The news of Shamsara's arrival in the Queen's city provoked great excitement, and vast crowds flocked to see him. The city of Jondar, far from the border and therefore spared the savagery of war, prospered in a broad vale patch worked with farmers' fields. The Queen's most ardent supporters and greatest dissenters populated the bustling metropolis in a vast cauldron of political intrigue that sheltered within its tall grey walls. All were united in their reverence for the Idol of the Beasts, however, a living emissary of the great god Tinsharon and harbinger of the Age of Beasts. He alone could bond with any animal and resembled none. His birth seven centuries ago had signalled the end of the Age of Trees and ushered in a new aeon.
The Idol of the Beasts rode a mighty grey stallion without rein or spur, a wolf trotting at his heels, a hawk perched upon his shoulder. His garb, made up of many skins and feathers, hid a number of smaller friends, some of which peered out at the sea of humanity. The crowd threw flowers in his path and chanted his name. Mothers held their children up for his blessing. The Idol of the Beasts rode with dignified calm, occasionally raising a hand in a vague gesture of acknowledgment.
Arriving at the palace steps, he dismounted and walked within, a bevy of advisors, who bowed and vied for his attention, surrounding him. Shamsara blithely ignored them and followed a royal attendant, who led him through the immense audience hall and into the Queen's private chambers. The doors closed in the advisors’ faces, and the Idol of the Beasts entered a room hung with silks and tapestries. Rich carpets covered the golden floors and cushions were piled randomly on the rugs. Great windows opened onto the palace gardens, and pale blue curtains billowed in the breeze with a whisper of silk. He turned to meet the unblinking gaze of a sand cat, who lolled upon a pile of cushions. The wolf at his side sat down, and the hawk ruffled its feathers.
Shamsara smiled at the cat and allowed his gaze to wander on, lingering on a pool filled with flowering water lilies. Here was tranquillity and happiness, a sense of serenity he found most pleasing. The sand cat stretched and purred as a slender, petite woman brushed aside a silk hanging and entered his presence. Ink-black hair framed a fine-featured face in which feline blue eyes slanted between long lashes. Her creamy skin seemed to glow in the soft light, and her lips curved in a slight smile of greeting. Her graceful movements and air of contentment confirmed her cat kindred, and he would have known it even without the over-large familiar who lolled upon the cushions.
"Shamsara."
He inclined his head. "Minna-Satu."
"Welcome. Sit, if you will." She sank onto a pile of cushions, arranging her skirts about her in a fall of turquoise silk. Gold gleamed at her neck and wrists, surprisingly little adornment for a queen. As he settled himself, a handmaiden entered with a tray upon which rested an assortment of goblets. He chose water, and the Queen selected a pale wine. As soon as the maiden left, the Queen set aside her cup and folded her hands.
"I am glad you spared me the journey to your home, Shamsara."
He shrugged. "It is not as fine as yours."
"I would like to see it one day."
"Curiosity killed the cat."
She laughed, a husky, gilded tone. "Not this one."
The wolf lay down with a sigh, resting his muzzle on his paws. Shamsara sipped his water, savouring it as a connoisseur might before setting it aside. A brown field mouse crept from his sleeve to sample it before retreating into its sanctuary again. The Queen started as a slender yellow viper slid from his hair and coiled around his neck. Its presence would startle most, for it was the deadliest snake in the world, and cat people disliked them, he knew. Shamsara smiled, his ageless countenance wrinkling along well-used lines, for he smiled often.
"So, Minna-Satu. You requested my presence, and here I am. What will you ask of me?"
Her face became solemn, belying its youthful beauty. The sand cat stopped purring, and Shamsara missed the deep rumble. He cast the cat a reproachful look, and received a cool stare.
Minna-Satu gazed at him. "How can I stop this eternal, accursed war?"
Shamsara nodded, his smile fading. "Only by a great sacrifice, one that is not easily made by one so young."
"I will make it, if necessary."
