Lord of the Shadows (29 page)

“Lady Jacinta. You like her.”

“I only just met her, Caterina,” he shrugged, wondering how she could have come to that conclusion from a meeting lasting barely five minutes. “I've hardly had time to form an opinion about her.”

“You formed your opinion the moment you laid eyes on
her, my lord. I could tell. And it didn't have anything to do with her diplomatic status, either.”

Dirk glared at the young woman in annoyance. “Haven't you got something better to do than stand around here inventing things that don't exist?”

“No.” She shrugged. “Right now, I've nothing better to do at all.”

“Then find something,” he snapped, turning back to the list he had been going through before Eryk and Caterina arrived.

“I'm right, you know,” Caterina told Eryk sagely. “He
really
likes her.”

“I like her, too,” Eryk agreed. “She's very pretty.”

“Out!” Dirk ordered impatiently. “Both of you!”

“Come on, Eryk,” Caterina said. “Let's go find some lunch. Lord Dirk has a lot on his mind, I think.”

He heard the door closing and glanced up, relieved to find them gone. Dirk sank down in his chair and leaned back. He closed his eyes wearily, thinking perhaps he should send Caterina home. She was starting to get a little too comfortable, although Caterina and Eryk had become such fast friends he was a little worried what sending her away might do to the boy.

Dirk sighed. There was always another complication. Always something he hadn't anticipated…

And right now, at the top of the list of things he hadn't anticipated was Jacinta D'Orlon.

acinta allowed Tael to help her up into her carriage and was being driven back toward Bollow before she let herself think about her meeting with the Lord of the Suns. She loosened the high collar of her light jacket, wondering why she felt so uncomfortable. It couldn't have been her meeting with
Dirk Provin, she concluded. He was just a boy, really, no older than she was.

He was nothing like she imagined. Alenor had told her a lot about Dirk but it was colored by her affection for him as a friend. Her cousin spoke of his sense of humor, of his intelligence, of his loyalty (although that was stretching it a bit, perhaps). She'd never mentioned those impossibly cold gray eyes, or the very presence of him. It wasn't like the overwhelming presence of the Lion of Senet, who dominated the room, drawing every eye to him. It was far more subtle than that. Dirk hadn't raised his voice or even said anything terribly profound, but she realized she'd been hanging off his every word. If he had that effect on everyone he met, it was no wonder he had come so far, so quickly. Just the way he spoke, the way you kept searching those unreadable eyes for some hint of what he was thinking, kept you wanting to listen to him.

Jacinta had known Dirk Provin would be dangerous. He couldn't have achieved what he had so far and be anything else. But she was only just beginning to realize
how
dangerous. She might have signed her own death warrant by telling him about the refugees in Oakridge. She would know soon enough. There might even be a detail waiting to arrest her when she returned to the inn.

But if there wasn't? If Alenor was right and he was on their side, then he was doing all this to help Dhevyn. Exactly what his plan was remained a mystery, but anyone with the skill to get himself appointed Lord of the Suns probably had a few things up his sleeve even she couldn't guess.

When Jacinta returned to the Widow's Rest, she was quite relieved to find nobody waiting to arrest her. Either she had judged Dirk Provin correctly, or he was waiting for a more opportune time to expose her. She preferred to think—and fervently hoped—the former was the case.

As she walked through the entrance of the inn, she discovered the lobby filled with people waiting to be shown to their rooms. With the swearing-in tomorrow of the Lord of the Suns,
travelers had come to Bollow from all over Senet and Dhevyn to witness it. Those who had arrived so close to the ceremony were finding it difficult to get a room. There was barely an empty bed in the whole city.

“Lady Jacinta!”

She turned to the man who hailed her and smiled politely. “Lord Seranov. I didn't expect to see you here in Bollow.”

“Can't miss something as important as the swearing-in of a new Lord of the Suns, my lady,” he declared, brushing the hair from his face, as always. Jacinta often wished she had a pair of scissors handy when she was in Saban Seranov's company. She found his habit irritating beyond belief.

“No, I suppose you can't,” she agreed. “Are your sons not with you?”

