and marry the most notorious harlot on the whole continent!”
Adrina looked to Damin for support. He sat on the edge of the gold-inlaid desk, listening to his mother’s rage with barely concealed amusement. It annoyed her intensely that instead of defending her he thought it was funny.
“Are you finished yet?” R’shiel asked quietly, from the back of the room. She had been studying the books in the bookcases that lined the walls of thelibrary, but now she turned to them, the command in her voice impossible to deny.
Marla glared at her. She was not used to having her authority challenged.
“And who are you to tell me what to do?”
“I am R’shiel té Ortyn.”
“So you claim!” the princess scoffed. “You’re no Harshini! What right do you have to use the name of the Harshini royal family?”
“Lorandranek was my father.”
“That’s absurd!” Kalan declared. “You’re human. If Lorandranek was your father, that would make you the…” Her voiced trailed off as she realised what she was about to say.
“Yes?” R’shiel prompted.
“It’s not possible!”
“You of all people, should know that it is possible,” Damin pointed out.
“What are you talking about, Damin?” Narvell asked.
“Tell him, Kalan.”
Kalan glanced at her twin and shrugged. “If this young woman is really who she claims to be, then she is…the demon child.”
Narvell looked impressed by the news, but Marla was not so easily persuaded. “ This girl ? The demon child? Damin, they must have fed you something in the north that affected your reason. You surely don’t believe it, do you?”
“R’shiel is the demon child, mother. She was placed in my care by Zegarnald himself.”
Kalan stared at him with astonishment. “You spoke to the God of War?”
“In the flesh.”
“He spoke to me, too,” Narvell admitted. “It’s why I turned back.”
“This is unprecedented.”
“Everything about me is unprecedented,” R’shiel remarked. “So, if we’re through with the histrionics, perhaps we can start again. Princess Marla, I think you owe your daughter-in-law an apology. She’s really not that bad. As for you, High Arrion, you and I need to have a talk. Damin, can you do something about rooms for us? Your mother was right about that much at least—we all stink like horses. Perhaps once everyone has had a chance to clean up and calm down, we can sort this out like rational human beings.”
Princess Marla stared at R’shiel with undisguised horror, although whether it was because she found herself face-to-face with a legend, or simply R’shiel’s high-handed manner, Adrina could not tell.
CHAPTER 12
Damin knocked on the door of the rooms adjacent to his that his Chief Steward had allocated to Adrina and opened it without waiting for an answer, a little surprised to find it unlocked.
The room had been his mother’s once, on the rare occasions she had lived at Krakandar when he was a child. It was furnished in her impeccable taste: the rooms airy and light; the rugs imported from Karien; the crystal made in Fardohnya; the red granite floors polished to perfection. Not a piece of the whitewood furniture was out of place; not a vase or lamp did not belong here.
He followed the sound of voices through the sitting room and into the dressing room beyond. Adrina was standing before the full-length mirror, examining herself critically. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless robe that fell softly to the floor in a cascade of emerald silk. Her slave was moving about in the next room, tidying up after her mistress’ bath. She turned sharply as she caught sight of her husband in the mirror.
“Damin!”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I did knock.”
“Oh…” She straightened her gown and studied him for a moment. “There’s something different about you…I know what it is. I’ve never seen you so clean. You almost look civilised.”
Damin had not
Adrina looked to Damin for support. He sat on the edge of the gold-inlaid desk, listening to his mother’s rage with barely concealed amusement. It annoyed her intensely that instead of defending her he thought it was funny.
“Are you finished yet?” R’shiel asked quietly, from the back of the room. She had been studying the books in the bookcases that lined the walls of thelibrary, but now she turned to them, the command in her voice impossible to deny.
Marla glared at her. She was not used to having her authority challenged.
“And who are you to tell me what to do?”
“I am R’shiel té Ortyn.”
“So you claim!” the princess scoffed. “You’re no Harshini! What right do you have to use the name of the Harshini royal family?”
“Lorandranek was my father.”
“That’s absurd!” Kalan declared. “You’re human. If Lorandranek was your father, that would make you the…” Her voiced trailed off as she realised what she was about to say.
“Yes?” R’shiel prompted.
“It’s not possible!”
“You of all people, should know that it is possible,” Damin pointed out.
“What are you talking about, Damin?” Narvell asked.
“Tell him, Kalan.”
Kalan glanced at her twin and shrugged. “If this young woman is really who she claims to be, then she is…the demon child.”
Narvell looked impressed by the news, but Marla was not so easily persuaded. “ This girl ? The demon child? Damin, they must have fed you something in the north that affected your reason. You surely don’t believe it, do you?”
“R’shiel is the demon child, mother. She was placed in my care by Zegarnald himself.”
Kalan stared at him with astonishment. “You spoke to the God of War?”
“In the flesh.”
“He spoke to me, too,” Narvell admitted. “It’s why I turned back.”
“This is unprecedented.”
“Everything about me is unprecedented,” R’shiel remarked. “So, if we’re through with the histrionics, perhaps we can start again. Princess Marla, I think you owe your daughter-in-law an apology. She’s really not that bad. As for you, High Arrion, you and I need to have a talk. Damin, can you do something about rooms for us? Your mother was right about that much at least—we all stink like horses. Perhaps once everyone has had a chance to clean up and calm down, we can sort this out like rational human beings.”
Princess Marla stared at R’shiel with undisguised horror, although whether it was because she found herself face-to-face with a legend, or simply R’shiel’s high-handed manner, Adrina could not tell.
CHAPTER 12
Damin knocked on the door of the rooms adjacent to his that his Chief Steward had allocated to Adrina and opened it without waiting for an answer, a little surprised to find it unlocked.
The room had been his mother’s once, on the rare occasions she had lived at Krakandar when he was a child. It was furnished in her impeccable taste: the rooms airy and light; the rugs imported from Karien; the crystal made in Fardohnya; the red granite floors polished to perfection. Not a piece of the whitewood furniture was out of place; not a vase or lamp did not belong here.
He followed the sound of voices through the sitting room and into the dressing room beyond. Adrina was standing before the full-length mirror, examining herself critically. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless robe that fell softly to the floor in a cascade of emerald silk. Her slave was moving about in the next room, tidying up after her mistress’ bath. She turned sharply as she caught sight of her husband in the mirror.
“Damin!”
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I did knock.”
“Oh…” She straightened her gown and studied him for a moment. “There’s something different about you…I know what it is. I’ve never seen you so clean. You almost look civilised.”
Damin had not
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