Second Sons - Lord Of The Shadows Part 24

Marqel smiled coyly. This was better.

"Then I'm glad someone does," she replied. "Every time I see another pile of dispatches, I fear the G.o.ddess is punis.h.i.+ng me for something, not rewarding me, your highness."

Antonov smiled. "Belagren often said the same thing."

I know she did, Marqel replied silently. That's why I said it.

"I trust the troops I sent to Omaxin to sort out the Sidorians were sufficient."

For a moment, Marqel had no idea what he was talking about. Then she remembered the letter Madalan had drafted in her name her very first day on the job. "They were most appreciated, your highness."

"Well, I've left orders they should stay up there for a while, just in case the Sidorians haven't gotten the message yet."

Alenor saved her from having to come up with something that sounded like an intelligent answer.

"Would you excuse me, your highness?" the queen asked. "I'm still not feeling all that strong. I'd like to retire. I'm sure the High Priestess will be happy to keep you entertained."

"Of course you may go, my dear. Retire as soon as you wish. n.o.body will be c/fended."

"Thank you, sire," she said with a small curtsy, and then she walked back toward the dining room, leaving Marqel alone with Antonov.

"So, my lady, you've been let out for the evening," Antonov remarked, turning to face her."Your highness?" she asked with alarm. Did everyone in Avacas think she was a prisoner ?

"I was referring to Lady Madalan's numerous refusals to my previous requests for your presence in the palace."

Marqel sighed. "Dear, dear Madalan. She's very protective of me. Please don't be angry with her.

She's just trying to make things easier for me. She's been such a tower of strength. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"She was a great help to Belagren, too," Antonov agreed.

She nodded sagely. "I believe the G.o.ddess never burdens us with more than we can bear, your highness. And when she does, she puts people like Madalan in our path to help us carry it."

"Wisely spoken, my lady. You appear to have undergone a remarkable change since we first met."

"I would hope so, your highness. I was but a foolish girl back then."

"You were also a thief, as I recall."

Marqel smiled. She had known this would come up eventually and had spent quite some time perfecting her answer. "I know you thought I was lying, your highness, but the truth is, I never stole Rees Provin's dagger. The girl I shared my wagon with was the thief, but I was too afraid to say so."

"Afraid of me?"

"Afraid of Mistress Kalleen. Had I betrayed a member of the troupe, your worst punishment would have seemed merciful by comparison. But when I look back now, I see the G.o.ddess at work, even then. Without my arrest, without you deciding to hand me over to Lady Belagren, I would never have joined the Shadowdancers. I believe the G.o.ddess arranged the whole thing."

"Perhaps she did," Antonov agreed, although she could not tell if he accepted her explanation. "I supposes she arranged for you and Kirsh to become... friends... as well."

"No, your highness, that was Lady Belagren."

Antonov stared at her in shock. "Are you saying the High Priestess arranged for you to become my son's mistress?"

"You can ask Madalan if you doubt it, your highness. At the time, I was quite horrified by the suggestion, but I believe I now know the reason."

"And I'll bet it's a good one," Antonov remarked, clearly skeptical of her revelation.

"I've had the opportunity to examine some of her personal journals, your highness," Marqel explained. She got the idea from Dirk. He'd made Madalan believe this whole High Priestess thing was Belagren's idea. There was no reason why she couldn't do the same. "I believe the G.o.ddess spoke about me to the Lady Belagren, indicating I was to become the consort of the 'Son of Senet.' At least that's what she wrote in her journal. The High Priestess a.s.sumed I was destined to be consort to one of your sons, and as Misha was so ill, it left only Kirshov. I don't think it ever occurred to her the G.o.ddess thinks of you as her son, not your heirs."

Antonov said nothing for a moment, and then he glanced around the terrace. Most of the dinner guests were still there, standing in small groups discussing whatever it was n.o.bles stood around discussing at dinner parties. Alenor and her party were gone, but the rest of them were waiting on the Lion of Senet to retire before they could leave without giving offense.

"I have a number of matters I must discuss with the High Priestess in private," he announced.

"Please, stay as long as you like, but forgive my rudeness." He turned to Marqel and offered her his arm. "My lady?"Doing her best to hide her triumphant smile, Marqel accepted his arm and walked from the terrace with the Lion of Senet at her side.

Somewhat to Marqel's disappointment, Antonov didn't take her upstairs to his suite, but escorted her along the hall to his study. She looked around, thinking the rug by the unlit fireplace was probably good enough to get the job done, and then she turned and looked at him, wondering when he would make the first move. But Antonov wasn't staring at her l.u.s.tfully. He was pouring himself a gla.s.s of wine from the sideboard.

"Could I have one of those?"

Antonov handed her the gla.s.s and turned to pour another for himself, and then he leaned against the sideboard, sipping his wine, and studied her curiously.

