Treason Keep (37 page)

Mikel was chattering away to Dace about the eggs they had stolen when he suddenly realised that his friend was no longer with him. He looked around the crowded camp, puzzled. Dace was nowhere to be seen.

Mikel sighed, used to Dace’s odd disappearances by now. He did that sort of thing a lot. One minute he was there and the next he was gone. Still, it wasn’t that important. Mikel knew the way to the old herb woman’s place where the eggs were safely nestled in an old shawl in the corner of her tent. He was far more interested in them, anyway. The chicks should hatch any day now and he was as excited as any expectant father.

He turned into the street beside Will Barley’s tavern tent and stopped dead as a familiar figure emerged from the old woman’s tent. Mikel bit back a startled cry and slipped back between the tavern tent and the tent beside it.
What was Tarja doing in the old woman’s tent? Had he discovered the eggs?

Even Mikel knew that stealing a clutch of swallow’s eggs wouldn’t warrant the attention of a
Defender.
Perhaps he was sickening for something and had gone to see Draginya for a cure?
Then something truly dreadful occurred to him. Perhaps Tarja had discovered that Mikel spent most of his afternoons with Dace and had come looking for him. The only reason Tarja would seek him out was to punish him, Mikel was certain.
What would he do? Would Jaymes lose a finger because of his brother’s folly?
That he had disowned his brother as a traitor was momentarily forgotten.

He waited anxiously, filled with trepidation as Tarja moved off between the tents. When he was sure the Defender wouldn’t turn back, he hurried to the old woman’s tent and slipped inside.

“Did he hurt you?” Mikel demanded as soon as the flap closed behind him.

Draginya sat in her chair by the smoking brazier from where she hardly ever seemed to move; at least in Mikel’s company.

“Did who hurt me, child?” She sounded surprised by his question.

“Tarja.”

Her face creased into a wrinkled frown. “You speak with too much hatred for a child.”

“That’s because he’s a monster!”

“Your ignorance blinds you, boy. Tarja is the appointed lover of the demon child. He is destined for great things.”

Mikel stared at her. “Says who?”

“The gods, of course. Hasn’t
your
god explained these things?”

“The Overlord doesn’t speak to the likes of me. He only speaks to the priests and stuff.”

Draginya nodded sadly. “That is a great shame.”

“Anyway,” Mikel added, rather put out by the old woman’s pitying tone. “Tarja’s a Medalonian. That makes him an atheist. Even if
I
believed what you say about the other gods, he wouldn’t.”

“Tarja knows the gods exist, Mikel. He simply choses not to worship them. The Primal Gods like to have believers, but they don’t need them. You honoured Dacendaran when you stole those eggs. Whether you believe in him or not doesn’t enter into it.”

“We never stole anything!”

“You removed those eggs from their rightful owner without permission. That defines theft, don’t you think?”

“But we wanted to save the chicks,” he protested.

“If you kill one man to save another, it is still killing, Mikel. Good intentions don’t alter the nature of an event.”

“Then I betrayed the Overlord,” he concluded, sinking down to the floor beside Draginya’s stool. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the old woman scolded. “You are a child, Mikel, and far too young to concern yourself with visions of doom and eternal damnation. Live life to the full and follow the god of your heart, not the tired litanies of grown-ups whose desire for power has a lot more to do with their faith than what their god might want.”

“That’s blasphemy.”

“No, it’s wisdom. When you’re as old as I am, you get to call everything wisdom. Now go check on your eggs and be off with you. I’m tired and I have to start packing.”

“You’re leaving?
Why?
” Mikel was much less concerned about the old woman travelling in winter than he was about his eggs. If she left, what would he do with them?

“Because your people will be here soon. They’ll take one look at me and burn me for a witch, I’m certain.”

“You mean there’ll be another battle? One that Prince Cratyn will win?”

She shook her head and placed a withered hand on his shoulder. “The battle has been fought and lost far from this place, child. The Defenders have been ordered to surrender.”

All thought of eggs fled Mikel’s mind as the news sunk in.
The Defenders were going to surrender! Jaymes would be released and brought back into the arms of the Overlord.

And best of all, he thought happily, Princess Adrina wouldn’t have to pretend to hate Prince Cratyn any more.

Mikel hurried back through the camp, his heart lighter than it had been for months. Any day now, Prince Cratyn would cross the border in triumph. Karien had won. Tarja would be hung for the criminal he was. The Overlord had made the Medalonians surrender with hardly a drop of blood spilt. (He conveniently forgot the massacre resulting from the only serious Karien incursion into Medalon.) It didn’t matter what happened now. It didn’t matter what they did to him. The Overlord was truly omnipotent, just like the priests said.