"Do not pledge yourself so hastily to a sacrifice you have yet to know."
"Tell me."
Shamsara turned his gaze upon the great cat. "You must die."
Shista sat up in a lithe movement that required the lash of her tail to achieve it. Her eyes fixed upon the Idol of the Beasts, and she rose, her limping gait carrying her to him in a few strides. Imposing herself between him and the Queen, she settled back on her haunches and studied him with alarm and puzzlement.
Shamsara stroked the silken fur of the sand cat's cheek, and her brilliant eyes sought the Queen's.
He followed her gaze. "She loves you very much."
"I know."
"She will kill anyone who tries to harm you."
"What do you mean, I must die? What will that achieve?"
Shamsara sighed, stroking the cat. "If you wish to end the war, your task will not be an easy one. If you do as I say, this will come to pass. But the decision must be yours alone, for yours will be the greatest sacrifice."
"Tell me what I must do."
Chiana waited outside the massive double doors of the Queen's inner chambers for what seemed like an age. Her fingers pleated the material of her new robe, the same dove grey as she had always worn, but now trimmed and belted with gold in accordance with her newly elevated status. Her father, a merchant, had sacrificed much to pay for the many years of study needed to gain the knowledge required to become an advisor to the Queen. The Elder Queen had never noticed her, and her youth had always relegated her to the lesser ranks, for chief advisors were generally elderly. Her meteoric rise to her new post had astonished her, achieved as it had been with such ease, and so unexpectedly. She was well aware that it could just as easily be lost, however, should she displease the Queen.
The doors opened, jerking Chiana from her thoughts, and Shamsara emerged, followed by the Queen. The old man, whose lifetime had spanned many generations, strode briskly forth, the wolf trotting at his heels. Shista brought up the rear, looking unusually alert. Minna stopped before her chief advisor, her face pale but composed.
"Take Shamsara to his rooms and see that he has every comfort, then return to me here."
Chiana bowed to the Idol of the Beasts and led him down a short corridor, opening the doors to a suite of rooms whose walls were hung with tapestries. Rugs woven from the wool of rare antelope covered the floors. Jade and crystal ornaments graced carved stonewood tables, and huge windows gave a panoramic view of the park-like gardens that surrounded the palace. Fresh air scented by puffwood and smoke tree blossoms blew in, and the distant sounds of the city rode upon it.
"If you require anything, ring the bell, Your Grace," she murmured.
Shamsara nodded, strolling towards the windows. Chiana closed the doors and hastened back to the Queen's apartments. The patter of her slippers seemed loud in the corridors’ pillared vastness, adding to the already overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had plagued her since gaining her new position. Minna-Satu sat upon a pile of cushions, gazing ahead with wide eyes, and Shista sat beside her. Chiana prostrated herself, and received the signal to rise.
"Chiana, go at once to the captain of my guard and bid him come to me."
Chiana retreated, frightened by the Queen's distracted air and Shista's obvious agitation. She hurried to the officers' quarters, where she found the captain at his desk, filling in reports. He looked up at her entry, a man of foxes whose shy familiar was rarely seen. Cropped red hair crowned a narrow, clever, sharp-featured face common to his kind, and his quick green eyes missed nothing in their vigilance. The broad stripe of peacock blue that ran down his chest on the right side from shoulder to waist relieved the dark green of his figure-hugging, gold-trimmed uniform, and denoted his rank.
At the Queen's summons, he followed Chiana back through the corridors, his light footsteps ringing on the marble floors. She showed him into the Queen's presence, and would have retreated, but Minna raised a hand.
"Stay, Chiana, this is for you to hear also."
Chiana returned to stand beside the captain, casting a worried glance at Shista, who paced the room by the windows, her pads silent on the rugs.
"Captain," the Queen said, "I have a strange and fearsome task for your men. You will select the best from amongst them, the strongest, bravest and cleverest. You will send them to King Shandor's camp, where they must slay him and bring me his son, unharmed."