"You know, somebody told me once he never ceased to be amazed by my gullibility, and I must admit my first reaction to the news the G.o.ddess had spoken to you was that you're a devious little minx who had somehow found a way to make the whole world believe she's something she's not."

"Surely you suffered the same doubts when Belagren first came to you?"

"Belagren wasn't a thief picked up off the streets of Elcast, my lady."

"Nor is the G.o.ddess only a G.o.ddess of the highborn, your highness," she responded.

He nodded. "And when I remembered that, I realized the G.o.ddess was simply testing my faith. It's frightening how close I came to denying her. It's fortunate I received a message today from Kirshov."

Marqel held her breath. Her very life depended on the contents of that message.

"Your instructions were correct. They got through the delta without incident. So it seems the G.o.ddess has chosen you."

Marqel could have cried with relief. "You should have had more faith, your highness," she advised with a smile.

"I will when you stop lying to me."

"But they got through the delta," she protested. "I spoke the truth!"

"I wasn't referring to that. I was referring to your rather fanciful story out on the terrace. I knew Belagren longer than you've been alive, Marqel. She never kept a journal."

Marqel realized her error immediately, but she knew instinctively it wasn't so much the lie she had told him. She was pretending to be somebody she wasn't and Antonov Latanya was far too sharp to fall for anything so transparent. She was going about this all wrong. What did Dirk keep telling her? Make his faith work for you. It's Antonov's one great strength and his one great weakness. He'll do anything you want, believe anything you want, if he believes it is the will of the G.o.ddess.

"The G.o.ddess sometimes needs a helping hand, your highness."

"I don't believe she expects you to lie to me, Marqel. I'd not like to begin our time together with lies."

Our time together. Marqel smiled. "Perhaps I did get a bit carried away. But you're an honorable and devout man, your highness. You're old enough to be my father. You have sons older than me, one of whom I've been sleeping with. I feared I would not be able to fulfill my role as High Priestess if you thought..." She let her voice trail off. She hoped she had said enough. It was time for him to make the next move. And he'd better do it soon. She only had tonight. If she couldn't get into Antonov's bed before second sunrise tomorrow, it would be back to the Hall of Shadows and Madalan b.l.o.o.d.y Tirov.Marqel swallowed her wine, walked across the rug and placed the empty gla.s.s on the sideboard.

Antonov made no attempt to move out of her way, nor did she make any pretext of trying to avoid touching him. She stood only inches from him and looked up into his eyes.

"I would not ask anything of you that you would not willingly give, my lady."

"I am the Voice of the G.o.ddess, your highness," she said softly. "It is my duty. And my pleasure."

Marqel stood on her toes and kissed Antonov with every ounce of skill she owned. He hesitated for only a second or two before he responded.

"I can see why Kirsh finds you so irresistible," he breathed huskily after a moment. If there was one thing Marqel had learned about men, it was that once they were aroused, common sense and reason were usually forgotten.

"Shhh..." she said, placing a finger against his lips. "It is the will of the G.o.ddess."

He was breathing hard, and that wasn't the only part of him reacting to her expert touch. Marqel pressed her body against his, letting her hands and her lips do the work.

But he wasn't an easy conquest. Perhaps some residual discomfort about her role as Kirsh's lover remained. Or perhaps that stupid story about Belagren's journals was still bothering him. He resisted her efforts longer than she thought he would... or could.

"Have faith," she commanded in a breathy whisper. "I am the Voice and the body of the G.o.ddess."

Marqel didn't know if it was her words or the hand she had slid down the front of Antonov's trousers, but she knew the moment he put aside reason and gave in to desire. In some ways, he was like the men Kalleen had sold her to. He was living out his s.e.xual fantasies. Antonov's fantasy, however, was not the sordid desire to bed a prep.u.b.escent girl. It was the ultimate expression of his faith. It was the notion that through the body of the High Priestess, he was somehow making love to his G.o.ddess. It was his reward, his payment for the sacrifices he had made.

Lost to the notion the G.o.ddess was with him, Antonov lifted Marqel into his arms as she wrapped her legs around him. He carried her to the desk, brus.h.i.+ng aside the scattered doc.u.ments, the inkwell and everything else in his way with a sweep of his arm. She landed heavily on her back, but was too busy fumbling with his trousers to notice. He lifted her long red robe and took her there on the desk, quickly and urgently and with little care for Marqel's pleasure or discomfort.

She didn't care.

Marqel the Magnificent, the Dhevynian Landfall b.a.s.t.a.r.d who didn't even have a last name, had just become the mistress of the Lion of Senet. And that was all that really mattered.

It wasn't until she woke the next morning in Antonov's bed, curled in his arms, sore, exhausted and filled with a deep sense of accomplishment, that she remembered her promise to Jacinta, and turned to Antonov with the suggestion the G.o.ddess would look kindly on him if he sent the Queen of Dhevyn home.

