Three figures appeared at the top of the palace steps as they approached. Adrina knew the woman on the left. They had met before, on her only other visit to Hythria. Dressed in black, the diamond-shaped symbol of her office winking in the sunlight, Adrina recognised her as Kalan, High Arrion of the Sorcerers' Collective, Damin's half-sister. The man on the left looked sufficiently like Kalan to be her twin, so she guessed this was Narvell Hawksword, the Warlord of Elasapine, although his gold-chased breastplate, with its swooping hawk, would have given away his identity.
She did not recognise the woman in the middle. She was shorter than the man and woman who flanked her, but carried herself as if the world lay at her feet, waiting for her command. Adrina envied her poise, while wondering who she was. Her fair hair was flecked with silver but her skin was unlined. She studied Damin and the two women who rode beside him with dark, watchful eyes.
Damin dismounted at the foot of the steps and, without waiting for Adrina or R'shiel, took them two at a time until he reached the top. He swept the older woman up and hugged her.
“Mother!”
Adrina hesitated and glanced at R'shiel, but the demon child had obviously not heard of the fearsome reputation of Princess Marla of Hythria.
“Put me down, Damin! You smell like a horse!”
Damin laughed and turned to Kalan, who took a step backward. “Don't you dare touch me! I agree with mother, I can smell you from here!”
“Fine greeting I get! Months away from home and all you can do is complain about how I smell.”
“Don't worry, brother. Within a day they'll have you drowned in perfume and then it'll be your men complaining about the stench,” Narvell chuckled.
Damin embraced his half-brother warmly then held him at arm's length for a moment. “It's good to see you, Narvell. I don't know what you're doing here, but you're a welcome sight. I damned near fell off my horse when I saw your troops marching out of the palace gates to hold back the crowd. Did you get greedy while I was gone and invade me?”
“We can discuss what he's doing here later,” Princess Marla announced abruptly, then turned her piercing gaze on Adrina and R'shiel. “In the meantime, you can introduce me to your companions.”
Damin knew better than to argue with her. He turned and beckoned R'shiel forward. “Princess Marla, Lady Kalan, Lord Hawksword, may I introduce Her Royal Highness, Princess R'shiel té Ortyn.”
Adrina wasn't sure who was more surprised at the declaration of her full title, R'shiel or the trio on the steps. Kalan's jaw dropped. Narvell looked puzzled. Marla stared at her openly then arched her brow elegantly. “té Ortyn, did you say? I only know of one té Ortyn family.”
“Then you understand the importance of our guest,” Damin replied meaningfully with a glance at the troops who lined the steps and could hear every word they said.
Marla's eyes narrowed. She understood exactly. “Of course. Forgive me. You are most welcome, Your Highness.”
“Thank you,” R'shiel replied, looking rather uncomfortable. Damin would receive a tongue-lashing later, Adrina suspected. R'shiel was not fond of her status as the demon child - and was even less keen to be reminded that her father had been a Harshini King. A few months among the Harshini had not completely eradicated a lifetime of prejudice instilled in her by the Sisters of the Blade.
“And this,” Damin announced, holding his hand out to Adrina, “is my wife.”
“Your wife?” Kalan gasped. It was plain she recognised Adrina.
She accepted his hand and stepped up beside him. “Adrina, I'd like you to meet my mother, Princess Marla; my brother, Narvell; and I believe you already know my sister, Kalan.”
“Adrina?” Marla remarked, looking Adrina over coldly. “That's a Fardohnyan name and I only know of one Fardohnyan Adrina. Please tell me this is not the one I've heard of?”
“Perhaps we could continue this discussion in private?” Damin suggested, before his mother could get too worked up. Adrina was a little taken aback by her reaction. She was hardly expecting a warm welcome, but Princess Marla seemed quite appalled. She wisely remained silent, letting Damin deal with his mother.
“I think we'd better,” Narvell agreed. He waved his arm and men rushed forward to take their horses. Almodavar dismissed his men and they were led inside to the marble-floored foyer of the palace. Tamylan and the two Karien boys looked a little lost until Almodavar took them under his command and ushered them away.
Marla led the way into the palace, her slippers silent on the highly polished floor. Eventually they reached a pair of ornately carved doors at the far end of the main hall. She threw them open and marched inside, turning as soon as Narvell closed the doors behind them.
“So, you are Adrina of Fardohnya?” she accused without preamble.
“Yes, Your Highness, I —”
“I thought you were married to Cratyn of Karien?”
“I was, but —”
“How in the name of the gods did you happen to marry my son?”
“I —”
“Mother!”
“Have you lost your mind, Damin!” Marla demanded, turning on him. “Whatever she did to trap you into this marriage, it must be undone immediately! I will not jeopardise everything we have worked for, just because you were taken in by some Fardohnyan whore!”
“If you would let me explain...”
“Explain? You think you can offer any explanation that will satisfy me? And while you're at it, you might like to think of what you're planning to tell your uncle and the Warlords! Lernen will have a fit when he hears of this. I can't begin to think of what the Warlords are going to say!”
“Mother —”
“All my life I have done nothing but try to secure your throne. It was bad enough your abandoning your province to go chasing off to Medalon. Your unauthorised and ill-timed treaty with the Defenders had the Warlords howling for your blood. And now, after I spend months trying to win them over on your behalf, you throw it all away for the sake of a woman. And a foreigner at that!” She turned suddenly and glared at Adrina. “No, not just any foreigner! You had to go and marry the most notorious harlot on the whole continent!”
Adrina looked to Damin for support. He sat on the edge of the gold-inlaid desk, listening to his mother's rage with barely concealed amusement. It annoyed her intensely that instead of defending her he thought it was funny.
“Are you finished yet?” R'shiel asked quietly, from the back of the room. She had been studying the books in the bookcases that lined the walls of the study, but now she turned to them, the command in her voice impossible to deny.
Marla glared at her. She was not used to having her authority challenged.
“And who are you to tell me what to do?”
“I am R'shiel té Ortyn.”
“So you claim!” the Princess scoffed. “You're no Harshini! What right do you have to use the name of the Harshini royal family?”
“Lorandranek was my father.”
“That's absurd!” Kalan declared. “You're human. If Lorandranek was your father, that would make you the...” Her voiced trailed off as she realised what she was about to say.
“Yes?” R'shiel prompted.
“It's not possible!”
“You of all people, should know that it is possible,” Damin pointed out.
“What are you talking about, Damin?” Narvell asked.
“Tell him, Kalan.”
Kalan glanced at her twin and shrugged. “If this young woman is really who she claims to be, then she is... the demon child.”