"What?" he demanded with another flash of anger.

Straddling his knees, she pushed him back, grabbed him by the ears, and covered his mouth with her own.

For a moment she thought she'd misjudged; he flinched back, lips tight. Then strong arms came up to crush her close. Releasing her hold on his ears, she smoothed her hands back through his dark hair, letting herself be held.

When the kiss ended he leaned his head back and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "This is how you discipline your riders?"

She grinned down at him. "Well, no. In fact, if any of them lied to me that way, I'd tie them to the nearest tree and give 'em twenty

lashes. The same goes for lovers, by the way. But I wouldn't mind having someone with your varied talents on my side."

"Are you asking me to go back with you?"

"I already asked you, that night at the Viresse banquet," she reminded him. "You never gave me an answer."

"It would mean leaving Aurenen and following you back to your war."

"Yes."

He reached for her hands, clasping them in his. "When I came back and saw that you'd been ambushed—you know I'm a good tracker. The' signs I read as I followed you told me I was going to find you dead somewhere up that road. I had a few minutes to get used to the idea before I saw where you'd outflanked them. You're an astonishing woman, Beka Cavish, and a very lucky one. I think you may just survive this war of yours."

"I plan to."

"Thinking that you were dead, I knew that I loved you," he said, as if that explained something.

"I usually take what compliments I can get, but I'm not so sure about that one."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, tightening his grip on her hands. "Ah, talia! How do I say this? If only you were like Alec—"

"A man?"

Those hazel eyes snapped open. "No, a ya'shel. We call you Skalans 'Tirfaie. Do you know what the word means?"

"Of course. 'People with short.. " A stab of dread killed the words in her throat.

"I love you, talia," he said, reaching to cup her cheek. "You're the only other woman I've truly loved in my life. The first time I saw you, that morning in Gedre, with your wonderful hair blazing in the sunlight—" He sighed. "But pairings between our two races are difficult. Could you bear it, growing old while I stay young?"

"Can you, you mean?" Beka climbed off his lap and walked back toward the window, marveling at the black, aching chasm that lay where her heart had been a moment before. "I see your point. You wouldn't want to be obligated to some wrinkled old hag."

"Stop it!"

Once again, he'd managed to sneak up on her unheard. She spun around, startled. He caught her by the shoulders, his face mere inches from hers, close enough to see the tears in his eyes.

"I am willing to risk it," he rasped. "I just don't ever again want to

see hatred and distrust in your face when you look at me. These past few days have been hard enough, between that and thinking you were dead. I will lose you, but while we're together, I need your trust. I need you to have faith that I love the woman I saw in your eyes that first moment we met, now and forever, no matter what your age. Aurenfaie and Tir have loved before; it can be done, but only with trust and patience."

Beka looked into those clear, green-flecked eyes and felt the same rush of heat she had that day in Gedre. "I'm willing to work for that, tali," she replied. "But if you come with me, you could be dead before next spring, too, or I could. Are you willing to risk that?"

"I am, my beautiful warrior," he replied earnestly, lifting a strand of her hair to his lips and kissing it.

Beautiful? she thought, smiling to herself as she pulled him close again. When had she started believing that? "Will your khirnari let you go?"

"She may be glad to get rid of me after what she learns tonight. Otherwise—" The grin he gave her could have beaten one of Seregil's best. "I think I'm a bit past asking permission, don't you?"

53 ACCUSATIONS

We never counted on coming back. Now they're going to ask why we left," Alec fretted as he and Seregil changed clothes for the evening's work. "I don't like the idea of lying to the Iia'sidra."

"Don't lie," Seregil replied, stirring through the clothes chest for a coat. "Just stand by me and look convincing. That was one of the first things I decided about you, that day we met."

"What? That I'm a poor liar?" Grinning, Alec reached around him and fished out a favorite blue coat.

"That, and that you have an honest face. Those have their uses." Seregil paused over the somber black coat, then rejected it—too sinister given the current circumstances. A dark green one followed it into the discard pile—close enough in shade to Bokthersa's color to seem like a clumsy plea for acceptance.

He settled at last on one of Alec's, a russet brown, for no better reason than he couldn't come up with any negative association with the color.

No one's going to care what you're wearing.

Yes, but it's better than thinking about where I'm headed.

Pulling the coat on, he did up the carved

buttons and buckled on a wide belt. At the mirror, he examined the bruises on his face. Those Emiel had given him were going yellow around the edges, and the place where the Akhendi ambusher had kicked him was still dark and swollen. He was quite a sight.

"They'll show better if you tie your hair back," Alec suggested, guessing his thoughts.

"Good point."

A knock sounded at the door and Thero came in. "Korathan is waiting. Are you ready?"

Seregil shrugged. "What do you think?"

Thero looked them over with a critical eye, then went to Alec and tugged at a strand of brown-dyed hair. "You don't want to have to explain this, do you? Hold still."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly combed his fingers through the younger man's hair from forehead to nape, returning the dark hair to its natural color.

"Thank you, Thero. I've always preferred blond men," said Seregil.

"I've taken a great deal of comfort in that over the years," the wizard shot back, tossing them their cloaks. "Now, hoods up until you make your grand entrance. I'll be with Klia."

"I'm beginning to feel like one of those actors back at the Tirari theater," said Alec.

"So am I," Seregil said. "Let's just hope tonight's play doesn't turn out to be a tragedy."

The rest of the household had already assembled in the main hall. Adzriel and her entourage stood with Korathan next to Klia's velvet-draped litter. All Seregil could make out of the princess through the crowd were booted feet below the hem of a silk gown. Beka and her riders stood close by, holding themselves a bit aloof from Korathan's guard. Nyal was there, too, talking quietly with one of Mercalle's riders.

Mydri caught Seregil's eye and came over. Clasping his hands between her own, she held them tightly a moment.

"What do you suppose the Iia'sidra will do with me, once they know I'm here?" he asked.

"I don't know. They're very angry. The Haman have asked for the death sentence this time."

Seregil gave her a crooked grin. "We'll see how they feel after I'm done with them tonight."

Korathan and Adzriel took the lead as they set off. Braknil's men carried Klia's litter, flanked by the Oreska wizards and the remaining members of Urgazhi Turma. Pale but alert, Klia lay propped up on cushions, her ruined hand hanging unbandaged across her chest in a black sling.

Seregil and Alec hid again among Korathan's guard, savoring their last few moments of anonymity.

"Look, the moon's at the half already," Alec murmured.

We could have been back in Skala by now. Seregil silently completed the thought for him.