'I thought you laughed in the face of danger?' She wrinkled her nose at him. 'Frankly, you stink like a month-dead hog; I don't really want you to come any closer.'

'You try smelling like roses when you've been wearing mail for days.'

She pulled open her cape to reveal a Fysthrall breastplate under¬neath. 'Some of us have been doing more than skulking in the shadows over the last few days, and we still manage to avoid having our own personal flies circling us.'

'So are we coming in?'

Legana sighed. 'She's just woken up.' She grabbed Doranei by the tunic and pulled him inside, waving a hand graciously to indicate that his comrades should follow. They didn't waste any time, trotting past Legana and watching the guards warily.

'I'll take you up to her study; your Brothers can wait down here.' She pointed to the formal reception room, hardly the place for soldiers in stinking leather and armour, but it was clear they had been using it as a barracks over the last few days.

Doranei grinned at his companions and followed Legana upstairs towards Zhia's study. The last time he'd been there, Koezh Vukotic had stepped out of a mirror and joined them for an evening at the theatre. That felt like a lifetime ago. He gave a slight shake of the head as he trudged behind the Farlan agent. Even considering the strange existence that had been Doranei's life for many winters now, he felt frighteningly out of his depth. In the service of his king, Doranei had murdered, stolen, lied and kidnapped. His loyalty had always been un¬questionable; he might not have been the shining light that Ilumene had been, but he knew King Emin trusted him as much as he did Coran. Rarely had he felt so adrift.

Now, in this city that shimmered uncertainly under a midday sun fierce enough to kill, the real world of loyalty and service felt a distant memory. With the day split in half by a savage and sapping afternoon, Doranei had found himself drifting through the streets as though it were all a dream – a dream in which he was terrified what would hap¬pen if his lord and the enigmatic enemy of the Gods living here ever ended up on opposing sides on the battlefield. They hunted a traitor, and he knew the king would be watching him closely.

Opening the door to the study, Legana stepped to one side to let him past into the empty room. Thick curtains covered the tall window and the room was lit only by a pair of candles on the table and the oil lamps flanking the door.

'Zhia is speaking to Mikiss. These first few days of being turned are difficult, she tells me. She'll be with you soon.'

'Mikiss? The Menin soldier she bit last time I was here? Does she really have time to nursemaid a fledgling vampire? I'd have thought she would be off to the fighting at the Greengate as quickly as pos¬sible.'

'A few more minutes won't matter,' Legana said. 'Fledgling he might be, but Mikiss will still be a dangerous presence on the streets once his head has cleared. The Greengate is in good hands; Haipar commands there and now her companions have come through the Foxport with some of their troops, the Greengate won't fall' She cocked her head at him, looking curious. 'If you're so worried about wasting time, what are you doing here? What intelligence do you need from us before you make your escape?'

'I told you, we have business to conclude,' Doranei said firmly.

He strode into the centre of the room and faltered. The table on his right bad been laid as though Zhia was about to sit down to dinner,

half a dozen shallow wooden bowls piled with food in the centre of the table alongside a lead-chased decanter of what he hoped was just a rich, dark red wine. The table was laid for two. Had she been expect¬ing him – or someone else?

'Have I interrupted your dinner?' he asked cautiously.

Legana gave him a sly smile. 'Not mine, but Mistress Zhia hasn't eaten yet.'

Without giving him time to reply she left, closing the door. Doranei stared after her, but once her footsteps had receded there was no sound from the other side. Sniffing gingerly at the decanter he satisfied his own curiosity: wine, and the rich scent of an old vintage at that. He'd have to be careful not to let this cloud his mind. Five chairs stood at the table, a strange long-handled sword hanging in its scabbard from the back of one. Words he couldn't read were detailed on the surface of the scabbard, the letters interwoven with trails of ivy and bluebells. The leather-wrapped hilt of the sword took up almost half of its entire length and lacked any decoration while the guard was nothing more than a ridge following the line of the hilt. It wasn't the sort of weapon he'd expect a lady to use.

Stop being a fool, Doranei chided himself. She's not a lady, she's a bloody vampire; strong enough to rip your arms off. That's probably as light as a twig to her.

He turned his attention to the mirror that Koezh Vukotic had walked through during his previous visit. Lifting it up to look behind, pressing his hand against the surface to be sure it was solid, he could find nothing unusual about it now. The only result was a greasy smear on the surface, and with a muttered curse Doranei tried to wipe them off with his sleeve. The resultant smudge was marginally worse than the finger marks. He looked around for a cloth, but other than the curtains he could see nothing.

He stopped and gave his reflection a grim smile. People are tear' ing each other apart outside and you're worried about getting the furniture dirty? just what is happening to you?

Behind him, the latch clicked open. His eyes shifted from himself to the reflection of the door as it opened and Zhia came into the room. Like Legana she was dressed in ornate armour, a white patterned skirt leaching to her knee, with tall boots underneath and greaves strapped over those. It was the first time he'd seen her in anything but elegant silk. At her hip was a sheathed dagger that matched the curious sword

hanging from the chair. What really caught his attention was her hair, dyed rusty brown again, presumably to reassert her links with the Circle now that there was an army at the Greengate claiming she was a vampire.

Doranei felt his gut tighten; he'd not thought about it the last time he was here, but weren't vampires supposed to have no reflection? Hadn't the Gods cursed their vanity as they cursed their betrayal? His mind raced as he tried to recall the scriptures he'd so studiously ignored as a child.

'Are you going to just stand there instead of greeting me? Normally I'd be pleased I could make a man stop and stare, but your expression is not that of the enamoured,' Zhia purred. Doranei didn't miss the slight edge to her voice.

'I can see you; how is it that I can see you?' he said, turning at last to face her.

'Because you're a clever boy,' she replied, 'and I shall give you a prize for it later.'

'You know what I mean.' His stern tone provoked a coquettish smile that froze him like a rabbit in an eagle's shadow.

'So serious all of a sudden, my dear? I rather like that commanding glare of yours; you really should use it more often. If you're going to pout until you get your answer, it is this; others can see us, we cannot see ourselves. The Gods said something about pride when they cursed us, but I must confess to being in a little discomfort at the time so I didn't pay as much attention as I should have.'

She raised an eyebrow at his expression. 'Oh, don't look like that; however majestic your Gods might be, they had spiked both of my heels and I was missing more skin than I care to remember.' She walked up to him and rose slightly on her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. Doranei felt his hands tremble at the touch; his whole body ached at her scent. It took him a moment to regain enough control to slide his hands around her waist to bring her closer, but when he at last did so Zhia gave a contented murmur and linked her own hands around the nape of his neck.