Текст книги "Dragonfly"
Автор книги: Julia Golding
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Chapter 12
Lady Egret, a Brigardian noble in exile, begged an interview with King Lagan three weeks after
Midwinter.
"Must I see her?" he asked Lord Taris with a groan, clearing a space on his desk for a new file of army reports.
"If it was any other Brigardian I would say no," replied the Prime Minister,
"but Lady Egret is not one of the troublesome ones and has more sense in her little finger than
most of them do in the whole of their bodies."
"I could do with some sense myself," mused the King. "We're facing an invincible army and an impossible fight and stil I have absolutely no intention of surrendering. All right, send her in."
King Lagan rose to greet the tiny elderly noble who entered supporting herself on an ebony
walking stick.
"Lady Egret, it is a pleasure to see you," he said in a kindly tone, directing her to a chair. "How can I help you?"
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The old lady settled her black shawls comfortably and handed her stick to Lord Taris.
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"I have a confession to make, Your Majesty," she said briskly.
"Oh?" King Lagan smiled. He could not imagine this grandmotherly person having anything very shocking to say.
"Yes, and you will not be pleased with me. It is time I outed myself as a spy."
"A spy?" exclaimed Lord Taris. "For who?"
"For whom, dear, whom," she corrected him. "For the resistance movement in Brigard, of
course."
King Lagan relaxed. The resistance movement was no threat to Gerfal and he doubted very
much she had been in a position to pass them any vital information.
"I'm afraid I've kept them abreast of all council deliberations thanks to my sources in the
palace," she continued, oblivious to the reactions her words were causing in her two listeners.
"That, of course, will cease from this moment. I hope from now on our cooperation will be frank
and aboveboard, particularly when I give you this." She handed over a letter. "I received it this morning and only just decoded it."
Lagan took the paper in trembling fingers. "It's from Ramil," he said hoarsely, reading it through quickly. "He's escaped–as has the Princess–by Thorsin, I knew he had it in him!" He scanned it all the way to the bottom, absorbing the request for assistance for Duke Nerul. Overcome with
joy and relief, he knelt,
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seized the old lady's hand and kissed it fervently. "Lady Egret, you are a jewel."
She smiled fondly at him and tapped his head with her finger. "Tush, tush, Your Majesty, you'll
turn this poor woman's head if you go on in that fashion.
Your boy's well, that's the main thing. He and the lass have given Fergox something to cry about,
stealing his horse and everything." She chuckled.
"The girl's sent a message to her people too. I will deliver it immediately."
She cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "That's if you are not going to arrest me as a spy?"
"Arrest you, my dear lady? I want to marry you for bringing me that news!"
"Sorry, Your Majesty, but Lord Egret wouldn't be pleased if you did that."
Smiling, she rose and walked out, her stick clicking on the marble tiles.
Lord Taris had now read the letter through.
"I take it, Your Majesty, we intend to help the resistance?" he asked.
"Absolutely, we are fighting the same war after all." Lagan smiled and stretched his arms, feeling one of his heaviest burdens had fallen from his shoulders. He no longer had to tiptoe around
Fergox in fear of reprisals on his son. They now had a straight fight before them. Lagan rubbed
his hands together, beginning to see all sorts of possibilities with Nerul's men behind enemy
lines. "Find out what we can do, will you? Ramil mentions arms and support from the sea."
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"We could do with Blue Crescent aid for this, sir,"
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Taris said. "I wonder what Princess Taoshira has written in her communication."
"We should've asked the old girl. Track her down and see if she is at liberty to tell us, will you?
At the very least, I hope it means I will get my Briony back again. I know, I'll hold a party for her–
and take her on a pony ride–I think that will be quite in order, if I can be spared from my official
duties for the afternoon."
"You're the King," Taris reminded him with a smile.
"But you're my conscience, Taris, you know that."
"Then your conscience says we should keep his highness's current location secret, but an
announcement of his escape is most desirable. Therefore, a party is quite in order–if not
essential–for the morale of the nation."
"Excellent. I really should promote you, old friend. Only trouble is, there's nowhere to go but
down from your office."
"I am well aware of that, Your Majesty."
Lord Taris bowed and went out to spread the good news in the court.
