Shadow and Betrayal

work,’ Idaan said, raising her chin.
    ‘And why not?’ Adrah replied.
    ‘Because I won’t let you!’
    She spun and grabbed for the door. As she hauled it open, Adrah was around her, his arms pressing it shut again. Daaya was there too, his wide hands patting at her in placating gestures that filled her with rage. Her mind left her, and she shrieked and howled and wept. She clawed at them both and kicked and tried to bite her way free, but Adrah’s arms locked around her, lifted her, tightened until she lost her breath and the room spun and grew darker.
    She found herself sitting again without knowing when she’d been set down. Adrah was raising a cup to her lips. Strong, unwatered wine. She sipped it, then pushed it away.
    ‘Have you calmed yourself yet?’ Adrah asked. There was warmth in his voice again, as if she’d been sick and was only just recovering.
    ‘You can’t do it, Adrah-kya. He’s an old man, and . . .’
    Adrah let the silence stretch before he leaned toward her and wiped her lips with a soft cloth. She was trembling, and it annoyed her. Her body was supposed to be stronger than that.
    ‘It will cost him a few days,’ Adrah said. ‘A few weeks at most. Idaan-kya, his murder is the thing that will draw your brother out if anything will. You said it to me, love. If we falter, we fail.’
    He smiled and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. Daaya was at the table, drinking wine of his own. Idaan looked into Adrah’s dark eyes, and despite the smiles, despite the caresses, she saw the hardness there. I should have said no, she thought. When he asked if I had taken another lover, I shouldn’t have danced around it. I should have said no.
    She nodded.
    ‘We can make it quick. Painless,’ Adrah said. ‘It will be a mercy, really. His life as it is now can hardly be worth living. Sick, weak. That’s no way for a proud man to live.’
    She nodded again. Her father. The simple pleasure in his eyes.
    ‘He wanted so much to see us wed,’ she murmured. ‘He wanted so much for me to be happy.’
    Adrah took a pose that offered sympathy, but she wasn’t such a fool as to believe it. She rose shakily to her feet. They did not stop her.
    ‘I should go,’ she said. ‘I’ll be expected at the palaces. I expect there will be food and song until the sun comes up.’
    Daaya looked up. His smile was sickly, but Adrah took a pose of reassurance and the old man looked away again.
    ‘I’m trusting you, Idaan-kya,’ Adrah said. ‘To let you go. It’s because I trust you.’
    ‘It’s because you can’t lock me away without attracting attention. If I vanish, people will wonder why, and my brother not the least. We can’t have that, can we? Everything must seem perfectly normal.’
    ‘It still might be wise, locking you away,’ Adrah said. He pretended to be joking, but she could see the debate going on behind his eyes. For a moment, her life spread out before her. The first wife of the Khai Machi, looking into these eyes. She had loved him once. She had to remember that. Idaan smiled, leaned forward, kissed his lips.
    ‘I’m only sad,’ she said. ‘It will pass. I’ll come and meet you tomorrow. We can plan what needs to be done.’
    Outside, the revelry had spread. Garlands arched above the streets. Choirs had assembled and their voices made the city chime like a struck bell. Joy and relief were everywhere, except in her. For most of the afternoon, she moved from feast to feast, celebration to celebration - always careful not to be touched or bumped, afraid she might break like a girl made from spun sugar. As the sun hovered three hands’ widths above the mountains to the west, she found the face she had been longing for.
    Cehmai and Stone-Made-Soft were in a glade, sitting with a dozen children of the utkhaiem. The little boys and girls were sitting on the grass, grinding green into their silk robes with knees and elbows, while three slaves performed with puppets and dolls. The players squealed and whistled and sang, the puppets hopped and tumbled, beat one another, and fled. The children laughed. Cehmai himself was stretched out like a child, and two adventurous girls were sitting in Stone-Made-Soft’s wide lap, their arms around each other. The andat seemed mildly amused.
    When Cehmai caught sight of her, he came over immediately. She smiled as she had been doing all day, took a greeting pose that her hands had shaped a hundred times since morning. He was the first one,