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  “What do I want with a temple?”

  “What do you want, then?”

  Dacendaran smiled mischievously. “I want you to steal something.”

  “Fine. What?” For the son of a pickpocket, the request hardly bothered Wrayan. Before he’d left Krakandar and come to Greenharbour to be an apprentice sorcerer, he had honoured Dacendaran plenty of times—often on a daily basis.

  “Nothing big. Just a trinket really.”

  “Which trinket?”

  “Trinkets,” Dacendaran corrected, emphasising the plural. “You don’t think I’m going to let you get away with just one measly little theft for something as important as restoring the High Prince’s sister, do you?”

  “What trinkets, then?”

  “Anything you want, really. I just want seven of them.”

  “That’s all you want me to do? Steal seven trinkets from anybody I like?”

  “That’s not what I said. I said I want seven trinkets. I didn’t say you could choose your own marks.”

  Gods, Wrayan thought impatiently. This is worse than haggling in the markets with a fishmonger.

  “I heard that,” Dacendaran snapped.

  “I’m sorry. Who must I steal these seven trinkets from, Divine One?” Wrayan asked, forcibly containing his impatience.

  “The seven Warlords of Hythria.”

  Wrayan stared at him. “You’re out of your mind!”

  “I’m out of my mind? I don’t have a princess caught between one moment and the next lying on the bed awaiting discovery, boyo. Just watch who you’re calling insane!”

  “But how am I supposed to steal something from each of the Warlords?”

  “That’s your problem. If I tell you how to do it, you’re not honouring me. You’d just be cheating.”

  “But, even if I could do it . . . it could take months!”

  “That’s fine by me. I mean, it’s not as if she’s going anywhere, is she?”

  “I need to bring her back now! This minute!”

  “Sorry. It doesn’t work like that.”

  Wrayan’s mind raced desperately, wondering how he was supposed to bargain with a god. There was nothing he’d ever come across in the vast Harshini library of the Collective that gave any instructions. Were there rules he didn’t know of? Things he couldn’t ask for? Concessions he’d be a fool not to demand?

  Then Wrayan remembered one vital fact that gave his negotiations a rather pressing urgency. “But . . . but if I don’t restore her right away, the High Prince will have me put to death and I won’t be able to honour you at all, will I?”

  That seemed to give the god pause. “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed,” Wrayan agreed, desperately running with the idea, even though he was making it up as he went. “On the other hand, if you were to restore her right away, then . . . then . . . I could devote my time exclusively to honouring you, Divine One, without the awkward inconvenience of my execution getting in the way.”

  Dace glared at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”

  “Because . . . if I don’t . . . you can have . . . um . . . me!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I fail to deliver your seven trinkets in a reasonable time, I’ll come over to you,” Wrayan promised. “I’ll leave the Collective and return to Krakandar. I’ll follow my father into the family business and become the greatest thief in all of Hythria just to honour your name.”

  “And what do you call a reasonable time?” the god asked.

  “A year,” Wrayan said. “Give me a year, and if I haven’t stolen your seven trinkets by then, I’m all yours.”

  Dacendaran thought about it but before he could answer Wrayan, the door opened and Kagan walked in with Alija Eaglespike at his side.

  chapter 15

  K

  agan wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he opened the door to Princess Marla’s bedroom. At best, he hoped she’d merely appear asleep so he could convince Alija that nothing was amiss. He didn’t know how Alija had learned about Marla’s condition. Someone might have told her, although Kagan was reasonably sure she’d not heard about it that way. Wrayan hadn’t left Marla’s side; Nash had been sworn to secrecy. Perhaps Lirena had let something slip while she was fetching the compresses? Slaves gossiped the way other people breathed—unconsciously, regularly and without it, they would probably die. Or it may be that Alija—being an Innate herself—felt the prickle of magic in the early hours of this morning when Wrayan had accidentally worked his will and frozen the princess down on the wharf.