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The wagon train was making heavy going of the road from Tigral to the furthest corner of
Fergox's empire where his armies were massing. The winter weather was no help, and the
soldiers had experienced endless trouble: broken bridges, badly signposted crossroads,
unexplained
diversions, poor workmanship from farriers, causing the cart horses to shed their shoes a mile
down
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the road. Anyone would think that the people of Brigard were trying to impede the work of the
army. Surely they hadn't forgotten so quickly the war that had crushed them and the bloody
public reprisals? The commander of the supply wagons made a mental note to suggest to Fergox
that the populace be reminded forcefully that they were under occupation and should give all
cooperation to their new masters.
"Can't wait to be back in Holt," complained the commander, riding his horse at the head of the procession. Twenty carts rumbled along behind him, full of food and arms for the Felixholt
garrison. "Got a nice little girl tucked away in the Dovemarket at Tigral. She thinks soldiering is all fighting and heroics and don't believe me when I tell her it's grunt work for idiots."
His second-in-command riding beside him nodded as he chewed on a piece of dried meat stolen
from the supplies.
"My boys are the same–all mad to be soldiers and won't listen to me," he remarked. "Still, we're nearly there now, sir. There're some good inns in Felixholt and the priests are allowing extra
fights to the death in the Wargod's ceremonies–soldiers against prisoners. Should be worth
seeing."
Just then the bridge on the road in front of them exploded in a cloud of dust and a deafening
report. Fragments of wood and stone rained down on the soldiers. Horses screamed and reared
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in panic.
"Draw your swords!" yelled the commander, mastering his mount and galloping back down the
line. His
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second was lying in the mud, struck through the eye by flying shrapnel.
Resistance fighters in green and brown emerged from the bushes on either side of the road.
Arrows flew out of the trees, picking off the men in the wagon driving seats. Soldiers fell to pike
and sword before they had time to raise their own weapons. The commander found himself face
to face with a dark-skinned rebel on a fearsome warhorse, far superior in height and skill to his
own. Their swords met but he knew within seconds he was out-classed.
He felt fear, then pain, then nothing.
The fight was short and bloody. Nerul had instructed that they should take no prisoners and
allow no one to escape to carry news of the attack to Felixholt.
The supplies and men were simply to vanish from the road. Melletin took command of the
wagons, ordering his men to roll them onto some rafts constructed for the purpose. They were
quickly poled away by the watermen into the reeds, their stores to be used to supply the
resistance and feed the needy people of the region. The heavy horses were led off to stables in
out-of-the-way farms. The bodies of the enemy dead were stripped and then thrown into a pit
some distance from the road for mass burial. It was ugly and brutal work. Ramil was revolted by
the bloodshed but he knew it was necessary. These wagons were the lifeline of Fergox's army–
an army that would kill all who stood in their way. As rider of the fastest horse, he and a handful
of others were sent in pursuit of those who had lied. This felt particularly horrible work, cutting
down men who were trying to escape. But if they carried word
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of the resistance to Fergox, the reprisals locally would be merciless as the population would
rightly be assumed to be harboring enemies of the Empire.
The last man down, Ramil dismounted and vomited into the reeds. He would never again make
the mistake of thinking that battle was glorious.
Tashi had known nothing about the raid. By the rules of the resistance, such things were kept
strictly to those who were involved, so she was surprised to find Melletin's tent empty when she
called by late that evening. She hadn't dared come back before now; her cheeks still flushed as
she remembered Gordoc's ham-fisted attempt to advise her. She'd spent hours agonizing that
Ramil would be thinking worse of her and finally could stand it no longer.
She had to come and see him just to check that he was still her friend.
Finding no one at home, she decided to wait for a few minutes. She made herself comfortable
by the stove, throwing on a couple more logs to warm the place up for the men when they
returned.
"My pretty!" Gordoc stood in the doorway, beaming at her. He was wet and covered with mud
and other stains, looking quite wild.
"Are you all right?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes, yes, just a little tussle out on the road. Nothing for you to worry about."
Gordoc strode to a washstand and began to clean himself up. The water turned pink as he rinsed
his hands.
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Tashi got up to pour fresh water into the basin for him. "Where did you get hurt? I can't see a
wound."
"Nor will you, Princess. I'm afraid that's not my blood but the other fellow's."
"Oh." Tashi tried not to think too much of what his great fists had just been doing. She'd seen him fight before, of course, but that had somehow felt different. "Where's Ramil?"
"Finishing up the job."
"You mean he's fighting too?"
"Like a tiger."
