He didn't pursue, didn't show any sign of being bothered by my slicing remarks. Instead he shifted to sit, back against the chair and one knee drawn up, massive thighs flexing. "Is that who you are, Ursula?"

I laughed and it came out harsh. "Don't be ridiculous. Just because I eschew lovers doesn't make me some blushing virgin. I simply have better things to do."

"Do you? Like anesthetizing yourself with wine and working your body to exhaustion just to get a little sleep?" His pale eyes stayed on me, clear and calm; he never raised his voice, but he tested my guard with those taunting feints. "You keep your head down and lock yourself in your lonely chambers, pretending that you're not as much your father's prisoner as any of those princesses you so detest?"

"You know nothing about me. I don't need rescuing and I've already asked you to leave once."

He didn't move. "I know more about you than you want me to, which is the problem. You trembled when I touched you, heating willingly to my hand; thus, I know you want me. You wear the bruise on your face that your father dealt you and pretend to me and the world that it's not so. You tell lies to yourself and you expect me to believe them, too. I don't. You think it's your job to protect everyone else. Perhaps you should consider protecting yourself."

I tapped the hilt of the sword I still wore, the topaz smooth and warm. "This is my protection."

"Only if you use it," he retorted. "If you won't take care of yourself, then it falls to me." He tipped his head toward my desk. "Contract."

Wrapping my hand around the hilt, I pulled the sword an inch, feeling more balanced with it in my grip. "Time for you to leave, mercenary."

"Will you draw on me?" He didn't drop his voice, but it still somehow grew deadly quiet.

"If necessary."

"You won't admit me to your bed or meet me on the practice ground in an honest match, but you'd have me believe you'd draw your sword, knowing me to be unarmed. Your honor won't let you."

"You don't have much room to call me on questions of honor, mercenary, since yours is available to the highest bidder."

"I imagine you think that if you keep saying such things, you can convince yourself you don't want me as much as I want you."

My temple throbbed and I pressed a finger to it, wishing I hadn't drunk so much wine. Anesthetizing yourself. That was the only reason I let things go this far. "I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression, Captain. But I'm truly not interested. There are a very many good reasons I don't take lovers. The first and foremost is I can't possibly compromise the High Throne. I look to Danu, and many of her priestesses are celibate."

"Yet you've taken no such sacred vow."

"I can't. I would have." Kaedrin would have sponsored me. Hoped to salve my hurts that way. Not long after she suggested it, Uorsin had declared Glorianna's temple supreme and all Danu's priestesses-including Kaedrin-unwelcome in Ordnung. I followed Danu's teachings in my heart, where it wouldn't offend him. He accepted her as a patron of warriors, at least. "But there is always the possibility that I will need to marry, to serve the High Throne and the Twelve Kingdoms. I won't be foresworn to my goddess, so I am celibate in practice only." I let out a long breath, rolled my head on my shoulders. That was mostly true. Close enough to serve as the truth. I would never marry.

"Come and sit." Harlan patted the floor between his spread knees. "Let me rub your neck at least. Relieve your headache."

"I'm fine. It's late and you should leave."

"Afraid to let me touch you again?"

Yes. My starving body still throbbed, full of yearning to sate myself at the banquet table. A feast that had always been easy to ignore until now. He'd awakened a hunger I hadn't known I was capable of, one I needed to lock away again.

"You could probably break my neck with your bare hands."

"But I won't. If you won't let me be your lover, let me be your friend."

"I have friends."

"Do you? I see you with your subordinates, the people who turn a blind eye to what you suffer. I have not seen any friends."

"My sisters."

"And what do they say about how your father treats you? Ah." He nodded, though I hadn't replied. "They don't know, do they? You protect them, too. Shield them from the truth-and from being hurt also."

"Look . . ." I had no idea how he had seen through so much so quickly. It left me off-balance. Not myself. Terrified that he'd see my worst shame. "Would you please leave?"

"Let me rub your neck and I will. If you won't let me pleasure you with sex, then let me do that much. You felt better after I worked on your back."

It was true. So much so that the prospect of him loosening my neck appealed far more than the promised seduction. I knew where that would lead, the shame and pain of it. But this-I wanted this bit of comfort, as weak as it might make me. "And you'll cease bothering me?"

"I'll leave and let you get some sleep."

I didn't miss that he hadn't quite promised what I'd asked. "Fine."

"Do me a favor and leave the sword behind."

"Now who's afraid?"

"Justifiably cautious." His lips twitched in a wry smile and he patted the floor in front of him.

I unbuckled the sword belt and sat cross-legged between his knees. "I still have my daggers."

