close, closer, so close that the musk of Ischade’s perfume was in her nostrils,
Ischade’s hand firm on hers, Ischade’s lips dry and cool on her cheek. “How
splendid you look,”
Moria swayed on her feet. Ischade’s hand ground the bones of her hand together
and sent pain through her; Ischade’s eyes caught hers and for a moment gulfs
opened at her feet.
Then Ischade released her hand and offered it past her toward Tempus. Moria
turned her head, clutched the chair again, staring in helpless terror as she had
view of Tempus’s face and the terrible delicacy with which he lifted Ischade’s
small hand in his. Power and Power. She felt the hair rise on her nape as if the
whole air were charged.
“I owe you thanks,” Tempus said. “So I’m told. In the matter of Roxane.”
There was the smallest delay, another prickling of storm. “Welcome to Sanctuary,
Commander. How fortunate your arrival.”
0 my gods-
But Ischade turned then and let Tempus and then Straton draw her chair back. She
sat. Everyone settled into chairs. Moria fumbled weakly at hers before realizing
Tasfalen was drawing it back for her. She gathered her skirts, sat down as her
knees went to water.
Tasfalen seated himself and slipped his hand to hers beneath the table and held
with firm strength. Straton passed to Ischade’s other side, took the chair at
Tempus’s left, next to Critias. By some mercy, men had started talking to each
other. Then by a further one, the kitchenside door swung open and food started
coming.
Tasfalen’s hand rested on her thigh. She failed to care. She stared down the