Treason Keep (33 page)

“I’ve no interest in making myself bearable to suit you.”

“I doubt you could even if you tried, Adrina.”

A small part of Adrina—that part that was still reasonably sober—warned her to let the comment go. But for some reason, she felt compelled to rise to the challenge. She was sick to death of this man.

“I’ve told you before. In the unlikely event I ever decide to entertain myself with you, Damin Wolfblade, you won’t know what’s hit you.”

“So you keep telling me. You’re not quite game to put it to the test, though, are you?”

“You think I couldn’t?”

“I think you’re afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone, least of all you!”

“Brave words from a cheap drunk. Go to bed, Adrina.”

She laughed softly. “You’re afraid of
me
, that’s the truth of it. You even warned Tarja that I’m dangerous.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes.”

“He really does have a bad habit of repeating the most inconvenient things, doesn’t he?” He reached across and opened the door to her chamber. “Goodnight, Adrina.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You’re afraid of me.” Adrina wasn’t sure why she was being so insistent. It just seemed that the world would be a much better place if Damin Wolfblade admitted that he feared her. Even a little bit.

“Terrified,” he agreed, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Now go to bed.”

“You’re just saying that to get rid of me.”

“You noticed? Maybe you’re not as drunk as I thought.”

“I know why you’re afraid.”

“Why?”

“Because of this,” she said, and then she kissed him.

Adrina had intended to bestow one blazing, breathtaking kiss on him and leave him gasping for more. He would never get any more, of course, but that was the whole point. Let him have a taste of the forbidden fruit and then deny him the sweetness forever more.

But she didn’t count on Damin’s reaction. She didn’t count on him kissing her back. Didn’t count on finding herself pushed against the wall with strong arms holding hers pinned against her body while her pulse pounded in her ears, blocking out all other sensations. Adrina had kissed plenty of men before, but no
court’esa
in her service would have dared such unbridled lust. Her grand plan evaporated in a heartbeat. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, she gave herself up to the sheer, unexpected pleasure of it.

“Your
Highness
?”

Tamylan’s startled greeting brought her back to her senses and she pushed Damin away with a shove, gasping for air. Her slave stood in the open doorway to her chamber, her expression a mixture of astonishment and horror.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” she asked with concern, glaring at Damin.

“I’m fine Tam. Go back to bed. I’ll be in shortly.”

The slave nodded warily and moved away from the door. Only then did Adrina feel composed enough to meet Damin’s eye.

“I think I’ve proved my point, don’t you?”

Damin’s expression was far too smug. “You think so?”

“I hope you enjoyed it, my Lord. You’ll never receive another. From now on, you’ll just have to dream about what you’re missing.”

Adrina still had enough of her wits about her not to wait for his answer. She turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her with a resounding, and most satisfactory, thump.

“What are you playing at, Adrina?” Tamylan demanded as soon as the door banged shut. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“You forget your place, Tamylan.”

“So have you, your Highness,” the slave retorted. “Have you forgotten where we are? Who he is?
What
he is?”

“Be silent!”

Tamylan shook her head in disgust and left the rest of it unsaid.

For the second time in her life, R’shiel entered the Great Hall to attend the annual Gathering of the Sisters of the Blade, although on this occasion she didn’t have to scale the outside of the building in the rain.

This time she walked through the main doors quite brazenly, concealed by a glamour that made her unnoticeable. She broke from the crowd at the entrance and made her way to the narrow stairs leading to the gallery. Once she had climbed the stairs, she walked along the gallery to almost the exact spot from which she had watched the Gathering two years ago with Davydd Tailorson. It was odd, and a little disconcerting that she could barely remember his face. Davydd had died trying to help her and Tarja escape the Citadel. He deserved to be remembered more clearly.

R’shiel watched the Hall filling with blue-robed sisters, fidgeting nervously. She wanted to call Dranymire, to ensure the demon knew what was expected of him and his brethren, but she couldn’t risk them being noticed before she took control of the
Gathering. She wanted to know where Mahina was. She wanted to get a message to Affiana, concerned that the woman had not been at the pre-arranged meeting place. It could simply be that she had not waited around. R’shiel and Brak had been late arriving at the tavern. R’shiel was worried. Affiana had not even left a message for them.

She leaned on the balustrade, watching the growing crowd. Garet Warner, the ranking officer in the Citadel, stood off to the left of the dais with two other officers, where Lord Jenga and Tarja had stood the night Joyhinia had been appointed First Sister. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. Wished she knew how far he could be trusted.

R’shiel also wished Brak had come with her, but he had insisted he wait outside with the horses, ready for a quick departure. He wanted her away from this place with a determination that bordered on obsession. Brak was a hard man to read. The only thing R’shiel was certain of was that he would stay by her, regardless of how he felt about what she was doing. She wasn’t even sure that Brak liked her very much, but he took his responsibilities seriously. He had killed the Harshini king to ensure her survival. To desert her now would make that act meaningless.