Tashi sat down to wait with Gordoc. An hour passed and the giant began to get restless. Tashi's
mind was whirling, imagining all sorts of horrible fates for their friend. He could have been
captured, killed, thrown from his horse in the dark . . .
The flap to the tent opened and Ramil stepped in, his face grim.
"Thank the Goddess!" Tashi exclaimed, rushing towards him. So relieved to see him alive and
well, she wanted to hug him but was too shy to do so. She hovered awkwardly an arm's span
from him.
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"What are you doing here?" Ramil asked. He knew the words sounded ungracious, but she was
the last person he wanted to see, sullied as he was by the deeds of that evening.
She stepped back, interpreting his mood as coolness towards her. "I just stayed to see that you
were safe. I'll go now."
He caught the edge of her cloak as she passed. "No,
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I don't mean it like that." He wanted to break down and cry on her shoulder, tel her how ugly
and disgusting kil ing was, how men died hard deaths, calling for their loved ones, but he
couldn't. He was doing it to protect her from all that. He couldn't tell her the truth.
But Tashi could see the misery in Ramil's face: it made her heart ache. She glanced up at Gordoc.
The big man was tactfully retreating to the sleeping quarters, sensing that Ramil did not need an
audience right now.
"What's the matter?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his arm.
His shoulders heaved in a racking sob.
"Oh, Ram." She pulled his head down towards her chest, allowing him bury his face and cry
himself out. Then when the sobs had stopped, she let him rest there, gathering himself to face
her.
He pushed her gently away. "I've made you all wet."
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"It's no matter."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize–and don't explain. I can imagine what you've seen–what you've had to do.
There is no shame in grieving for the horrors of war."
Ramil collapsed onto the pillows, exhausted by the events of the day. Tashi refilled the basin and
washed his face and hands with a cloth like a mother tending a feverish child. He watched her
through half-closed lids, marvelling that anything so beautiful could be near him now and not be
revolted. He noticed that he had left a smear of blood on her skin.
"Here." He took the cloth from her and reverently
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wiped the stain from her collarbone, but then his fingers hooked the necklace. He lifted it clear
of her bodice, the charm dangling between them.
An ugly mood flooded him. "One of Merl's presents?" he asked bitterly.
Tashi nodded, blushing.
"I notice that he doesn't go on any of these raids. The duke's little brother stays tucked up in his office with you. I don't suppose he cries all over you, does he?" Ramil knew she had done
nothing to deserve it–had shown him tenderness and compassion–but he couldn't stop himself.
He felt so hurt, he wanted someone else to feel the pain too. "No, I remember, he kisses and
caresses you." Tashi jerked back as if he had slapped her. The necklace snapped, the broken
ends left dangling in his fist. "I'm sorry. I should never have said that. I'm all wrong tonight." He 224
took her hand, poured the chain into her palm and closed her fingers upon it. "You should leave
me."
"I don't understand you, Ram," Tashi said, close to tears herself. "What have I done to make you despise me?"
He shook his head, unable to answer. It wasn't what she'd done–it was what he had just done
out on the road.
"I'm trying to fit in with your ways." Tashi rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist. "But I don't know how to talk to you, or how to treat other men–
every step I take is a mistake."
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Ramil felt doubly wretched now that he'd made her cry. "No, Tashi: you're good and pure and
innocent. You just make me feel ugly and twisted and dirty beside you. I only hope Merl
deserves you."
Ramil got up and left the room before she had a chance to reply.
Ramil woke late and rolled out of his bed with a groan. He still felt depressed by the events of
the night. Inspecting himself in the rusty mirror as he shaved, his eyes had a haunted look.
You only did what you had to do on the raid. What you need is some hard exercise – something
to drive away this gloomy mood, he told his reflection.
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He lacked the courage to turn his thoughts to what he had said to Tashi.
He turned instead to the practice fields by the stables and began to warm up, stretching,
jumping, running. A number of young soldiers were already lining up to take on the Southerner,
as they called him. Ramil had become the new champion to beat, but today was not to be their
lucky day as he was burning with anger, channelling it into ferocious swordsmanship. No bout
lasted more than a few minutes.
Just as Ramil was taking a breather, Merl walked by leading a pretty white mare, Tashi mounted
sidesaddle on its back. Ramil could see that she was listening intently as the Brigardian
explained the use of the reins and bit.
She didn't notice Ramil watching her. Merl
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made a joke and she laughed, patting the horse's neck. She looked relaxed and very pleased
about something.
