She would probably have thrown her arms around Rap and very likely have kissed him, except that she seemed to stumble into an unseen feather bolster that brought her to an unexpected, gasping halt. His eyes were big and gray and unreadable. “Rap!”
“Hello, Inos.”
“Oh, Rap, Rap! I’m so glad to see you!”
“Me, too. To see you.”
“You’re well?”
“Yes. You?”
“Fine.”
Why were they whispering?
“Rap, I thought you were dead again . . . Oh, Gods!” She laughed. ”I mean, again I thought you were dead.”
Alive! Rap was alive!
He was not smiling, not even that bashful little grin she remembered so well. He had not bowed to her, as he had at their other dramatic meetings. He was just regarding her with a wistful sad stare, as if trying to fix her in his memory.
“No. Not dead. Not yet, anyway. How was your journey?”
“Fine—no it wasn’t. Horrible! Yours?”
“Not bad.”
They were standing in the rain, staring, mouthing nonsense like morons. Or she was, anyway, and why was he so solemn?
“How did you come?” she asked. “I mean, did you come by sorcery, or really travel, like ordinary folk?” Argh! She should not have said that.
“I traveled. With your aunt. And Sagorn. And Gathmor, but you don’t know him.”
No need to ask why he had come. The God had told her that. “Not the goblin? Sagorn and the others, of course. You all survived the imps, then . . . Oh, Rap! I do so want to hear it all.”
“Inos, I think we’re keeping some important people waiting.”
She backed away a step. He looked like Rap and sounded like Rap, and yet somehow he didn’t, either. “You are Rap? Really Rap? Not a wraith, or some horrid magic trick? Azak said you were dead. He said awful, terrible things and I believed him and oh, I’m so glad you’re all right and how did you escape from the jail?”
“That’s a long story.”
His face hardened. There was a strange, unfamiliar strength there, and no sparkle in the big gray eyes. He had changed. But so had she—they weren’t children anymore.
“You are Rap, though?”
“I’m Rap. And Azak . . . Well, never mind Azak.”
“Rap, what’s wrong? There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” She could not see what could possibly be wrong now. Rap was alive, and she wasn’t ever going to believe him dead again unless she saw his head on a pike, and—”Oh, Gods! Of course! Kalkor’s here, Rap!”
He nodded. “I know that.”
“The casement . . . Did you meet a dragon, Rap?”
“Yes, I did. Here’s your aunt, Inos.”
Belatedly Inos spun around to Kade and embraced her. If she couldn’t hug Rap, then Kade was next best thing, maybe.
But Rap had been right. Monarchs did not enjoy being kept waiting, and they could send armed men. Ythbane did so, and in a minute Inos found herself being firmly escorted back up the bank, and then standing between Azak and Kade under the awning, although the shower had almost ended. Kalkor was in the group, also, snow-white teeth shining within a pink-streaked face, studying her with a contented smile that struck her as completely insane.
And Rap. They weren’t all lined up before the throne like errant children, but she felt as if they should be. Epoxague was in the group and even Eigaze, although she was hardly involved, and even the unfortunate hussar who had agreed to bring Kade over. He looked more frightened than any of them.
Then Kade was formally presented by Eigaze, which explained why she was included. The court party was now clearly divided into those involved in the Krasnegar affair and the great majority who weren’t, and most of those outsiders were perforce standing outside the awning, openly scowling at this new symbol of status.
The little prince was staring at his own shoe buckles, shivering and ignoring events all together. Ythbane nodded in approval of Kade. “Yes, the reports all mentioned that Inosolan was accompanied by her aunt. Obviously you have had some strange adventures, ma’am.”
Kade simpered, which completely concealed whatever she might be thinking. ”But none more exciting than this moment, your Highness!”
Formalities disposed of, she was waved back. The white-faced hussar was explained and excused, and he departed with very long strides. The regent fixed a bleak eye on Epoxague.
“Well, your Eminence? Have you any further surprises left to brighten our day?”
“No; your Highness,” Epoxague said. “I am being surprised myself now.”
“You may be more surprised yet,” Ythbane retorted sourly. ”This is hardly the place . . .” For a moment his attention went to the great crowd around the campus. It was obviously thinning out now. Some ominous clusters of activity hinted at casualties being attended, but there had been no disaster. Yet the roads would not become passable again for a while yet. He shrugged.
“But we might as well get started. And who is this young man? A goblin supporter, obviously. A faun?” He glance around. “Jotnar and a djinn. A troll! We have a motley assortment of participants!”
Kade spoke up quickly. “His name is Rap, your Highness, a retainer of my late brother’s. He has been accompanying me on my travels.”
Oh, very neatly done! The regent nodded and lost interest in Rap. How fortunate that Inos had not embraced him!
But why had Inos not embraced him? She had spread her arms and then been somehow distracted, or stopped. Had Rap done that? That called for sorcery, surely. And he had not said how he had escaped from Azak’s jail, although obviously Azak’s horrible story had been a basket of lies. This strange melancholy . . . was Rap oppressed by the thought of the duel with Kalkor? She knew she must not keep staring at him, but her eyes wouldn’t listen to her. Rap himself seemed to be studying the old imperor, who slept on in his carrying chair, a shriveled relic swathed in a tasseled wool rug, oblivious now to all events in the great realm he had ruled for so long.
“Sultana Inosolan!” Ythbane fixed her with a glittery gaze, and she jumped. She was suddenly aware that the regent’s reported influence on women was no myth. Small, and not especially handsome, he was yet dominating the assembled court much more than a mere throne ought to account for, or all his jewels and finery. Despite that absurd wooden chair and the ugly canopy above his head, he was projecting power and dignity. No one else was talking. Only Kalkor seemed unimpressed, silently observing proceedings with a silent sneer on his demonic and grotesquely bloody features.
“Sultana Inosolan,” the regent repeated thoughtfully. “We can agree on that title, surely?”
Inos hesitated. Azak shot her one of his lion glares, but she resisted it. Rap was alive, after all, and now she knew that Azak had always been a delusion. Perhaps she had not been very fair to Azak, but then he had not been fair to her at all. Her consent to the marriage had been extracted by open threat.
Always she had assumed that Rap was dead, so she had never even considered him—not since her father died, anyway . . .
No, that was not true. She had never thought of Rap as a lover. She had never allowed herself to think of him that way, for he had been only a stableboy and all her upbringing had insisted that she would have to marry a noble. That had been her great error. Only after he had turned up alive in Arakkaran had she realized how she felt about him, and then it had seemed too late. But it wasn’t too late! Rap was alive, and her marriage to Azak had never been consummated. It wasn’t a valid marriage yet.
To bring that up now would really put the wolves in the fold.
A lifetime with Azak? No—a lifetime with Rap! Evil take her upbringing!
Her mind was wandering like a songbird escaped from a cage.
“Your Highness?” she said, trying to school her face into Kade’s most witless expression; feeling even more witless under it.
Ythbane’s eyes narrowed. “You can hardly expect to be both Queen of Krasnegar and Sultana of Arakkaran. Which is it to be?”
“Er . . .” Inos looked up again at Azak’s murderous stare. Then she turned to look at Rap, and for a moment saw . . . Then it was gone. His face became completely unreadable. What had she seen? Pain? Longing? He had crossed the world to be at her side, and now come halfway back again. Surely she need not doubt what Rap wanted?
She was descended from a long line of kings. She raised her throbbing chin defiantly. “Your Highness, my husband wishes to appeal to the Council of Four. Until they have heard his petition and rendered judgment, then I cannot decide where my best interests lie.”