  But however she found out, Alija knew something was amiss and was not going to let go of it until she had seen Marla for herself.

  The relief Kagan felt to discover Marla coming awake as they entered the room, rubbing her eyes in confusion, was indescribable.

  “My lord!” Wrayan declared, looking rather startled.

  “Ah!” he said, covering his relief well. “I see her highness is awake.”

  Kagan was desperate to ask Wrayan how he had managed such a thing, but wouldn’t dare such a question with Alija in the room. She was as good as any sorcerer he’d ever met, better than most. Had it not been for the discovery of Wrayan and his almost unheard-of abilities, she might be considered the most powerful sorcerer alive. He’d heard her name bandied about as his successor on a number of occasions. And unless Wrayan started to demonstrate a previously unsuspected talent for politics, she may yet succeed Kagan. But even if Alija didn’t have Wrayan’s magical potential, she was by far the most astute and certainly the most ambitious politician in the Collective. That she had defied years of tradition by marrying a Warlord was proof enough of that.

  “Lady Alija,” Wrayan said, smiling at her innocently. “How nice to see you again.”

  “I’ll admit to being a bit surprised to find you here, Wrayan. Are you still only an apprentice?”

  “I’m afraid so, my lady.”

  “You’re not holding him back, are you, Lord Palenovar?” she asked with a slightly raised brow. “The way they spoke of Wrayan’s potential when he first came to us, one could be forgiven for thinking he was our greatest hope for the future. Yet here he is, ten . . . or is it twelve years later? And still only an apprentice?”

  “He’s a slow learner,” Kagan shrugged, having no intention of discussing Wrayan’s progress with Alija Eaglespike. Her question was motivated by little more than jealousy, in any case.

  “What happened . . . ?” Marla muttered from the bed, her eyes fluttering open.

  “The excitement of the party was all a bit much for you, I fear, your highness,” Kagan told her. “You fainted. Fortunately, Wrayan and Lord Hawksword were on hand to rescue you. They brought you back to your room and I’ve had Wrayan keeping watch over you ever since. I just packed your faithful nurse off to bed. She was exhausted, poor thing.”

  “I don’t remember—”

  “Well, of course you don’t,” he cut in, before the princess could go into too much detail. “You’ve had us all quite worried. See, even Lady Alija felt it necessary to check up on you.”

  Marla smiled wanly. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear,” Alija assured her. “But I think I should stay with you, now you’re awake, just to make certain you’re fully recovered.”

  “That really won’t be necessary, Lady Alija,” Kagan told her in alarm. “Surely, your husband is expecting you to attend him?”

  “Barnardo’s more than capable of looking after himself for a few hours while I see to the welfare of our cousin.” She bustled past Kagan and looked around the room with her hands on her hips. “Good grief, look at this place! Wrayan, open those windows, would you? It’s like an oven in here. And you, my lord! What were you thinking? Fetch a slave immediately and have a bath drawn for her highness.” Alija smiled at Marla and shrugged helplessly. “Men! Truly, it doesn’t matter how much power you give them, they still haven’t got a c
lue when it comes to the little things in life.”

  Marla smiled, obviously amused and perhaps a little overwhelmed by Alija’s commanding presence. Wrayan opened the windows as Alija ordered, but he seemed to be looking for something, or someone, who clearly wasn’t there.

  “I’ve no wish to put you out, my lady,” Marla said, pushing herself up on the bed. “I feel fine.”

  “No thanks to these two,” Alija snorted. She turned on the men and pointed to the door. “Out! Both of you! Marla needs to change and doesn’t need an audience during her ablutions.”

  Kagan’s first reaction to Alija’s presumptuous order was to defy her. His second thought was to give in. Marla had no idea what had happened. Kagan’s suggestion that she had fainted was probably all the girl needed to hear. She certainly had no reason to suspect anything was amiss. Alija obviously wanted to question the princess, but as Marla knew nothing, there was nothing incriminating she could tell the sorcerer, even if Alija tried to read her mind. And while Alija was trying to pump the princess for information, Kagan could get Wrayan alone and find out what had really happened while he was gone and how his apprentice had so miraculously restored Marla.

