Dirk stared at her in surprise. She didn't seem to be joking. "Are you serious?"

"Quite. If the solution to this problem is Marqel's death, then why not do something to facilitate it?"

"You expect me to order Marqel killed in cold blood?"

"How many more will die if you go to war?" she asked pointedly.

"I can't," he said with a shake of his head. "And not because I don't have the will to order Marqel's death. I'd strangle her myself if I had the chance. But even if I killed her now, Kirsh would still fight.

He'd be after vengeance. And I don't need a martyr. I need the Shadowdancers discredited, not sanctified. I want Marqel led through the streets of Avacas in chains, not carried through them on her funeral pyre."

"And that's the difference between you and Kirshov," Jacinta noted. "In your heart you want to murder her, but your head is telling you different. And you listen to it. Have you ever done anything impulsive?"

"Lots of times," he replied, not sure he liked what her question implied.

"I doubt it," she chuckled. "I don't think you've ever done a thing without considering the consequences.""I left Elcast and came to Senet," he reminded her. "Trust me, I had no idea of the consequences of that particularly impulsive act."

"And how different a world we would live in now if you had stayed at home," she mused. "Is that why you blame yourself? Do you trace all the tangled threads of this mess back to that one decision?"

"It's difficult not to."

"You're too hard on yourself. You said the other day this might have happened even without your interference. Misha was being poisoned by the Shadowdancers long before you came on the scene."

"But Marqel wouldn't be High Priestess."

"You don't know that for certain," she said. "Alenor told me Kirsh met Marqel on Elcast. It was he who asked Belagren to take her into the Shadowdancers. She might not have gotten to the top so fast without your aid, but you've no way of knowing if it might have happened anyway, even without your help."

"Did Misha really send you here to deliver dispatches?" he asked, curiously. "Or to keep my spirits up?"

She smiled. "The truth? He was just being nice, I think. He liked the idea of saving me from a fate worse than death, even if only temporarily."

"You mean marrying Raban Seranov?"

"Do you know him?"

"Not well. I've met him."

"He's not a bad person, I suppose. His loyalties are certainly in the right place. He's just...dissolute, I think is the best word to describe him."

"If you really don't want to marry him, why don't you refuse?"

"I'll take it from that optimistic suggestion you've not had much to do with my mother," she replied with a groan. "Anyway, life's not that simple. Not for someone in my position. I have a duty. To my family. And to Dhevyn. We're finally independent of Senet, but it will take a long time before we're able to call ourselves free. Now, more than ever, the ancient n.o.ble families of Dhevyn must show unity, and what better way than the union of the D'Orlon and Seranov houses?"

"So you'll do your duty," he concluded, "despite what you feel."

"You're a great one to talk about doing your duty despite what you feel."

He frowned, uncomfortable with the truth in her words. "At least your duty won't result in people dying."

"I don't know," she said with a grimace. "After one too many nights with Raban Seranov across the dinner table, while he talks with his mouth half full about nothing but his hounds and his hawks, I may not be able to restrain my impulse to run a carving knife through him."

Dirk smiled. "It won't really be that bad, will it?"

"I hope not."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the play of the second sun on the water.

Dirk wished he knew what to say to Jacinta. He couldn't think of a way to help her avoid her fate, any more than he could find a way to avoid going to war with Kirsh. She was right when she said life wasn't so simple for someone in her position. The reality of being highborn was a lot less romantic than those not born to the responsibility realized."I wish I could do something..."

"It's not your place to rescue me, Dirk," she sighed. "Anyway, what could you do? You can't change who I am. You can't change what you are. And you can't change the political reality ..." She laughed. "Well, maybe you can change political reality. But not fast enough to save me, I'm afraid."

"I could make some sort of religious declaration," he offered. "I could declare your union with Raban to be against the G.o.ddess's wishes."