Gordoc arrived beside Ramil, spouting puffs of white breath into the bracing, cold air.
"Look at him!" Ramil said. "Now he's got her in the saddle, impressing her with his teaching skills!"
Gordoc stared at his friend and scratched his unshaven chin. "What is wrong with that? She
looks happy. We want her to be happy, don't we?"
"Yes, but not with him."
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Suddenly lots of things made sense to the giant. He put an arm around Ramil's shoulders.
"You are jealous, my friend."
"No I'm not."
"Yes, you are. You think that Merl is going to snatch her from under your nose."
"I'm just worried he'll take advantage of her. He's got a reputation around the camp for getting
girls into trouble and you heard how naive Tashi is."
"You are not very good at lying, Ram. Your interest is not brotherly concern.
You, my friend, are in love with her yourself."
"I'm what?"
"In love." Gordoc picked up a weight and began to exercise his bulging biceps. "But you make a terrible lover."
Ramil flushed. "Do I?"
"Yes, you confuse her," he continued. "You treat her coldly and make her feel in the wrong. You give no gifts. You haven't even tried to kiss her. Merl does it all much
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better. He makes his feelings plain. If you don't hurry up, he'll have tumbled her before you get
a chance."
"I don't think she would allow anyone to tumble her, as you call it," muttered Ramil
uncomfortably. "She is a lady."
"Well, I don't know much about ladies, but it seems to me they are girls all the same. I don't
know any woman who could hold out long under that kind of attack." Gordoc nodded to Merl,
who had now got his hand on Tashi's leg under the pretext of adjusting a strap.
"I'll kill him," growled Ramil.
"That would not be wise, my friend, as he is your ally in this war. If you are so worried about
him, you should start your own campaign to win her affections.
You cannot expect her to read your mind–she is no fortune-teller able to see into the secrets of
men's hearts. You have to show her."
"And how do I do that?"
"Do you noble folk always make things so complicated? Is it not obvious what a man should do
with the woman he loves? Mind you, if you try anything, as Tashi's protector I'll have to thump
you." He grinned at Ramil.
"No exceptions."
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Ramil pondered Gordoc's advice and decided he should take it–apart from the last gem. He
needed to open his counter-attack with something subtle–
something she would appreciate. Then he remembered what she had said about courtship in
the Islands consisting of poetry and paper flowers. With no paper at hand, he tried composing a
poem in his head, but gave
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up when the only rhyme he could think of for "Tashi" was "ashy." Inspiration struck, however, when he passed some women weaving baskets out of
reeds. He begged some materials and sat down among them. The weavers became interested in
his experiments to fold the reeds into something resembling a flower. One of them took up the
challenge and came up with a successful pattern, then taught it to him. They cackled and joked
as he left them, wishing him wel with his sweetheart.
Ramil reached Nerul's tent but found that the riders had not yet returned. He left the reed rose
on her pillow and slipped away without being seen.
"I think you've made an excellent beginning," Merl complimented Tashi as he led the mare back to the stables. "Are you sure you've not ridden before?"
"We don't have horses on the Islands," she explained. "It is our custom to travel by water and oxcart. I have ridden once before though. Prince Ramil was supposed to be teaching me."
"Oh yes, and what did he do?"
"Galloped me off into the forest–it was all too much too soon."
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"How thoughtless." Merl held out his arms for her to dismount. "I hope you don't think that of me?"
Tashi tried to ignore the subtext to his remark. "No, you've been very patient." She slid down, but he did not step back, keeping his arms around her.
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Merl tipped her chin up with his finger. "I've been more patient than you know, Tashi. Ever since I saw you, I've been wanting to do this." He bent down and kissed her long and hard on the
mouth. She tried to push him away but he was crushing her to his body, curving her backwards.
Tashi felt surprise, then panic, then fear. Finally, he let go.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he said lightly, running his hands over her waist and hips. "I know you've been wanting me to do that. All those smiles and pretty thank your for my gifts and
all the while a lover's kiss waiting at the corner of your lips to be collected."
"But I haven't ... I didn't mean ..." Tashi couldn't find the words, horrified that he could have taken her responses as encouragement. Part of her mind knew that she had every right to be
outraged at the liberty he had taken, but somehow he had made it into her fault and her main
feeling was now one of guilt. She had unintentionally led him on. Whatever he thought, she had
to get away from him.