The doors closing with a hollow boom signalled the start of the meeting and every eye turned forward as the white-robed members of the Quorum filed on to the dais from the door at the back of the Hall. Traditionally, the First Sister entered last, a custom R’shiel was extremely grateful for. She sent out a mental call for Dranymire. The demon responded
instantly, popping into existence beside her, his too-large eyes glittering in the gloom.

Are you ready?

May the gods be with us
, Dranymire responded before he disappeared again.

“Be careful,” she whispered to the vanished demon.

She turned her attention to the dais, as Francil began reciting the ritual thanksgiving to the Founding Sisters. On the edge of her awareness, she could feel the demons forming the meld that would be Joyhinia. She pushed aside the distraction and reached inside herself, feeling the glow of the Harshini magic that nestled in her mind. She drew on the power carefully, as Brak had shown her, and formed the thoughts she wanted to impose on the Gathering although she held back releasing them. Her eyes darkened until they turned completely black, the whites of her eyes consumed by the power she gathered to her. As Francil’s dry voice finished the litany, the door leading from the small anteroom opened and the demon meld stepped onto the dais.

Dranymire and his brethren had done an impressive job. The Joyhinia they had formed was a little too tall perhaps, and her eyes had never been quite that shade of blue, but one would be hard pressed to tell her from the genuine article. Joyhinia stepped up to take her place with a commanding air, nodding in acknowledgment to the Quorum before turning to face the Gathering. It was against protocol, R’shiel knew, but she didn’t want to risk the meld for a moment longer than she had to. Joyhinia would stand up, make her announcement and then leave.
R’shiel couldn’t pick out Mahina among the sea of blue-robed sisters, but she trusted the old woman to be in place.

She held back the coercion with difficulty. The power, once tapped, didn’t like to be restrained. Sweat beaded her forehead and her eyes burned as she gripped the balustrade. Unconsciously, R’shiel mouthed the words of Joyhinia’s rehearsed speech, as the demon meld addressed the crowd.

“Sisters! It is good to be back among you, in these trying times.” The voice was too low, almost masculine, but it was so long since any of the sisters had heard Joyhinia speak, R’shiel doubted anybody would notice. “I have been on our northern border, supervising our efforts to repel the insolent Karien invasion of our sovereign nation.” The Gathering was silent as they listened to the First Sister, more curious than concerned. “Medalon will be safe in the hands of the Defenders and we must press all our efforts in that direction.”

“From what I hear, it was a Defender who got us into this mess!” a voice called from the back of the Hall.

R’shiel grimaced. She had not coached Dranymire to trade taunts with hecklers. The coercion laboured to be released. Her knuckles were white with the effort of holding it in. Dranymire ignored the comment and carried on, oddly enough, making the meld seem more like Joyhinia than ever.

“The single most important issue facing Medalon is our survival. Everything else is insignificant in comparison to this. Personal ambition, feelings and prejudices must be put aside.” That actually drew a
spattering of applause. There were many Sisters who were more concerned with their duties than their careers. Having grown up in Joyhinia’s shadow, R’shiel had to occasionally remind herself of that.

Joyhinia waited a moment before she continued. R’shiel fervently hoped it was Dranymire pausing for dramatic effect, not fighting for control over the meld.

“To this end, I plan to step down from the position of First Sister and nominate the woman who I believe is the only one among us strong enough to see us through this: Mahina Cortanen.”

Pandemonium erupted in the Hall at Joyhinia’s announcement. R’shiel let go of the coercion, almost gagging as it descended on the Hall, forcing down the opposition like a wet blanket thrown on a fire.

R’shiel had known it would be uncomfortable, she remembered the feeling on the border when the Karien priests had coerced their troops, but she was not prepared for the wave of debilitating nausea that washed over her. Her knees buckled as she forced the women below to accept what they could not accept, to believe the unbelievable. She gritted her teeth, waiting for Mahina to step forward to accept the mantle of First Sister. The crowd settled as their thoughts were turned from rebellion to compliance, but there was no sign of the old woman. Joyhinia looked up toward the gallery uncertainly.

“I call forth Mahina Cortanen!”

Where is she?
R’shiel forcibly held back the suspicions of the crowd, fighting the sickening feeling with all her strength. A movement at the back of the crowd caught her attention and she spied Mahina
moving towards the dais with relief. It would be over soon. It was almost done.

Mahina finally stepped up to the platform and turned to face the Gathering. R’shiel could not imagine what she was thinking. As First Sister she was sworn to destroy all vestiges of Harshini magic, yet her appointment this night couldn’t happen without it. She faced the Gathering with an unreadable expression as R’shiel forced the thousand or more Sisters present to accept her reinstatement.

“Do you accept my nomination?” Joyhinia asked.

“Yes!” came the unanimous, if somewhat muted reply. R’shiel needed them to agree. She didn’t have the skill to inspire them with enthusiasm.

“Then I declare Mahina Cortanen First Sister!”

There was no accompanying cheer, barely a murmur, in fact. Mahina didn’t wait for the customary accolades, in any case. The demon meld wobbled for an instant and R’shiel knew they couldn’t hold it together much longer.

“Commandant, as the ranking officer of the Defenders in the Citadel, will you take the oath on behalf of the Lord Defender?”

