It wasn’t Sarad Nukpana. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.
I started breathing again.
“It’s not him,” I said softly.
Mychael squeezed my hand to let me know he heard.
The goblin king began to address his guests, but I didn’t hear the words. Why would Sarad Nukpana send an impostor to stand at the king’s side?
I knew the answer as soon as the question asked itself. He had more important things to do, a full evening planned. A stone of power to secure, a mage to torture. I shivered as the tension I’d just released was replaced by fresh fear. Tarsilia. She had to be close. What was happening to her?
There was applause as Sathrik concluded his greeting, and the guests began taking the floor for the next dance.
“Are you unwell, darling?” Mychael asked, as only a solicitous new husband could. “You’re looking pale. Perhaps something to drink and some fresh air.”
I nodded tensely.
We made our way to the bar nearest the garden doors. Garadin, Piaras, and the two Guardians were already outside. A tall, elegant goblin was moving toward us—moving just like the big, dangerous cat he was.
Tam.
His chosen garb for the evening was a dark goblin mirror of Mychael’s own attire. The goblin primaru was every inch the Mal’Salin duke he used to be in a surcoat of midnight blue suede, with a mix of tooled gray leather and burnished steel armor beneath. Unlike most of the “knights” I’d seen on the dance floor, Tam’s armor was authentic. I had a feeling he had something other than dancing planned for this evening.
“You encountered no difficulty gaining admittance?” Tam asked us once he was close enough to speak without being overheard.
“Just the expected,” Mychael replied.
I didn’t mention that I had expected worse—and I certainly hadn’t expected Tam.
Tam looked down at me, or more to the point, at my bodice. “Nice dress.”
“Thanks.”
“Very flattering,” he murmured.
“I didn’t choose it.”
“Who did?”
I tilted my head toward Mychael. “He did.”
Tam glanced at Mychael. “You did?”
“I did.”
Neither of them showed any emotion, but the tension in the air went up a notch. Wonderful. Just what I didn’t need.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I told Tam. “The company not to your liking and all that.”
“I’ve asked if he would assist us this evening,” Mychael explained.
“How?”
Tam leaned in close to me. “To rescue fair lady from foul fiend,” he said, his voice low and for my ears only.
Tarsilia. I breathed a little sigh of relief, then smiled at the irony.
“What?” Tam asked.
“She doesn’t like you, you know.” The “because of me” part I left unsaid.
Tam grinned. “I know.”
“Trying to earn some points?”
“Couldn’t hurt. And best of all, it would annoy the foul fiend.” He winked. “I take my fun when and where I can find it.”
That was Tam.
He took my hand and gallantly raised it to his lips, though the lips-to-hand contact lingered for far longer than was gallant. “Now if you will excuse me, the other fair lady awaits.”
“Good luck,” I whispered. “And thank you.”
“Luck to you, too.” He glanced at Mychael, and an unspoken something passed between them. Tam looked back to me, his expression solemn. “But you won’t need luck, you have your own brave knight.”
Then he crossed the crowded dance floor and was gone.
I suddenly felt woozy again. “I could really use that drink.”
“As my fair lady commands.”
I sat in one of the chairs arranged around a column while Mychael went to get drinks for us both.
“My brother’s taste in music is sadly lacking,” came a voice so close to my ear I could feel his breath.
Prince Chigaru Mal’Salin’s breath.
I stood, and he caught my arm in an iron grip.
“I thought Rahimat would be a welcome addition to this evening’s festivities,” he continued calmly as if we were friends having a chat.
Then Mychael was there.
“Come no closer, Paladin Eiliesor,” the goblin prince said softly for Mychael’s benefit and smiled fully for anyone who witnessed the exchange.
I felt a blade press against my ribs.
“I only require the beacon. Mistress Benares is no longer necessary.”
Chapter 21
The goblin prince and I shared a dilemma.
We were in a room full of guards loyal to Sathrik Mal’Salin and neither one of us wanted to draw attention to ourselves. His grip on me, while tight, was such that it wasn’t visible to anyone. I could have twisted free, but that would draw attention. And if he tried to stab me, I was definitely going to draw attention. Mychael was ready to attack if the prince so much as breathed wrong.
So there we were—all of us wanting to move, but none of us daring to. At least not yet.
Strangely enough, I was as relaxed as I had been all evening. Maybe it was that I’d been in a similar situation with the goblin prince before and I’d come out of that still breathing. Maybe it was the relief of something happening that didn’t involve Sarad Nukpana. I didn’t know. Whatever it was, the tension drained from my body. Prince Chigaru sensed the change and pressed the blade tighter to my side. That really didn’t bother me either. With all the whale boning in my bodice and corset, he’d have had an easier job getting through plate armor. I even felt a little smile coming on.
“So, do you have a plan?” I asked him. I sounded almost cheerful.
My question and attitude took him by surprise.
“You will give me the beacon,” he demanded.
There were definite advantages to having an absurdly tight bodice—and a beacon that refused to leave. I looked down just to make sure. Nope, nothing was coming up through that cleavage.
I almost laughed. “I’m afraid that’s not physically possible.”
His grip tightened. He had to have expected my response, but it didn’t make him any happier to hear it.
He looked down to where the diamond chain vanished between my breasts. I didn’t like that look one bit. Mychael didn’t either. He took two steps toward us.
The goblin prince pulled me back against him. “No closer.”
Mychael stopped. His eyes flicked to something just past my left shoulder. I was betting I’d only need one guess—Prince Chigaru’s friends wanted to keep him company. Vegard was keeping me company, too—from a discreet distance. He stayed put, for now. Too much of a crowd would draw attention we did not want.
“You are wearing the beacon,” Chigaru said. “You will remove it. Now.”
“We’ve been over this before, Your Highness. I take the beacon off, I die.”
He pressed the dagger harder against my bodice. “The same is true if you refuse.”
He had me there.
“A lady dying in your arms isn’t the kind of attention you want to attract,” Mychael said, his voice soft and low.
Magic spun into the air at the sound of his voice. He risked detection, but with a dagger against my ribs, so did I. I wasn’t going to die quietly. Mychael’s casting was for the prince’s ears only, but that didn’t stop goosebumps from prickling at the back of my neck—though that could have been as much from the goblin’s warm breath and the proximity of his fangs to my throat, as from Mychael’s voice.
A slight figure appeared by the prince’s side, on the edge of my vision. I didn’t have to see her clearly to know who she was.
“There need not be violence.” Primari A’Zahra Nuru’s voice was quiet, but firm. “We can reach a compromise.”