Lord of the Shadows (53 page)

elgin had warned Misha that his withdrawal was not yet complete, and with no sign of his symptoms appearing again, Misha was starting to believe the old physician may have been mistaken. But the night before Dirk was due to leave for Omaxin, while going over the supply details with Dirk and two of his captains, he noticed he was trembling. Misha had raised his hand to point out something on the map spread out on the desk, but when he saw how shaky it was, he lowered it and simply looked at the map instead.

“Are you all right, your highness?” Dirk asked, his formality for the benefit of the other two men.

Misha nodded, but he was cold. So cold he was starting to shiver. He knew what would come next. The stomach cramps. The muscle spasms. Maybe, if it got bad enough, he would start a fit. He couldn't afford this now. And he certainly couldn't afford to show weakness in front of his captains.

He was saved by the fortuitous arrival of Jacinta D'Orlon. She curtsied politely, apologized for the interruption and then turned to Misha with concern.

“Your highness, I know how busy you are, but there's a personal matter I need to bring to your attention urgently.”

Puzzled by her obvious anxiety, Misha looked up at his captains. “Would you excuse us, gentlemen?”

The men saluted and left the study without a word. Dirk rose to his feet, and bowed coolly to the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy. “I'll leave you to your business, then, my lady.”

“There's no need, Dirk,” Jacinta said, dropping the formality she had also assumed for the sake of Misha's captains. “In fact, you might be able to help.”

“Help with what?” Misha asked, sinking down in his chair with relief. He wasn't sure how much longer he would have been able to fake well-being for the sake of his men. But in
Dirk's company, he didn't feel the need to try. As for Jacinta … well, he would just have to trust that the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy didn't gossip.

“Tia is in her room, your highness, sobbing inconsolably. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's distraught. She's talking about leaving.”

Misha looked at Dirk with suspicion. “Did you say something to her?”

Dirk shook his head. “I haven't even spoken to her today.”

“Did she say why she's so upset?”

Jacinta shrugged. “I have no idea, your highness. All I know is she went into the city earlier and when she came back she was very distressed.”

“It must have been something that happened in the city, then,” Dirk concluded, rather obviously, Misha thought. “Do you know where she went?”

“No. And she won't tell me, either.”

“I'll go to her,” Misha said, rising to his feet. “Can you carry on here, Dirk? We need to get this finished before you leave tomorrow.”

“Of course. Are you sure you're all right?”

He nodded shakily. “It's nothing to be concerned about. A leftover from the poppy-dust withdrawal, that's all. Master Helgin warned me the symptoms could reoccur without warning. I should have known it would happen at the most inconvenient time possible.”

“I'll come with you, if you like,” Jacinta volunteered.

He shook his head. “Thank you, my lady, but I'll be fine. There's nothing you can do to help.”

“You don't have to go through this alone, Misha.”

“There is no other way to go through this, Dirk. Trust me, what I have suffered is the very essence of loneliness.” Then he smiled wanly. “I've been through worse. Don't worry about me. It'll pass.”

Without waiting for them to reply, Misha limped from the study, leaving Dirk and Jacinta staring after him with concern.
Misha had to threaten to have the door broken down before Tia would let him in. When she finally did consent to unlock it she simply turned the key and left him to open it himself. She was dressed in her old trousers and worn linen shirt, and obviously packing.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm leaving.” She was stuffing her gear into the small canvas bag she had taken with her from Mil to Garwenfield. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she was no longer crying.

“Why?”

“Because it's never going to work, Misha.”

“You're not giving it much of a chance.”

She stopped packing and looked at him. “It hasn't got a chance, Misha. I'm not cut out for a life prancing around in fine dresses and being diplomatic. It's better if I just leave now.”

“Where will you go?”

“I haven't decided.”

“Might I inquire as to the reason for this sudden change of heart?”

She sighed, but refused to tell him why she'd suddenly decided to pack her bags and walk out on him. “Don't be mad at me, Misha.”

“Then tell me why this morning you were prepared to spend the rest of your life with me, and this afternoon you're ready to abandon me?”

She sank down on the settee, wiping away a fresh round of tears. “I spoke to my mother.”

Misha took a deep breath to calm his trembling. “And she advised you to leave?”

“No. She just pointed out the similarities in our situations.”

“What similarities?” he asked with a forced smile. “Goddess! You're not poisoning me, too, are you?”

Tia glared at him. “This is no joking matter, Misha.”

“It is if you're ready to up and leave at the behest of that murderous bitch.”

“But don't you see,” she pleaded. “She's my mother. How can you love someone who was begotten by such evil?”

“Much the same way you can love the son of Antonov Latanya, I suppose,” he pointed out.

Tia wiped her eyes again. “It's not the same thing.”

He limped toward her and held out his arms. “It's exactly the same thing, my love. And if you can love me, even with the stain of being Antonov's son on my character, there is no reason at all why I can't love the daughter of the woman who tried to kill me.”

She came to him almost reluctantly, but as soon as he had her in his arms, he knew everything would be all right.

“I'm so sorry, Misha. I shouldn't have gone to see her. It's just … you're shivering!”

