Lord of the Shadows (52 page)

he news of the sudden death of the Lion of Senet somehow seemed less important in the face of impending war. Jacinta heard from Lord Palinov that Dirk Provin was to lead Misha's army against the High Priestess. It was interesting, she thought, that everyone was going to great pains to point out this altercation was between the Lord of the Suns and the High Priestess. The fact that Senet's army had been split between Misha and Kirshov Latanya—which constituted the very essence of a civil war in Jacinta's opinion—seemed to be very deliberately downplayed.

Her concern was not for Senet, though. The mainland could tear itself to shreds for all Jacinta cared. Her concern was for Alenor and what such a thing would cost her people. Somebody had to pay for Senet's war and she was damned if it was going to be Dhevyn.

Jacinta demanded to see Misha as soon as she heard the news, and somewhat to her surprise he granted her an audience almost as soon as she asked for it. He was alone when she arrived, sitting in the large gilded chair Dirk had been keeping warm for him. It was his by right now. Misha didn't seem nearly as uncomfortable in it as Dirk had.

“Lady Jacinta.”

“It was good of you to see me on such short notice, your highness,” she said with a graceful curtsy. “I realize what a trying time this must be for you.”

“More trying than you imagine,” he agreed. “Please. Sit down.”

Jacinta took the seat he offered her and folded her hands in her lap. “I was sorry to hear about your father.”

“Were you?” he asked with a raised brow. “I thought every Dhevynian alive would be rejoicing at the news.”

“I said
I
was sorry, your highness. I can't speak for the rest of my countrymen.”

“I thought that was why you were here in Avacas, my lady. To speak for your countrymen.”

“I'm here representing my queen, your highness.”

“And what does your queen want with the new Lion of Senet?”

Jacinta took a deep breath before answering. “Well, you could start by overturning the order your father issued, banishing Alenor from Kalarada. And you could revoke the sentence of treason hanging over Alexin Seranov. And I suppose it would be rather nice if you removed your brother from his position as Regent of Dhevyn.”

Misha smiled faintly. “You don't want much, do you?”

“I want what's best for Dhevyn, sire.”

“And believe it or not, I don't happen to think Dhevyn abruptly going it alone is the best thing for your nation, my lady,” he said. “You're economically dependent on Senet, for one thing. You will find it very difficult to manage without us. Autonomy may not sit very well with the merchants who have gotten rich supplying our garrisons over the past two decades.”

“They will just have to get by some other way. And we're not seeking autonomy, your highness. We're seeking independence. Dhevyn was a sovereign nation before your father came along.”

“You'd risk economic ruin for the intangible notion of freedom?”

“Even if it is an intangible notion, surely that's Dhevyn's decision, not Senet's.”

“Very well then,” he shrugged. “You may have it.”

“What?”

“You may have Dhevyn, my lady. I will issue the orders today, withdrawing all Senetian governors from Dhevyn. I'm sure you'll appreciate that the logistics involved prevent me from simply ridding Dhevyn of every Senetian citizen overnight, but I'll get them out as fast as I can. And as Senet no longer has any interest in who governs Dhevyn, your queen can rule in her own right if she wishes. The regency is also dissolved.”

“Just like that?” she gasped in shock.

Misha smiled. “I should be a gentleman and let you think it was your remarkable diplomatic skills that persuaded me, shouldn't I?”

“What has persuaded you, if not my remarkable diplomatic skills?”

“I'm simply keeping a promise I made some time ago, my lady, to someone who means a great deal to me.”

Jacinta was flabbergasted. “Then you really mean to do it?”

“You have my word.”

“I …I don't know what to say.”

“Thank you would seem appropriate.”

“Of course! I mean…of course I thank you. I'm just …overwhelmed.”

“You're welcome,” he said. “Although to be honest, I need the men currently stationed throughout Dhevyn to deal with my own troubles, so my decision is not quite as altruistic as it appears on the surface.”

For a moment she forgot her own joy. “It's true then? You mean to fight Kirshov?”

“The Lord of the Suns is going to Omaxin with the support of the Lion of Senet to put down an uprising instigated by the disgraced High Priestess of the Shadowdancers,” he corrected. “That's not the same thing, my lady.”