He skirted the edge of the camp and wound his way back through the corrals, taking the route closest
to the Hythrun stables. He always took the same route. Dace claimed it was in the hope of catching sight of his brother—a charge Mikel vehemently denied. It was simply the easiest way back, he insisted, ignoring Dace’s knowing smirk.

This time, however, he actively searched for his brother. He had to give him the news, quite certain that as soon as Jaymes learnt his own people would soon be here, he would see the error of his ways. Mikel was thrilled by the prospect and burning to share it with someone.

Jaymes was nowhere to be found, but as he stuck his head cautiously around the corner of the first stable block, he spied someone who deserved to hear the news even more.

Adrina was alone, brushing down a gorgeous golden mare, talking to the beast softly as she worked. There was nobody else around, not even a guard. Mikel chose to think of that as a sign from the Overlord, rather than the more obvious conclusion—that she wasn’t guarded because they didn’t consider her in need of one.

“Your Highness!” he hissed loudly.

Adrina turned and frowned when she caught sight of him.

“Mikel? What are you doing hiding over there?”

He slipped into the stable and ran to her, dropping to one knee as he had seen the Fardohnyan lanceman do after the battle. The gesture had struck him as being terribly noble.

“Your Highness, I have the most wonderful news!”

“Have you now? Do tell.”

“Medalon has surrendered, your Highness. Prince Cratyn will be here any day. We are to be rescued!”

Mikel looked up, expecting to see relief and happiness radiating from her in equal measure. He was disappointed to find her taking the news quite calmly.

“And where did you hear this startling piece of intelligence?” she asked.

“From the old herb woman in the camp. She’s already packing to leave for fear of the Overlord’s wrath.”

Adrina smiled. “Mikel, don’t you think if Medalon had surrendered, their troops might be told before some old herb woman? I’m sure she’s mistaken.”

“But she seemed so certain, your Highness. Even Tarja went to visit her.”

“Now that’s interesting,” Adrina agreed. “Do you know why?”

“The old woman said it was to talk to the God of Thieves, but I don’t believe her. There is only the Overlord, isn’t there?”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed absently.

“Aren’t you happy, your Highness?”

“I’m delirious with happiness,” she assured him. “It’s just not seemly that a woman in my position display extremes of emotion.”

He smiled with relief. He had forgotten how well mannered she was, how careful she was not to shame herself. It must have been so hard on her, having to pretend to be nice to everyone, while inside she was missing Prince Cratyn so badly.

“It will be alright, your Highness. Prince Cratyn will be here soon.”

“I can’t tell you what a comfort that is,” she said.

Mikel stood up beaming. To have been able to deliver such wonderful news to his lady was more than he could have hoped for in this dreadful place.

Adrina smiled down at him. “I thank you, Mikel, but shouldn’t you be getting along? The Defenders haven’t surrendered yet, and I’d hate for you to wear a beating on my account.”

“It won’t be long now, your Highness,” Mikel promised with an encouraging smile. He turned and ran from the stable, almost colliding with Lord Wolfblade. He yelped with astonishment and fled past the Warlord, praying he hadn’t been recognised.

A few paces from the stable, Mikel stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The Warlord had vanished inside. The princess was in there. Alone. It just wasn’t proper. He wavered with indecision for a moment and then headed back to the stable.

Mikel slipped back into the building silently, grateful for Dace’s instruction on how to sneak around without being noticed, and hid in the first empty stall he came to. It was close enough to hear what the Warlord said to the princess. The boy smiled expectantly. Now that she knew she was to be rescued soon, he fully expected Adrina to give him a piece of her mind.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Adrina looked over her shoulder. “When I was a child, the only thing we were ever allowed to do for ourselves, was groom our horses. Hablet thought it would teach us a responsibility.”

“And did it?”

She smiled. “Actually, I think it taught us more about the value of bribes. It was more fun trying to avoid the task than doing it.”

Damin walked up behind Adrina and placed his hand over hers as she brushed the animal with long slow strokes. He stood so close behind her that their bodies were touching. The princess didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch. Damin bent his head and touched his lips to her neck, just below her right ear. She arched her back and leaned into him.

“Stop that.”

“Why?”

“There’s no future in this, Damin. You know that as well as I.”

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. “Ah, that’s right, we hate each other, don’t we?”

She turned in his arms and touched her forehead to his. “You’re confusing lust with genuine feeling, my Lord.”

As if to give lie to her words, she kissed him. There was no mistaking it for anything else;
she
was definitely kissing
him
, not the other way around. Mikel almost bit through his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out his outrage.

“If that’s your idea of trying to make me stop, then the
court’esa
who trained you needs to be horsewhipped,” Damin laughed softly when they finally came up for air.

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’re about the most dangerous thing around. I don’t want you mistaking this affair for something it’s not.”