eyelashes innocently, anything to mock the woman, to drive home another victory.
She found instead that she could do nothing but look away.
Daphne glided down the steps with supreme grace. Her right hand rested
imperiously on Dayrne’s massive bare arm. Her left hand held the end of Daxus’s
chain, and she led him like an exotic pet.
Rosanda had done a wonderful job preparing the princess. Daphne was radiant.
Clouds of sky-blue silk swathed her form, hiding the bruises and scratches. Her
hair was bound in curls about her head. Her eyes were lightly kohled and her
cheeks rouged to perfection. Chenaya could smell the gentle perfumes. Most
pleasing of all was the sun-burst circlet, one of her own, that gleamed on
Daphne’s brow.
“I promise you’ll pay for this insult,” Shupansea whispered tightly.
“Pay attention, fish-face,” Chenaya suggested evenly. “You don’t yet appreciate
the full extent of my insult.” She looked down on the shorter woman and forced a
smile. “I do want you to appreciate it.”
Daphne reached the bottom step. She and Kadakithis regarded each other for a
long moment. The Prince reached out to take her hand. Daphne clung to Dayrne’s
arm instead, “Hello, my husband.” She spoke gently, yet loudly enough for all to
hear. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes, yes!” Kadakithis stumbled on his words. “Very!”
“You should be.” She didn’t snap, but formed her remarks politely, coolly. “Did
you even bother to conduct a search? Did you look for me or wonder about my
fate?”
Chenaya, too, had been puzzled about her cousin’s lack of concern for his wife’s