“It's nothing to worry about. Just a little reminder that I'm not as cured as I'd like to think.”

Tia leaned back in his arms and studied his face. “You don't have to lie to me, Misha.”

“I'm not lying,” he assured her, keeping his body still by sheer force of will. “I'm simply putting a brave face on a rather inconvenient relapse. I'll be fine in a little while. Promise me you won't leave.”

“Are you sure, Misha? Really sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Then I promise.”

“I love you, Tia,” he whispered soothingly as she laid her head on his shoulder. “And I don't want you worrying about Ella. I'll take care of it. She won't bother you ever again, my love. I give you my word.”

Misha made it to his room before he collapsed, but he wasn't able to take his rest yet. He needed to keep his promise to Tia first. Staggering to the settee, he rang for a servant, his shivering almost uncontrollable.

“Your highness?” the servant asked as he entered the room, looking at Misha with alarm.

“Fetch Lord Provin. Bring him here. Now.”

The man fled the room and Misha sank down on to the couch, pulling a rug over himself to ward off the chill, even
though the room was quite warm. He didn't need this. Not now. Not when it was so vital he keep his wits about him.

Dirk answered his summons with little delay. He took one look at Misha and dismissed the servant who accompanied him, and then he crossed the room and knelt beside the prince. “Is there anything I can do?”

Misha liked that about Dirk. He didn't waste time on useless platitudes.

“Not about this,” he said, holding up a trembling hand for Dirk to see. “I need you to do something else for me. A favor. A big favor.”

“Name it.”

“I want you to take care of Ella Geon.”

“I promised I would. As soon as I get back, we can convene the trial and—”

“No. I don't mean that. I mean I want you to take care of her. Now. Permanently.”

Dirk was silent for a moment, and when he did finally speak there was no emotion in his voice, no censure. “You want me to kill her.”

“I shouldn't ask it of you,” Misha admitted, leaning back against the coach with his eyes closed. “But don't you see what will happen? She'll stand up in court and do nothing but dredge up a world of pain, which will do nothing but hurt the people I love.”

“You mean Tia, I suppose.”

He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, wishing the pain would go away. Not just the pain of withdrawal. The pain of betrayal by the people he trusted. The pain of seeing the woman he loved suffering. “How ironic I fell for her. I never did have much of a choice, did I? Not with my … disabilities.”

“I don't think Tia cares about that.”

“Ella probably did me a favor, you know,” he said, aware he was rambling, finding it hard to concentrate. “She gave me a chance to forget for a while. I don't think I was really aware of how much more my father loved Kirsh than me. How much he despised my weakness. My imperfections. Perhaps I should be
grateful I spent most of my time coddled in poppy-dust. The reality of my position might have been a lot more painful if I'd known what was really going on around me.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Don't kid yourself, Dirk,” he laughed sourly. “I sometimes think I'm just as deluded now as I was when I was an addict. Do you think Tia really loves me? Maybe she's using me, because I can give her the life Johan Thorn stole from her when he took her from the Hall of Shadows. And how long can I keep hold of my father's throne, anyway? Against Kirsh? If he doesn't take it from me, then all the able-bodied nobleman in Senet who resent being governed by a cripple certainly will.”

“It's not like you to wallow in self-pity, Misha.”

“It's not like me to ask another man to kill for me, either. It's the pain, I think. It's making me foolish. I never…I never…”

“Killed anyone before? Your father told me once it gets easier.”

“Does it?”

“Not that I've noticed.”

“Do you think I'm a monster? For a man who swore to rule by the law, I'm making an impressive start, aren't I? At the first test of my character, I choose vengeance over justice.”

“Deal with it, Misha,” Dirk said unsympathetically. “You're the Lion of Senet. If this is the worst thing you ever order, you'll still be streets ahead of your father.”

He forced his eyes to focus on the Lord of the Suns. “You'll do it, then?”

“Wouldn't you rather wait until you're feeling better? You might have a change of heart—”

“Which is exactly the reason I don't want to wait, Dirk,” he cut in. “I don't
want
to have a change of heart. I don't want to decide this rationally and coolly. I want the bitch who poisoned me and hurt the woman I love to be gone from our lives forever.”

Dirk thought about it for a long time, and then he shrugged. “I'll take care of it. I think I owe Tia that much.”

“You hurt her, Dirk.”

“I know.”

Misha stared at him, trying to read what was behind that flat admission of guilt. There was nothing in Dirk's expression that provided Misha with a satisfactory answer. “How will you—”

“Don't ask for details, Misha.”

He nodded, glad Dirk had placed that condition on him. In truth, he didn't want to know the details. He just wanted it over.

“I'm sorry, my friend. I should have the courage to do this myself. It's not even for me really. It's just that Tia …”

“It doesn't take courage to kill someone. Sometimes it takes more courage to let them live.”

“Then I am twice damned,” Misha sighed. “I've neither the courage to let Ella Geon live, nor the strength to kill her myself. I will be in your debt forever, Dirk.”

The young man stared at him for a long moment with those unreadable, metal-gray eyes and then he nodded.

“Yes, Misha,” he agreed heavily. “You will.”