which he saw her motives. Chenaya had to admit she intended to relish the moment
when Shupansea learned about Daphne, but her own father shouldn’t be so snide
about it.
“You’re partly right,” she admitted sheepishly. “That Beysib bitch is going to
squirm like a hooked fish.” Chenaya hooked her little finger in the corner of
her lip and stretched it upward to illustrate her words. “But my motives run a
little deeper than that, as you’ll leam in time.” She changed her mind and took
one more sip of wine. “I’m glad I rescued Daphne. No woman should suffer what
she did. I’ve promised to find out who in Sanctuary was responsible for the
caravan attack.”
Lowan sat back down in his chair and met her gaze over the rim of his winecup.
The firelight glimmered on the burnished metal and reflected strangely in his
eyes. “Promised who?” he said cautiously.
“Daphne,” she answered evenly, “and myself.”
He closed his eyes. After a while she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Then she
saw him move to speak. “How will you even begin? It’s been a year.”
There had been weeks on the road to ponder that. It would do no good to ask the
Hell-Hounds to investigate. Even before she left those bumblers seemed to have
locked themselves in the garrison and hidden there. Nor could she rule out that
one of their rank might be the guilty one. Certainly, they would have known of
the caravan’s departure. For that matter, it could have been anyone in the
palace. Or, she had to admit, anyone who just kept a watchful eye on the city
gates. That meant anybody in Sanctuary. No, she needed help to find her answers,