“I don’t think that’s agreeable to anyone,” I said. “But right now, I’ll settle for just getting off this terrace.”

Under congenial circumstances, the gazebo would have been a perfectly lovely place for a quiet talk, or for two lovers to steal a few secretive moments together. Unfortunately neither description applied to us. Garadin, Piaras and the two Guardians waited near a small rose garden about ten feet behind us. Chigaru’s guards were at a similar distance in the opposite direction.

In a rustle of gossamer fabric, the primari seated herself on one of the stone benches. Prince Chigaru stood behind the bench at her right shoulder, his dark eyes still on me. I opted to remain standing, my eyes more or less even with his. Somehow I felt safer that way.

“You should not have come tonight, my primari,” the prince told the tiny goblin. “It is not safe for you here.”

“And your safety is assured?” she shot back, though not unkindly. “You should not worry about me.” She reached up and affectionately patted the prince’s hand on her shoulder. “Has Mistress Benares agreed to assist us?”

“We were just getting to that,” the goblin prince said.

“Perhaps I might help.”

Getting to that? Might help? This was all too strange for me. The prince made it sound as though we had just taken a pleasant turn around the dance floor, and now I felt like I was about to be interrogated by someone’s elderly grandmother.

I stood straighter, not that I had much choice in that dress. “You have a strange way of asking for help, Your Highness.” I turned to the primari. “Two nights ago, he ordered a friend of mine kidnapped to use as bait to catch me. I was told he would be killed unless I cooperated. We were then tied up, and taken against our wills into The Ruins where your darling prince threatened my friend with torture unless I agreed to help him find the Saghred.”

“Was any undue violence or coercion used against you or your friend?” Chigaru asked mildly.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I heard Piaras’s gasp of disbelief behind me.

“Undue violence?” My voice went up a couple of octaves. I couldn’t help it. “As opposed to justifiable?”

The goblin prince shook his head. “Merely necessary.”

“The ends justify the means?”

He almost smiled. “Precisely. So you do understand.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Raine,” Mychael said by way of warning.

I shot him a look, then took a breath and blew it out. I continued, but quieter. “Then tonight, His Most Serene Highness sticks a dagger in my ribs and says that unless I help him, he’ll kill me. Perhaps this type of behavior isn’t serious to a goblin, but we elves take that kind of thing personally. I know I do.”

The look the primari gave the prince was the same one Tarsilia gave Piaras when she caught him sneaking cookies before supper. Then the tiny goblin shook her head and actually made tsking sounds.

“He acted out of concern for our people,” she tried to assure me. “His methods may seem somewhat questionable, but his heart is in the right place.”

I was flabbergasted. “He has one?”

“It might be an appropriate time to apologize, dear,” Primari Nuru told the prince.

It was his turn to look appalled. I had to admit he did it well. He probably had a lot of practice.

He drew himself up imperiously. “For doing my duty as a prince of my people? For which I was viciously attacked.” He shot a scathing look at Piaras.

Piaras responded with a low growl, but from the sounds of things, Garadin and the two Guardians kept him from joining us.

“For not taking into consideration the sensibilities of your guests,” Primari Nuru helpfully clarified for him.

Prince Chigaru thought about that for a moment. Regardless of how he had considered us—guests or prisoners—it was clear that making apologies wasn’t something he had much, if any, experience with. He looked at me and cleared his throat. Then he stopped and thought some more. I knew this wasn’t easy for him, but unlike the primari, I wasn’t feeling particularly helpful. I was willing to wait as long as it took. I resisted the urge to cross my arms and tap my foot.

The prince cleared his throat again. This time, words actually made it out.

When he had finished, it sounded like an apology. It had all the right words, and they almost sounded sincere, but somehow the phrasing was off. In the end, I don’t think he accepted the blame for anything.

“Was that an apology?” I whispered to Mychael.

“It’s probably as good as you’re going to get.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Should I take it?”

“It might speed things up if you did.”

I took a moment to think, too. To my credit, I didn’t take as long as the prince.

“Do you promise not to try to kill or torture me or my friends ever again?” I thought for another moment. “Or order anyone else to kill or torture us, or betray us to anyone who would want to kill or torture us?” I was proud of the last two. I think I was getting the hang of how the Mal’Salin mind worked.

Mychael leaned toward me. “Don’t you think you’re being a trifle excessive?”

I didn’t even have to look at Chigaru Mal’Salin to know the answer to that one.

“No.”

To the prince’s credit, he responded almost immediately. “Barring betrayal on your part, or on the part of your friends—or another attack upon my person,” he said with a meaningful glance in Piaras’s direction. “Yes, you have my word.”

“We shake hands on it now, don’t we?” I asked Mychael, without enthusiasm.

“It is the accepted way to seal a pact.”

I only had to take one step to be in the center of the gazebo. The goblin prince had to take two. I know; it was petty of me to notice. I extended my hand. He took it. I was almost surprised when he released it.

“Well, we’ve agreed not to kill each other,” I said. “Now what?”

The prince answered. “We find the Saghred before my brother and Sarad Nukpana.”

I blinked. “We?”

The prince’s eyes narrowed. “We.”

“And when we do?”

“That is what we must now agree upon.”

“Any chance of you and yours going back to The Ruins and letting us take care of this?”

The prince’s eyes hardened resolutely. “None whatsoever.”

I shrugged. “I had to try.”

Mychael spoke. “As Paladin of the Conclave Guardians, my duty is clear—restore the security of the Saghred to prevent its use. By anyone,” he added meaningfully.

He’d get no argument from me.

“Mistress Benares is able to use it most effectively.” The prince’s tone stopped just short of being accusing. I saw where this was going.

“Against my will,” I told him. “The last thing I want is a connection of any kind with something known as the Soul Thief. Sarad Nukpana is holding a dear friend of mine hostage. He wants the beacon and the Saghred in exchange for her release.”

The prince bristled. “You are going to give it to him?”

“Of course not,” I shot back. “And I don’t believe for one second that he actually plans to keep his word. I’m here tonight to help Paladin Eiliesor recover the Saghred.”

A’Zahra Nuru’s eyes had rarely left me. They were now focused where the beacon lay beneath my bodice. I saw mild surprise mixed with relief in her eyes. The beacon fluttered against my skin in response to her attention. I waited for the inevitable request.

“Do you have a blood link to its creator?” she asked gently.

That wasn’t the request I expected. Requests from goblins concerning the beacon usually began with “give” and ended with “now.” I had to admit it was a refreshing change.

Mychael responded before I could. “That has yet to be established.”

Not a lie. Not the truth, either. Apparently the paladin thought the fewer who knew my family history, the better. Considering who wanted to know, I agreed with him.

A’Zahra Nuru was still looking at me. “You do not seem to have experienced any adverse effects from its use.”