Tempus had been right: Sanctuary was for lovers, not fighters, this season.
LOVERS WHO SLAY TOGETHER
Robin Wayne Bailey
Chenaya stretched in her bed as the morning sun centered itself in her east window. A mischievous little grin stole over her lips as she thought again about her encounter with Tempus Thales. Not so imaginative as Hanse Shadowspawn, not half so enchanting as Enas Yorl, and the poor madman had been disappointingly quick. If nothing else, she had added one more of Sanctuary’s notables to her personal scorecard, and she was glad to have spotted him sneaking about in that gar- den, glad she had decided to intercept him.
It had, after all, been a boring party until he showed up.
Of course, he thought he’d raped her, and that only added to her amusement. The impish grin she wore blossomed into a truly wicked smile. What the poor fool didn’t appreciate was the price he was going to pay for his brief pleasure.
She sat up languidly, threw back the thin coverlet, rose, and pulled on a sleeveless robe of pale blue silk. On a small, ornately carved table beside her bed lay a bronze comb. She picked it up, began idly to tease it through the thick mass of her blond curls as she crossed the room and sat on the window sill. The sun felt wonderfully warm on her flesh. It would be a scorching day.
She shut her eyes and leaned back. Her thoughts turned to the strange meeting in
Ratfall. It was the first time she’d met or even seen Zip, the leader of the so
-called Popular Front for the Liberation of Sanctuary. She smiled at the irony of the name. Zip wasn’t particularly popular with anybody right now, and if