height. Shupansea had not returned, nor was Kadakithis anywhere in sight. Daphne
moved through the crowd, smiling and tinkling with laughter with Dayrne as her
escort. Lowan and Rosanda stood alone in a corner in private dialogue.
“Is it true you were undefeated in the Rankan Games?”
Chenaya looked disdainfully at the little man who had dared to brush her elbow.
He offered her a goblet of wine which she refused, and he repeated his question.
“Your name is Terryle, isn’t it?” she asked innocently. “The tax collector?”
His face lit up, and he made a slight bow. “My fame precedes me!”
Chenaya wrinkled her nose and imitated his tone. “Is it true you’re the most
detested man in Sanctuary?” His brows shot up. She walked away before any more
could come of the conversation. She saw the man Lastel coming her way.
Strange, she thought. None of this is as I thought it would be. She’d won, but
there was a bitter taste in her mouth. She recalled something she’d said to
Daphne: Even winning can cost a dear price.
Without a word to anyone she mounted the steps, nodded goodnight to Lu-Broca and
left the Palace. A few guests mingled in Vashanka’s Square on the Palace
grounds, but she avoided them. Just outside the Processional Gate four of her
gladiators waited with her palanquin. Too late, she realized she’d left a fine
cloak inside. No matter, she would send for it tomorrow. Right now, she wanted
to get home, change into leathers and take a walk with Reyk. The falcon was the
only company she wanted.
The palanquin began to move. Chenaya sighed, pulled the curtains closed and