He edged closer, skirting the table. All she could see was the sardonic tilt of his mouth under those soft, sad eyes. They were alone and she sensed a choice opening up before her like a chasm in the floor. One with no way around it. Suddenly she wished this man wanted to kill Erlan, that it were Erlan’s life she were bargaining for and not his freedom. That would make it easier. But wasn’t a life condemned to slavery a kind of living death? For a man like Erlan, it would be.

She raised the chalice between them and moved towards the balcony. ‘You like to surround yourself with beautiful things, don’t you?’

He chuckled to himself, apparently amused that she wanted to spin out this game a little longer. ‘It’s true, I am a man of wide appreciation. Beautiful things. New things. I like to drink from all cups.’

She stood leaning against the stone pillar, looking out through the fluttering gauze, looking north to the straits whose surface glittered in the late morning sun. Her fingers went to the amulet around her neck, its little silver arms warmed by her skin. It was Erlan’s amulet. His call to her.

She felt Arbasdos move behind her, caught his strong scent in her nostrils. She was aware of his breathing, shallower than before. Glancing down, she saw thick jewelled knuckles curl around the stem of her chalice and gently prise it from her gasp.

‘This, then, is your price,’ she said softly, still looking away.

He took hold of her arm. ‘You have my word,’ he said, and pulled her back inside, letting the chalice fall to the floor. . .

Outside, the bell of the Holy Peace was ringing the midday when he helped her back into her stola, then wound her palla round her shoulders and arranged it over her arm. ‘I could develop quite a taste for all things northern, I think,’ he said. He had a complacent smile playing around his lips. ‘Of course, business is business but. . . we should do this again. For pleasure next time.’

‘I think not,’ she said, her voice cold as winter. ‘You will have Erlan Aurvandil delivered to my chambers in the palace by sundown tonight, clothed and in good health. If not, the emperor shall know he has a cuckold for a daughter. Do you understand?’

He snorted, the colour draining from his face. ‘You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t have the nerve.’

‘By all means, put me to the test. Your choice.’ She went to the door. ‘By sundown tonight. Good day, general.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE