The prisoners were confined in the city garrison, which was now under the command of a new Prefect. He was a jovial young man named Lanon Rill, the youngest son of Elcast's former governor,Tovin Rill, who had been studying law at the university in Avacas when Misha plucked him from obscurity and made him one of the most powerful men in Senet.

Tia had thought the appointment rather strange until she learned he was a childhood friend of Dirk's from Elcast. His justification for recommending him was that despite his inexperience, Lanon Rill was a decent human being, a quality sadly lacking in Barin Welacin. While Tia couldn't argue on that point, she still didn't like the idea of Dirk surrounding Misha with his old cronies. And she wanted to slap Misha when he agreed to Dirk's suggestion with barely any objections. She understood that for Misha to rule Senet effectively, he needed his own people around him and his illness meant he had few close childhood friends he could trust to appoint. For that reason alone Palinov still held his post. But surely there was a better way than appointing people Dirk Provin recommended?

In spite of her misgivings, Lanon Rill had proved a good choice so far. He was conscientious, fair and appeared to be totally loyal to Misha. But Tia worried about him a little. He smiled too much for her liking.

Lanon met her when she reached the garrison and escorted her personally down to the cells where Ella, Madalan and the physician Yuri Daranski were held. He gave her a running commentary as they pa.s.sed the various rooms of torture along their route, in such graphic and vibrant detail Tia eventually had to ask him to stop.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said hastily, when he realized he was upsetting her. "I didn't mean to... well, I thought you should know..."

"I know what they used to do in this place, Prefect Rill," she reminded him, holding up her left hand with its missing finger. "I am personally acquainted with your predecessor's horseshoe pliers."

"His highness charged me with investigating the full scope of Barin Welacin's activities, my lady. I thought perhaps you wanted to be certain his orders were being carried out." He looked so earnest she was almost sorry she'd scolded him.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Prefect, but spare me the details, if you don't mind."

"Of course, my lady. This is the cell."

"The cell for what?"

"Ella Geon's cell, my lady. The prisoner you came to see."

"Of course." Tia was suddenly afraid to go on.

"Did you want me to come with you?" Lanon offered, sensing her nervousness.

She shook her head. "No. I can deal with this."

Lanon snapped his fingers and the guard who accompanied them hurried to unlock the door. "Just knock when you're done. The guard will let you out."

Tia smiled thinly. "I know the routine, Prefect Rill. I've been a prisoner a few times, myself."

Lanon smiled. "I'll be right out here if you need me."

The offer surprised her, mostly because it seemed to be made out of genuine concern for her.

Perhaps Dirk and Misha were right. Perhaps this young man's greatest a.s.set was his basic decency.

"Thank you," she said, and she stepped into the cell.

Ella looked up as Tia entered and rose to her feet from the pallet where she was sitting. The cell was small and despite the change in the jail's administration, it was neither comfortable nor clean."Yes?" Ella inquired of her curiously.

She doesn't know who I am. Admittedly, Tia looked nothing like the girl who had knelt on Antonov's balcony and had her finger chopped off. She was dressed in a beautifully tailored silk dress, her short hair neatly trimmed and fashionably arranged, her hands manicured and clean. Jacinta had been responsible for that. Alenor's cousin had taken Misha's request to help Tia get settled into the palace quite literally and had saved her from any number of awkward gaffes since she'd arrived in Avacas. The Dhevynian queen's envoy had also taken it upon herself to ensure the Lion of Senet's fiancee was clothed and catered for in a manner befitting her new status. In some ways, Jacinta D'Orlon reminded Tia of Lexie. Jacinta was one of those people for whom n.o.bility was second nature. She radiated such a powerful sense of her own worth Tia wondered if she'd ever suffered a moment's doubt about her place in the world.

Perhaps that's why Ella didn't recognize Tia now. Maybe some of Jacinta's subconscious sophistication had rubbed off on her pupil.