Chapter 33.

The Tsarina returned to Avacas quietly. The pomp and ceremony Kirsh had imagined wouldaccompany their triumphant return was nowhere in evidence. He and Dirk left the s.h.i.+p as soon as it docked and headed for the palace to report to his father.

Antonov had already received word Kirsh was back by the time they arrived at the palace. He was waiting for them in his study with Lord Palinov and the new High Priestess. Marqel stood behind his father's chair, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. The casual ease of her touch, and the careless familiarity in the way she was standing, told Kirsh all he needed to know before anyone uttered a word.

It wasn't unexpected, but his last vestige of hope vanished as Antonov rose to greet them.

Kirsh let Dirk do the talking, preferring to brood as Dirk delivered his report. His cousin was far better at explanations than he was, and had a gift for making everything sound perfectly reasonable.

Dirk did not attempt to lie, but he managed to present the facts in a way that made Kirsh sound a much better commander than he felt he deserved.

"There was no sign of Prince Misha at all?" Lord Palinov asked when Dirk finished speaking.

"We know he was there," Kirsh confirmed, tearing his eyes from Marqel long enough to answer the question. "But it seems that even the pirates don't trust their own. The best we can establish is that Misha, Tia Veran, Master Helgin, the old physician from Elcast, and some girl called Mellie disappeared with Reithan Seranov on the Wanderer sometime before we arrived. We've got our people looking out for the boat, but he's been giving us the slip for years, so I don't hold much hope we'll find them anytime soon."

"Why would Helgin go with them, Dirk?" Antonov asked.

"Misha's a sick man, your highness. I told you they wouldn't kill him. By the sound of it, they're going to some pains to keep him alive."

"You never mentioned Helgin was in Mil."

"You never asked me about him, sire."

"And the others in Mil? There was no sign of the ringleaders?"

"The only prisoner of importance we had was the captain of the Orlando, Dal Falstov," Dirk informed him. "But he was wounded in the fighting and died before we could question him. It wasn't a complete disaster, your highness. Mil no longer exists. We fired the poppy fields, so they'll have nothing to fund the rebuilding of the settlement, and now we know the way through the delta, they're going to have to find some other place to work any mischief against you."

Antonov was silent for a moment, and then he turned to Palinov. "Have a message sent to Kalarada.

Inform the queen we suspect the Baenlanders are using the Dhevynian islands to hide the fugitives from Mil. You can tell her we expect her full cooperation in our search to uncover them."

"Alenor's not here?" Kirsh asked in surprise.

"I let her return to Kalarada. She left about a week ago. I'm sorry, son. I should have realized you'd want her here to greet you when you got home, but she was pining away with you gone and, as the High Priestess so wisely pointed out, she would recover much more quickly in more familiar surroundings."

Marqel smiled at him serenely. Kirsh stared at his father for a moment, wondering if he was being sarcastic, but he wasn't. Antonov genuinely believed Kirsh and Alenor were happily married. It occurred to Kirsh that Antonov's belief in that lie was his undoing. It was one of the reasons Marqel now stood at his father's side. The Lion of Senet truly believed his son loved Alenor, and that Marqel had merely been a distraction. If he had known the truth, he might not have been so quick to take her from him.

On the other hand, had he known the truth, Marqel might not have lived long enough to become High Priestess.There was not a d.a.m.n thing he could do about it, Kirsh realized, except smile and be polite and accept the fact that the woman he loved was now his father's mistress and probably lost to him forever.

It was much later that night before Kirsh got a chance to speak to Marqel alone. She was occupying the suite previously reserved for Belagren, right next to his father's rooms. Marqel opened the door and admitted him with some reluctance. Kirsh looked around as he entered, thinking she had barely changed a thing. The rooms looked as if Belagren still lived here, not her successor. He glanced across at the door connecting the suite to his father's bedroom.

"He's downstairs with Dirk and Lord Palinov," Marqel said, when she noticed the direction of his gaze.

"What's he talking to Dirk about?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Did you want some wine? I only get the good stuff in here."

She seemed so... chirpy.

"Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. "I'm the High Priestess now."

"And you've a.s.sumed all of her duties?" he asked pointedly.

Marqel sighed. "Oh, Kirsh, what was I supposed to do? I'm the Voice of the G.o.ddess now. I didn't have a choice."

He stepped closer to her, but she backed away from him. "I can't bear this, Marqel. I can't stand seeing you with him. The thought of him and you... it's killing me."

"It's just one of those things, Kirsh," she shrugged. "You'll get used to it in time."

"I don't want to get used to it," he cried. He tried to take her in his arms. "Maybe we could still find somewhere..."

"Are you out of your mind?" she gasped, pus.h.i.+ng him away. "He'd kill us both!"