Lord of the Shadows (21 page)

And then a bird arrived sent by Lexie from Mil. Oscon came down to the main hall to inform them the Baenlands had been invaded and it was Dirk Provin who had led the Senetian forces.

he had no idea how Jacinta managed it, but less than a week after the lady-in-waiting's visit, Madalan informed Marqel she was to attend a banquet at the palace in honor of the Dhevynian queen. Not only that, but she was also to stay the night at the palace, returning the following morning to the Hall of Shadows. Marqel made a point of appearing less than pleased
with the interruption to her work—so effectively that Madalan actually scolded her for her lack of enthusiasm.

She took great pains with her appearance, brushing her fair hair to a shine, and wearing only those pieces of jewelry she could not recall seeing Belagren wear in Antonov's presence. There was no guarantee Antonov would not recognize some of them, but she shied away from the more familiar pieces, hoping to give the impression she was frugal as well as pious and divine.

The dinner itself proved tedious beyond belief. The food was excellent, naturally, but the discussion around the table centered almost entirely on Dhevyn's economic woes, in which Marqel had no interest. She was seated at the foot of the long table opposite Antonov, and could barely even catch his eye through the forest of silverware, crystal and bowls of flowers covering the table.

After dinner, things improved a little when they retired to the terrace to enjoy a nightcap and to watch the heat lightning streaking the red sky over the Tresna Sea. Marqel managed to extricate herself from an awkward conversation with the Galinan ambassador, and made her way to where Alenor was talking to Antonov. The queen saw her approach and smiled at her warmly.

“My lady! Please, won't you join us?”

“I've no wish to interrupt a private conversation, your majesty.”

“Nonsense! We were just admiring the lightning, weren't we, your highness? Do you think the Goddess means anything by it, my lady, or is she just showing off?”

The question caught Marqel unawares. She was here to seduce the Lion of Senet, not get into a theological discussion.

“I …er…I think she's reminding us she controls the weather,” Marqel suggested warily.

Antonov raised his glass in her direction. “You've gone right to the heart of the matter, my lady. I feel more and more easy with the Goddess's choice each time I see you.”

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 Goddess is punishing 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. Nobody will be offended.”

“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 Goddess 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 even tually 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 Goddess 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 Goddess 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 Goddess 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 assumed 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 Goddess 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 nobles 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 lustfully. He was pouring himself a glass of wine from the sideboard.

“Could I have one of those?”

Antonov handed her the glass 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 Goddess 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 Goddess only a Goddess of the highborn, your highness,” she responded.

He nodded. “And when I remembered that, I realized the Goddess 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 Goddess
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 Goddess.

“The Goddess 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 Bloody Tirov.

Marqel swallowed her wine, walked across the rug and placed the empty glass 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 Goddess, 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 Goddess.”

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 Goddess.”

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 sexual fantasies. Antonov's fantasy, however, was not the sordid desire to bed a prepubescent 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 Goddess. It was his reward, his payment for the sacrifices he had made.