Linst glared at her. “Just remember, R'shiel, we are following the Lord Defender's orders. He was the one who wanted us to fight the Kariens. I'll take orders from him, but I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let you order us around for some heathen purpose.”
“My heathen purpose is to throw the Kariens out of Medalon, Captain.”
“There's no point arguing among ourselves,” Denjon interceded. “We've no choice, in any case. We have to move on. We can sort out the details once Tarja wakes up.”
“If he wakes up,” Linst added pointedly.
“He will wake up,” R'shiel insisted. “And when he does, perhaps you'll decide you have a backbone, after all, Linst.”
She did not wait to hear his answer. She stormed from the tent, a part of her simmering with anger; another part of her grateful for the excuse to leave. On the way out she collided with young Mikel, the boy who had followed Adrina from Karien. He squealed in fright at her sudden appearance, landing on his backside in a puddle of icy mud, dropping the tray he carried. He seemed to do that a lot, she recalled, but was too preoccupied to do more than mutter an apology as she strode past the child.
Brak caught up with her near the infirmary.
“Don't you start on me,” she warned, before he could say a word.
“I wasn't going to. I'm on your side, remember?”
R'shiel slowed her pace a little and looked at him. “I'm sorry. They just make me so angry sometimes.”
“I noticed.”
“I shouldn't let them get to me like that, should I?”
“Of course not, but you don't need me to tell you that. What I'd really like to know is what you're planning to do about those priests.”
She shrugged. “I destroyed their staffs. How much trouble can they be?”
“A lot. They may not be able to threaten you any longer, but they still hold a great deal of sway over their people.” R'shiel did not answer him. His faded blue eyes darkened for a moment and he shook his head. “You're not going to kill them, are you?”
“No. I'll think of something else.” She resumed her angry pace and continued on towards the infirmary. An icy wind blew across the plain, stirring dust eddies on the scuffed ground and making her ears ache. She missed her long hair.
“Well, you'd better come up with something quickly,” Brak called after her. “It'll take a miracle to turn that lot and time is of the essence.”
Suddenly she stopped and turned. “That's it! Brak, you're a genius!”
He stared at her in confusion. The solution suddenly clear, she ran back, kissed his cheek and hugged him briefly. “You're right! It's going to take a miracle!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I haven't time to explain,” she said, relief making her giddy.
“What are you thinking of doing, R'shiel?” Brak demanded, grabbing her arm to prevent her escaping.
“I'm going to work a miracle.”
“They won't fall for anything so transparent. Any miracle you conjure up will be dismissed as Harshini magic. You won't fool anyone, not even a bunch of knights as inexperienced as Drendyn and his friends.”
“Then I'll find someone they will believe in,” she said, pulling her arm free of him.
“Who? Adrina?”
“Of course not! I'll use... someone else... someone they'll trust...”
“Who?” Brak repeated suspiciously.
R'shiel glanced around, more to avoid meeting Brak's suspicious gaze than in any real hope of finding an answer to her dilemma. Her eyes alighted on the Karien boy, muttering miserably to himself as he picked up the shards of broken dishes that had fallen from his tray when R'shiel bumped into him.
“I'll use him,” she declared, pointing at Mikel.
CHAPTER 4
Adrina's first thought on waking the morning after she married Damin Wolfblade was: Gods, what have I done?
She had thought the same thing on waking in Yarnarrow the morning after she married the late, unlamented, Crown Prince of Karien, too. There is a disturbing pattern emerging here, she decided.
“Good morning.”
Adrina turned towards the voice. Damin was already up and dressed and pulling on his high leather boots. She was extremely suspicious of anybody who could be so alert, so early in the morning.
“What's so good about it?”
Damin grinned. It was one of his more annoying habits. He seemed to find most of what she said amusing. In Fardohnya, her moods affected the whole palace. Lords and Ladies tiptoed around her. Even in Karien, they had trod warily to avoid incurring her wrath.
“Are you always so unpleasant first thing in the morning?” he inquired.
She sat up on the pallet, drawing the blankets up to hide her nakedness. “Why, in the name of the gods, did I marry you?”
Damin stamped his feet into his boots and reached for his sword-belt. “Because the demon child ordered you to. And you are a grasping, conniving little bitch,” he added pleasantly.
“And your motives are so much more honourable,” she retorted.
“Naturally,” he agreed. “I just want to stay alive long enough to be High Prince of Hythria, one day.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness.”
He laughed, which annoyed her even more, and walked to the tent flap. He stopped and turned before he left. “I sent your little Karien friend to fetch you some breakfast. He should be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“I'm supposed to be meeting with R'shiel and the Defenders and I'm already late.”
“Well don't try blaming your tardiness on me.”
“I wouldn't dream of it, my dear.”
“And stop calling me that! I am not your dear.”
His only answer was more laughter as he ducked through the entrance. Adrina flopped back onto the pallet angrily. When she left Cratyn, she swore she would never allow herself to be forced into marriage again; swore she would never allow a man that much control over her. She had made that promise to herself last autumn.
The winter wasn't even over and she had broken it already.
When there was still no sign of Mikel or Tamylan an hour later, Adrina gave up waiting and dressed herself, determined to give both her slave and her page a piece of her mind. Did they think that now she was married, that absolved them of their duties?
There was going to have to be a few things cleared up before too much longer, she decided. Her status, for one thing. She was a Princess in her own right, more royal than Damin in fact, who was merely the nephew of a Prince. Her father was a King. Of course, being a woman was something of a hindrance to her claim to the throne, although there were many who would be anxious to lay claim to any son that she might bear.
Except R'shiel. The demon child was impatient and had been raised in a society where women ruled. She had no time for Adrina to bear a son and raise him to manhood. She wanted to unite Hythria and Fardohnya and she wanted to do it now. She did not care about the patriarchal traditions of Fardohnya, any more than she cared whether or not Adrina wanted to marry Damin. Their union would force peace on the two southern nations and that was the only thing the demon child cared about. It did not seem to concern her that more than likely, when they reached Greenharbour, the other Warlords would hire assassins to kill either Adrina, or Damin, or both of them.