“It's a very fine distinction, your highness.”

“But it's enough of a distinction for my purposes, my lady.”

Jacinta smiled appreciatively. “You'll make a fine Lion of Senet, your highness.”

“History will be the judge of that, I suppose.”

“Well, you have my vote.”

“What a pity this isn't a democracy.”

Jacinta rose to her feet. “I shall inform my queen of your decision immediately.”

“Thank you. And congratulations, by the way.”

“For what?” she asked with a smile. “I thought we'd already established it wasn't my remarkable diplomatic skills that prompted your decision?”

“I was referring to your upcoming marriage to Raban Seranov.”

“My
what
?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You haven't heard?”

“No, I haven't heard. But
you
apparently have.”

“I'm sorry, my lady. I would never have mentioned it if I didn't realize you hadn't been informed. I gathered it was a done deal. I received a letter from Lady Sofia several days ago, informing me you would be leaving my court soon to prepare for the wedding.”

“My mother arranged this.”

“That is usually the way these things are done, Lady Jacinta.”

“She never even consulted me.”

He smiled. “Given your previous responses to her arrangements, I can't say I blame her.”

Jacinta glared at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Not at all, my lady, and I sympathize with your plight, truly I do. But I don't see how you can escape it. And Raban is Dhevynian, after all. That's got to be better than Lord Birkoff. And you must concede that uniting the D'Orlon and Seranov houses is a smart political move in light of Dhevyn's uncertain future.”

“You
are
making fun of me,” she accused.

Misha smiled sympathetically. “You're the only daughter of one of the richest and most influential dukes in Dhevyn, my lady, and a cousin of the queen. You're a fool if you imagined you could avoid a marriage like this for much longer. Even with the protection of your position as the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy.”

“Raban Seranov is not my idea of a husband, your highness. I don't care how good his pedigree is. He's a dissolute fool. He's already fathered one bastard I know of.”

“And will probably father a dozen more,” Misha agreed. “But I can't see how you're going to avoid this, my lady. I suspect you're on the brink of being disinherited if you refuse another husband.”

“That doesn't seem such a bad fate, right now.”

“I wish I could help,” he said regretfully. “But unless you
find yourself another husband between now and when your mother gets here, your fate is sealed, I fear.”

Jacinta eyed him quizzically. “Have
you
got anything planned for this afternoon?”

Misha laughed. “I can't help you, I'm afraid. I'm already spoken for.”

“All the decent ones are,” Jacinta lamented. “Or they're just plain unavailable.”

“Do you speak of someone in particular?” he asked with a canny look.

“No,” she replied with a resigned shrug. “I'm just making an observation. I really should go. I have letters to write and you've already spared me more time than you have. Thank you, your highness. For what you're doing for Dhevyn and the warning about my impending doom.”

“I wish I could do more.”

“So do I,” she agreed.

Jacinta fled up the stairs to her room, torn between delight at the notion that Dhevyn was suddenly and unexpectedly free of Senet, and despair that her mother had betrothed her to Raban Seranov behind her back. How could she do such a thing? Without so much as a word of warning?

She stopped at the door to her room, and then on impulse, she walked up the hall and knocked on Dirk's door. He opened it himself. Dirk looked surprised to see her.

“Can I come in?”

He stood back to let her enter then closed the door behind her. “Are you sure it's wise for you to come to the Lord of the Suns' rooms unescorted?”

She walked into the room, looked around for a moment and then turned back to face him. “I'm to be married. To Raban Seranov.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don't suppose you're interested in making mad, unbridled, passionate love to me just once, so I don't have to go to my marriage bed a virgin?”

Dirk visibly blanched at her question, too stunned to answer.

“No, I suppose not,” she shrugged. “And you're right. I shouldn't have come here. It was just a foolish impulse.”

Jacinta headed back to the door where Dirk still stood. He hadn't moved a muscle.

“I really should go.”

“Yes, you should,” he agreed in a strangled voice.