"I'm sorry if I have behaved inappropriately," she began, annoyed to find she sounded like a schoolgirl apologizing to a teacher for misbehavior.
He was watching her with an amused smile, still far too close.
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"You must remember that I am a stranger to your ways," she whispered.
He took her hand and kissed the palm. "You are no stranger. I feel I know you very well, my
darling."
"Please don't call me that."
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"I'll call you whatever you wish." He was now kissing the tender skin on her forearm.
"Please don't, Merl. I can't accept these . . . these attentions. It's not right."
He let go of her, frowning. "Are you saying, Tashi, that you don't like me?"
He tapped her on the nose. "I think you have been teasing me, little cousin.
And you'll have to make it up to me sooner or later. Today I'll let you off. But I'll be back to
collect the penalty." He leant forward and gave her another, more restrained kiss. "Don't forget: you owe me."
Tashi ran back to her room, tore off her cloak, and threw her shoes into the corner. Ramil had
told her last night that she made him feel dirty; well, that was exactly the effect Merl had on her.
She could not stomach the idea of spending another moment alone with him. No wonder Ramil
couldn't bear to be with her! Collapsing on the bed, she heard something crunch beneath her.
Feeling the pillow, she pulled out a battered rose made from reeds. A little plaited "R" hung from the bottom. Curling up and hugging the flower to her chest, she burst into tears, feeling
very foreign and very confused.
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Tashi's solution to the problem of Eastern men was to withdraw as far as possible into being the
Fourth Crown Princess. She did not approach Ramil at all but walked with her eyes lowered as
she went about the
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camp. She could not avoid Merl, but she maintained a strict distance, keeping her face impassive
and her movements guarded. He seemed
amused by her reaction and tried to thaw her new reserve but she ignored him, presenting her
work on his desk with a wordless bow and spending most of her time in her room. She refused
his invitation to take more riding lessons.
"The Princess isn't happy again," Gordoc remarked to Ramil, seeing her pass the entrance to
their tent one day.
Ramil said nothing. He had noticed that this new behavior coincided with his attempt at a love
token. He could only assume it was not welcome.
The first time he saw her properly was the evening when news from Gerfal finally arrived. Nerul
summoned them to a council in his tent. Tashi kept them all waiting, making her entrance at the
last moment in a sweep of skirts and an elegant bow. She sat on Nerul's chair as if it were a
throne, her hands folded in her lap. Ramil raised an eyebrow at Gordoc. The big man was
looking even more puzzled because he had never been treated to the full Princess Taoshira act
before.
Nerul cleared his throat. "I have messages to deliver to you both, Your Highnesses. Your father,
Prince, sends his warmest congratulations on your escape. He fully endorses your suggestion
that Gerfal support the resistance and will be sending arms and supplies as soon as possible. He
says you are at liberty to choose your own
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course from here on as he places full trust in you to decide in the best interests of your people."
Ramil smiled. He knew his father was sending a coded apology for having doubted his judgment
in the autumn.
"And as for you, Princess Taoshira, you will not be surprised to learn that your people also
rejoice at your freedom. The correspondent, one entitled the Etiquette Mistress, regrets that
they are not empowered to offer full assistance to either us or Gerfal as this would be
tantamount to a declaration of war on Fergox Spearthrower. That decision rests with all four
Crown Princesses in concert. However, she takes into account your instructions to defend
aggressively their ships presently at anchor in Falburg harbor." Nerul looked up. "By that, I guess, you have told them to protect the sea approach to the Gerfalian capital?"
Tashi nodded. "It was the best I could do on my own authority. They have rules of engagement
to respond if attacked. Fergox cannot get past them without provoking my ships to open fire."
"That is very good. Unfortunately, it may not be enough. Foiled in his plan to force an alliance
upon Gerfal by causing a war between your two countries, the Spearthrower has determined on
a full assault on Gerfal as soon as the snows melt. King Lagan is aware of this and knows he faces
an impossible defense without powerful allies. And I believe, Your Highness, one of your last
acts before your abduction was to call the alliance off?"
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The Fourth Crown Princess inclined her head. "Yes, I did."
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Ramil looked down at his nails.
"Then Gerfal will fall and Fergox triumph once more." Nerul threw the letters on the desk in contempt.