Captain Redgard gaped, the shock of this unexpected and momentous announcement momentarily making him break his rigid military stance, then he collected himself and resumed his formal pose. "My Queen. Such a thing… is impossible. If it was not, we would have won the war by such means long ago. The King is guarded night and day by the most seasoned warriors and their familiars, giant cats like your own…"
Minna-Satu raised a slender hand. "Nevertheless, it must be done, and I have charged you with the task. Bring me the Prince, but first make him the King."
"My Queen…" The captain struggled with his words, his expression despairing. "I fear… this shall fail. Almost at every opportunity, our armies have striven to reach the King and slay him, for to do so would demoralise his troops and give us victory until the next King took power. We have never succeeded."
"Then this time you will." Minna's tone brooked no argument, and the captain's shoulders sagged. Still, his courage was admirable, for he rallied again, to Chiana's surprise.
"My Queen, you send good men to their deaths."
"Good men die almost every day, Captain. How many do we lose in a battle?"
He shrugged. "In a good one, perhaps a few score, but on a really bad day, over a thousand have been lost. In the Rout of Ashtolon, we lost five thousand and seven hundred."
"So, I ask you to send only a few, a score, or half a score, enough to do the deed, not defeat Shandor's army. Perhaps several score shall perish before they succeed, but when they do succeed, the end of the war will be nigh, and that will save a good many more lives."
The captain bowed before voicing his doubts, diminishing the boldness of his words. "After the first attempt, the King will know our plan and be alerted. It will be suicide."
Chiana thought that the Queen was remarkably patient with Redgard. People never argued with her, and if they tried, not for long. The captain, she was convinced, had just set a record for the longest such argument ever attempted.
Minna smiled. "Then let them be volunteers, Captain. Tell them that they will earn great honour, the highest awards, and my favour. The men who achieve this will become nobles of my court and own vast estates. Their riches shall exceed all others. But send no fools who long only for glory. These men must be qualified for the task."
The captain sighed, shaking his head. "Of course. It shall be as you order, My Queen. Many will come forward without any promise of reward, merely for the honour of serving you."
"Send them here to me before they leave, I would wish them luck."
Redgard bowed. "As you command, Majesty."
Chiana gazed after him as he left the room, impressed by his courage and honourable demeanour. She swung back to face the Queen as the doors closed behind him.
Minna eyed her. "Have we any other business, you and I?"
Chiana hesitated. "I must report, I have ordered Mendal and Symion to go in search of consorts, My Queen."
"No. I shall receive no consorts now."
"But -"
Minna made an impatient gesture. "I have made the decision. Much of my future rests upon the success of the men who go to King Shandor's camp. If I require consorts, I shall inform you. Anything else?"
Chiana bowed. "Nothing of import, Majesty."
"Just palace politics, I suppose?"
"Yes."
Minna sighed. "So, are all my advisors ranked against me in this?"
"No, indeed. Many side with you, but they grow fearful for their lives. Karshon of the bears was slain last night, and an attempt was made upon the life of Dermon of the wolves."
"Who replaces Karshon?"
"Emial."
The Queen rose and wandered over to the windows to stare out across the grounds. "How did Karshon die?"
"Snakebite."
Minna swung around. "Mendal!"
"No, My Queen. He was not to blame, for the bite was inflicted by a brown rock adder, and Mendal's familiar is a tree adder, as you know. The guilty party, I believe, is Asmol, a junior advisor whose familiar is a brown rock adder. The killing was sloppy, ill planned."
"And ill advised." Minna frowned. "Does he think that I allow my advisors to be slain without reprisal? What of the attempt on Dermon?"
"An assassin, so we know not who hired him. Dermon was lucky that he had four wolves with him at the time, and escaped with only a few wounds."
"The assassin escaped?"
"Yes, My Queen."