She reached out for the doorknob, which was a stupid thing to do, because Dirk still had hold of it. Touching him was her undoing. She was in his arms and he was kissing her before she realized what she was doing. Before either of them realized what they were doing. The moment of insanity lasted just long enough for Jacinta to wonder what would happen if Dirk took her up on her rather outrageous suggestion.

Dirk pulled away first, more mindful of the danger they were courting than she. He looked at her for a moment and for once she could read his eyes clearly. They were filled with yearning. And remorse.

“If I thought for a moment you were even half serious …” he said.

“I think if you kiss me like that again, I would be.”

“Don't, Jacinta …”

“I'm sorry. Not about … I'm sorry you're the Lord of the Suns, mostly.”

“I think you'd better go.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I should.”

He opened the door for her. She stopped on the threshold and looked at him.

“You want to know something funny?” she said with a hint of bitter irony. “You were on my mother's list of suitable husbands once. If none of this had happened, it might have been you I was made to marry.”

Jacinta hurried down the hall from Dirk's room before he could answer, locking the door to her own suite as soon as she was inside. She was shaking, from shock as much as from embarrassment.
She hadn't expected Dirk to kiss her like that. Hadn't expected him to kiss her at all. Or had she? Jacinta couldn't even explain why she'd gone to his room. Was she looking for sympathy? Help?

Whatever the reason, Dirk wasn't supposed to have reacted like that. He was supposed to be the one who was always in control. The man with the cold eyes and the even colder heart. And he was the Lord of the Suns. There was absolutely no point entertaining ideas about a future with him. For one thing, the Lord of the Suns usually didn't marry; on the rare occasion the head of the Church had taken a wife in the past, she was always a Sundancer. For the only daughter of the Duke of Bryton, Dirk could not have been more out of reach if he was living on the other side of the second sun.

Which just makes you a damn fool
, Jacinta told herself crossly, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart.
Don't dwell on it. Don't even think about it. He doesn't love you, and even if he did, he can't do anything about it. So just get over it, girl. It was simply one stupid, thoughtless kiss and it didn't mean anything. To him or to you.

But despite the stern lecture she gave herself, it was quite some time before Jacinta felt composed enough to put pen to paper to inform her queen the Lion of Senet had agreed to free Dhevyn.

espite Misha's assurances Dirk would see justice done, Tia was still worried about Ella Geon's fate being left in the Lord of the Suns' untrustworthy hands. Tia didn't want the blind eyes of justice delivering a fair sentence for Ella's crimes. She wanted vengeance: for what had been done to Neris, for what had been done to Misha and for what the burden of knowing Ella Geon was her mother had done to her.

The death of Antonov and Kirsh's stance in Omaxin seemed to take some of the urgency out of the problem about what to do regarding the Shadowdancers. Dirk had told Misha he planned to offer most of them a choice, which was to embrace the teachings of the Sundancers or leave the Church completely. That decision worried her. There was nothing ruthless about it. It almost seemed as if he was faltering on the brink of triumph and taking the easy way out. They'd ended up having quite a heated argument about it, with Tia demanding he have some balls and make the hard decision to be rid of them once and for all, and Dirk trying to explain something about it being hypocritical to execute people in the name of a Goddess who preached forgiveness. She couldn't stand it when Dirk used theological arguments. He no more believed in the Goddess than she did, yet he seemed determined to perpetrate the lies.

The trouble was, Misha agreed with him. Later that evening, when she'd calmed down a little, he tried to explain to her that every Shadowdancer had family, a mother or father, or children of his own, who would grow up full of resentment if the Shadowdancers were executed out of hand. They had to be disbanded and discredited, he insisted, so they became nothing more than a forgotten paragraph in history. Nobody wanted to give them a cause to fight for. When she'd tried to argue with him, too, he had simply pointed out if she wanted an example of what happened when people were dispossessed, or killed out of hand, all she need do is remember why she grew up in the Baenlands.

Misha had no intention of ruling a nation plagued by an underground rebel movement, he said, when he had only just gotten rid of the last one.

But even if Tia conceded Misha and Dirk had a point about the rank and file of the Shadowdancers, there was no way she was going to allow the ringleaders to get away with what they'd done.

