Below, Sophia finally dismounted from her horse. With an instinctive urge to stay near her, he lowered himself from the thick bough and dropped to earth, striding over to her.

Wanting to hear her side of the story in private, he dismissed the two men guarding her and sent them off to join the others in the search for evidence. Then he asked Sophia to recount the exact order of events that night, as best she could remember them.

She did so, describing the a.s.sault on the carriage-which side the attackers had tried to come in, what they looked and sounded like, how she had fought them off, and Lady Alexa's hysterical screaming. Then she explained how Leon had brought her the bay gelding and sent her on her way. She pointed to the stone wall and meadow visible through the narrow patch of woods on the north side of the road and told him she had leapt the wall on horseback in making her escape. Gabriel nodded, easily envisioning the chaos of that night.

"Shall we go and have a look in the field?" Sophia suggested with an admirable show of bravery despite the shadows in her eyes from reliving all the details of that night.

"No."

She looked at him in question.

The men had told him that the hottest fighting had taken place in that field after she had gone galloping away. The villains had tried to chase her, but under the wounded Leon's direction, the guards had at least rallied enough to hold the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds off so she could escape.

Sophia furrowed her brow. "Don't you think we might find something useful..." she started, but her words trailed off as she read his regretful expression. "I see. That's where Leon fell?"

He nodded and reached out to give her arm a comforting stroke.

"I want to see the place."

"Sophia, you've already been through enough," he said with gentle finality. There was no need for her to see the stained patch of tall gra.s.ses and bloodied turf where someone dear to her had lost his life.

She looked away but did not argue. Though her cheeks were rosy with the brisk October afternoon, her face was a stark, emotionless mask. As she wrapped her dark cloak a bit more tightly around her slender frame, Gabriel shook his head in self-directed anger.

"I shouldn't have brought you here."

"I need you to protect me from a.s.sa.s.sins, Colonel, not from the truth." She stared off into the field where Leon had fallen. "He didn't deserve this."

Gabriel said nothing, standing with her in wooden silence. He could feel her pain as if it was his own and longed to take her into his arms. It seemed inhuman not to, but even aside from the need to maintain a professional distance, he could just imagine the sort of reaction it might get from her Greek guards.

"Colonel!" Over by the stone wall, the men beckoned to them all of a sudden. "Your Highness, we've found something!"

As they both hurried over, Timo pointed into the brambles at the foot of the stone fence. "It looks like one of them might have dropped a weapon here! We haven't touched it yet, so you could see its exact position where it fell." Timo moved back to give them room and Gabriel leaned closer, narrowing his eyes.

A gleaming dagger with a black handle lay partly concealed inside the leaf-strewn clump of weeds.

Beside him, Sophia stared at the weapon, then she reached gingerly into the bramble-bush without waiting for their advice, and picked it up.

Turning to her to ask for it, Gabriel saw the cold anger that filled her face as she gripped the knife. She cursed under her breath in her native tongue, then swept them all with a glance. "To your horses, quickly!"

"Your Highness?" Gabriel murmured.

"I knew it," she said fiercely. "d.a.m.n him!"

"d.a.m.n who?"

"Ali Pasha!"

An angry murmur moved among her fellow Greeks at this name.

"I knew it was him all along!"

"What makes you so sure?" Gabriel asked in a low tone.

"Look!" Ashen-faced, Sophia held up the slightly curved dagger and pointed to the engravings on the black steel hilt. "You see these symbols? This is Arabic!"

"I know what it is," he replied. Thanks to his boyhood friendship in India with a local nizam's princely sons, he was quite familiar with the customs of Islam and was well aware it was a common practice amongst Mohammedan warriors to engrave one's favorite weapons with verses from the Koran. "May I see the blade?"

She handed the weapon over with a wary look. As Gabriel studied it, he noticed some strange markings on it in addition to the Koranic verses.

"Come!" she ordered, whirling away from them and striding back toward her horse.

"Where are we going?" the bulky Niko cried, hastening to follow her.

"Back to the castle!" she ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. "It's time I had a chat with the Turkish amba.s.sador."

Gabriel wasn't so sure. He eyed her Greek guards warily. A more sinister explanation began taking shape in his mind.

