around his neck, slid her hands toward his throat. “But when I left here over
three months ago it was to find and save any remaining members of the Royal
Family. And for better or worse, you’re Family. I won’t turn you over to Daphne.
If we ever do get the chance to strike back against Theron we may need someone
with your ability to scheme and plot.” She released the chain, smoothed a
wrinkle from his tunic. “And if we never get the chance,” she smiled darkly,
“then, in time, I’ll take care of you myself.”
Molin drew himself proudly erect. “Don’t threaten me, Niece. The gods have made
you powerful, but you forget I know your secrets. I know how you can die!”
Chenaya grabbed Molin by the front of his robe, ripped the hem of her own gown
as she lifted and bent him backward over the balcony, twisted him so he could
see the ground far below.
“You know how,” she growled, “but not when. Would you drown me. Uncle, throw me
in the river? You foolish old man! After I discovered what a snake you are the
first thing I learned to do was swim. You have my secrets, but see what good
they do you.” She set him back on his feet, pleased by the fine, sudden sweat
sheen on his brow.
Molin rubbed his back where the stone had bitten into it. “Damn you! Don’t you
ever get tired of games? Don’t you weary of always winning?”
Amazed, she threw back her head and laughed. “Uncle, you’re such a delight! The
joy isn’t in the winning, but in seeing the effect of winning on the loser.”
She left him, then. Inside the hall, the noise of conversation had reached a new