Tia tried to tackle Dirk on the subject, but the need to gather the troops for Omaxin meant he had neither the time not the inclination to deal with her. There was now talk of postponing the
trial until Dirk got back from Omaxin. That could mean a delay of months. Misha wanted vengeance, but he wanted vengeance that was just and seen to be fair. Tia was concerned only with removing several people from Ranadon who were polluting the air simply by breathing it.

The feeling of unfinished business with her mother left Tia edgy and unsettled. There
had
to be a trial. Soon. She wanted to hear what Ella had to say for herself. It was untenable living with the knowledge she was born of a woman capable of anything so heinous. For her own peace of mind, Tia wanted to be told there was a reason, a
good
reason, why Ella had done what she did. Until Tia knew the reason, she could never be at peace.

When there seemed no hope of an early resolution, Tia decided to confront Ella herself. Certain Misha would object, she was careful to let nobody in on her plan, but it took her longer than she imagined it would to get up the courage to visit her mother.

The prisoners were confined in the city garrison, which was now under the command of a new Prefect. He was a jovial young man named Lanon Rill, the youngest son of Elcast's former governor, Tovin Rill, who had been studying law at the university in Avacas when Misha plucked him from obscurity and made him one of the most powerful men in Senet.

Tia had thought the appointment rather strange until she learned he was a childhood friend of Dirk's from Elcast. His justification for recommending him was that despite his inexperience, Lanon Rill was a decent human being, a quality sadly lacking in Barin Welacin. While Tia couldn't argue on that point, she still didn't like the idea of Dirk surrounding Misha with his old cronies. And she wanted to slap Misha when he agreed to Dirk's suggestion with barely any objections. She understood that for Misha to rule Senet effectively, he needed his own people around him and his illness meant he had few close childhood friends he could trust to appoint. For that reason alone Palinov still held his post. But surely there was
a better way than appointing people Dirk Provin recommended?

In spite of her misgivings, Lanon Rill had proved a good choice so far. He was conscientious, fair and appeared to be totally loyal to Misha. But Tia worried about him a little. He smiled too much for her liking.

Lanon met her when she reached the garrison and escorted her personally down to the cells where Ella, Madalan and the physician Yuri Daranski were held. He gave her a running commentary as they passed the various rooms of torture along their route, in such graphic and vibrant detail Tia eventually had to ask him to stop.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” he said hastily, when he realized he was upsetting her. “I didn't mean to… well, I thought you should know …”

“I know what they used to do in this place, Prefect Rill,” she reminded him, holding up her left hand with its missing finger. “I am personally acquainted with your predecessor's horseshoe pliers.”

“His highness charged me with investigating the full scope of Barin Welacin's activities, my lady. I thought perhaps you wanted to be certain his orders were being carried out.” He looked so earnest she was almost sorry she'd scolded him.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Prefect, but spare me the details, if you don't mind.”

“Of course, my lady. This is the cell.”

“The cell for what?”

“Ella Geon's cell, my lady. The prisoner you came to see.”

“Of course.” Tia was suddenly afraid to go on.

“Did you want me to come with you?” Lanon offered, sensing her nervousness.

She shook her head. “No. I can deal with this.”

Lanon snapped his fingers and the guard who accompanied them hurried to unlock the door. “Just knock when you're done. The guard will let you out.”

Tia smiled thinly. “I know the routine, Prefect Rill. I've been a prisoner a few times, myself.”

Lanon smiled. “I'll be right out here if you need me.”

The offer surprised her, mostly because it seemed to be made out of genuine concern for her. Perhaps Dirk and Misha were right. Perhaps this young man's greatest asset was his basic decency.

“Thank you,” she said, and she stepped into the cell.

Ella looked up as Tia entered and rose to her feet from the pallet where she was sitting. The cell was small and despite the change in the jail's administration, it was neither comfortable nor clean.

“Yes?” Ella inquired of her curiously.