How easy would it have been for one of her men to have planted the weapon there just now and only pretended to have found it? Indeed, how else might her enemies have known just where and when to find her on the road?

His heart darkened at the possibility of a traitor in their midst. Mounting up, he noted that it was Timo who had first spotted the knife and called them over to see it.

The man seemed loyal to Sophia, but that could be naught but a mask.

Gabriel stayed close to Sophia and kept his concerns to himself for the moment as they all rode back to the castle, on for miles and miles through the descending twilight.

Full night had fallen by the time they arrived. Cantering past the gatehouse, they continued up the long, winding drive.

Ahead, the castle's dark medieval hulk loomed against the stars, dim orange lights glowing in the windows. They rode over the bridge, under the portcullis, and into the central courtyard.

In short order, their princess was striding ahead of them down the stone corridors of the castle, her face flushed with the cold, her midnight curls wild from the hard gallop back. She had taken off her hat but still gripped her riding crop in her angry zeal to confront the Turkish amba.s.sador.

Gabriel was beginning to worry a bit about what exactly she intended to do. She ordered Yannis to find out if the Ottoman representative had arrived; the answer came back quickly. Yes, he had, and he was in a meeting now with Lord Griffith in the Map Room.

Sophia nodded and headed for that unusual chamber.

Gabriel jolted into motion. "Your Highness," he clipped out, keeping pace with her brisk march.

"Yes, Colonel?" She stared straight ahead.

"What do you plan on doing in there?"

She glanced over her shoulder, apparently surprised that she was being asked to explain herself. "I'm going to show the Turkish amba.s.sador what we found."

"And?" he challenged.

"See what he has to say for his master about it."

"Wait." Gabriel captured her forearm in a gentle but unyielding grip, halting her advance. She flicked an indignant glance down to his hand on her arm. "You can't go in there making accusations," he warned in a soft but steely tone. "Remember, we discussed the danger of offending the Ottoman Empire?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"So does Lord Griffith. Let him do his job. He's not going to want you barging in. These are delicate matters-"

"I'm not asking your permission, Colonel," she interrupted, looking him evenly in the eyes.

Her Greek guards stepped nearer, glancing from Gabriel to Sophia. His hand was still on her arm, and they appeared quite willing to intervene and remove their new commander from her path if Her Royal Loveliness desired.

Sophia eyed him warily, but Gabriel was not about to back down. He was a little surprised at her unabated tenacity, but this was in her best interest.

"As I understand it, my kinsman has been one of your greatest champions within the Foreign Office," he informed her in a low tone. "Angering him is not going to help your enterprise or your people. Overstep your bounds, and you will make him doubt your readiness for the crown."

His blunt words seemed to check the anger that had burned in her dark eyes ever since the knife had been found. She lowered her head, pausing for a moment.

"Your point is well taken, Colonel. Still, I intend to confront the Turkish amba.s.sador-"

"Let Lord Griffith do it," he ordered.

"Don't tell me what to do!" She pulled her arm angrily out of his light hold. "I want to look into that blackguard's eyes and see for myself if he knows who is trying to kill me! I'm going to put this knife in front of him and see if I can call his bluff. I am not naive-I don't expect the amba.s.sador to be honest with me, but if I take him off guard, he may betray some telltale sign that he knows something-or not. Either way, it will be useful information."

"This is not a card game."

"You think I don't know that? I'm the one they're trying to kill! With all due respect, Colonel, I think I understand the stakes slightly better than you do."

He clenched his jaw and lifted a long-suffering gaze to the ceiling.

"If the plot against me is coming from Ali Pasha alone," she continued, "then the Turkish amba.s.sador will let the Sultan know that his petty tyrant in Albania is up to his old tricks. Sultan Mahmud has his own interests in the region and might not appreciate Ali Pasha taking it upon himself to start making mischief again. Sultan Mahmud can crack down on Ali Pasha as n.o.body else can-if he chooses."

"And what if it's not Ali Pasha? Then what are you going to do?" Gabriel pressed her. "What if you go in there and find that the plot originated with Sultan Mahmud himself?"

"Don't think I haven't thought of that," she a.s.sured him defiantly. "I know full well the Sultan could be the one behind this, only using Ali Pasha to do his dirty work for him. And if that's the case, then I might as well know it, because that means I'm probably doomed."

