“But I thought …”
She smiled. “Thought what? That I would be there for you to lean on forever? You don't need me, Misha. Not anymore. You've beaten the poppy-dust. You're strong enough to take on the whole world without any help from me. You've proved that time and again since you got back. Even Palinov is afraid of you now.”
“But I love you.”
“And I love you,” she assured him. “But that's not enough. You know it as well as I do. You're the Lion of Senet's heir and I'm the heretic's daughter.” She laughed suddenly, but it was tinged with bitterness. “It's not like you're planning to marry me, is it?”
Misha was dumbfounded.
She smiled understandingly. “It's all right, Misha, truly. And I know it's not your fault. You can't help being who you are, any more than I can.”
“No,” he objected. “You don't understand. I thought… well, I suppose I just assumed you wanted to marry me. Goddess, what a fool I am. I never even thought to ask.”
Tia was obviously unconvinced. “You don't have to say that to make me feel better.”
“Damn it, Tia! I'm saying it because I mean it. What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees and beg for your hand?”
She searched his face for a moment and then frowned. “You're serious?”
“Of course, I'm serious.”
“But I'm the heretic's daughter.”
“And I'm the Crippled Prince. We'll make a fine pair, don't you think?” He pulled her to him and kissed her, just to make certain she knew he meant what he said, and then he smiled. “Besides, the Lord of the Suns is a friend of mine. I don't think Neris Veran's heresy is an issue anymore.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked uncertainly. “Aren't you supposed to marry some well-bred virgin with all the right credentials?”
“Like who?”
“I don't know. Someone like … Jacinta D'Orlon, maybe?”
“Let me tell you something about the immaculately credentialed Lady Jacinta D'Orlon, my love. She has her sights set on someone far more unattainable than the Lion of Senet's heir. Anyway, I don't love anyone else. I love you.”
“You're a prince, Misha,” she reminded him. “You don't have that luxury. In fact, you're an idiot for even considering the idea. Nobody will accept me. There's a price on my head, remember? And I don't know the first thing about being the consort of a prince.”
“I can get rid of the price on your head with the stroke of a pen, Tia, and you can learn to be a princess, if you really want to. Anybody would think you didn't want to marry me.”
“I do, Misha, but that's not the point.”
“Then we'll do it right now,” he declared. “We'll get Dirk to perform the ceremony.”
“The hell we will,” she snorted. “The last person I want at my wedding is Dirk Provin.”
“Just so long as you want me there.”
She was silent for an agonizingly long time.
“Don't torture me, Tia. Will you marry me?”
After a long time, she shrugged. “I suppose.”
He kissed her again, wishing he could bottle this moment for the future. Then a polite cough interrupted them and he looked up to find Dirk standing on the path behind them.
“Do you mind?” Misha said with a smile. “I just got betrothed.”
“And I wish you and Tia all the happiness in the world, Misha,” Dirk replied heavily. “But right now, you've got another problem.”
“What problem?” Tia asked with a scowl, no doubt thinking Dirk had deliberately invaded their brief moment of happiness out of spite.
“Antonov is dead,” Dirk told them. “You're the Lion of Senet now, Misha.”
“Oh, Goddess …” Misha gasped, clutching Tia for support.
“It gets worse,” Dirk added grimly. “Kirsh has declared war on us.”
They met in Antonov's private study a short time later: Dirk, Tia, Lord Palinov and Misha. The letter from Omaxin was waiting for him on Antonov's desk. It was written in clear and concise words and left no doubt about Kirsh's intentions.
Misha read it through and then looked up at Dirk. “He can't mean this.”
“He means it,” Dirk replied. “He says he swore an oath to Antonov that he would see Ranadon is true to the teachings of the Goddess as set down by the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers. He knows you and I intend to get rid of them. What other interpretation can you put on it?”
“But war? How did it come to that?”
“You sent him up to Omaxin alone,” Dirk pointed out. “I warned you it wasn't a good idea to let Marqel at him.”
“I knew Kirsh was besotted by Marqel, but I don't believe he'd plunge Senet into a civil war, just to keep her in power.”
“But he would honor an oath, Misha,” Dirk warned. “Particularly an oath he made to your father.”
“I'm inclined to concur with the Lord of the Suns, your highness,” Palinov agreed. “Your brother takes his honor very seriously.”
“When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it,” Misha snapped, in no mood for Palinov right now. He turned to Dirk with a look of despair. “I can't fight Kirsh. He's my brother.”
“He'll be counting on that,” Tia suggested.
“Tia's right,” Dirk said. “And I'm guessing Kirsh doesn't want to fight you, any more than you want to fight him. But unless you're willing to give in to his demands, then you have no other choice.”
“He demands you,” Misha pointed out. “The burden of heresy has shifted somewhat, it seems.”
“That's Marqel talking, not Kirsh.”
“If Kirsh wants Dirk, then maybe that's exactly what you should give him,” Tia mused.
They all looked at her for an explanation.
“And I don't mean that the way it sounds,” she added, impatiently. “This isn't about you and your brother, Misha; it's about the Lord of the Suns and the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers. You and Kirsh just happen to support different sides and unfortunately, you're the ones with the armies.”
“What are you suggesting, Tia?” Dirk asked. “That I lead Misha's forces into battle against Kirsh?”
“That's exactly what I'm suggesting.”
“I'm not a general,” Dirk objected. “And what army in Senet would follow me?”
“Any army I ordered to follow you,” Misha pointed out thoughtfully.
Dirk stared at him. “Don't send me to war against Kirsh, Misha. Not that.”
“The way I see it, I have two choices,” Misha concluded. “I can send the Lord of the Suns to Omaxin to put down a minor uprising led by the disgraced High Priestess of the Shadowdancers, or I can lead an army against my own brother. One choice will cause a fuss that will more than likely blow over in a few months. The other will tear Senet apart and plunge us into civil war.”
“This isn't my fight, Misha.”
“That's where you're wrong, Dirk,” Tia told him. “You made this your fight the moment you asked Paige Halyn to name you his heir. Now you're going to have to see it through to the bitter end.”
Misha nodded slowly. “Tia's got a point, Dirk.”
“But I don't know anything about fighting a war.”
“That's a real pity, Dirk,” Tia said unsympathetically. “Because from what I hear, Kirshov Latanya is pretty good at it.”
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 t
hing 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 surpris
ed 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.”
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