She paused and there was silence between them. This new development left the Captain speechless.

He raised his hands to touch her, then let them drop. "Riordan, I--"

"I would not stand between you and your liberty," she said quickly. "There is no one more deserving of it than you. I'm sure that never in a million years did you dream you might actually have to fight the prophesied war. I know helping me rule Kanarek is not what you planned to do with your retirement."

But he wasn't listening to her. He was staring out the window, muttering to his ghosts.

"Forgive me, Arais."

"Would he have thought it so wrong?"

"I'm certain he would have my head."

"Arais! Always Arais!" Indignant anger rose in her voice. "Will you never realize that I am more than an extension of my father?

Can you not see beyond our kinship and see only me?"

"He was your father. He trusted me."

"Arais is not a part of what's between us," she snapped. "My father is not here to advise nor condemn. I must do what I think best."

"And what of me, Riordan?"

The question dampened her fury. "I've already done all that you thought best."

He crossed the meager space of floor between them and took her hand in his. Riordan looked up into tortured eyes."You misunderstand, Riordan. That's not it at all. It's just that...I would have liked to have done this properly."

"Properly? Kayr, we're in the middle of a war!"

"I," Nhaille cleared his throat and looked resolutely down at her, "I cannot be your consort, if that's what you're asking. I'm not royalty."

"I fail to see what difference--"

"I was the Captain of your father's guards. He thought enough of my abilities to trust me with his kingdom and his youngest child.

But we were never of the same class."

"I doubt our child will object."

"It wouldn't be right. I indulged you in something I never should have. Don't you see, I've betrayed the oath I swore to your father.

I've ruined your chances at marriage. I've ruined your future."

"If there's to be a future, we'll have to make it for ourselves." She reached up to grasp him by the shoulders, trying to force some sense into the situation. "None of this talk of royalty means anything to me. I am the only representative of royalty in Kanarek. If it means so much to you, I hereby make you royal."

"No!" He shook himself from her grasp. "I was not asking for a piece of the kingdom. Please, Riordan, do not think that I was. If we're to be parents, I merely wished us wed, which we cannot do...under the circumstances."

"Why not! I am Queen in Kanarek. I have the power to grant such permission. If that's what you want, Nhaille, as ruler of Kanarek and all it's conquered territories, and as High Priestess of the Pantheon, I hereby pronounce us wed."

Riordan watched emotions race across his face. For a terrible second, it looked as if he might lose his iron composure and weep.

"If the prophecy had not come to pass, your father had intended you for Golen-Arik of Golar."

The knowledge that her father had further plans for her stunned her speechless. "Golen-Arik would not suit me at all," she snapped.

"How would you know? You've never laid eyes on him."

"That is it, exactly. I would not have a stranger in my bed. Nor in my body."

Nhaille's expression softened. "He would not be a stranger by the time you married him. You are not thinking of the future, Riordan."

"For once I am thinking about the future, about what I want. And what I want is you."

"It wouldn't be right."

"Right or wrong, who would complain? There are precious few Kanarekii left. Do you think those poor souls starving downstairs care if the Queen marries the Captain of her Guards?"

"I would know it was wrong."

Frustration welled up inside her, turning swiftly to tears. "What can possibly be wrong about you helping me rebuild our kingdom, or raising our children..."

"Children! Gods, Riordan!"She glared up into his face. "If I'm not what you envisioned in a bride, you should just say so."

"In Nuurah's name, that's not it, Riordan. I swear to you."

So what then? He wouldn't tell her, and she wouldn't beg. After all that had happened, the many indignities she'd been forced to endure, she wouldn't beg.

"I believe you need some time apart from me to think this over."

"I know my mind well enough," she said, biting back tears.

His arms tightened around her. "I'm sure that is how it seems to you. But the truth is: you don't know anyone besides me. You need some time to get to know other people. And I should give you time to reflect on all that has happened before you start making decisions about the future of your kingdom."