"Well, if you're doomed, d.a.m.n it, so am I," he said in a soft, fierce tone.

She looked into his eyes, taken aback; Gabriel shook his head at her, won over in spite of himself.

He gave her a reluctant little smile, and slowly, she returned it.

The reminder that he was on her side seemed to sh.o.r.e up her resolve. She lifted her chin, then glanced at the door to the Map Room. "Why don't we confront him together?"

Gabriel considered it, saw he could not stop her, and then decided it was better to go in there with her and at least try to rein her in a bit. "Listen." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Back in the army, Derek and I always had this strategy that usually worked in these kinds of situations."

"What was the strategy?"

"Whenever we had to have an unpleasant discussion with someone, he would be agreeable while I would scare the h.e.l.l out of them. Between the two of us, it usually seemed to get results."

"I love it," she said at once. "I'll be the scary one!"

"You?" He furrowed his brow while she smiled and tweaked a b.u.t.ton on his coat.

"I can get away with more than you can," she replied. "Let's go." She ordered her Greeks to hold their posts, then the two of them continued striding toward the Map Room.

Gabriel escorted her, somewhat beside her, but minding his place half a step behind her. "Don't overdo it, darling," he warned under his breath as both of them stared straight ahead. "If you overplay your hand, you'll look bad to Griff and I could end up sacked-not that I'd mind so much, but somebody's got to protect you."

"Trust me. I wouldn't get my favorite bodyguard sacked."

"There's something I want to talk to you about, by the way," he added grimly as they approached the door.

She glanced at him in question.

"Later," he murmured.

She nodded and stepped ahead of him. Then, without further ado, she burst into the Map Room where his kinsman was in parley with the fearsome Sultan's representative.

Gabriel prayed he wasn't making a big mistake by going along with this, but he had to give her a chance. It was time to find out what his princess was really made of.

Seated informally across from each other at one of the st.u.r.dy oak tables, Lord Griffith and the Turkish amba.s.sador looked over in surprise.

"Sorry to interrupt," Sophia flung out, the sudden draft from the opened door making the many candles throughout the room flicker.

"Your Highness!" Lord Griffith started to rise at her entrance, but she waved off his courtesy.

"You said we needed evidence, Marquess. We found it."

Lord Griffith furrowed his brow and glanced past her at Gabriel, sending his kinsman a questioning look.

Her brawny ally muttered a convincing apology, as if he had no control over her or of this matter.

When Sophia reached the men's table, she jabbed the curved Arabic dagger down into the wooden tabletop right in front of the startled Turkish amba.s.sador.

"What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed. Turbaned and silken-robed, the Ottoman grandee pulled back from her a bit in puzzled alarm.

"I was hoping that you could tell me that yourself, Mr. Amba.s.sador," she replied, bracing one hand on the table and the other on her hip as she leaned down to stare at him matter-of-factly. She did not take her eyes off him, but instead held his gaze, noting every shift and flicker of thought and emotion in his weathered countenance.

The Turk glanced from her to Lord Griffith, who, in turn, looked horrified by their intrusion.

"Your Highness, what on earth is going on?" the marquess exclaimed.

"I came to ask a favor of the amba.s.sador," she replied in brash insolence, turning back to the Ottoman. "Sir: When you return this weapon to its rightful owner, tell him I am looking forward to our next meeting. I shall enjoy the chance to skewer him!"

The Ottoman amba.s.sador was glaring at her with an affronted look. "I am afraid, Your Highness," he said slowly in English, his Near East accent softened by French-trained p.r.o.nunciations, "that I do not understand."

"No? Well, that is a pity. Allow me to explain."

"Perhaps it would be better if I tried-" Gabriel started in a placating tone.

"Silence!" she ordered sharply-just to keep him out of trouble with his superiors on the British side. "I can speak for myself, Colonel. I'm a woman, not a fool! And the Ottomans would do well to heed that, too," she declared. "I wish all my neighbors in the region to understand that though I am young and a female, my father's throne is ancient, and I will not be trifled with."

Gabriel gave a low cough into his fist. "Of course. I beg your pardon, Highness."