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  “I'm thinking of you, not me. Lighten up.”

  “I don't want Galdra here, Rue. That's an end to it.”

  “Why? You talk to him every day. He flirts outrageously. You like him, don't you?”

  “Look, I have work to do. I have a meeting in less than an hour. I am sick of meetings.”

  Caeru grinned. “I think I shall organise a party without you. Then I'll make you attend if I have to drag you there by your hair.”

  “Do what you like.”

  “Oh, I see. The decision has to come from me. I quite understand.”

  “Get out, Rue. I'm busy.”

  Caeru laughed and went his way, so much more like the har Pellaz had met in Ferelithia so long ago. Pellaz sat at his desk and put his face in his hands. He didn't know why he felt so hot. It was nothing.

  Caeru sent Velaxis out with invitations for a select group of hara to attend the event. Velaxis was adept at tracking hara down when they were alone to make sure only the right ones were informed. However, his plans went slightly awry concerning the Freyhellans. Caeru was not pleased to hear that when Velaxis had cornered Galdra, literally as he was walking down the street, the Freyhellan had accepted the invitation and then demanded to bring a companion.

  “Who?” Caeru demanded.

  “Heron har Sulh,” Velaxis replied. “I could hardly refuse ebcause Heron was also on your list. Do the implications of this interfere with some strategy of yours?”

  “I don't know,” Caeru said. “It probably doesn't matter.”

  Velaxis paused, very slightly, before saying, “You should know the Hegemony look favourably upon the Freyhellan.”

  “What do you mean?” Caeru asked archly.

  “Life goes on,” Velaxis said. “Alliances are important. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “If Pellaz wasn't Pellaz, he'd have had a breakdown by now,” Caeru said, more openly than he intended. “He deals with things in his own way. He won't be forced.”

  “He is har,” Velaxis said. “And he's not a raw inceptee who can sustain himself with fantasies. He needs to wake up.”

  “You're the vizier – try telling him that.”

  Velaxis laughed coldly. “The Tigron would much appreciate an opportunity to have me locked up. I'm not so stupid. Just think about what I said.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Pellaz knew the party had started because he could hear music drifting up from the lower floor of Phaonica. It wove in through the open windows like an enchantment. There is no reason not to go, he told himself. But even so, it felt like entering the salon below would be a betrayal. It made no sense. He didn't know what he feared.

  After an hour, Caeru still had not turned up demanding the Tigron's presence, so Pellaz realised he would have to make the decision himself. He told himself he didn't want to attend – the music alone was irritating – yet he felt so restless. After some minutes of fruitless inner debate, he dressed in black and went downstairs.

  Once he left the stairs, it was as if he'd walked into a different world. His own rooms above were quiet and peaceful; down here was a bustle of activity. House-hara rushed in all directions carrying trays of food and drink. Everywhere was brightly lit. Voices were loud from the main salon. It seemed that Caeru's gathering was a success.

  Pellaz paused at the threshold and was astonished at how many hara the Tigrina had invited. Still, it was easy to get lost in a crowd, which might not be a bad thing. He noticed Caeru sitting with a group of adoring hara and went to join him.

  Caeru smiled at him. “I was giving you just ten more minutes before I came to fetch you. Now you're here. Have a drink.” He picked up a tall glass of wine from a tray on the table before him and offered it to Pellaz.

  “No, thank you.”

  Caeru sighed. “Don't just sit there and be a ghost at the party, dampening everything with your dire moans. Enjoy yourself. I know you remember how.”

  Already, hara were glancing in Pellaz's direction and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before they descended on him, demanding his attention. He could remember when he used to thrive on that; now it had become a chore. Pellaz took the glass, which Caeru still held out to him. He sighed.

  Inevitably, the hara surged over like a swarm of locusts and proceeded to pick the flesh from the Tigron's bones under the guise of socializing. Pellaz adopted his usual public persona and was able to converse and laugh automatically, while his mind brooded in some dank, dark place. He wanted to see Cal so badly, it was a physical pain. He wanted to run from Phaonica and take Peridot into the otherlanes, find a way to Megalithica, no matter how long it took or how dangerous the journey. For so long, he and Cal had been kept apart, with insurmountable obstacles between them. Now, the only impediment was the dysfunctional otherlanes. It seemed ridiculous.

  For just a moment, the crowds parted and Pellaz saw Galdra sitting with the Sulh across the room. The group was deep in conversation, for which Pellaz was glad. He knew only too well what he saw in the Freyhellan: the gold-haired rebel, the confident seducer. It was dangerous because it wasn't real, or perhaps it was too real for comfort.

  Lost in dismal reverie, he didn't realise he was staring until Galdra appeared to sense his scrutiny and looked round. It was not good, the way the room suddenly seemed empty but for the two of them. Not good at all.

  “Pell,” Caeru said. He leaned close. “Go to him.”

  Galdra hadn't dropped the stare and now Heron har Sulh appeared confused, and not exactly pleased. Pellaz turned to Caeru. “Tonight, I might fight my way through your admirers and claim my consort. Am I allowed that?”

