Saetan reached out and pushed the papers with one finger. “Which aren’t worth a damn thing. Say I sign them on the condition that the agreements are handed over to Zuulaman at the same time that the baby and Hekatah are returned to me.”

“Then Zuulaman gets what it wants.”

“For a few hours. As soon as we were home, I’d send a message to the Dhemlan Queens that I was stepping down as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, giving up my claim to this Territory.”

The words hit Andulvar like a fist in the belly. “You’d give up Dhemlan?”

“Everything has a price. These agreements are only for Dhemlan Terreille. I’d still have the Dhemlan Territory in Kaeleer.”

“But . . . this is what you wanted.”

An odd look crept into Saetan’s eyes, gone before Andulvar could put a name to it.

“Ruling this Territory was a price equal to the protection I offered,” Saetan said softly. “It was a price worthy of what I am. But I don’t need it.”

Andulvar rubbed the back of his neck. Damn politics. The Eyrien way was simpler—a blade and a battlefield, not these sly games played with words.

“Since the Dhemlan Queens didn’t agree to this, the moment I step down, there are no trade agreements. Zuulaman gains nothing.”

“They won’t expect this.”

“They should. If they’ve paid any attention to how I’ve ruled this Territory since the Queens here made their bargain with me, they should. Which means they never expected me to sign the agreements, but the greed and audacity of asking for so much will make their real goal seem more reasonable.”

Saetan smiled a gentle, brutal smile.

Andulvar suppressed a shudder.

“So I’m waiting for them to name the ransom that will buy back my wife and child,” Saetan said.

“Will you pay it?”

That odd look crept into Saetan’s eyes again. “Yes, I’ll pay it. And it will be the last thing Zuulaman ever gets from me that isn’t paid for in blood.”

Chapter 4

4

Hekatah watched the children on the beach, laughing and shouting as they played some incomprehensible game. Whelps from a pissant race that thought it was Hayll’s equal, that it could ever be Hayll’s equal. But Zuulaman had its uses. Through them, several of Hayll’s Hundred Families, including her own, would have their wealth replenished as soon as . . .

The bastard hadn’t signed the agreements yet. And he should have. He should have. As soon as he’d been told she was being held, he should have abandoned the pretense of caring about the welfare of the Dhemlan people and signed the agreements. After all, she was his wife. She’d given him children.

A door opened, and the wailing that had been muffled by stout wood stabbed at her.

“The baby is crying,” her aunt said as she entered the room.