"Then why did you come, Dirk Provin? You've done nothing but cause trouble from the first day you set foot on the mainland."

"I'm here because I'm the Lord of the Suns and Senet is facing a crisis that requires the full cooperation of both church and state to bring it under control. Above and beyond that, I won't be forced into anything that you can use against me the next time you decide to shift your allegiance."

Palinov didn't look offended. He looked at Dirk with begrudging respect. "You will withdraw the troops from Dhevyn though, won't you?"

"Yes," he agreed. "But I'm placing them under the command of Kirshov Latanya."

"But Prince Kirshov is not here."

"By the time the order reaches Dhevyn and the fleet gets back to Avacas, Kirsh will be back, my lord. And then he can decide if his father's activities warrant punitive action. That's a decision neither you nor I have the right to make."

Palinov nodded in agreement. Dirk couldn't tell if he was surprised or disappointed Dirk refused to be drawn into his plans.

"Then I'll have the orders drawn up and you can sign them, my lord."

"I'll write them," Dirk told him, certain if he left the task in Palinov's hands he would word the order in such a way its meaning could easily be misinterpreted.

Dirk had enough problems. He didn't need to add a charge of treason to them.

Chapter 72

Several days later, Kirsh sent word he would be back in Avacas by the end of the week. Dirk read the message with a vast feeling of relief. He felt balanced on a knife's edge. As the rumors grew about Antonov's insanity, and word spread about the troops he was gathering in the north, the tension in Avacas became unbearable.

Palinov wasn't the only one weighing his options. Every face in the palace seemed to wear a considering look, as if the court were trying to decide where the safest option lay. Was Antonov insane?

And if he was, would Kirshov be strong enough to wrest control of Senet from his father? More important, would he even try? Kirsh had a reputation for being a competent military leader, and his actions since the eclipse had done nothing but enhance that reputation. But many doubted he lacked the will to challenge his father. Others doubted he had the support. Ruling Dhevyn as her regent was one thing. Being strong enough to take on the Lion of Senet on Senetian soil, even if he was no longer sane, was a different matter entirely.

And suppose Antonov wasn't insane? Suppose he had good reason to gather an army in Omaxin?

Suppose there was nothing amiss at all?

Antonov's willingness to forgive Dirk Provin the most outrageous sins was well known at court, and it was no secret Kirshov was his favorite son. Everything might be just as it seemed: the Lion of Senet was in Omaxin to seek spiritual guidance from the G.o.ddess and had sent his favorite son and his beloved nephew to Avacas to mind the store in his absence.

But if all was well, why had the troops been recalled from Dhevyn?

The only thing that didn't seem to be the subject of rumor and speculation was the news that Misha was on his way home.

Kirsh and Dirk had privately agreed to say nothing until Misha returned for fear of adding even more grist to the rumor mill. Dirk had heard nothing from Tia and had no idea if she even intended to do as he asked. Nor did he know what state Misha would be in when he got here.

And when he did return? What then? The Crippled Prince had only his position as Antonov's eldest son to back his authority. If the people of Senet were forced to choose between the brothers, Kirsh was by far the more popular prince. That he didn't want the responsibility wasn't the issue.

Dirk could only hope that when Misha arrived he was well enough to cope with the ma.s.sive load Kirsh intended to dump on him the moment his brother stepped foot in Avacas. And that he had the strength to deal with it. If Antonov really was planning something in Omaxin, Dirk wasn't sure Misha would be any more willing to go up against his father than Kirsh was.

Palinov had said nothing further to Dirk about Antonov, seemingly content for now that Dirk had recalled the troops from Dhevyn. With Kirsh due back soon, perhaps that was the end of it.

Dirk doubted it, but then, one could always hope.

Jacinta had asked for another audience, although she didn't claim it was a matter of life and death this time. He had seen her only in pa.s.sing since their last meeting, despite the fact that she was a guest in the palace. She was always polite, if a little cool, toward him, a fact that he appreciated greatly. After issuing an order to withdraw the Senetian troops from Dhevyn, it would have been unwise to give the impression he and the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy were overly friendly with each other. Not that they were, he mused. In fact, he wasn't sure what they were. Not quite conspirators, not quite friends, but more than acquaintances. Dirk sometimes wished Jacinta had gone back to Kalarada with Alenor. Notonly would it have been safer for her, but then Dirk would not have to deal with the uncertainty of having her around.