  “Come then, Wrayan,” Kagan ordered. “Let’s leave the women to their incomprehensible women’s business. It’s past breakfast time, in any case. I need some ale.”

  Wrayan nodded his agreement absently, still looking around the room as if he had misplaced something.

  “Come, lad!”

  They left Alija fussing over Marla like a broody hen. Kagan grabbed Wrayan’s sleeve and dragged him through the sitting room and into the hall.

  “Kagan—”

  “Not here, boy,” the High Arrion ordered.

  He headed down the hall towards the stairs and took the flight leading upwards two at a time, not slowing his urgent pace until they were out on the roof garden of the west wing. Kagan quickly looked around the area to ensure they were alone before he turned to Wrayan.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? The spell just wore off then?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Don’t toy with me, Wrayan. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Well, I had some help . . . I think.”

  “Help? What sort of help?”

  “I think one of the gods helped me.”

  Kagan threw his hands up impatiently. “Don’t play the fool with me, boy! You’ve no need to convince me you’re a worthy supplicant of the gods! What did you really do?”

  “I’m serious, Kagan,” the young man declared, looking hurt that his master doubted him. “I swear to you, Dacendaran appeared and offered to restore Marla. He said she was caught in time, or suspended in time, or something like that.”

  Kagan shook his head in disbelief. “You expect me to believe you spoke to the God of Thieves?”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t bring Princess Marla back on my own.”

  “The gods don’t just appear to people, Wrayan.”

  “I know that.”

  “And yet you expect me to believe—”

  “He said you’re right,” Wrayan cut in.

  “About what?”

  “About me having some Harshini blood in me. He said that was the only reason I could see him.”

  Kagan stared at the young man as it began to dawn on him that perhaps Wrayan really had spoken to a god. If the young man could inadvertently call on their power, there was no reason to think he couldn’t speak directly to the gods themselves. That’s what being Harshini was all about, after all. They were the bridge between the gods and ordinary mortals. Although the link would be tentative at best—the Harshini ancestor Wrayan knew so little of must be five or six generations in the past—there was enough there, it seemed, to give him a toehold into that magical realm that no longer existed in the real world.

  Kagan sighed, wishing he had some idea how to handle this unexpected situation. “Well, I’ll give your god one thing, Wrayan. His timing is impeccable.”

  “What am I going to do, Kagan?”

  The High Arrion shrugged. “I don’t know, lad. I suppose you should start by not waving your arm around again.”

  chapter 16

  A

  re you sure you’re feeling well enough to get up?” Alija asked, hurrying over to the bed as Marla swung her legs around.

  “Truly, my lady. I really do feel fine.”

  “Very well, just don’t stand up too quickly.”

  Marla stood up slowly as the sorcerer suggested, but more to appease Alija than from any real need for caution. She felt just the same as she had at the party: a little bit drunk, and rather bemused by events.

  “There! You see! I’m quite steady.”

  Alija smiled at her. The sorcerer was a very beautiful woman. Marla had heard stories about her from her cousin Ninane, most of which involved dark magicks and even darker secrets, but they seemed rather silly in the cold light of day. In reality, Marla decided, Alija Eaglespike was actually rather nice.

  “I’m glad to see it, little cousin,” Alija said with a smile. “Now, let’s see about a nice long soak in a lovely cool bath. I find that the only civilised way to deal with Greenharbour’s humidity.”

  “I forgot what it’s like down here on the coast,” Marla said, thinking a cool bath was just the thing. “The weather is quite different at Highcastle.”

  “Mountain air is thinner,” Alija explained. “And you don’t have this damnable humidity to deal with. Still, you’d better get used to it. I hear Talabar is even worse than Greenharbour during the rainy season.”