"I'm not sure if I should be relieved or disappointed you don't recognize your own daughter," Tia said in the tone she imagined Jacinta would use in the same situation.

"Tia?"

"And you only had to be given one clue. How instinctively maternal of you, Mother."

"Haven't you come up in the world since I saw you last?"

Ella remarked coolly, looking her up and down with a critical eye.

"Haven't you come down?" Tia retorted.

"Is that why you're here? To gloat over my misfortune?"

"There's nothing unfortunate about the reason you're here, my lady. You're here as a direct result of your actions. The misfortune, in your mind at least, seems to be that you got caught."

Ella smiled wanly. "Surely you don't believe the ridiculous charge I was trying to kill poor Misha? I treated the boy like a son."

"If you treated your son the same way you treated your daughter, I don't wonder you're sitting here waiting to die."

"I never mistreated you, Tia. I never had the chance. Johan stole you away when you were still a baby. Any hatred you have for me is because your father and Johan poisoned your mind against me, not because of anything I did to you."

"You destroyed Neris," she accused.

"He destroyed himself. I merely supplied what he wanted to do the job a little faster."

Her total lack of remorse left Tia breathless. "And what's your excuse for what you did to Misha?

He was only a child when you started dosing him with poppy-dust. How could you hurt an innocent child like that?"

"I never knew anything about poppy-dust in his tonic," she shrugged. "The news came as a dreadful shock to me. I would never have allowed him to take it, had I known. I adore Misha. How can you think such a thing of me?"

"Why shouldn't I believe you capable of it? You stood there and watched Barin Welacin cut my finger off and you never even blinked!"

"And Dirk Provin drove a knife into Johan Thorn's throat, Tia. Who is it you call your friend now, my dear? The mother who couldn't have saved you, even if she tried, or the young man who committedcold-blooded murder right in front of you?"

The accusation hit her hard. Ella smiled coldly. "So perhaps you really are my daughter after all, if you're so willing to put aside your conscience for the sake of a taste of power."

"I'm nothing like you," Tia spat in disgust.

"Don't be too sure of that, Tia. You stand there now in your fine gown and your high dudgeon and look down on me, but you are truly no better than I am. I followed Belagren because she offered me power. I hear you're planning to marry our new Lion of Senet. Even I never aspired to such high ambitions as that."

"Misha loves me."

"Well, of course he believes he's in love with you, dear. That's all part of the game, isn't it? Your father loved me, too, pathetic fool that he was."

Tia stared at her, wondering what she had hoped to achieve by coming here. Had she hoped for some glimmer of maternal concern? Some hope that facing death, Ella would see the error of her ways?

That she might be sorry for the lives she had ruined ?

"I despise you. I despise what you are and I despise what you did."

Ella seemed unaffected by her declaration. "Hate me all you want, Tia. It means nothing to me."

Tia banged on the door, fighting back tears of despair. She should never have come here. Never had tried to look for something she had known in her heart did not exist.

"I hope they burn you alive," she spat as Lanon's guard opened the door for her.

"You're as wretched as your father, Tia," Ella remarked. "You don't even have his intelligence to redeem you. Enjoy your new life, my dear. Because it won't last. He'll tire of your Baenlander coa.r.s.eness in time and then, when you're back on the street, ruined and broken, spare you mother a thought and remind yourself, that in the end, you were really no better than she was."

Chapter 81.

Helgin had warned Misha that his withdrawal was not yet complete, and with no sign of his symptoms appearing again, Misha was starting to believe the old physician may have been mistaken.

But the night before Dirk was due to leave for Omaxin, while going over the supply details with Dirk and two of his captains, he noticed he was trembling. Misha had raised his hand to point out something on the map spread out on the desk, but when he saw how shaky it was, he lowered it and simply looked at the map instead.

"Are you all right, your highness?" Dirk asked, his formality for the benefit of the other two men.