Minna turned back to the window. "The assassin will try again. Failure is not acceptable to them. If the killing has been paid for, he will not stop until one of them is dead. Send Dermon to the armies. Tell him to find consorts for me, but let him take his time. Send Asmol to the armies as well, but let him be stripped of his post and made a common soldier. If he wishes the war to continue, then let him fight in it. That will be his punishment."
Chiana smiled at the Queen's cleverness. "That is a fitting punishment, My Queen."
"Yes. Tell the others that any who are found guilty of plotting to murder my loyal advisors shall suffer an identical fate. From now on, all those who wish that the war continue will fight in it themselves." The Queen faced Chiana again. "For too long, the high-born have profited from this constant slaughter and grown fat off the death of so many innocents. If they love this war so much, they should enjoy the privilege of partaking in it."
"Your mother, praise her name, always let her advisors fight their battles amongst themselves," Chiana pointed out.
"My mother," Minna retorted, "was a snake."
Chiana prostrated herself and left, still smiling.
That night, Shamsara dined with Minna-Satu, and she experienced the unique pleasure of sharing her table with all of his companions. The wolf remained under the table, awaiting the meat that Shamsara passed him, and the hawk perched on the back of an empty chair. Two mice shared his plate of vegetables and sweetmeats, for the Idol of the Beasts ate no flesh. A ferret helped himself to meat on the table, and a small tortoise shared the salad bowl with a tiny leaf-eating monkey. Minna listened as the old man detailed the events that had brought each of his special companions to him, while Shista watched disdainfully from her cushions.
The next day, Captain Redgard brought before her five volunteers, all seasoned warriors, as she had ordered. Each had served at the front and distinguished himself, earning the right to become part of the palace guard. Their leader was a man of foxes, like the captain, who displayed the sly intelligence of his kind in his alert glances and quick movements. Two claimed kin with bulls, great, muscled men who towered over their companions. One was a man of the deer, and possessed his kindred's shy demeanour and swift gentle ways, while the last was of the ravens, with sharp black eyes and a vigilant nature. He had a familiar perched upon his shoulder, an airborne spy that would aid them greatly in their quest. Minna gave them her blessing and sent them on their way.
Even on horseback, the journey to the desert would take at least three tendays, and Minna settled down to the task of sorting out the wrangles amongst her advisors. Asmol was taken away in chains to serve his sentence at the front, and Dermon went with him, on the pretext of finding consorts for the Queen, an honourable task. After the example of Asmol, the intrigues became more subtle, and assassination attempts were disguised as accidents. Ishtan of the wolves was run down by a cart and severely injured, and the horses were later found to have been burnt. Dalreesh of the eagles discovered a scorpion in his bed, and a tenday later was found dead in a palace corridor with a knife in his back.
Shamsara returned to his mountain cave, and Minna missed his lively conversations and the tales of his long and fascinating life. For a tenday after his departure, the palace was quiet, then a gang of street thugs attacked Symion in the city and almost killed him, but a for Moret's timely rescue. One of the thugs, wounded by Moret's dogs, admitted the name of his employer under torture, and Yassin of the bats was sent to fight at the front. Minna employed seven new spies to find those disloyal to her, adding two more advisors to her army.
After two tendays of relative peace, a message arrived from the front, informing the Queen of the five soldiers’ failure. Minna dispatched another five men with a heavy heart, this time a wolf, a cat, a horse and two bears. A further four tendays elapsed, with only a botched assassination attempt on Mendal, which made the Queen laugh. The news that the second quintet had failed plunged her into a deep depression that not even her best jesters could alleviate, and she despatched a third group of six. The inclusion in this group of a man of snakes gave her fresh hope, but four tendays later the news was bad once more. Four more volunteered, a deadly quartet of snake, scorpion, dog and shark, the first three with familiars.
Three tendays after they left, when Minna was growing impatient for news of them, Chiana gave her some other, startling news during their daily discussion of events.
"My Queen, a man arrived at the palace yesterday, requesting an audience."
"Indeed? What sort of man? One of My Lords?"
