The Dawn Star by Catherine Asaro Page B

black could be described as burning, but right now his eyes flamed with anger.
    â€œAre you telling me,” he asked, “that Taka Mal has attacked my wife’s family?”
    â€œTheir emissaries claim Goodman Drummer is un-harmed,” Kindler said. “And that he will remain so as long as no Chamberlight or Dawnfield army marches against Taka Mal.”
    â€œNeither my father nor my cousin Jarid has ever coveted Taka Mal,” Mel said. But she knew taking hostages to ensure the behavior of a rival sovereign had a long history in the settled lands. Taka Mal sought protection against Cobalt. He and her parents and Vizarana would all debate until they settled on a compromise. She hoped. She didn’t want to think what might happen to Drummer if they couldn’t reach an agreement.
    â€œSurely we can help my uncle,” Mel said.
    Cobalt turned his fierce gaze on her. “Drummer is your mother’s younger brother?”
    â€œThat’s right. He’s a minstrel.” Mel smiled. “He likes to sing and play pranks. He’s harmless.”
    â€œAnd well loved by your mother,” Cobalt said.
    Softly Mel said, “By all of us.”
    â€œThat makes him dangerous,” Cobalt said. “When a man is loved, those who care for him will do anything to make sure he comes to no harm.”
    Mel shivered. Cobalt had met Drummer only a few times, hardly enough to develop any affection for him. “We must help him.”
    â€œTaka Mal is wrong if they think they can control me by attacking my kin.”
    Kin. So he did think of Drummer as family. “Then you will send emissaries to Taka Mal?”
    His expression darkened. “I will send no emissaries.”
    Mel felt as if she had lost her moorings. “No one?”
    â€œNot for an insult this grave.” His voice chilled. “I will send my army.”

    Drummer spent the morning playing his glittar. He did scales, practiced old songs, and composed new ones. By midday, he was restless. Bored. He resented the captivity.
    After he finished his midday meal, he cleared out the parlor and laid down Kazlatarian rugs, plush and vibrant with sunrise hues. He practiced acrobatics, first warm-ups and then more intricate routines. He was standing on his head, doing splits in that inverted position when Jade entered the room. For a moment he enjoyed the upside-down sight of her gaping at him. She had on amazing clothes, emerald-green and silky. Gold jewelry glistened against her skin, and topazes sparkled in her upswept hair.
    â€œWhat in a thousand journeys on the cinnamon road are you doing? ” she asked.
    â€œThe what road?” Drummer somersaulted in the air and landed on his feet. He didn’t even stumble, which usually happened on that maneuver. He felt as if he could fly. “Greetings of the afternoon, Your Highness.”
    â€œLight of the afternoon,” Jade said. “It is what we say here.”
    â€œAnd you are.” Drummer went over to her. “I have never seen you so captivating. Every day I wait for a glimpse of you.”
    She looked unimpressed. “Does this flattery of yours actually work on Aronsdale farm girls?”
    He was challenging her, especially with words like captivating, but it was true, too, that he savored their daily meetings. And for all that she insisted he vexed and provoked her, she always found an excuse to see him. She rebuffed his advances, yet never demanded he stop, which only made him try harder. Hot one moment and cold the next: She was tying him in knots.
    Drummer came to within a step of her, closer than he had been since her first visit to his suite. “Aronsdale women can’t compare to you.”
    Her lips quirked upward. “I fear you will write me more bad poetry.”
    â€œBad? Never.” He feared he was about to do something much worse. It would undoubtedly involve Jade and her lips and evoke more of her threats to throw him