Misha nodded, but he was cold. So cold he was starting to shiver. He knew what would come next.

The stomach cramps. The muscle spasms. Maybe, if it got bad enough, he would start a fit. He couldn't afford this now. And he certainly couldn't afford to show weakness in front of his captains.

He was saved by the fortuitous arrival of Jacinta D'Orlon. She curtsied politely, apologized for the interruption and then turned to Misha with concern.

"Your highness, I know how busy you are, but there's a personal matter I need to bring to your attention urgently."Puzzled by her obvious anxiety, Misha looked up at his captains. "Would you excuse us, gentlemen?"

The men saluted and left the study without a word. Dirk rose to his feet, and bowed coolly to the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy. "I'll leave you to your business, then, my lady."

"There's no need, Dirk," Jacinta said, dropping the formality she had also a.s.sumed for the sake of Misha's captains. "In fact, you might be able to help."

"Help with what?" Misha asked, sinking down in his chair with relief. He wasn't sure how much longer he would have been able to fake well-being for the sake of his men. But in Dirk's company, he didn't feel the need to try. As for Jacinta... well, he would just have to trust that the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy didn't gossip.

"Tia is in her room, your highness, sobbing inconsolably. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she's distraught. She's talking about leaving."

Misha looked at Dirk with suspicion. "Did you say something to her?"

Dirk shook his head. "I haven't even spoken to her today."

"Did she say why she's so upset?"

Jacinta shrugged. "I have no idea, your highness. All I know is she went into the city earlier and when she came back she was very distressed."

"It must have been something that happened in the city, then," Dirk concluded, rather obviously, Misha thought. "Do you know where she went?"

"No. And she won't tell me, either."

"I'll go to her," Misha said, rising to his feet. "Can you carry on here, Dirk? We need to get this finished before you leave tomorrow."

"Of course. Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded shakily. "It's nothing to be concerned about. A leftover from the poppy-dust withdrawal, that's all. Master Helgin warned me the symptoms could reoccur without warning. I should have known it would happen at the most inconvenient time possible."

"I'll come with you, if you like," Jacinta volunteered.

He shook his head. "Thank you, my lady, but I'll be fine. There's nothing you can do to help."

"You don't have to go through this alone, Misha."

"There is no other way to go through this, Dirk. Trust me, what I have suffered is the very essence of loneliness." Then he smiled wanly. "I've been through worse. Don't worry about me. It'll pa.s.s."

Without waiting for them to reply, Misha limped from the study, leaving Dirk and Jacinta staring after him with concern.

Misha had to threaten to have the door broken down before Tia would let him in. When she finally did consent to unlock it she simply turned the key and left him to open it himself. She was dressed in her old trousers and worn linen shirt, and obviously packing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving." She was stuffing her gear into the small canvas bag she had taken with her from Mil to Garwenfield. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she was no longer crying."Why?"

"Because it's never going to work, Misha."

"You're not giving it much of a chance."

She stopped packing and looked at him. "It hasn't got a chance, Misha. I'm not cut out for a life prancing around in fine dresses and being diplomatic. It's better if I just leave now."

"Where will you go?"

"I haven't decided."

"Might I inquire as to the reason for this sudden change of heart?"

She sighed, but refused to tell him why she'd suddenly decided to pack her bags and walk out on him. "Don't be mad at me, Misha."

"Then tell me why this morning you were prepared to spend the rest of your life with me, and this afternoon you're ready to abandon me?"

She sank down on the settee, wiping away a fresh round of tears. "I spoke to my mother."

Misha took a deep breath to calm his trembling. "And she advised you to leave?"

"No. She just pointed out the similarities in our situations."

"What similarities?" he asked with a forced smile. "G.o.ddess! You're not poisoning me, too, are you?"

Tia glared at him. "This is no joking matter, Misha."

"It is if you're ready to up and leave at the behest of that murderous b.i.t.c.h."