"No." Chiana looked a little puzzled. "He would tell me nothing of himself, saying that he would speak only to you. He seemed proud, and would not bend his knee to me, your chief advisor."
Minna smiled at Chiana's indignant air. "How very uncivil of him. But do not let your little ego bloat too much, or I shall have to deflate it somewhat."
"He would not even give his name," Chiana hurried on, "and he was strange looking."
"How so?"
She shrugged, pondering the question with a slight frown. "I could not describe it, just strange."
"Well, did he have a big nose, or one eye? What?"
"No, nothing like that, in fact, I thought him handsome, but… he was not ordinary."
The Queen cocked her head. "Then he must be extraordinary. My curiosity is aroused. Show me this stranger."
"But, My Queen, is it safe? He seemed… dangerous, I thought."
Minna-Satu glanced at Shista, stretched out asleep in a patch of sunlight. "Have him searched and stripped to the waist; bring me any weapons you find."
Chiana looked doubtful, but made her prostration and left. Minna picked at a bowl of plump, bite-sized dil fruit while she waited, and was growing impatient by the time the two guards who stood outside pushed open the doors. Chiana entered and abased herself before rising to approach her Queen. Minna studied the man who walked behind her, a glance telling her more than Chiana had. He was a man of cats, and moved with the lithe grace of his kind, but more, he was an assassin, his trade clearly evident from the black dagger tattoo at the base of his throat.
When Chiana stopped, the assassin dropped to one knee and bowed his head, a gesture of respect that was by no means a prostration. Minna glanced at Shista, who snored in the sun. She turned her attention to Chiana as the advisor held out two slender daggers.
"He carried only these."
Minna nodded and looked at the man again. "Get up."
The assassin stood and raised his head, his gaze meeting hers for a moment. The odd colour of his eyes struck her, a pale grey ringed with darkness, like a winter sky lighted by a silver sun in eclipse. Never had she encountered a gaze so frigid that its brief touch made her shiver. A leather thong caught his long black hair at his nape, and a few strands straggled across his pale cheek. A red mark marred his lean jaw, and a speck of blood leaked from one side of his narrow nose. The grim set of his well-formed mouth spoilt its sensuality, and his fine brows were pulled together in a frown. Taken as a whole, his countenance possessed a fineness of feature not usually associated with the burly, hirsute inclination of his sex. His torso also bore the marks of fresh abuse, and his hands were clenched at his sides.
Minna was struck by the strangeness Chiana had seen, but unable to pin it down. Beneath his handsome appearance dwelt something deeper and far more sinister, which puzzled her. His expression betrayed his anger, but his eyes contained a deeper rage, an inner turmoil that burnt from his gaze, even though it was directed at her feet. He also lacked something, she realised as she struggled to identify his peculiarity. Although he was definitely a man of cats, betrayed by his lean build and graceful gait, his feline traits were slight, hardly noticeable to one who was unobservant.
Breaking with tradition, the Queen rose and approached him, rewarded by his brief, startled glance. He stood a mere half a head taller than she, not a big man by any measure, and he did not seem to mind being taller than the Queen, something others dreaded. On closer scrutiny, she noticed an oddity that had not immediately struck her. His cheeks were as smooth as a young boy's, yet he appeared to be several years older than she. Minna-Satu cast Chiana a probing glance.
"Why does he bear the marks of ill treatment?"
"I was told that he resisted the search, My Queen."
"And what had he to hide?"
Chiana shrugged. "Nothing."
"Well, Chiana, you are most unobservant." Minna's tone held a hint of censure. "Even now, I see more in him than you could tell me. He is a man of cats, and, I would say, one driven by a great hatred. Moreover, he is an assassin."
Chiana gasped, and her glance flew to the man, who shot the Queen a startled look. "An assassin?"
"Yes, do you not see the tattoo at his throat?"
"Now I do, but before it was hidden."
Minna appraised the man once more. He kept his eyes lowered, but a muscle in his jaw jumped, betraying his wish to speak. He awaited her permission, however, as he must.