She doesn't know who I am.
Admittedly, Tia looked nothing like the girl who had knelt on Antonov's balcony and had her finger chopped off. She was dressed in a beautifully tailored silk dress, her short hair neatly trimmed and fashionably arranged, her hands manicured and clean. Jacinta had been responsible for that. Alenor's cousin had taken Misha's request to help Tia get settled into the palace quite literally and had saved her from any number of awkward gaffes since she'd arrived in Avacas. The Dhevynian queen's envoy had also taken it upon herself to ensure the Lion of Senet's fiancée was clothed and catered for in a manner befitting her new status. In some ways, Jacinta D'Orlon reminded Tia of Lexie. Jacinta was one of those people for whom nobility was second nature. She radiated such a powerful sense of her own worth Tia wondered if she'd ever suffered a moment's doubt about her place in the world.

Perhaps that's why Ella didn't recognize Tia now. Maybe some of Jacinta's subconscious sophistication had rubbed off on her pupil.

“I'm not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed you don't recognize your own daughter,” Tia said in the tone she imagined Jacinta would use in the same situation.

“Tia?”

“And you only had to be given one clue. How instinctively maternal of you, Mother.”

“Haven't you come up in the world since I saw you last?”
Ella remarked coolly, looking her up and down with a critical eye.

“Haven't you come down?” Tia retorted.

“Is that why you're here? To gloat over my misfortune?”

“There's nothing unfortunate about the reason you're here, my lady. You're here as a direct result of your actions. The misfortune, in your mind at least, seems to be that you got caught.”

Ella smiled wanly. “Surely you don't believe the ridiculous charge I was trying to kill poor Misha? I treated the boy like a son.”

“If you treated your son the same way you treated your daughter, I don't wonder you're sitting here waiting to die.”

“I never mistreated you, Tia. I never had the chance. Johan stole you away when you were still a baby. Any hatred you have for me is because your father and Johan poisoned your mind against me, not because of anything I did to you.”

“You destroyed Neris,” she accused.

“He destroyed himself. I merely supplied what he wanted to do the job a little faster.”

Her total lack of remorse left Tia breathless. “And what's your excuse for what you did to Misha? He was only a child when you started dosing him with poppy-dust. How could you hurt an innocent child like that?”

“I never knew anything about poppy-dust in his tonic,” she shrugged. “The news came as a dreadful shock to me. I would never have allowed him to take it, had I known. I adore Misha. How can you think such a thing of me?”

“Why shouldn't I believe you capable of it? You stood there and watched Barin Welacin cut my finger off and you never even blinked!”

“And Dirk Provin drove a knife into Johan Thorn's throat, Tia. Who is it you call your friend now, my dear? The mother who couldn't have saved you, even if she tried, or the young man who committed cold-blooded murder right in front of you?”

The accusation hit her hard. Ella smiled coldly. “So perhaps you really are my daughter after all, if you're so willing to put aside your conscience for the sake of a taste of power.”

“I'm nothing like you,” Tia spat in disgust.

“Don't be too sure of that, Tia. You stand there now in your fine gown and your high dudgeon and look down on me, but you are truly no better than I am. I followed Belagren because she offered me power. I hear you're planning to marry our new Lion of Senet. Even I never aspired to such high ambitions as that.”

“Misha loves me.”

“Well, of course he believes he's in love with you, dear. That's all part of the game, isn't it? Your father loved me, too, pathetic fool that he was.”

Tia stared at her, wondering what she had hoped to achieve by coming here. Had she hoped for some glimmer of maternal concern? Some hope that facing death, Ella would see the error of her ways? That she might be sorry for the lives she had ruined?

“I despise you. I despise what you are and I despise what you did.”

Ella seemed unaffected by her declaration. “Hate me all you want, Tia. It means nothing to me.”

Tia banged on the door, fighting back tears of despair. She should never have come here. Never had tried to look for something she had known in her heart did not exist.

“I hope they burn you alive,” she spat as Lanon's guard opened the door for her.

“You're as wretched as your father, Tia,” Ella remarked. “You don't even have his intelligence to redeem you. Enjoy your new life, my dear. Because it won't last. He'll tire of your Baenlander coarseness in time and then, when you're back on the street, ruined and broken, spare you mother a thought and remind yourself, that in the end, you were really no better than she was.”