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The door to Myrmeen's throne room suddenly burst open, and Kynan Tofte entered. The young soldier cried, "He's done it again! One minute Lord Zacharius was in his cell, content as could be, lapping at the soup we brought him, the next he was gone!"

"Search the restaurants and brothels," Myrmeen growled. "He'll turn up … along with a sizeable bill."

Kynan Tofte lowered his head and nodded. "Of course, milady. Please forgive me for intruding."

"No apology is necessary."

The soldier turned his gaze in the direction of the untouched plate of food sitting beside her throne. She had been thinking about the desecration of the gardens and had been too upset to eat. The soldier seemed to consider making an encouraging comment, then thought better of it. He quickly exited, leaving the doors ajar. Myrmeen flirted with the idea of calling out to him, or to one of the servants, to close the door, then she chided herself for being so lazy. Crossing the room, Myrmeen sealed the chamber shut. She felt a slight chill at her back and turned sharply at the sound of someone biting into an apple.

Lord Zacharius sat upon the throne. He had one leg sprawled over the side, one arm over the back. The handsome visitor turned his dazzling smile upon Myrmeen as he dropped the partially eaten apple onto the tray containing the rest of her meal.

"Lord Zacharius," Myrmeen said, carefully hiding her surprise. "Is it exercise period for the prisoners? If not, I assume you have a reason for being here. You might also explain how you got into my throne room, while you're at it."

He shrugged. "The reason for my visit is simple. I merely wanted to extend my thanks for your warm hospitality, your old-fashioned generosity. It touches my heart, it does. I'm not often treated to free bed and board." He licked his lips. "The how? That's my secret and will remain as such."

"You were locked in a dungeon, Lord Zacharius. The 'hospitality' you spoke of was imprisonment."

"I suppose, if you want to look at it that way. But as you can see, I've hardly been confined. Why don't we try to make the best out of it?"

"Your imprisonment is as much for your protection as anything. Many hold you responsible for the acts of your people. They might attempt to harm you."

"Or they might reward me for getting back at the nasty, fat slobs that cheat them. You're aware of the protesters outside the Citadel, aren't you? Even as we speak, there are-"

"I am well aware of them," Myrmeen said curtly.

“Our citizens are outraged and frightened by the treatment I've received. They chant that the gods will be quite cross. They feel all the 'incidents,' as you call them, are the results of the higher powers defending my race."

"Those people are professional zealots," Myrmeen said, "looking for any cause."

"They've found mine."

Myrmeen narrowed her eyes. "They don't know what you truly are, Lord Zacharius. I doubt they would be so supportive if they knew of your bestial side."

'Threats don't become you," he drawled. "And please, call me Zaz."

"Lord Zacharius, this is a serious matter. Your kind has the power to hypnotize, to enchant. Is that how you've managed to get out of your cell nearly every evening for the past tenday? Is that how you got in here?"

"Nothing so crude as that. I thought we might spend a quiet evening together." The cat lord uncoiled his body and rose from Myrmeen's throne. She went angrily toward him, and they met in the center of the room. "And afterward, I thought we might once again discuss my proposal."

"I refuse to give any serious consideration to your request so long as the attacks against my people persist."

"What makes you think I have anything to do with it?" he asked as he absently brushed her arm.

Myrmeen pulled away and restrained an urge to strike the man. "I slighted you. I insulted your religious beliefs and refused your request to unearth the remains of your ancestor. Zealots have often killed for less."

"Do I seem like a zealot to you?"

Myrmeen looked away from the man's hypnotic gaze. "I don't know what to make of you."

"Of course you do. Trust your instincts. Listen to what they tell you."

"At the moment, my instincts tell me that, despite your diplomatic status, you should be questioned about the murder in the gardens."

"Do you suspect me of that murder?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Myrmeen nodded. "You or one of your people. Your gift for getting in and out of heavily secured places has certainly done little to set my concerns aside. The way the dead man was savaged certainly seems like it could have been the work of your kind."

"Naturally you've considered that the victim may have been killed in this manner to cast suspicion upon any wild beast, not just my cats. The ploy has been successful in keeping your attention from the true murderer, if you're spending so much time worrying about me."

"Anything is possible."

"I don't even know this man who was killed."

"So you say."

He grinned, his green eyes sparkling. "Myrmeen, I could never lie to you."

Anger seized the noblewoman. "You seem to think you can get what you want by being charming."

"It's always worked before."

"Understand this, Lord Zacharius: Even if I was attracted to you-which I am not-I could make love to you tonight and order your death tomorrow."

"I see," the cat lord said. "Well, with that in mind, I think the act itself would be anticlimactic. Good night."

He walked gracefully to the door. "I want the activities of your people curtailed," Myrmeen called after him.

Lord Zacharius turned back and opened his hands in a solicitous gesture. "Even if my people are responsible for the local chaos, I'm sure they're just being playful. They like it here. I don't think I'll be able to convince them to leave. If anything, I think more will come."

"That would be unfortunate."

"I don't think so. We cat lords know how to have a good time. We'll liven the place up." He shrugged. "Oh, and would you be so kind as to summon an escort for me? I seem to have forgotten the way back to my chamber…."

Myrmeen was unable to sleep that night. She left the palace under heavy guard and was on her way to the gardens when she heard the scream. Having faced the horror of death many times in the past, the noblewoman knew the sound of a man facing his end. By the time she had passed through the maze of buildings flanking the gardens and discovered the limp, staring bodies of the guardsmen left on duty, Myrmeen knew what she would find in the maze of shrubs and flowerbeds.

A second man lay murdered in the gardens. His body had been torn to pieces. Blood was splattered everywhere, particularly in the gazebo. Myrmeen advanced on the corpse in disbelief, choking back a scream of rage. She tried to understand how this could have happened a second time.

Myrmeen was barely aware of her surroundings as her soldiers congregated around the corpse. Kynan Tofte soon uncovered the victim's head, then guided Myrmeen to the spot where it rested. She was surprised to find that she recognized the dead man's face.

It was Volney, the elder mage Evon Stralana had employed to secure and investigate Penn Othmann's shop a few days earlier. Stralana arrived and seemed momentarily stricken at the sight of the mage's corpse. In a hoarse whisper he said, "Volney and Walcott were supervising the surveillance of Elhazir."

"He may have learned something that made him dangerous to the sorcerer we've been after. Stralana, get a search going for Walcott. Either he's in danger, too, or he's in league with the murderer."

"There's something else you should know," the minister said. "Volney's last report noted that the cats have been watching Elhazir, too."