  “Always, you know that. But I don't think that's what you truly want.”

  Pellaz traced Caeru's jaw with a fingertip. “Nohar will ever love me as much as you do, Rue. It's a gift I have never deserved.”

  “You know that isn't true,” Caeru said. “Well, maybe you don't deserve my love, but I'm not the only one. You need distracting, that's all. You need aruna to squash your depression. I hate it. It's like horrible black stuff seeping out of your pores.”

  “Then why not with you?”

  “Because I think you need to confront exactly why you're afraid to initiate anything with Galdra. What's the difference between me and him? See. There is a difference, and that's what worries you.”

  “Leave it, Rue. The night is young. As you said, I should enjoy myself. Tell me gossip.”

  Caeru was staring across the room. “He's still looking over here. He looks distraught, which is less than can be said for Heron har Sulh.”

  “Rue, stop it.”

  Caeru laughed. “I admire your willpower, I really do.” He glanced at Pell's glass. “And you've finished your drink already. You must be thirsty. Have another.”

  “This is not a good idea.” Still, Pellaz allowed Caeru to refill the glass. Over the course of the next two hours, that glass was rarely empty.

  Occasionally, Galdra would glance round and catch Pell's gaze, but his expression was inscrutable. He did not look distraught, he looked smug. Pellaz was offended by his confidence. They Freyhellan believed he belonged in the Tigron's bed, and he had no right to that. Did he think he'd been invited here tonight for this purpose? The thought made Pellaz wince. They should speak. It had to stop.

  Before midnight, Pellaz dismissed all those around him from his attention and summoned Cleis, another of his personal assistants and the brother of Attica, with identical unusual skin colouring. Cleis was standing with a group of house-hara nearby. Pellaz rose to his feet, happy to find he was still steady and said confidentially to Cleis, “Have Galdra har Freyhella brought to my rooms.”

  Cleis bowed, his expression bland. “Of course. When, tiahaar?”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  Cleis nodded and returned to his friends.

  Pellaz turned to find Caeru studying him. “I have to go,” he said.

  Caeru raised his glass. “Goodnight, consort. Sleep well.”


  Pellaz couldn't sit down. He had to keep moving. He drank water because he was afraid he was drunk and needed to remain focused. Ten minutes seemed like an hour, although it in fact took twenty minutes for Cleis to bring Galdra to the Tigron's presence.

  Cleis left the Freyhellan at the door to Pell's sitting room, where long windows were open to the terrace beyond. Pellaz was out there, staring down at the city, thinking, Come now. You must come now. He wasn't thinking of the Freyhellan. It reminded him of the moments before his blood-bond to Caeru, when he'd prayed to any deity in the universe who could hear him. He'd prayed for Cal to appear before him, but it hadn't happened. It wouldn't happen now either.

  “You summoned me?”

  Pellaz turned at the sound of Galdra's voice. The Freyhellan stood at the threshold to the terrace, his arms folded. “Yes, I summoned you,” Pellaz said.

  “Is this to discuss a matter of state?” Galdra came toward him.

  “In a way. I think you should know I have no intention of succumbing to your overt flirting. It is embarrassing. You are making a fool of yourself.”

  “You summoned me here to tell me this?” Galdra laughed. “Here's some advice. If somehar desires you and you don't feel the same, try ignoring them.”

  “I was thinking of your feelings.”

  “Of course. You've been thinking of them all night.”

  Pellaz welcomed the hot surge of anger through his heart. “You are unbelievable. How can you think so much of yourself? Have you forgotten who I am?”

  Galdra shrugged. “I don't care about your title. Somehar gave it to you. Everyhar knows where you came from. I prefer to see that. And here is something else you should know. I would never embarrass myself by flirting with somehar who didn't desire me.”

  “You're deluding yourself.”

  “Maybe I am. It's more than desire. You know it. And you're fighting it, because of the one who abandoned you. The moment you admit how you feel for me is the moment you have to let go of your dreams. And you don't want that.”

  Pellaz laughed coldly. “And my next line is that you get out of here and get out of this city. I don't care what the Hegemony think of you. The alliance between Gelaming and Freyhella has just ended.”

  “You don't have the authority to make that decision.”

  “No, I don't, but it felt good saying it. I can order you out of my sight, however.”

  Galdra sighed. “This is not how it should be. Everything has come out wrong. The Tigron is a big wall to break through to get to Pellaz.”

  “Don't try,” Pellaz said. “There really is no point. In future, you must conduct your discussions with other members of the Hegemony. We can no longer speak. Go now. I've said what I had to.” He leaned upon the balcony, his back to the Freyhellan, heard him draw nearer.

  “I won't just go, Pellaz. Not until I've said what I want to say too. And it is this. After what happened to Tyr, I didn't think it was possible to feel that way for anyhar else. I was wrong. And I don't see it as a betrayal of Tyr's memory. I saw you on the quay, the first day we arrived here, and I hoped I'd see you again. And there you were, in the Hegalion, clearly of high rank, some lordly position that Gelaming give to themselves. But we connected instantly in a mere graze of a gaze. Then I discover you are Tigron. That title comes between you and any other har. It is a barricade, because you can never see a har for what he truly is. We meet every day and our eyes are like blades across each other's skin. You want to believe, but you can't. You can only see somehar who wants to get close to the leader of Gelaming. I wish you could believe that your position means nothing to me. If I could cut it from you, I would. Some things are meant to be. This is one of them. I'm sorry that you can't see that. I'm sorry that you're in such pain and isolation.”

