"Now, what's so important that it makes you wrinkle your face that way?" he said when they were safely on the far side of the hall.

Chenaya swallowed. Until last night she hadn't thought about her cousin, only about scoring another point on Shupansea-an important point. "You know I love you, Kadakithis," she started, searching for the right words. "But you know I love Ranke more." It didn't sound right; she was stalling and he could tell.

Lu-Broca's voice boomed from the entrance. She caught her breath.

"Lowan Vigeles and the Lady Rosanda," the major-domo announced to her relief. There was still time before all hell broke loose.

She squeezed her cousin's arm fiercely, not wanting to hurt him, knowing it was too late to avoid it. "Cousin, do you have it in mind to marry that Beysib bitch?"

Kadakithis pulled away in irritation. "Chenaya," he said, "I regret that the two of you have taken such a dislike to each other-"

She cut him off. "No games, Cousin. I've seen how you two look at each other, and I know how she feels. But I can't-"

It was his turn to interrupt. "Are you disappointed because I haven't amassed some kind of army and ridden north to reclaim the throne from Theron?" She had never heard him sneer before, and it startled her. "Do you think I'm a coward because I've sequestered myself here in Sanctuary-"

She put a hand over his mouth to stop the ugly accusations. "Of course not!" she snapped. "I know better than you the extent of Theron's power and the length of his reach. You'd be raw meat for Theron; he'd chew you up if you rode against him." She swallowed hard and cast another glance at the entrance. "But no matter who sits on the throne, Ranke must still be preserved. And Sanctuary is part of Ranke, no matter how many Beysib ships sit in the harbor or how many of Shupansea's fish-eyed relatives move into the Palace."

She pressed his face between her hands, hoping in her heart of hearts that he would someday forgive her. "But you can't marry her, Kadakithis. I can't let you marry her. Shupansea must never gain any legitimate claim to this city. A guest she may be, but never your wife, never a princess of Ranke."

Kadakithis bristled. "And how would you stop it, Cousin. // we had even talked marriage, how would you stop it?"

Anger made him a stranger to her. He pushed her hands away, and that hurt more than she could say. They had been playmates and friends, confidantes. Now she had driven in a wedge that might never be removed.

Still, it was for Ranke. Shupansea was an invader as evil as any of the forces seeking to fragment the Empire. The fish-faced temptress was more subtle, more patient, but it was still Rankan land she desired, even if it was only the slimepit called Sanctuary.

Chenaya drew a deep breath and ignored the stinging in her eyes. "I have stopped it, my Little Prince. I have stopped it."

Kadakithis backed a step. His gaze bored into her with a menace she had never seen in him. As if on cue, Lu-Broca's voice filled the Grand Hall announcing the newest arrivals. Chenaya spun around. The major-domo was pale, a frightened expression on his face. She located Shupansea and Molin Torchholder. She had wanted to be close, wanted to see their faces. Now it didn't seem so important.

"Her Royal Highness, Daphne, Princess of Ranke, wife to Kadakithis." Lu-Broca swallowed. "And escort."

All color fled from Kadakithis's face as he pushed through the suddenly silent throng. Chenaya followed him to the foot of the stair. The Beysa and Molin were quickly with them. The Beysib met her with a look of purest hatred. Chenaya had thought about how she would respond: smile, stick out her tongue, bat her eyelashes innocently, anything to mock the woman, to drive home another victory. She found instead that she could do nothing but look away.

Daphne glided down the steps with supreme grace. Her right hand rested imperiously on Dayrne's massive bare arm. Her left hand held the end of Daxus's chain, and she led him like an exotic pet.

Rosanda had done a wonderful job preparing the princess. Daphne was radiant. Clouds of sky-blue silk swathed her form, hiding the bruises and scratches. Her hair was bound in curls about her head. Her eyes were lightly kohled and her cheeks rouged to perfection. Chenaya could smell the gentle perfumes. Most pleasing of all was the sun-burst circlet, one of her own, that gleamed on Daphne's brow.

"I promise you'll pay for this insult," Shupansea whispered tightly.

"Pay attention, fish-face," Chenaya suggested evenly. "You don't yet appreciate the full extent of my insult." She looked down on the shorter woman and forced a smile. "I do want you to appreciate it."

Daphne reached the bottom step. She and Kadakithis regarded each other for a long moment. The Prince reached out to take her hand. Daphne clung to Dayrne's arm instead, "Hello, my husband." She spoke gently, yet loudly enough for all to hear. "Are you surprised?"

"Yes, yes!" Kadakithis stumbled on his words. "Very!"

"You should be." She didn't snap, but formed her remarks politely, coolly. "Did you even bother to conduct a search? Did you look for me or wonder about my fate?"

Chenaya, too, had been puzzled about her cousin's lack of concern for his wife's disappearance. How, she wondered, could Shupansea have so bewitched him? Still, she ached for her Little Prince when he hung his head in shame.

Daphne released Dayrne's arm, dismissed him with a nod. He moved a few steps back to stand beside Daxus. Daphne floated past her prince-husband. She stopped directly before Shupansea.

"You do look like a carp, as I've been told," Daphne said with some amusement. Shupansea shot another hateful glance at Chenaya. "Perhaps you're descended from fishes." Daphne paused to survey the faces of those around her. Nobody made a sound, but all pressed closer to hear the exchange. She turned back to the Beysa. "But whatever you are," she continued, "I'll tell you what you are not and never will be. You are not Kadakithis's wife. That title will never be yours. Divorce is forbidden among the noble families of Ranke."

Shupansea regarded the younger woman coldly, un-moving, unspeaking.

Daphne went on mercilessly. "Oh, I don't plan to stay here, so I won't be in your way. I've made quarters at Land's End with Lowan Vigeles and the Lady Chenaya whom the gods allowed to find and rescue me." She put on a false smile and looked on Shupansea as she might have looked on a worm. "You can have Kadakithis if you want him. But you'll never be more than his concubine. Number eight if I recall, though the others are dead or wish they were." Daphne's smile vanished. "If you love him, though, the role of whore may be enough."

Kadakithis made a foolish attempt to change the subject. "Who is this poor fellow?" he said, indicating Daxus.

"Perhaps Uncle Molin knows him?" Chenaya interjected.

The priest glared at her from the corner of his eye and shook his head. He was uncharacteristically silent, watching, and, Chenaya knew, scheming how he might turn the situation to his advantage.

"My pretty-boy?" Daphne jiggled the chain, causing Daxus to wrinkle his face in pain. He couldn't catch the chain, for his hands were bound securely behind his back. When he tried to protest all that came out was a harsh, raspy sound that set him to gagging. Maliciously, Daphne shook the chain harder. Tears sprang from her prisoner's eyes, and he sank to his knees. So it had been for Daxus the past three days.

Daphne reeled in the length of chain, making Daxus crawl to her. "Haven't I done him up nicely?" She fingered the fine silk tunic she had put on him and ran her hand over his head. "Fine garments for a piece of dung. He arranged the attack on my caravan and hired the men that sold me into a year of hell. He's only the first to be discovered. I assure you, there will be others." She ran her gaze meaningfully around the hall. "I promise." She jerked on the chain again, and a trickle of blood oozed from Daxus's nose. "And they'll all end up like this!"