin’s suggestion had merely been a ruse. He wanted to break the news to Tarja out of the hearing of the rest of the camp. The Hythrun was looking rather shamefaced with all of the things that had gone wrong in the past few days, this was one complication they could have done without.
“You heard me.”
“Founders, Damin, she’s the wife of the Karien Crown Prince!”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I thought you couldn’t stand her?”
“I can’t. Look, it’s... complicated. It’s hard to explain.”
“Well you’d better think of something,” Tarja warned. “I imagine Jenga’s going to want a fairly detailed explanation when she complains that you raped her.”
“I never raped her!” Damin declared, offended by the very suggestion. “Her Serene Highness was a very willing participant, I can assure you.”
Tarja shook his head doubtfully. “Even so, when she’s had time to think about it, she might change her mind. Just because you didn’t throw her on the ground and tear her clothes off, doesn’t mean she won’t claim you did.”
“Perhaps I should get in first,” Damin suggested with a grin. “She was the one tearing at my clothes, after all.”
“Be serious!”
The Warlord sighed and reined his stallion in. He studied the snow dotted plain for a moment before turning to Tarja. Their breath frosted in the early morning light. The sun had risen over the rim of
the Jagged Mountains, but the day was overcast, threatening more snow.
“Is Jenga planning to surrender?”
Tarja shrugged. “I wish I knew. He’s torn between duty and reason at present.”
“I have to leave, Tarja.”
“I expected as much,” he agreed without rancour. “It’s the Defenders who are being ordered to surrender, not the Hythrun.”
“I’d have to go in any case,” Damin told him. “Hablet’s planning to invade Hythria. I need to be in Krakandar.”
“Adrina told you that?”
He nodded. “She confirmed it, but I’ve suspected that was his ultimate goal ever since I first heard of the Karien-Fardohnyan Treaty. If the Defenders surrender to Karien, there’ll be nothing stopping him.”
“Did Adrina tell you this before or after she tore your clothes off?”
Damin looked at him and smiled sourly. “I deserved that, I suppose. But I’m the Hythrun Heir, Tarja. I can’t sit here minding your border while the Fardohnyans pour over mine.”
“I understand, and so will Jenga.”
“I didn’t doubt that, Tarja, but are you going to be so understanding when I tell you Adrina is coming with me?”
In light of the Warlord’s recent admission, the news did not surprise him. However, that didn’t make it any more palatable.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Damin. If we surrender to Karien, the first thing they’ll do is demand her return. And if we don’t surrender, she’ll make a very useful hostage.”
“I won’t allow you to return her to Karien, Tarja.”
“You slept with her once, Damin. I hardly think that warrants throwing her over your saddle and riding off into the sunset with her.”
Damin grinned. “Poetic as it may seem, Tarja, my reasons are far more pragmatic. Should Adrina and Cratyn have a child, it would have a claim on both the Karien and Fardohnyan thrones. I don’t intend to let that happen.”
“As opposed to a child with a claim on both the Fardohnyan and Hythrun thrones,” he pointed out. “Or had that minor detail escaped you?”
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