In the silence that followed, Tashi felt everyone in the room was thinking that she was to blame
for this. She even thought so herself. If she hadn't been so hasty to run away from marriage with
Ramil, negotiations could have continued for their mutual self-defense. It was too late to call
back the messenger bird. The only answer was to return to the Blue Crescent Islands herself and
argue that the alliance should go ahead even without the marriage. She owed it to kindly King
Lagan, to the people of Gerfal, to Ramil.
"I now regret my actions and will do all I can to repair them. I will return to my sisters and beg them to send our navy to aid you," Tashi said steadily, knowing what she was proposing was
highly dangerous and probably
impossible, but she had to do something. "I will leave immediately."
Merl crossed the floor and put a hand on her arm. "Tashi, Tashi, you can't possibly know what
you are saying. You'll be caught–dragged off to Fergox again. We couldn't bear that–I couldn't
bear that."
The Fourth Crown Princess brushed his hand off and froze him with her glare. "I am well aware
of the risks, my lord. I am not a heedless girl to be told to sit quietly in a corner while others take action, but a ruler of my country with a responsibility to our friends and allies."
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She turned to Nerul, knowing that he would understand this. "I am grateful for the shelter you
have given me these past weeks, Your Grace, and would value your advice how best to proceed.
To return home by the south means I will have to travel in lands strange to me. Perhaps your
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network will be able to assist?"
Nerul rose and bowed, impressed by the girl's determination. "I place it at your disposal,
Princess."
"And obviously, I will accompany the Princess," Ramil said firmly. Tashi opened her mouth to protest but he continued, "If you do not let me travel with you, Princess, then I will follow. You will not deny that this political alliance concerns me closely. My father has left me to be my own
judge and it is clear to me that I can best serve my country by ensuring your safe return to your
court. I ask nothing else." He held her eye, his expression stubborn.
"And the Princess is going nowhere without me," said Gordoc, crossing his arms on his chest, daring her to refuse him.
The Fourth Crown Princess arched her fingers and pressed them to her lips, trying to stop her
outward control from collapsing. They had just offered to follow her into mortal danger. But she
knew that she stood a much better chance with them by her side so, though her instinct was to
protect them, her duty was to accept.
"I thank Prince Ramil ac Burinholt and Gordoc Ironfist for their generous offer. I will leave
tomorrow at dawn and would be grateful for their company."
She
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rose and swept out of the room.
Merl followed her. He burst into her room without asking leave to enter. She had her back to
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him, head in her hands.
"Tashi, I thought we understood each other!" he appealed to her, grabbing her elbow to swing her round. "I want you to stay here with me–never to leave my side."
"Please do not touch me, Merl," she said, trying to pry his fingers off her arm.
"I do not have the luxury of considering my own or your feelings on this subject."
He seized her other arm, holding her tightly. "You can't go. You'll be killed."
"It is my duty to try." She looked down, trying to prevent any of those signals that apparently so confused him.
Merl's handsome brow was pinched with concern. "Send a messenger–
send Ramil. There is no sense in risking yourself. You are too precious–let others go in your
place."
"I will not send others on a journey I would not undertake myself, least of all Prince Ramil. Only I can reinstate the alliance. Please let me go. You have no right to touch me like this. You're
hurting me."
"I have the right of a lover who will not let his lady be parted from him." He bent forward, seeking her mouth, but she twisted away.
"I do not want you as a lover, sir. I have never wanted you. Let me go!"
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Her cry brought an instant response. Before Merl could force a kiss on her, Gordoc was in the
room and had him by the scruff of the neck.
"Even among us poor folk, your lordship, a lady's 'no' means 'no,'" Gordoc said, giving Merl a shake.
Nerul appeared at the tent flap, his expression furious. Ramil stood behind him, fists curled.
"Brother," barked Nerul, "you forget yourself and carry your intrigues too far.
Under my roof, the Princess Taoshira is entitled to her privacy and certainly to be spared such
ungentlemanly treatment. Leave her in peace."
Dumped on the floor, Merl straightened his clothes and stalked from the room.
Nerul turned back to Tashi. "Forgive us, Your Highness. Merl has over-reached himself. His
concern for you is his only excuse."
Tashi collected her dignity. "And I ask your forgiveness for anything that I have done that may
have prompted him to hope where there was none."
Nerul gave a crooked smile. "I fear you are too kind to Merl. I know my brother well. He is
experienced at this game and doubtless had you swimming into his net. Your decision to depart
does not suit him. He thinks first of his pleasure, rather than his responsibility to his people.
