Narvell looked impressed by the news, but Marla was not so easily persuaded. “This girl? The demon child? Damin, they must have fed you something in the north that affected your reason. You surely don't believe it, do you?”
“R'shiel is the demon child, mother. She was placed in my care by Zegarnald himself.”
Kalan stared at him with astonishment. “You spoke to the God of War?”
“In the flesh.”
“He spoke to me, too,” Narvell admitted. “It's why I turned back.”
“This is unprecedented.”
“Everything about me is unprecedented,” R'shiel remarked. “So, if we're through with the histrionics, perhaps we can start again. Princess Marla, I think you owe your daughter-in-law an apology. She's really not that bad. As for you, High Arrion, you and I need to have a talk. Damin, can you do something about rooms for us? Your mother was right about that much at least - we all stink like horses. Perhaps once everyone has had a chance to clean up and calm down, we can sort this out like rational human beings.”
Princess Marla stared at R'shiel with undisguised horror, although whether it was because she found herself face-to-face with a legend, or simply R'shiel's high-handed manner, Adrina could not tell.
CHAPTER 12
Damin knocked on the door of the rooms adjacent to his that his Chief Steward had allocated to Adrina and opened it without waiting for an answer, a little surprised to find it unlocked.
The room had been his mother's once, on the rare occasions she had lived at Krakandar when he was a child. It was furnished in her impeccable taste: the rooms airy and light; the rugs imported from Karien; the crystal made in Fardohnya; the red granite floors polished to perfection. Not a piece of the whitewood furniture was out of place; not a vase or lamp did not belong here.
He followed the sound of voices through the sitting room and into the dressing room beyond. Adrina was standing before the full-length mirror, examining herself critically. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless robe that fell softly to the floor in a cascade of emerald silk. Her slave was moving about in the next room, tidying up after her mistress' bath. She turned sharply as she caught sight of her husband in the mirror.
“Damin!”
“I didn't mean to startle you.”
“Don't you know how to knock?”
“I did knock.”
“Oh...” She straightened her gown and studied him for a moment. “There's something different about you... I know what it is. I've never seen you so clean. You almost look civilised.”
Damin had not given much thought to what he wore. A white silk shirt, trousers and polished boots hardly seemed to warrant such admiration. But compliments, even backhanded ones, were a rare thing from Adrina, so he chose not to make an issue of it.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, thank you. Your sister sent along the dress. I don't know who it belonged to before me, but it's an adequate fit.”
“Well, if you need anything, just ask Orleon, my Chief Steward. He'll see that you get it.”
“Thank you.”
“I'll have a seamstress sent to you tomorrow. You're going to need a suitable wardrobe.”
An uncomfortable silence settled on them as Damin wondered how to broach the subject he'd come here to speak about. Adrina was a volatile and unpredictable woman. He had no way of knowing how she would react to what he had to say.
“I'm sorry about my mother. She shouldn't have spoken the way she did.”
“We both knew this wasn't going to be easy, Damin. Her reaction was nothing less than I expected.” She smiled suddenly, her eyes glinting. “I will console myself with the thought of my father's reaction when he hears about it. I imagine your mother will seem quite reasonable by comparison.”
“That's true,” he agreed, relieved things were going so well. “But, I do have a favour to ask.”
“A favour?”
“We caught Marla off-guard today. You may not have heard the worst of it. It would be... easier...”
“If I bite my tongue and let her insult me?” Adrina finished for him.
“Something like that.”
He expected her to explode at that point, but to his astonishment, she nodded her agreement. “Don't worry, I'll behave.”
“You will?”
“Don't sound so surprised. I plan to survive this farcical arrangement, Damin, and to do that, I'll need your mother on my side. You'd be surprised how charming I can be when the mood takes me.”
Actually, Damin wouldn't have been surprised at all. She could be very disarming when she wanted something. “Well, if you can win Marla over, you'll have the whole of Hythria at your feet.”
“That's the plan,” she agreed. “And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, you should be safe enough here in the palace. I'll have Almodavar hand-pick your bodyguards. You have to promise you won't try leaving the palace without them.”
Adrina scowled, but nodded. “I suppose.”
“I've already arranged for a message to go to the Assassins' Guild,” he added. “I plan to hire them before someone else thinks of it. They are very loyal employees.”
“You mean they stay bought.”
“It's the same thing in the end.”
She sighed, as if the realisation that life would be difficult for some time to come had just dawned on her. Damin could not fathom her mood.
“Well, if you've everything you need, I'll see you at dinner. I'll have Orleon send someone to show you the way.”
“Damin,” she called as he turned to leave. “Why are your mother and the High Arrion here in Krakandar? I know R'shiel arranged for Zegarnald to turn Narvell back, but that doesn't explain the other two.”
“I don't know,” he admitted, a little surprised that she'd asked. He reminded himself, yet again, not to underestimate his wife.
“Well, I suggest you find out. I may not be an expert on Hythrun politics, but I do know the High Arrion doesn't do anything without a good reason, and I suspect your mother hasn't made an impulsive move in her entire life.”
It was a remarkably accurate assessment, considering her short acquaintance with his family. Damin wished for a moment that he could trust her. She would make a daunting High Princess - if she didn't try to murder him first.
“We'll find out what's behind their presence soon enough. Once Marla has gotten over the news about you.”
“Well, if she doesn't like the idea, tell her to take it up with the demon child,” she told him, picking up a silver-backed hairbrush. She turned her back to him and began brushing out her long dark hair.
He had been dismissed.
Damin let himself out of Adrina's rooms, thinking on what she had said about his mother and sister. She wasn't far off the mark. Marla did nothing without thinking it through. As for Kalan, Adrina was right about her too. The High Arrion would not leave Greenharbour without a very good reason. His unease at finding his palace steps lined with silver-uniformed soldiers from the Sorcerers' Collective still lingered.
“My Lord?”
Damin turned to find Orleon coming towards him at his usual, unhurried pace. The old man was as much a part of Krakandar Palace as the stones in the walls. He never aged noticeably that Damin could see. He still seemed the same, grey-haired, eagle-eyed watchdog that he'd been when Damin was a child.
“Yes, Orleon?”
“You have a visitor, my Lord.”
From the slight tone of reproach, Damin could guess who it was. “Where is he?”
“In the Morning Room, my Lord. I suggest you go there now, while we still have the silverware.”