“Alexin is still in Kalarada with the Queen's Guard, my lady,” he reminded her. “But if I'd known you were going to be here, I would have insisted Raban accompany me.”

Jacinta smiled. Raban Seranov had as much chance of winning her hand as Lord Birkoff. “Isn't Raban recently a father, my lord? I hear some Shadowdancer in Nova just delivered a healthy boy that bears a remarkable resemblance to your eldest son.”

The Duke of Grannon Rock shrugged. “You know how it is with young people, my lady. They need to run a bit wild before they settle down.”

“Indeed,” she agreed wryly.

The duke's eyes narrowed, sensing her disapproval. “You shouldn't be too hard on him, my lady. I understand you have been testing the limits yourself, lately.”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, quite offended.

“I speak of your application to enroll at the university in Nova, Lady Jacinta, under an assumed name. And a boy's name at that.”

“A deception that would not have been necessary, my lord, if your narrow-minded academics were willing to acknowledge a woman is just as capable of higher learning as a man.”

“Even if that were the case, my lady, a young woman of
your station in life should not even be thinking of such a future. You have a duty to your class to bear the next generation.”

“And breeding cows don't need an education.”

Saban Seranov smiled. “A crude but effective way of putting it, my lady.”

“You know, someday, my lord, you may find yourself having to reassess your position on that matter.”

Saban shrugged. “I live for the day the only thing I have to occupy my time is debating the advisability of allowing women access to my university, Lady Jacinta. It would mean a great many of the ills that plague our world are no longer an issue.”

She studied him closely for a moment, wondering if she was reading his meaning correctly. “Perhaps with the unexpected elevation of one of our own countrymen to the position of the Lord of the Suns, we might begin to hope a little, my lord.”

“Do
you
believe that's the case?” he asked cautiously.

“I'm really not in a position to say.”

“You've met with the Lord of the Suns, I understand, Lady Jacinta, which is more than anybody else has been able to manage. What is your opinion of him?”

“I think he's very …” She hesitated for a moment. The first word that leapt to mind was
dangerous
, but she didn't think that was what Saban Seranov wanted to hear. “He's very interesting, my lord. And very intelligent. Don't make the mistake of underestimating him.”

“One rather hopes it will be the Senetians who make that mistake, my lady,” he suggested with the faintest hint of a smile.

Jacinta was reluctant to be drawn into commenting. She knew Saban's youngest son, Alexin, was loyal to the cause. Even if Alenor hadn't been his lover, he had quite a history with the Baenlanders. She was reasonably confident about his eldest son, Raban, too, despite his rather inappropriate taste in bed partners. But nobody, not even his sons, was really certain where Saban Seranov's loyalties lay.

“I'm not sure I understand your meaning, my lord.”

Saban flicked the hair out of his eyes and smiled. “And you … clever enough to gain entrance to the university.” He bowed, and added more loudly for the benefit of those around them wondering what the Queen of Dhevyn's envoy and the Duke of Grannon Rock were discussing, “May I offer you the use of my carriage tomorrow, Lady Jacinta? I'd be more than happy to escort you to the temple for the ceremony.”

“Thank you, my lord, but I have hired my own carriage.”

“Then I'll see you at the ceremony tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Saban bowed elegantly and turned and walked away from her, leaving Jacinta to climb the polished staircase to her rooms, wondering what the Duke of Grannon Rock had really been after.

The ceremony to formally appoint the Lord of the Suns was scheduled to take place at first sunrise the following day.

Jacinta was delivered to the massive onion-domed temple in plenty of time to make her way inside and find a good vantage from which to watch the confirmation of Dirk Provin as the Lord of the Suns. The Lion of Senet had already arrived and was standing just below the altar with the High Priestess at his side. Marqel was enjoying her role as his mistress and clung to his arm, looking up at him adoringly whenever he spoke. Jacinta wasn't sure what annoyed her the most—Marqel's obvious coquetry or the fact that Antonov Latanya was lapping it up.
Is he really fooled by her, or is he simply taking advantage of the fact that a stunning young woman less than half his age is willing to share his bed?
And what must Kirshov Latanya be feeling, now that his precious Shadowdancer had become his father's mistress?