She was waiting for him in Antonov's study when he arrived, standing by the window looking out over the terrace. She was wearing an elegantly cut green silk robe and when she turned to look at him, her eyes seemed to reflect the shade of her dress.

"Good morning, my lord," she said pleasantly. "I hope you don't think me rude for being so early."

"Not at all."

She smiled. "I wanted to speak with you before Palinov got you in his clutches and you're unavailable for the rest of the day."

"He won't be here for a while yet," he a.s.sured her, crossing to the window where she stood. "What did you want to see me about?"

"I've had word from Alenor. She says you've ordered the Senetians to call off the search for the Baenlanders." She seemed amused. "It seems Alenor's faith in you was justified. The tone of her letter was rather... smug, actually."

"I'd have ordered every Senetian in Dhevyn home if I could have," he a.s.sured her. "But there are limits to what I can do."

"Not many," she observed wryly. "Alenor asked me to give you something else, too."

"What was that?"

"I believe her exact words were, 'Please tell Dirk I love him and give him a great big kiss for me.'"

Jacinta rolled her eyes. "I really need to speak to that girl about the appropriate way to word official correspondence. I can't imagine what historians will think a few years from now if I allow that little gem to wind up in the royal archives."

Dirk smiled. "I imagine they'll wonder if you did it."

She eyed him warily. "You don't really expect me to, do you?"

"More to the point: does Alenor expect it of you?" he suggested, moving a little closer. "She is your queen, you know. I'm sure it would be treason if you defied her."

"I've delivered Alenor's message," Jacinta pointed out rather stiffly, "and I'm quite certain you appreciate her sentiments without me having to provide a physical demonstration of her grat.i.tude."

Dirk sighed. "Then please convey my regards to your queen," he said formally, disappointed to discover Jacinta did not intend to carry out Alenor's instructions. "And tell her I'm doing what I can to help Dhevyn."

"She knows that."

Jacinta was far too close for comfort, particularly with all this talk of grat.i.tude and kisses. He could smell the faint scent of the jasmine-perfumed soap she used to wash her hair. She was so close he could see his own reflection in those strange, color-shifting eyes. He took a step backward, afraid that if he didn't, he would do something fatally stupid.

She smiled knowingly, as if she knew what he was thinking. Or worse, what he was feeling.

"Of course, now that I've expressed Alenor's appreciation, I suppose I should add my personal grat.i.tude to you for ridding Dhevyn of a couple of thousand Senetian troops."

Dirk stared at her in surprise, wondering if he had misread her meaning. Hope suddenly warred with despair inside him. One false move and this could quickly change from one of the most pivotal moments in his life to one of the most embarra.s.sing.Jacinta sensed his uncertainty and seemed amused by it. She moved a little closer, leaving Dirk in no doubt about her intentions.

"Palinov's due any moment..."

"He'll knock," Jacinta said with a smile and then she kissed him lightly, barely brushed his lips with hers.

That was her idea of grat.i.tude? Dirk thought he would die from the torment. The look in her eyes didn't speak of chaste and grateful kisses. Her eyes spoke of wild abandon, of shredded clothes and sweaty bodies and d.a.m.ning the consequences. Dirk wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her hard.

He wanted to forget for a time he was the Lord of the Suns and she was the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy and that they were standing in the Lion of Senet's study, likely to be disturbed at any moment by the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

Jacinta stepped away from him, as if she had read his thoughts.

"That's more than enough...grat.i.tude... for one day," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?" she asked, daring him to confess his thoughts.

Dirk felt his face warming and was certain he was blushing like a fool. He couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make matters worse.

"I think I should leave now."