"I know you do."

His hands, always so warm on my skin, settled on the base of my neck and dug into the tight muscles there, much as he'd massaged the palms of my hands. He worked them up the tendons to the base of my skull and a groan escaped me at the delicious feeling of release. He laughed, low and dark. "Ironic that you make no sounds when I kiss you, but you melt under my hands for this."

"This is better," I lied. "Where did you learn these techniques?"

"Most Dasnarian warriors do. It's considered as much a part of our training to maintain our bodies as any other exercise. Our bodies are our first weapon, the one that cannot be lost in the heat of battle, the one we take to our graves-or that will take us there if we fail to keep it honed and in the best possible working condition."

"I'd never thought of it that way."

"See? We have much to learn from each other." His voice, deep and vibrant, loosened my nerves like his deft massage rubbed the knots from my muscles. So much so that I nearly forgot to pay attention to the meaning behind the soothing sound of it.

"I'm sure there are plenty of court ladies willing to entertain you. Go learn from them." I meant it to sound tart, but my voice came out sleepy. The sheer pleasure of his hands on me wound with the heat of the fire and the warmth of the wine, conspiring to blur my mind.

"If I wanted entertainment, I'm sure that's so. I want something more."

His hands lightened, still rubbing my neck, but changing tenor, stroking me with touches like sueded leather. With the softer caresses, his own sword calluses made themselves known, scraping from tough to velvet, depending on the angle. I have this idea of how your hands would feel on me, strong and soft, rough and caressing, all at once. I understood now what he meant, and my body went taut with expectation, thrilling to the imagined sensation of him touching me in far more sensitive places.

"It's you I want, Ursula." He said it in a rough voice, as if continuing the words he'd left off some time before. Those strong, rough-soft fingers feathered down the sides of my throat, from the tender hollows under my ears down the shallow artery to my collarbone. "Any way I can have you. Even if only this much. You're satin and steel under my hands. Like a finely balanced blade, beautiful, sharp, deadly. Seductive. No one else will do."

His hands drifted lower, and I froze, my stomach clenching. Pulling away, I scrambled to my feet, putting distance between us. He regarded me with a slumberous gaze, relaxed and predatory. Hungry, too. Then he climbed to his feet, downed the rest of his wine, and toasted me with the empty goblet.

Pausing at the door, he looked back and smiled in his serious way.

"I'm very good at waiting, Ursula."

12.

I awoke early after a fitful sleep in which I compared columns of numbers that never quite added up and chased after a cloaked woman who left bloody footprints in her wake. Though I caught up to her, my sword had become a quill pen and she laughed as I slashed at her with it.

Putting my hand on my sword, I felt better knowing I had it still. Only a dream. A common one at that. The Hawks often joked about such dreams, of riding into battle naked or with feathers instead of blades.

I dressed in my practice leathers, smiling to hear Dafne's step in the outer chamber, bringing me tea. "Good morning, Your Highness," she called out, as if I might expect someone else. Had the guards or someone else mentioned Harlan's late-night visit? Despite what I'd said the night before, people might gossip. Or was that my guilty conscience?

"Danu," I growled at myself. "Nothing happened." And nothing ever would.

Dafne had set a pile of books on my desk and looked weary, dark circles smudging under her eyes. She waved a hand at the collection and handed me the key. "I think that's everything to be had."

"Did you stay up all night going through them? You needn't have."

"I felt I did. Better to extract what I could before I lost the opportunity."

I studied her, sipping the hot tea, grateful for the warmth that diffused the lingering frost of the nightmares. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing specific." But she shook her head, unhappy. "Ordnung has a very strange feel. It's nerve-wracking to be forbidden to leave like this."

"Like being under siege."

"Yes," she said on a long, considering breath. "Very like that."

"I know you worry about Ami and Stella also."

"Still nothing?"

"I haven't talked to Jepp yet today, but she'd have sent word if there was any. However, I've learned something else that has me worried."

She winced in dismay. "I am afraid to ask."

"Did you read much, about the Dasnarians?"

"Only enough to find the correct passages and mark them. I don't really know where to begin. Why?"

"I had an extended conversation with Captain Harlan-twixt thee and me-and he told me some interesting details about Illyria. I'd like to know your perspective, from a more objective standpoint. If you want to start researching, look for the Orsk dynasty and the Temple of Deyrr."

"Deyrr?"

"A Dasnarian term. I won't prejudice you by giving you the Common Tongue translation. I'm not convinced the mercenary's interpretation is correct." Nor the rest of his dire warnings.

"I'm not going to like what I find, am I?"

