'To us, it's no different from having a man and a woman as parents. Separately, they're chalk and cheese; together, they make the perfect team.'
An interesting analogy, because, in Claudia's experience, most domestic murders were committed by the spouse . . .
'I don't think the King's general approves of me,' she said, as they climbed yet another flight of steps cut in the rock.
Mazares let out a soft, velvety laugh. 'Don't mind Pavan. He's a soldier through to his marrow and sees no point in using three words when none will do.'
Hardly an answer.
And what about you?' she said cheerfully. 'Why don't you want me to marry the King?'
She expected to hear a frantic fluttering of wings as half a dozen cats were dropped among the pigeons. Instead, there
was an imperceptible stiffening of back muscles and, when Mazares turned, his expression was diplomacy personified.
'I cannot imagine . . .'
For good measure, she lobbed in a couple more moggies. 'Is it because I'm a foreigner? A widow, perhaps? Or is it because I'm in trade?'
'My Lady.'
With Histrian solemnity, he clicked his heels and dipped his head towards his chest without the slightest hint of obsequiousness.
'My Lady, nothing would please me more, believe me, than for you to contract an alliance with the King.'
He was lying. There was nothing in his eyes, in his voice, in his mannerisms to betray him. But Mazares was lying through his strong white teeth.
'Good. Then you can advise me on the wedding ceremony.'
Catkin eyes held hers for a beat of perhaps three.
'An honour,' he murmured, and as he set off up the slope, she could feel emotion pulsing off him like raindrops on parched earth. Though, for the life of her, she didn't know what.
'Like all Histrian marriage rites,' he said, 'it would take place under the watchful eye of the Sun God, for it is Svarog who governs our happiness.'
He didn't say it will take place. Only that it would . . .
'Governs happiness, because he lives in a palace of gold and rides the sky in a diamond chariot?' she asked brightly.
See! Some parts of the King's long-winded introduction had stuck!
Actually, I think it has more to do with Svarog keeping two nubile wives, Dawn and Dusk, and having his youth restored to him every morning.'
'Is that the same youth every morning, or do they take turns?'
'No idea,' he laughed, 'but I'm - oof!'
Turning the corner, the breath was knocked out of him by a figure coming the other way. In the light of his spluttering torch, Claudia could see that the woman was nearly as tall as he was, with a mane of dark red hair tied back in a pale grey ribbon. Her skin bore the deep, healthy tan of the outdoors, yet there was something about her long nose and finely chiselled cheekbones that suggested she wasn't of Histrian ancestry.
'Salome!'
'Mazares.'
Like an eel through water, something passed between them and just as quickly it was gone.
'How are you?' Salome asked quietly.
Mazares ignored her concern for his health. 'I'd like you to meet Claudia, Salome.'
Green eyes widened in surprise - and perhaps with something else. 'Well, congratulations, my dear!'
She put down her basket laden with herbs and opened both arms to embrace the newcomer, but Mazares held up his hand.
'Whoa! Claudia hasn't accepted the King's proposal. She's merely checking out the lie of the land.' He turned dancing eyes on Claudia. 'Or have I read the lady wrong?'
Frankly, she doubted Mazares read any lady wrong. Out across the water, a flock of late seabirds made their way home, their wings almost skimming the dark heaving ocean, and the air was fragrant with oleander and myrtle.
'And since she knows very little about his illustrious majesty,' Mazares put in before she could come up with a suitable retort, 'Claudia is also keen to find out as much about him as possible.' His grin widened to something a wolf would be proud of. 'I feel sure you'd be only too pleased to enlighten her.'
Salome's eyes moved slowly from
An interesting analogy, because, in Claudia's experience, most domestic murders were committed by the spouse . . .
'I don't think the King's general approves of me,' she said, as they climbed yet another flight of steps cut in the rock.
Mazares let out a soft, velvety laugh. 'Don't mind Pavan. He's a soldier through to his marrow and sees no point in using three words when none will do.'
Hardly an answer.
And what about you?' she said cheerfully. 'Why don't you want me to marry the King?'
She expected to hear a frantic fluttering of wings as half a dozen cats were dropped among the pigeons. Instead, there
was an imperceptible stiffening of back muscles and, when Mazares turned, his expression was diplomacy personified.
'I cannot imagine . . .'
For good measure, she lobbed in a couple more moggies. 'Is it because I'm a foreigner? A widow, perhaps? Or is it because I'm in trade?'
'My Lady.'
With Histrian solemnity, he clicked his heels and dipped his head towards his chest without the slightest hint of obsequiousness.
'My Lady, nothing would please me more, believe me, than for you to contract an alliance with the King.'
He was lying. There was nothing in his eyes, in his voice, in his mannerisms to betray him. But Mazares was lying through his strong white teeth.
'Good. Then you can advise me on the wedding ceremony.'
Catkin eyes held hers for a beat of perhaps three.
'An honour,' he murmured, and as he set off up the slope, she could feel emotion pulsing off him like raindrops on parched earth. Though, for the life of her, she didn't know what.
'Like all Histrian marriage rites,' he said, 'it would take place under the watchful eye of the Sun God, for it is Svarog who governs our happiness.'
He didn't say it will take place. Only that it would . . .
'Governs happiness, because he lives in a palace of gold and rides the sky in a diamond chariot?' she asked brightly.
See! Some parts of the King's long-winded introduction had stuck!
Actually, I think it has more to do with Svarog keeping two nubile wives, Dawn and Dusk, and having his youth restored to him every morning.'
'Is that the same youth every morning, or do they take turns?'
'No idea,' he laughed, 'but I'm - oof!'
Turning the corner, the breath was knocked out of him by a figure coming the other way. In the light of his spluttering torch, Claudia could see that the woman was nearly as tall as he was, with a mane of dark red hair tied back in a pale grey ribbon. Her skin bore the deep, healthy tan of the outdoors, yet there was something about her long nose and finely chiselled cheekbones that suggested she wasn't of Histrian ancestry.
'Salome!'
'Mazares.'
Like an eel through water, something passed between them and just as quickly it was gone.
'How are you?' Salome asked quietly.
Mazares ignored her concern for his health. 'I'd like you to meet Claudia, Salome.'
Green eyes widened in surprise - and perhaps with something else. 'Well, congratulations, my dear!'
She put down her basket laden with herbs and opened both arms to embrace the newcomer, but Mazares held up his hand.
'Whoa! Claudia hasn't accepted the King's proposal. She's merely checking out the lie of the land.' He turned dancing eyes on Claudia. 'Or have I read the lady wrong?'
Frankly, she doubted Mazares read any lady wrong. Out across the water, a flock of late seabirds made their way home, their wings almost skimming the dark heaving ocean, and the air was fragrant with oleander and myrtle.
'And since she knows very little about his illustrious majesty,' Mazares put in before she could come up with a suitable retort, 'Claudia is also keen to find out as much about him as possible.' His grin widened to something a wolf would be proud of. 'I feel sure you'd be only too pleased to enlighten her.'
Salome's eyes moved slowly from
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