"Perhaps it is you who needs some time to think this over." Riordan managed to get the words out without choking on the lump in her throat. "Have your retirement in the forest, then. There is time still for me to marry Golen-Arik. Assuming he'd be interested in a bride who is carrying another man's child."

She hoped to skewer him upon the barb of her words. But to her amazement, he said simply, "That would be best. Once the huts are rebuilt and the gates have been fortified, I might take that time."

After nineteen years, how could she refuse his request? Damn you, Nhaille, she thought bitterly. Damn you to the Al-Gomar and beyond.

# Word spread like fire. Throughout the night Kanarekii arrived in an endless stream at the gates. By morning even the ruined main hall was brimming with stragglers from the hillside and refugees from halfway to Kholer. She scarcely saw Nhaille over the next few days. Fortifying the main gates and organizing the watch schedule absorbed most of his time. When they did speak it was of matters of state and security.

The abundance of people crammed within the palace walls kept her nerves constantly on edge. People shied away from her as she passed, not used to being in close quarters with a Shraal legend come to life. Curious gazes lingered upon her.

Now that the battle was over and Kanarek secured, exhaustion tugged on her every move. Her eyes closed as soon as she lay down each night, only to sleep like the dead and awake more tired. Each day she greeted a multitude of problems. Suffering permeated the air. And there was nothing she could do to relieve it save press on with scant resources and hope for time to heal the city's wounds.

People flocked to the city, looking for work and shelter. The palace filled with would-be courtiers and servants. Already the lower floors of the castle had been scrubbed as cleanly as they would come and the debris cleared from the main hall. A small city of tents grew in the main square. Behind it the skeletons of huts were being constructed.

The ranks of Nhaille's defense team grew as men and women armed with everything from kitchen knives to pitch forks willingly submitted themselves to the Captain's relentless training. Palace staff multiplied as refugees who'd spent months sleeping among the hills traded their skills for a roof over their heads and a communal meal.

Riordan stood before the window in her father's chamber. It was the first night in a score of days that she'd made it back to the privacy of her chambers before the sun set. Newly planted fields stretched out below her in neat lines. Once again the city was starting to take shape. Signs of life were everywhere where once there had only been death and destruction. Kanarek progressed better than she had dared hope for.

Except for the one thing she'd hoped for herself. The only thing she'd ever asked of anyone."Why this evening?" she asked as Nhaille shifted uneasily behind her. Nhaille abhorred undue commotion. She could tell he was expecting her to carry on. Damned if she'd give him the satisfaction. "What is it about today that you suddenly must leave under cover of darkness?"

"I am not riding out in the darkness like a traitor." Indignation rose in his voice. He'd misunderstood even her attempt at trying to make it easy for him.

Will we ever understand each other?

"It's a simple question, Nhaille. I merely wondered why you were so eager to leave you could not wait for dawn." She wouldn't turn and look into that tortured expression on his face. "You're afraid if you wait until tomorrow you won't leave, isn't that so?"

Riordan did turn and look at him then. His expression was as tortured as she'd guessed. "Did I not already grant you leave?" she pressed into the silence.

"Yes, Your Majesty, you did."

"Your Majesty now, is it? What happened to Riordan, to those endearments you called me the night before the battle of Kholer?"

Riordan bit her tongue to stop the rest of the barbs from escaping.

Misery crossed Nhaille's face before he brought his emotions back under his iron control. "The situation in Kanarek is stable," he said, neatly side-stepping the verbal spear aimed at his heart. "Rebuilding is well underway, the training of the warriors is progressing well. I am not the only veteran capable of instructing. Kanarek can spare me for a few days after nineteen years without so much as a day off." His eyes pleaded silently with her, begging her to understand. "Forgive me, Riordan. I really do believe we need some time away from each other right now."

How could she refuse him the only favor he'd ever asked of her? Especially after all he'd sacrificed?

