Shadow and Betrayal

above her like a hunting hawk. If Cehmai-cha is to trust what I say, he must see that I’m free to do my own will, ne?’
    ‘It might be best,’ Cehmai agreed, trying to make his voice conciliatory. ‘If it wouldn’t disturb you, Adrah-kya?’
    Adrah smiled without even the echo of pleasure.
    ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’ve arrangements to see to. The wedding is almost upon us, you know. There’s so much to do, and with the mourning week . . . I do regret that the Khai did not live long enough to see this day come.’
    Adrah shook his head, then took a pose of farewell and retreated, closing the door behind him. When they were alone, Idaan’s face shifted, naked venom in her stare.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Cehmai began, but Idaan cut him off.
    ‘Not here. Gods only know how many servants he’s set to listening. Come with me.’
    Idaan took him by the arm and led him through the door Adrah had used, then down a long corridor, and up a flight of winding stairs. Cehmai felt the warmth of her hand on his arm, and it felt like relief. She was here, she was well, she was with him. The world could be falling to pieces, and her presence would make it bearable.
    She led him through a high hall and out to an open garden that looked down over the city. There were six or seven floors between them and the streets below. Idaan leaned against the rail and looked down, then back at him.
    ‘So he’s gotten to you, has he?’ she asked, her voice gray as ashes.
    ‘No one’s gotten to me. If Adrah had wanted me to bray like a mule and paint my face like a whore’s before he’d take me to you, I’d have been a stranger sight than this.’
    And, almost as if it was against her will, Idaan laughed. Not long, and not deep, hardly more than a faint smile and a fast exhalation, but it was there. Cehmai stepped in and pulled her body to his. He felt her start to push him back, hesitate, and then her cheek was pressed to his, her hair filling his breath with its scent. He couldn’t say if the tears between them were hers or his or both.
    ‘Why?’ he whispered. ‘Why did you go? Why didn’t you come to me?’
    ‘I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘There was . . . there’s too much.’
    ‘I love you, Idaan. I didn’t say it before because it wasn’t true, but it is now. I love you. Please let me help.’
    Now she did push him away, holding one arm out before her to keep him at a distance and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of the other.
    ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t say that. You . . . you don’t love me, Cehmai. You don’t love me, and I do not love you.’
    ‘Then why are we weeping?’ he asked, not moving to dry his own cheek.
    ‘Because we’re young and stupid,’ she said, her voice catching. ‘Because we think we can forget what happens to things that I care for.’
    ‘And what’s that?’
    ‘I kill them,’ she said, her voice soft and choking. ‘I cut them or I poison them or I turn them into something wrong. I won’t do that to you. You can’t be part of this, because I won’t do that to you.’
    Cehmai didn’t step toward her. Instead, he pulled back, walked to the edge of the garden and looked out over the city. The scent of flowers and forge-smoke mixed. ‘You’re right, Idaan-kya. You won’t do that. Not to me. You couldn’t if you tried.’
    ‘Please,’ she said, and her voice was near him. She had followed. ‘You have to forget me. Forget what happened. It was . . .’
    ‘Wrong?’
    For a breath, he waited.
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not wrong. But it was dangerous. I’m being married in a few days’ time. Because I choose to be. And it won’t be you on the other end of the cord.’
    ‘Do you want me to support Adrah for the Khai’s chair?’
    ‘No. I want you to have nothing to do with any of this. Go home. Find someone else. Find someone better.’
    ‘I can love you from whatever distance you wish—’
    ‘Oh shut up,’ Idaan snapped. ‘Just stop. Stop being the noble little boy who’s going to suffer in silence. Stop pretending that your love of me started in anything more gallant than opening my robes. I don’t need you. And if I want you . . . well, there are a hundred other things I want and I can’t have them either. So just go.’
    He turned, surprised, but her face was stony, the tears and tenderness gone as if they’d never been.
    ‘What are you trying to protect me from?’ he asked.
    ‘The answer to that question, among other things,’ she said. ‘I want