  “You have no idea,” Pellaz said. His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears. “The one I love is not dead.” He swallowed with difficulty. “But he might as well be.”

  Galdra stood behind Pellaz at the balcony and they stared at the ocean, where lights danced upon the water. Pellaz could smell Galdra's body, a perfume laced with a faint reek of tar and brine. Pell's hands felt numb, too big. He couldn't feel the balcony rail as he gripped it. This was too strong, one slip and the universe could come crashing down on his head.

  “You met some friends of mine once,” Pellaz said. “They passed through Freygard on their way to Roselane: Flick and Ulaume.”

  “I remember,” Galdra. “They were running from Gelaming.”

  Pellaz laughed abruptly. “Yes, but not from me. I'm afraid. You don't know how much.”

  “I know.”

  “They live in Shilalama now. It's so beautiful. The mountains are alive there. I can smell the honey dripping from the combs in Ulaume's little shed at the bottom of the garden. It always smells like summer.” Pellaz closed his eyes, remembering the holidays he had spent with his friends, the balm of their chosen land. He felt one of Galdra's hands slip beneath his hair. “If I let go... I'm not sure where I'll land. Galdra...”

  “Hush.” Galdra pulled Pellaz into his embrace and kissed him. It wasn't sharing breath, for he held that back. It was a simple kiss, slow and languorous. Pellaz realised he'd never been kissed before. Not this way. As har, he'd always shared breath, lost in visions and incense perfume. This was purely physical. The only comparable experience in his entire life was the time when Cal had seduced him away from home, before he was har. And it could be Cal now, so easily. It wasn't difficult to imagine. He returned the kiss, holding back on the sharing as Galdra did, until Galdra released, as wisps of smoke, the finest shreds of impressions, like fleeting memories or the ghost of scent. The kiss became deeper, evolving entirely into the full mingling of essence as waves of impressions washed through Pellaz's body. He could hear the crash of the ocean, the scream of gulls. The wind was in his hair. And what could he offer in return, but the very essence of himself, alone and bewildered, caught up in a storm?

  Galdra pulled away from him with a gasp, then leaned his forehead against Pell's own. “I love you,” he said, “with my being, my heart, my soul. Say nothing in return. I want nothing.”

  Pellaz did not speak, but rekindled the kiss. It was like drowning, like dying, fading away until every memory has gone. The ultimate betrayal.

  He stepped back, wiped his mouth. “You must go now,” he said.

  Galdra stared at him steadily. “Is that what you want?”

  Pellaz shook his head. “No, but it's what must be. I can't do this, Galdra. I can't. I can't give up hope.”

  Galdra nodded slowly. “I understand. I wish I didn't, but now I do. I lived it in your breath.”

  “Go to your Sulh,” Pellaz said. “He is a lucky har, who no doubt knows it and is sorely upset at your leaving him. Be with him, Galdra. I can give you nothing.”

  “I meant what I said.”

  “I know. I'm not offended. I won't stop speaking to you, but not this. Never this.”

  Galdra said nothing more. Pellaz faced the city and felt the Freyhellan's warmth and light move away, until all that was left was the cold night air. He couldn't weep. The stars danced in the sky, mingling into one, but he couldn't weep.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Varrs had done many terrible things during their time in power, and the breeding facilities were one of them. As Cobweb led his hara on the final stage of their journey to Harling Gardens, he had no idea that Ponclast still harboured obsessions similar to those that had inspired the facilities. All Cobweb could think of was the past: the faintest reek of despair clung like disintegrating rags to the trees and fences. Hara had been kept constantly in pearl in these places, hara too young for the task, really. And the harlings from those pearls had been given numbers, not names.

  Cobweb urged his horse to the front of the line, as they approached the long driveway to the old facility. He had yet to put out a mind call to Lisia, concerned his old friend would be horrified at the sight of so many refugees. Lisia still harboured d
eep-seated fears about poverty and starvation, and Cobweb knew they would be rekindled in force the minute Lisia set eyes on those who now needed his help. This was despite the fact that Cobweb had dispatched as many hara as he could to the forest lodges and to some of the eastern coastal towns, with which Galhea had trading links. His party was still a sizeable force. They had brought animals with them, and as many supplies as could be hastily gathered from Galhea.

  The journey had taken longer than Cobweb had thought: nearly a month. It was grindingly tedious, because progress was so slow. In the ancient forests they'd passed through, the Varrs had once run like wolves. Cobweb could feel their presence still. But then, beyond the forest and darkness, the secret garden. Just as on the day Cobweb had first seen them, the grounds were blanketed with flowers, beds planted along the driveway and spreading out up the hill, where beyond a line of trees was hidden the place Cobweb hoped would be their haven.