She wanted to touch him, to feel him real and solid before her. A memory to sustain her after he was gone. "I realize that I have been selfish," she said softly, "thinking only of what I wanted and not of the sacrifices you've made. It's not that I don't care, Kayr, just that I am overwhelmed by all that depends on me. And you are the only person I trust."

"Which is exactly why I must leave for a while. You've brought Kanarek back from the dead, Riordan. I've taught you everything I know. I'm certain you will manage well enough without me. I think it a good idea for you to try."

"Goodbye then," she said, refusing to beg, refusing even to cry.

He looked back at her with that tortured expression that tore at her heart. Then, with typical lack of fuss, he nodded and took his leave.

Riordan watched as Nhaille disappeared through the door. In the hallway, his footsteps echoed into silence.

Of all the things in her uncertain life, Nhaille was the one she'd counted on. Like the dreams of home, hearth and family, now he, too, was gone.

She'd misread the situation. Asked of him one thing more on top of all else.

A light knock brought her attention back to the present. "Come," she called, steeling herself for more problems, more obligations.

The door opened, revealing a haggard, middle-aged woman with steel-gray hair.

"Your Majesty." She bowed in deference.

Riordan smothered her impatience, accepting the title in good grace. That's how it all began: the bows, the Your Majestys, then reasonable requests that under their current circumstances were impossible."I've come to offer my services as lady in waiting."

Gods, what next? Another servant was the last thing she needed. Another mouth to feed, another body waiting for her instructions and guidance.

Riordan forced a smile. "That is kind of you, Madam," she swept her arm around the room that was still decorated with regulation-issue blankets and the accouterments of a soldier. "But as you can see, at the moment I have little need for the services of a lady in waiting."

The bedraggled woman took a look at the barren surroundings and smiled. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I believe my services are required more than ever." Before Riordan could protest she added. "Especially since before you were born, I was lady in waiting to your mother."

CHAPTER TWENTY

The quietly spoken words froze the argument on Riordan's lips.

"My mother?"

"You do resemble her, Your Majesty, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I do?"

"Not your coloring, of course. Her hair was much darker, as were her eyes. But you do have her graceful build and the same shape of face."

She took Riordan's hand in hers. Though she disliked being touched, Riordan found herself surrendering it unquestioningly.

"And her lovely, slender hands." She gazed up at Riordan as if greeting a long lost friend.

"I've always wondered what she looked like. It was odd growing up, never knowing..."

Suddenly she was like a curious child, desperate for information. Her father's face she could conjure with certainty, even after the horror he had become. The forbidding crease between his dark eyebrows, the formidable line of his mouth that warned her he was about to yell at his youngest child sprang readily to mind. Though her mother had died soon after she was born, Riordan had always felt that nameless loss. The craving for maternal attention had never lessened, never gone away.

And now I'm going to be a mother myself. Moraah give me courage, I don't even know how.

"What was she like?" The words slipped from her lips before she could call them back. It wouldn't do for the Queen to appear the frightened child she felt inside.

"If it pleases you, Your Majesty, I would tell you." She eyed the room inside.Riordan stepped back from the door, motioning for her to enter. The woman took a more thorough glance around the empty room. "My services are definitely needed here," she pronounced.

Laughter burst from Riordan's lips. The unfamiliar sound startled her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed spontaneously, outloud. Immediately she found herself liking this candid stranger. Oddly enough, her forthright manner reminded her of Nhaille. Riordan pushed the thought from her mind. The last thing she needed to think about right now was Nhaille. What lay ahead in their future together remained to be seen.

"Perhaps you're right," she admitted with a look at the forlornly decorated room. And it won't kill me to take an hour off. "Come in then..."

"Zelia-Gorman-Toor," she offered.

"...Zelia. Tell me of my mother."

Riordan motioned to the chair by the fire, the only piece of furniture other than the bed in the room.

"Oh no, Your Majesty, please sit. I couldn't, it wouldn't be right."