"That's probably a good idea," he agreed raggedly. His position was far too fragile to endanger it by risking a liaison with any woman, let alone the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy. And he suspected Jacinta's life wouldn't be worth living if her mother caught so much as a whiff of scandal. But I'm willing to take the risk, he wanted to say to her. If you are. The words remained unspoken. He'd come too far to endanger everything for something so foolish and self-indulgent. To put some distance between them he stepped away from her and sat in Antonov's chair behind the desk.

"Perhaps you should go before Lord Palinov gets here."

She nodded, a little sadly. "I should, I suppose..." There was a wealth of unspoken feeling in her words.

"I'm sorry, my lady."

"What have you done this time, Dirk?"

They both turned and stared at the man who had spoken. Dirk blinked in shock as a tall, dark-haired man limped into the room with Tia Veran at his side.

It took both of them a moment or two to realize it was Misha Latanya.

PART FIVE.

THE CRIPPLED PRINCE

Chapter 73

Misha had spent a lot of time trying to imagine what his return to Avacas would be like. Months in Garwenfield, particularly after Tia left, gave him more time than he cared for to dwell on the possibilities.

Mostly, his conjecture involved confronting his father and seeing the look of stunned surprise on the Lion of Senet's face when his son returned, hearty and whole. He had imagined the look of awe on Antonov's face. Imagined-or rather hoped-his father would be...what? Pleased? Relieved? Misha had never been able to decide about that.

But one thing was certain. He had not expected to find Dirk Provin sitting in his father's chair.

"Misha!"

"You sound surprised, Dirk. Tia said you were expecting me."

Is he really glad I'm back? Or is he facing it? Misha wondered, studying Dirk closely. He looked a little too comfortable in Antonov's chair for Misha's liking. Unfortunately, he was no better at reading Dirk than anybody else. Misha knew Dirk had released Tia with the specific intention of bringing him back to Senet, but was it because he genuinely wanted Misha home? Or did he have some other devious plan in mind, as Tia suspected?

"I'm delighted to see you... but... I expected some warning. G.o.ddess! Look at you! You're so..."

"What? Upright? Coherent?"

"What... what happened to you?"

"It's a long story."

Before he could elaborate, the door opened again and Lord Palinov bustled into the study. He glanced at Misha and Tia, pushed past them without a second glance and stopped before Dirk impatiently. "My lord, we have a lot to do this morning. Perhaps you could socialize with Lady Jacinta and her friends at a more appropriate time?"

Dirk glanced over at Misha before he replied. "I'm not sure there is a more appropriate time, Palinov."

"There is a great deal to be done before the prince returns, my lord."

"The prince has returned, my lord, although not the one you were hoping for, I suspect."

"My lord?" Palinov asked in confusion.

Dirk said nothing. Neither did Misha. He waited until Palinov thought to glance over his shoulder again.

Misha was delighted to see the old man suddenly go pale.

"G.o.ddess! Prince Misha? Your highness! But...but this can't be! You're... well, you're dead!"

"I realize it's probably something of a disappointment to you, Palinov, but as you can see, I am clearly not dead." He turned to Dirk and added without rancor, "Get out of that chair, Dirk. You don't belong there any longer."

The Lord of the Suns didn't even hesitate before vacating Antonov's chair and surrendering it to him. "I never belonged in it, Misha."Tia snorted skeptically, but Misha smiled with relief. In those few words Dirk had told him all he wanted to know about how far his cousin could be trusted.

Misha limped across the study and took the seat, glad of the chance to sit down. He was trembling, but it was excitement rather than pain making him shake. Tia had apprised him of what she knew about the situation in Senet on the journey back from Damita, but there was a great deal more to be learned, and until he knew what was going on, he could do little but look commanding and sound confident.

"Palinov."

"Er... yes, your highness?"

"This is the Lady Tia Veran."

"The heretic's daughter?"

"My friend," he corrected sternly. "You will see to it she is treated as an honored guest. If she has any complaints, I will hold you personally responsible."

"Of... of course, your highness."

Misha turned to the girl Dirk had been apologizing to when he came in. She was a slender, stunning girl with thick dark hair and eyes that seemed to be a different color every time he looked at her. "My sudden appearance seems to have robbed everybody of their manners, my lady. You are?"