Terror clutched at him, turning him sick and cold. Such a slim hope. Yet it was the only hope he had to free her.

Dear God, Tess had said the blasted pigeon wasn't even over bright. Even if she got a chance to release him, what if the pigeon failed to come back to Zalandan?

Dear Heaven, let him not go to Said Ababa again.

Tess watched Alexander's wings lift as he wheeled away from the tower and flew toward the west. Said Ababa?

As she heard a step on the spiral stone staircase, she hurriedly turned away from the window, kicked Alexander’s empty cage into the shadows, and was walking toward her open trunk across the room when Tamar flung open the door and strode into the chamber.

"I can't find my jewel box," she complained. "I knew those louts would misplace it."

"On the contrary, they placed it exactly where I told them." He grinned. "It's in my saddlebag."

"You cannot steal my jewels." Tess glared at him. "What else have I gotten from this marriage? Sand, heat, quarrels, and insults… and… and freckles." She glanced around her. "And now you bring me to this filthy tower. Why are we here?"

"I came here once a long time ago with Galen." Tamar's gaze went to the curtained bed across the chamber. "It was convenient, and I thought it fitting."

Tamar killed one of the whores in a drunken rage.

Tess hid a shiver as she remembered Galen's words about that horrible night that had changed his life.

Tamar was still staring at the bed. "Besides, Galen would not think of coming here. His memories of the tower are not as pleasant as mine."

"My proposition," Tess started. "I wish to—"

"Not now," Tamar said abstractedly, his eyes glittering in his bearded face. "Do not bother me. It's good to relive the past at times."

The air was suddenly heavy, thick with malevolence.

"I'm hungry. Don't you intend to feed me?" Tess demanded.

His gaze shifted from the bed to her face. "Dear God, what a persistent shrew."

"And where is that trunk of bottles of wine I was carrying with me? It was a very good vintage." She scowled. "Surprising that such uncivilized people as the El Zalan could produce such a fine wine."

"My men told me it was quite a brew. Though they probably don't have the palate to enjoy it fully." He grinned. "However, I have more discerning tastes, and I shall tell you whether I agree with them."

"Those bottles are mine! That trunk of wine would have lasted me years after I reached Belajo."

"I'll see if I can wrest one bottle from them for you. Or perhaps not. I want you alert and vigorous for the joust." He smiled mockingly. "Will you give me your favor, Princess?"

"I don't know what you mean, and I'm sure it's disgusting." She frowned. "But now I'm hungry, and you must feed me."

He turned away. "I'll send someone with a bowl of stew."

"In my own silver bowl," she said quickly.

He gazed at her over his shoulder. "You're lucky I even feed you."

"My bowl."

He threw back his head and laughed again. "Your bowl."

He slammed the door behind him, and she heard him laughing still as he ran down the steps.

She felt weak with relief as tension flowed out of her. Sweet Mary, she was frightened. Tamar's expression as he had looked at the bed had made her almost ill. How could Galen have thought they were even a little bit alike? Tamar was a monster.

She turned and went back over to the window. She could only pray the wine she had deliberately ordered packed would keep Tamar and his men occupied for a time before he demanded further amusement. She hadn't realized she would be this afraid. She was not sure how long she could keep up this idiotic pretense when her knees were shaking with terror whenever he came near.

She glanced at the sky, but there was no sign of Alexander. Had he wheeled away from the west and gone east instead?

"Not Said Ababa," she whispered. "Please, Alexander. Not Said Ababa. Zalandan."

Over the last two hours the shouting and laughter in the guardroom had gradually lessened and then stopped entirely.

Tess's hands closed on the arms of the chair with white-knuckled force as she strained to listen. She could hear nothing. Had Tamar drunk the wine? Was she safe?

Then she heard unsteady footsteps on the stone staircase. Not safe yet. Her gaze wandered frantically around the room.

The silver pitcher on the table looked heavy enough to use as a weapon.

Tamar flung open the door and staggered into the chamber.

"You didn't knock," Tess said as she forced her hands to release their grip on the arms of the chair. "These discourtesies must cease." She stood up and moved swiftly toward the table that held the silver pitcher. "And you didn't bring me the stew you promised."

"All gone. The wine too." Tamar's words were slightly slurred, his eyes fastened malevolently on her. "My men found it a curiously heady brew. I found myself wondering why…" He lurched toward her. "I asked myself, now why should they have grown drowsy and thickheaded so soon when they're used to much stronger draughts?"

Tess's shoulders tensed as she kept her back to him. If she could only reach the pitcher. "It was a very good wine. Anyone could see why—" She broke off as Tamar's hands fell on her shoulders and jerked her around to face him.

"What was in it?"

"I don't know what you mean. Please release—"

She gasped as Tamar's hands tightened with agonizing force on her shoulders.

"What? Poison?"

The pressure increased until she had to bite her lower lip to keep from screaming.

"What?"

"Laudanum."

"Much?"

"I don't… know. As much as I could find in the encampment. "

"And you played the stupid highborn bitch to lure me into believing you too witless to sting me." His face was twisted with rage as his hands moved from her shoulders to her throat. "Whore!"

Tamar killed one of the whores in a drunken rage. He strangled her.

For an instant Tess imagined she could hear that poor strumpet's scream echoing from the walls of the room. Was she going to die here as well?

"Do you think I need you?" Tamar asked softly, his hands slowly tightening on her throat. "Your death will serve me as well. Galen cannot ignore the murder of his wife, even if he cares nothing for you. I thought to play a little with you, but you've been too clever."

His grip was cutting off her air. She reached blindly behind her to grasp the silver pitcher, but before she could reach it, he swung her away from the table. Her hands flew frantically to her throat, trying to pry his fingers away.

Pain!

She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, exploding in her temples.

Her knees gave way, sagged. Tamar was holding her upright only by the merciless grip on her throat.

She didn't hear the door open or Galen's shout, but Tamar did.

His grip loosened, but he still grasped her throat as he turned toward the door, dragging her with him.

Galen. Sacha.

"Let her go, Tamar." Galen's eyes glittered as savagely as Tamar's in the light of the candles.

He's my mirror. He's what I could be…

Tamar cursed, released her throat, but struck her a vicious blow on the cheek that sent her reeling. He reached for the dagger at his belt.

"No!" Galen sprang forward across the chamber.