“I will, your Grace,” Garet replied, stepping forward into the small clearing at the foot of the dais.

R’shiel fought off the crippling nausea as Garet drew his sword and laid it at the feet of the new First Sister.
Not much longer
, she told herself, understanding now why Brak had insisted she work the coercion and then leave immediately. She wanted to vomit and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay on her feet.

Garet knelt on one knee and began the oath in a voice that rang clearly through the Hall. A commotion
at the edge of the crowd distracted R’shiel for a moment, but she ignored it. It was almost over. The demon meld shimmered but Dranymire managed to hold his brethren together. As soon as the Defenders were sworn to Mahina, Joyhinia could leave. It didn’t matter if the meld disintegrated the moment they were out of sight. The important thing was to prevent it falling into a puddle of little grey demons in full sight of the Gathering. R’shiel was coercing the Sisters into accepting Mahina’s appointment. If she were forced to cover for the demons, she would have to let that thought go. Even if she had the skill to perform such a task, she doubted she had the strength left.

R’shiel’s black eyes watered with the effort of forcing down the natural opposition of the Sisters in the Hall to this blatant breach of protocol. It was like trying to hold a surging ocean back with nothing more than a fishing net. As Brak had warned, for some the coercion settled on them with barely a flicker of protest, while other minds rebelled against the thoughts she imposed on them. That opposition surged up like a stormy sea. No sooner had she quieted one mind than another screamed in protest. The mental strength it took surprised her. Physically, she was on the point of exhaustion.

It seemed to take Garet forever to complete the oath. Time slowed as her vision narrowed to a pinpoint, fixed on the dais. It was all she could see, all she cared about. As the power consumed her, every sense not immediately involved in holding the coercion together seemed to shut down. She could no longer feel her fingers gripping the balustrade. She could no longer hear anything. The odour of damp
wool cloaks that had permeated the Hall faded into nothing. She was isolated in a bubble of total concentration that allowed no room for any distraction.

“Stop this abomination! You are being deceived!”

The voice rang out from the back of the Hall, a male voice that startled the Sisters with its harsh Karien accent. R’shiel felt the Sisters’resistance to the coercion surge in response to the sudden cry and it slipped from her grasp. At almost the same instant, Dranymire lost control of the meld.

Screams filled the Hall as Joyhinia fell apart, leaving nothing but a writhing mass of wrinkled grey gnomes who blinked out of existence as soon as they realised they were exposed. All except one. The little demon who had attached herself to R’shiel in Sanctuary; who sought warmth in her bed, cowered behind the lectern on the podium, unseen by the humans surrounding her, trembling with fear.

R’shiel didn’t see the demon. She had no idea what was happening. She collapsed against the balustrade and brought up everything she had eaten for the past week. Her eyes watered so hard she couldn’t see, could not find the source of the pounding feet on the narrow stairs that led to the gallery. She wiped her mouth and glanced up, barely had time to notice the tonsured man standing over her as a jewelled staff landed on her shoulder, tearing a scream of unbearable agony from her.

She quivered on the gallery floor as rough hands held her down and something cold and hard was snapped around her neck. As soon as the clasp snicked shut, R’shiel felt the last remnants of the
Harshini power vanish, as if a door had been slammed shut on it.

Dazed and barely able to walk, she was dragged to her feet, pushed down the winding stairs, then half pulled, half carried to the front of the Hall. The men holding her threw her to the floor. Simply letting her go would have had the same effect. Her head cracked against the bottom step, but she barely noticed the pain or the blood that spurted from her forehead. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and wiped her eyes.

More screams filled the hall as the little demon spied R’shiel and flew at her, chitterring in terror. She wrapped her arms around R’shiel’s neck. As soon as the demon came in contact with the collar, she squealed with pain and fell to the floor, quivering, temporarily robbed of every vestige of power, too stunned to disappear and save herself. R’shiel tried to catch the creature but she was pushed away roughly. One of the priests pinned the demon to the floor with his staff.

R’shiel cried out in protest as the little demon squealed in agony. Someone knocked her down. By the time she had pushed herself up again, the demon was being hurried from the hall by two of the Karien priests. She looked up then and caught sight of the First Sister.

Joyhinia looked down at her. The real Joyhinia. Savage intelligence burned in eyes that should have been filled with childish innocence. She smiled with malicious glee, then held her arms wide to address the Gathering.

“What has happened here is sorcery, my Sisters! Only with the help of Lord Terbolt and the Karien
priests have I been able to expose this treachery. I have not resigned. I do not surrender my position to any woman.” She spared Mahina a glance, then turned to Garet Warner. “Arrest the usurper!”

Garet didn’t even hesitate. Mahina was being led away before she could protest—before anyone could protest. The Commandant had changed sides without a whimper. Angrily, R’shiel forced herself to concentrate and reach for her power, but all she got in return for her trouble was a vicious burning sensation around her neck that wrenched an agonised cry from her lips.

Joyhinia glanced down at R’shiel. She was gloating. Her eyes were filled with vengeance waiting to be sated. The aura that surrounded her was black streaked and tantalisingly familiar. She held her arms wide again and addressed the Gathering.