She smiled. "I know one other thing, but that I will not tell you. All that remains a mystery is why he is here."
"If he is an assassin -"
"He would not have requested an audience, and besides, no one would wish me dead except the Cotti, and he is clearly Jashimari." Minna glanced at her slumbering familiar. "His presence does not bother Shista, so he bears me no ill will. You may return his weapons and leave us. I have decided to grant him an audience."
Chiana opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. She held out the daggers, and the assassin took them with a nod. The chief advisor strode to the doors and yanked them open with unnecessary vigour. Under Minna's hard eyes, she closed them softly behind her. The Queen returned to her cushions and sank down with a sigh, gazing up at the slender man.
"What is your name?"
"I am called Blade… My Queen," he replied in a soft, husky voice, deep enough to be unmistakeably male, but pitched pleasantly above the rich baritone of most men, which Minna often found irritating. He would make a pleasing conversationalist, if he had the intelligence to hold a good discussion. He spoke decisively, and lacked the mumbling subservience of most commoners in her presence.
Minna gestured to the floor. "Sit. Tell me what you will."
Blade settled on a cushion and tucked his daggers away. He licked his lips, and his mouth relaxed and frown faded. Without it, he looked much better, Minna thought. He glanced at her, then away again, and she got the impression that the speech he had readied for this occasion had deserted him. She plucked a fruit and popped it into her mouth, casting an irritated glance at Shista, who continued to snore, oblivious to the stranger.
The assassin raised his head. "I have heard that you offer a mighty reward for the death of King Shandor."
Minna nodded, unsurprised. "To my soldiers. If I wished to hire an assassin, I would have done so."
"But an assassin is what you need."
Minna plucked another fruit. "Is that why you have come? To offer your services?"
"Yes."
"This is not a task for an assassin. I also require that his son be brought to me, alive."
Blade nodded. "I can do that."
"How did you hear of the reward?"
"In a brothel. Your soldiers visited it before they went to their deaths."
"And what were you doing there?"
He shrugged. "Drinking."
"Of course." Minna ate another fruit. "I have no need of your services. I have despatched another group of men, and expect to hear from them soon."
"They will fail."
She frowned, and the assassin looked away. "I dislike your tone, Blade. You are insolent."
"I am not accustomed to the company of queens, nor is my nature well suited to grovelling." He raised his eyes to meet hers, his gaze as bleak as a midwinter's day. "I did not resist the search. Your men took delight in hurting me. Had I chosen to resist, they would be dead now."
"You have a high opinion of your abilities."
"From experience."
Minna considered him, irked by her curiosity. She had never been so interested in a commoner before. This assassin, she sensed, harboured many dark secrets that she longed to know. At the same time, she was aware of his secretive nature, and the mystery that surrounded assassins and their strange, barbaric laws.
"Tell me about your life." The demand tripped unbidden off her tongue before she could bite it back.
"You mean how I came to be as I am?" His lips twisted in distaste. "I did not come here to entertain you with the tale of my misfortune. I have made my offer. What is your reply?"
Annoyed, Minna retorted, "I have no need of an assassin."
He rose to his feet, startling her. "Then I shall waste no more of your time." He swung away.
"Wait!"
Blade pivoted to face her, balanced like a dancer on the balls of his feet.
The Queen said, "I have given you no leave to go. Offer me any more insult, and I shall see you punished." She flung a cushion at the slumbering sand cat. "Shista!"
The cat snorted, opened a bleary eye, and yawned. Noting the Queen's ire, she rose and stretched, padding over to her friend. Minna glared at the assassin, knowing that Shista would sense her mood and treat the subject of her anger accordingly. Perhaps the sand cat could intimidate him when the Queen could not. Shista wandered over to the assassin, sniffed him, and purred, rubbing her silken length against his legs. Blade, unperturbed, scratched the cat's ears, and she flopped down, her purr growing to a great rumble of pleasure. He smiled and crouched to stroke the recumbent cat.