"No, you wouldn't," she told him confidently. "For one thing, the Lord of the Suns no longer holds any real sway over Dhevyn, now that Misha has cut Senet's ties with us, so the decree would be meaningless. And for another, you would never do anything so politically foolish, not even if it meant watching me being dragged off in chains."

"Do you think so little of me?" he asked, a little hurt she thought him so calculating.

"No. But I do have my pride. Besides, I'd be furious if you endangered everything that's been achieved so far, just to save one whining n.o.blewoman from an awkward marriage." Jacinta smiled suddenly. "Of course, if you really wanted to help, you could have taken me up on the offer I made in Avacas..."

Dirk looked away, unable to meet her eye. "I wish you'd stop joking about that."

"I thought you'd forgotten about it. Or were you just being a gentleman by not mentioning it again?"

He hadn't forgotten what Jacinta asked of him. Or stopped wishing he'd taken her up on the offer.

One night of mad, unbridled, pa.s.sionate love. Could anything be more tempting? Or more fraught with danger?

"I thought you'd rather not be reminded of it."

"Why are you so certain I was joking?" she teased.

The silence between them, so companionable a few moments ago, was suddenly filled with tension.

Before Dirk could think of an answer to Jacinta's question, he was hailed by a soldier hurrying down the slope behind them.

"My lord!"

Dirk scrambled to his feet, glad of the interruption. "What's wrong?"

The officer saluted hurriedly, sketched a hasty bow in Jacinta's direction and then turned back to Dirk. "Prince Kirshov sent a messenger, my lord. He has a letter, and he's refusing to hand it over to anyone but you. We tried to take it from him, but the boy is adamant." The man smiled. "I believe he was chosen as a courier for his determination, not his intelligence."

"You said a boy. What's his name?"

"I believe he said it was Eryk. I don't think he gave a last name."

"Eryk is here?" Jacinta asked in surprise. She held out her hand to Dirk and he pulled her to her feet.

"Do you know him, my lord?"

"He's my servant. Or at least he was. I'd better speak with him."

"Can I come, too?" Jacinta asked.

No, Dirk desperately wanted to say. I want you to leave. I want you to go back to Dhevyn and marry Raban. I want you to stop asking the impossible of me. But he didn't say it. He simply nodded his permission as if her request was a mere trifle, her presence of no consequence at all.Eryk was taking his role as a royal messenger very seriously. He bowed gravely when Dirk and Jacinta entered the command tent and handed over the letter to Dirk without hesitation.

"Prince Kirsh told me to give you this, Lord Dirk."

"Are you all right, Eryk?" Jacinta asked with concern.

The boy nodded. "I've been helping Prince Kirsh, my lady. He made me his servant while Lord Dirk was away."

"You must be very good to have your services in such high demand."

Dirk broke the seal and read it while Jacinta talked to Eryk.

Dirk, the letter said in Kirsh's untidy scrawl. I'm sending this with Eryk because I trust him not to let it fall into the wrong hands. I trust you to destroy it after you've read it. If our friendship meant anything to you once, then you'll not show it to anybody, not even my brother.

I wish there was a simple way out of this, but too much has happened for me to simply lay down my sword and admit you and Misha were right. However, being willing to admit that to you is a world away from being willing to give you or my brother the opportunity to gloat over it.

The Lion of Senet is dead and the world believes he died a great man. I will not allow Antonov's memory to be sullied by the sordid truth. I will not allow you to try Marqel for murder and publicly expose the fraud my father believed. I can't do that to Antonov's memory and I won't do it to the woman I love. If you and Misha want to bring down the Shadowdancers, you must do it without my help.

Don't go looking for vengeance or justice. I will take care of it. When this is over, go back to Avacas and do what you can for Misha. He's going to need all the help he can get.

No quarter asked or given. Remember that.

Kirsh.

Dirk read the letter through twice before folding it carefully.

"What does it say?" Jacinta asked.

"It says we're going to war," Dirk replied.