Jacinta was still puzzling over it when the trumpets blew and announced the start of the ceremony. From an anteroom to the right of the altar a door opened and a number of Sundancers filed out, followed by Lord Varell and lastly Dirk Provin. He was wearing the yellow robes of a Sundancer, something she realized he hadn't been wearing when she met him yesterday.
The color didn't suit him, making his complexion look sallow. In fact, he hardly looked a daunting figure at all, which made him even more dangerous, because to look at him, there was nothing about Dirk Provin that gave any warning about the intelligence lurking behind those unreadable eyes. He looked young, uncomfortable and even a little uncertain.

As the fanfare ended Dirk turned to face the crowd. The temple was packed to overflowing with Sundancers, Shadowdancers and members of both the Senetian and Dhevynian nobility.

“We gather here today to hear the oath of the Lord of the Suns,” Dirk announced.

There was the faintest hint of a quiver in his voice, so slight Jacinta wondered if she imagined it. It was the only sign of Dirk's nervousness.

“I am the successor appointed by the Lord Halyn,” he continued. “Named in his will, which has been proved to be a true and legal statement of his final wishes. If any person present can show cause why Lord Halyn's successor should not be appointed, let them speak now, or accept this as the will of the Goddess.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Claudio Varell stepped forward and coughed nervously.

“You have an objection, my lord?” Dirk asked, a little surprised. Jacinta doubted anybody else in the room was. There was no way Dirk Provin was going to take this oath without a fight.

Claudio didn't answer Dirk, but turned to the gathering and addressed the congregation instead. “This boy is a murderer, a rapist and an arsonist! I charge that even if it was Paige Halyn's will, he is not fit to assume the post of Lord of the Suns!”

A shocked murmur rippled through the temple. Nobody was surprised by the accusation—Dirk Provin's nickname was the Butcher of Elcast, after all—what shocked them was that the Sundancers would openly admit such a thing.

“I have never been charged with any crime, my lord,” Dirk
pointed out. Jacinta was impressed by how calm he sounded for a man on the brink of losing everything.

“The issue does need to be put to rest, though,” Antonov agreed, staring at Dirk with an odd look. “Are you willing to answer your accusers, Dirk?”

“Bring them on, your highness,” he declared gamely.

Claudio turned on Dirk. “Then I accuse you of the murder of Johan Thorn, and I ask the Lion of Senet to stand as witness to your guilt.”

A gasp rippled through the hall, mostly from the Dhevynians present. Alenor had told Jacinta what happened that night in Avacas. With a terrible feeling of impending doom, she suspected Dirk's only defense would destroy any shred of trust the large number of Dhevynians in the temple might have had in him.

“You've no need to call Prince Antonov as a witness, my lord,” Dirk replied. “I willingly admit I killed the Heretic King and would do it again tomorrow, if the Goddess asked it of me. I would kill every heretic on Ranadon if I could. Isn't that the role of the Lord of the Suns? To stamp out heresy?”

Claudio glared at him. “You committed murder!”

“Be careful how you define murder, my lord,” he warned. “If killing heretics is murder, then the Shadowdancers—conse-crated members of your Church—have more to answer for than I do.”

Claudio must have realized he was stepping onto dangerous ground so he backtracked hurriedly. “You destroyed the
Calliope
.”

“Reithan Seranov burned the
Calliope
, my lord, a fact that any number of the Lion of Senet's men can attest to. They were pursuing me across Elcast Common at the time the ship caught fire.”

Antonov nodded in agreement. “Did you have anything to do with it at all, Dirk?”

“I asked Reithan Seranov to create a diversion, your highness. He took me literally.”

The Lion of Senet smiled briefly, and Jacinta realized Dirk had a powerful ally. Antonov was still on his side. No doubt he
liked the idea of Johan Thorn's bastard being the Lord of the Suns. It suited his ambition much better this way.

“And how do you intend to wriggle out of the charge of rape?” Claudio asked, paying his trump card with an edge of desperation.