"Why would you have me stay, when we have no more to discuss?"
Minna stared at him, at a loss for words. The smile lighted his countenance, and she was unable to look away. As if aware of it, his smile faded, and he bowed his head.
The Queen gave herself a mental shake. "I will consider your offer, if you tell me why you want the task so much."
He scratched the sand cat’s throat. "What difference does it make to you?"
"How can the reward tempt a man like you?"
"Does it surprise you that I should want riches and land when I shall never have sons to pass them on to?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps I tire of living in brothels and inns, killing men for a fee and earning nothing but scorn and hatred from all those I meet." He looked up. "I am still young enough to enjoy the reward myself, but, in truth, it does not interest me as much as the prospect of killing King Shandor. If ever there was a man who deserved to die, it is he, and perhaps, by killing him, I shall make my existence worthwhile."
"I see." She nodded. "I shall consider this. You will remain in the palace until I have decided."
His frown betrayed his dislike for her order, but he turned to her and fell on one knee, bowing his head. "My Queen."
"You may go," she said, as he rose and swung away.
Blade stalked to the doors and let himself out. Moments later, Chiana returned, her eyes full of curiosity. Minna made her wait for several minutes before she spoke.
"He will stay in the palace for a while. See to it that he has whatever he needs."
"My Queen. He is an assassin."
Minna nodded. Assassins were held in the lowest esteem, deemed no better than paid murderers. Most were men of the snake or scorpion, cold, unfeeling people without remorse or love. Blade, however, was of the cat, warm, generous individuals whose affections ran deep and strong, who treasured relationships and were prone to love deeply. Despite his lack of a familiar, Blade must share some of these traits, though his trade did not go against his kind, for cats were predatory.
"He is my assassin now. Ensure that he is comfortable."
The chief advisor bowed and retreated, looking puzzled and doubtful.
Chiana found the assassin waiting in the corridor, the two guards who stood outside the Queen's doors watching him. He had donned the black leather tunic of which he had been stripped earlier, and was employed in lacing it up. She averted her eyes from his sculpted torso, visible through the jacket's open front, and turned to lead the way down the corridor.
Twice she glanced back to ensure that he was following, for he walked as silently as his feline kindred. Arriving outside the door to a servant's room, she pushed it open and stood aside, allowing him to enter. He surveyed the chamber with obvious dislike, his lip curling as he turned to her. Chiana raised her chin and met his chilly gaze. As before, his grey eyes sent a jolt through her.
"If you wish for anything, there is a bell pull by the bed, which will summon a maid. Your meals will be brought to you here."
His lips twisted further. "Am I a prisoner then?"
"Certainly not. The Queen has ordered that you have every comfort; it is merely a matter of convenience. You present a slight problem of protocol, since you are not a servant, nor a noble, and so may dine with neither."
"I did not ask to be kept here, Chief Advisor."
She flushed, cursing her traitorous reactions. "You have not given me your name."
"You may call me Blade."
Chiana lowered her eyes, unable to hold his gaze, and glanced at the slender hands at his sides. Beautiful hands, unsuited to a man, especially a killer. She suppressed a shiver. "I must return to the Queen."
The assassin inclined his head, and she closed the door and walked away down the corridor. She frowned as she recalled her first, unnerving encounter with him in the audience room.
Rarely did commoners request an audience with the Queen. Usually their grievances were aired through the lords who governed them, and nobles always applied for an audience in writing. Captain Redgard had informed her of this unusual application, and she had entered the audience chamber to find Blade standing amid a quartet of guards. She would never forget the way he had turned slowly to face her, and the shock of meeting his icy gaze. Her heart had jumped at the sight of him, her breath catching in her throat. Even after he had left, his effect on her lingered. When she had seen him again, battered by his encounter with the guards, she had experienced the same strange reaction in his presence.
Chiana returned to her duties, striving to push his image from her mind.