"I doubt it. But well-armed is well prepared."

"Speaking of strange events, had you noted that Lady Zevondeth has not been at court since we arrived?"

I frowned, replaying the images in my head. "True, I don't think I've seen her. But she's not required to be present. Perhaps she's unwell."

"Perhaps." Dafne sounded unconvinced.

"I shall check on her. Before court commences, if I can."

The Hawks and mercenaries alike were out for early morning practice and warm-ups. To my surprise the two groups mingled extensively now. Jepp appeared to be showing several of the mercenaries the opening stance of the Midnight form. Not that it was forbidden to share, but that she wanted to had me rethinking.

These Dasnarians had a way of using charm to sneak under your guard.

Of its own accord, my eye found Harlan's bulk easily. The rising sun caught his fair hair, gilding him with a crown of light. He talked with Marskal, several other Hawks, and another of his men. Then threw back his head, showing the strong column of his throat and letting loose that booming laugh. He spotted me and raised a hand in greeting, his smile warming in a different way for me.

Marskal grinned and saluted. "Captain! We're offered a demonstration of Dasnarian wrestling. They seek to redeem some of the pride Jepp cut away yester eve."

"Oh?" I made sure to keep my stride casual, my tone slightly bored. This irritated me also. "Are we meant to coax our enemies into the ring and pin them until they cry mercy?"

Harlan's eyes glinted and I knew he restrained a pithy-and lascivious comment-in response. I gave him a hard look, to forestall any undue familiarity on his part. If he thought I would cut him any slack, excuse any rude behavior, he was mistaken. The bawdiness of soldiers was one thing. I had the dignity of rank to uphold.

Instead he bowed, showing perfect respect. "You are absolutely correct, Your Highness, that this technique would be rarely used in battle. As a last, and most dire, resort, perhaps. Much like your blade forms, our wrestling is intended to build strength, endurance, and character. We believe the most confident fighter, the most determined, will carry the day."

He just loved to layer in multiple meanings, his words deferential, even bland, but somehow suggestive of the previous night's encounter. And his declared intent.

I shrugged. "Do as you will. I have a workout to get in before court. I'll leave you gentlemen to your games."

"Ah, badly timed, then," he replied, then turned to the other men. "Not this morning. We shall save the demonstration for when Her Highness is less pressed for time."

He kept good discipline, as the mercenaries showed only a hint of their disappointment. Marskal and the other Hawks, however, did not manage to be nearly so polite.

"Captain." Marskal gave me an odd look. "We already placed bets-only awaiting your arrival."

Danu take it. He knew full well I should have wanted to see this. Now I'd only made him wonder about my hesitation, knowing I otherwise loved any opportunity to witness a new fighting style. Especially if it gave us insight into our unwelcome guests. Besides, my Hawks would be as restless as I with our comfortable imprisonment-I should be happy for them to find distraction where they could.

I inclined my head. "You have the right of it, Marskal. I can spare the time. You may proceed," I said to Harlan, and he seemed amused by the regal command.

Yes, it had sounded stiff, but I needed all the formality I could muster at this point. Create and keep distance. That would be key going forward, to manage his expectations. And discourage further advances.

Two of the mercenaries marked off a circle with twine, roughly twice a man's height in diameter, while Captain Harlan and another man began stripping off their shirts and pants. To keep from watching, I pulled up a bench and set to polishing my sword. Not that I hadn't seen plenty of men unclothed-field outposts and battle left little room or reason for modesty-but Harlan's muscled physique seemed unduly attention-grabbing.

His all-over golden tan hinted that he often went unclothed outdoors, and his fair hair barely showed, leaving the rippling cuts of his muscle plainly defined. He seemed more lithe, more like a male animal, without the hardened leather armor he typically wore. Fortunately he and the other man retained strips of cloth over their groins, though their buttocks were bared.

Unfortunately, they commenced applying some sort of oil, the morning light catching it and making Harlan's golden skin gleam over taut muscles. I resheathed my sword when I came close to slicing off a finger, Danu take him.

"Now, that," Jepp said, coming to straddle the bench next to me, "is a fine way to start the day."

"I thought you were teaching those mercs the Midnight form."

"This is much more interesting. Everybody is coming to watch."

Indeed, the other female Hawks had drawn quite close, expressions avid with more than casual interest. Marskal circulated, taking more bets, no doubt, but everyone else watched Harlan and his man. At the far end of the practice yard, Madeline and some of the maids and kitchen ladies gathered, their giggles carrying on the air like birdsong. The castle ladies would likely be sorry that they were not early risers and had missed the spectacle.