“I thank you for your forbearance, Your Highness,” he replied with a bow. “And now, if you will excuse me, I must pay my respects to Princess Marla and offer her my condolences.”
They stood back to let him leave. As soon as he was out of earshot, Damin turned on his wife.
“What in the name of the gods are you doing?” he hissed.
Adrina seemed unfazed by his anger. “Securing your throne.”
“By threatening him?”
“Rogan's a barbarian,” she said with a shrug. “He understands open threats. Subtlety would be wasted on him.”
“And you worked that out after how long?”
“Not here, Damin,” R'shiel warned, glancing around the hall. “Besides, I think Adrina's right. Rogan appreciates strength. She may have done you a favour.”
Damin realised at that moment that he was in serious trouble. Adrina was bad enough. R'shiel, when the mood took her, was even worse.
Together, they were impossible.
Princess Marla set the whole palace in motion to prepare for the journey south to Greenharbour. Kalan left Krakandar the day after Rogan arrived, anxious to return to the capital and gain a measure of control over the situation. No High Prince could be crowned without her approval.
She was furious that Cyrus Eaglespike would attempt to claim a throne he knew well was not his while she was out of the city. He was a cousin, certainly, but the kinship was distant. Kalan considered him less a threat than an ambitious fool.
Damin was not so sure. Cyrus would not have claimed the title unless he thought he could hold it, which meant the Warlords of Pentamor and Greenharbour were probably supporting him. With Narvell and Rogan both here in Krakandar, that only left Tejay Lionsclaw, who might not even be aware of the death of the High Prince. Damin had dispatched several birds and two human messengers to inform her, hoping that her constant battles with the Fardohnyan bandits in the Sunrise Mountains did not mean she was out of touch. He needed her in Greenharbour.
Damin was almost as certain of her support as he was of Narvell's. He had sided with Tejay when her husband died and left her with four small sons, a province to rule and an heir that was only five years old. She was Warlord of Sunrise Province because, against all the objections of the other Warlords, Damin had prevailed upon Lernen to grant her the title, rather than hand it to some ambitious young stud who had little thought for the strategic importance of the province. That had been ten years ago, and the first time he had challenged the Convocation of Warlords. Although tactically sound, his interference had proved politically unwise. He had tipped his hand too early and warned the Warlords what sort of man was heir to the throne. He'd been dodging assassins since he was a small child, but after that day the only place he'd felt truly safe was here in Krakandar. And Medalon, oddly enough.
“Damin?”
He turned from the window as Adrina entered the study, almost welcoming the distraction. Adrina had been in an odd mood lately, although he could not fault her behaviour. Rogan was quite enchanted by her, which Damin found amazing. Adrina was a much better judge of character than he had given her credit for. It would have been so much easier if he could trust her.
“Adrina.”
“Your mother seems determined to pack the entire palace.”
“You're not fighting with her again, are you?”
“No. We just avoid each other. It's easier that way.”
“Is there anything you need?”
She crossed the room and came to stand beside him, looking out over the winter-browned gardens. “We need to talk.”
“Then unlock your door tonight.”
She had locked it every night since they had been in Krakandar, offering no reason for her sudden desire to sleep alone. It disturbed him to discover how much that bothered him.
“I'm not going to talk to you in bed, Damin. I want to see your face in the cold light of day.”
“This sounds serious.”
“It is, and for once in your life, I need you to be serious.”
He nodded, careful to keep his expression solemn. “Very well. What did you want to talk about?”
“I want to know how long you've known that if my father has no legitimate male heir, his throne falls to you.”
“Ah,” he said uncomfortably. “You've been talking to R'shiel.”
“How long, Damin?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I asked first.”
“The truth? I learnt of it the day after we arrived in Krakandar. Marla told me.”
“You didn't know before then?”
“I swear I had no idea.”
She searched his face for some hint that he was lying. “I believe you, I suppose.”
“You're too kind, Your Highness.”
Adrina scowled at him. “Don't start, Damin.”
“I'm sorry. Was that all you wanted? I really should be meeting with Almodavar and Narvell. It's not that I doubt Brak, but I'm not convinced your father won't attack come spring and I have to make arrangements for the arrival of the Defenders, assuming they get here. It won't do our alliance any good if my people start loosing arrows at them the moment they cross the border.”
“No, that's not all. I have something to tell you.”
“Let me guess. You want a divorce?” he asked with a grin.
Her eyes blazed dangerously. “By the gods, I wish I'd never agreed to this marriage. You are a child, Damin Wolfblade, in the guise of a man. You are incapable of taking anything seriously! How in the gods' name you expect to rule Hythria, I have no idea!”
He was surprised by her vehemence, and a little guilty. It wasn't often that she spoke to him like this. It was foolish to deny her the opportunity now.
“I'm sorry, Adrina. That was uncalled for. You've been keeping up your end of the bargain, and I do appreciate it. You've got Rogan wrapped around your little finger and Narvell would probably throw himself on his sword if you asked him. Even Kalan was forced to admit that once they meet you, the other Warlords might eventually come around.”
“You didn't mention your mother.”
He shrugged. “The best you're ever likely to get from Marla is begrudging acceptance.”
“I could live with that if I thought you trusted me.”
The comment puzzled him. “Trust you?”
“You treat every word I utter with suspicion. You have done since the day we first met.”
“Not without just cause,” he pointed out. “You lied to me then. For all I know you're lying to me now. How long have you been aware of the law that made me heir to Hablet's crown?”
“What are suggesting?”
“For all I know, you could have been planning this for years. You managed to manipulate Cratyn into taking you to the border. You betrayed him, fled to Medalon and gave your real name to the first Defender you met, almost guaranteeing I would come after you. All you had to do was get rid of Cratyn, marry me, wait till your father dies and I take his throne, then have me killed. You'd rule Hythria and Fardohnya.”
“That's preposterous! I didn't kill Cratyn.”
“No, that was the demon child. The same demon child who decided we should be married.”
“You think R'shiel is part of some twisted plan I have to rule the world? You're insane!”