  Marla sank down on the side of the bed at the reminder of her dreadful fate. “I know.”

  Alija looked at her curiously for a moment then came to sit beside her on the bed. “Is something wrong, my dear?”

  “Not really.”

  “Surely . . . I mean . . . it couldn’t be possible that you have no wish to honour the alliance your brother is proposing with Fardohnya, could it?”

  “No,” Marla told her miserably. “I know my duty, Lady Alija. I will do as Lernen asks.”

  “But . . . ?” the sorcerer prompted gently.

  Marla wiped away a stray tear, suddenly feeling very alone. “It’s nothing.”

  Alija placed a comforting arm around her and drew her close. “There, there, cousin, you mustn’t let it get you down. Is something bothering you? Has someone done something to you? Did something happen last night, perhaps?”

  Marla shook her head with a sniff. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

  “Then what is it, my dear? Come, you can tell me. I promise it will go no further.”

  Alija placed a comforting arm around her and drew her close. There was a palpable warmth radiating from that contact and Marla began to relax for the first time since she’d learned of her dreadful fate.

  “It’s just . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I think I might be falling in love with someone else.”

  Alija didn’t react immediately.

  “I know it’s wrong of me, my lady, but . . . I just can’t help it!”

  Alija hugged her close for a moment and then smiled. “It’s not wrong of you, Marla. Whatever gave you that idea? It’s perfectly natural for a young woman to fall in love.”

  “And perfectly awful when she does it the same day her brother sells her off to the Fardohnyan King.”

  “I can see that it would be,” Alija agreed. “Does the object of your affection return your feelings?”

  “I don’t know . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “I haven’t had a chance to find out. I think so. He seemed . . . attentive.”

  “And does he have a name, this lucky fellow who has inadvertently stolen your heart?”

  Marla nodded, not certain if she should name him. Lord Kagan had been angry at her for even thinking about him.

  “You won’t be mad at me?”

  “Of course not!” Alija assured her. “I wou
ld never condemn a person, man or woman, for honouring Kalianah.”

  “Lord Palenovar told me I shouldn’t hold out false hope.”

  “Well, until I hear the name of this paragon of love and devotion, I’ve no way of knowing if you harbour false hope or not, my dear.”

  “You won’t betray my secret?”

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s . . . Nashan Hawksword.”

  Alija was silent for a moment before she spoke. “Did Lord Hawksword do anything to encourage your affections, Marla?”

  “Not really. It was one of those ‘eyes across the room’ things, I think. You know, like in the stories, when you just see a person and know, right at that moment, they are going to be the love of your life?”

  Alija smiled. “Have you spoken to Nashan about it?”

  “I was going to . . . but then I fainted.”

  “I see.” Alija stood up and began to pace the room in thoughtful silence.

  “Do you think me a bad person, Lady Alija? For being so wanton?”

  “Wanton?” Alija asked with a small laugh. “My dear, your behaviour has been nothing but exemplary. If anyone has been wanton, it’s your brother for brokering such an untenable arrangement without taking your feelings into consideration.”

  “I wish the High Arrion felt the same way you do,” Marla sighed. “He just told me to put up with the arrangement until he can find a way out of it.”

  Alija’s eyes sparkled at the news. “You mean the High Arrion is brokering a deal with the Fardohnyans he has no intention of honouring?”

  “I don’t know,” Marla shrugged. “Lord Ravenspear said Kagan was just saying that to keep me happy. He told me to grin and bear it, too.”

  “You poor thing! To be torn this way and that by men who have no care for the feelings of a tender young girl. The way they treat the daughters of our noble houses is disgusting.”

  “But you weren’t made to marry someone you hated,” Marla pointed out.

  “I was fortunate enough to have some magical talent. As a class, it is the noblewomen of Hythria who have the least freedom. Less than slaves, in many cases.”