Without any further explanation, he walked out of the tent, past the officers waiting outside to hear what was in the letter, and across the camp to the cook fires. He tossed the folded letter on the nearest fire and watched as the parchment blackened and curled in the flames. He didn't turn away until Kirsh's note was nothing but a dusting of white ash amid the glowing coals.

Then Dirk turned and in a flat, unemotional voice, he ordered his waiting generals to prepare for an attack.

Chapter 88

Kirsh sent for Marqel after he had gotten rid of Eryk and spoken to Sergey and Rees Provin. He was calm and surprisingly clearheaded. He wasn't even drunk. The last wine he'd had was before Eryk left. He didn't need alcohol. For the first time since he was a boy, boasting about the great deeds he would do as a soldier, Kirsh felt he knew what he was destined for. The feeling was headier than wine.

She came to him after first sunrise, when the sky had turned b.l.o.o.d.y. Kirsh kissed her before she could say anything, made love to her without uttering a word. Marqel seemed surprised but more than willing.

But then, Marqel was always more than willing.

It was only afterward, when she was lying cradled in his arms that he finally spoke to her.

"Dirk gave me until second sunrise tomorrow to surrender."

"You told him what he could do with his offer, I hope," she said, snuggling closer to him. She sounded confident, excited even, at the prospect of war.

"Never fear, my love," he promised. "I'll go to war for you. Even against my own brother."

"It's not your brother out there, Kirsh. It's Dirk Provin."

"Did you really sleep with Eryk in Nova?"

Marqel went still in his arms and then she pushed herself up onto her elbow and looked at him in total bewilderment. "What did you say?"

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious about her answer. "Why Eryk?"

"Did he tell you that?" she laughed, covering her concern well. He almost believed her. The G.o.ddess knows, he wanted to believe her. But he saw the momentary panic before she laughed. It was fleeting, but it was unmistakably there. "Honestly Kirsh, you can't believe anything that half-wit says. He doesn't even know what day it is."

"Eryk doesn't know how to lie, Marqel."

"He's dreaming then," she scoffed. "He's made something up in his own mind because he fancies me. I'm hurt you could even spare such a ridiculous notion a second thought."

"I can understand why you slept with my father," he mused, as if she hadn't spoken. "I think I even know why you slept with Dirk. But Eryk? That's just...bizarre."

"Dirk raped me, Kirsh," she reminded him, starting to get annoyed. She was a very good actress.

He'd never realized how good, until now.

"No, I don't think he did, my love. I think you drugged him and then lay with him, quite deliberately, because there was something in it for you. The same reason you slept with every other man you've been with. Including me."

Marqel was horrified. "Kirsh! Why are you saying such terrible things?"

"Do you even enjoy it?" he asked curiously. "Or is it just something you do to get what you want?"

"What did Dirk say to you out there today?" she demanded, truly angry now. Her eyes filled with crystalline tears, as they always did when she was losing the argument. It was almost as if she could call on them at will. "He's put these ideas in your head, hasn't he?" she sobbed. "How can you even listen to a word that b.a.s.t.a.r.d says? You know how much he hates me."

He smiled at her and kissed away her angry tears. "I've been such a fool, haven't I?"

She sniffed and pouted at him. "Yes, you have."

"Well, it'll all be over soon."Marqel snuggled back down into his arms. "Yes, it will. And then we can be together forever, and n.o.body will be able to get in our way."

"I promise we will, my love," Kirsh said.

Marqel closed her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction. He was glad she did. He didn't want to frighten her. He reached down beside the pallet. The knife he concealed there before Marqel arrived felt strangely light, as if some hand other than his was guiding it.

Kirsh didn't want her to suffer. With a short, sharp upward stroke, he punctured her heart from just under the base of the sternum, the surest way he knew to cause instant death from this angle. He would have preferred to take her in the left shoulder, driving the blade down into the aorta, but that meant coming at her from behind. He couldn't do that.