Kevin caught her wrists and pulled her warmly against him. ‘You know I love you.’
But she buried her head in his shoulder and refused the invitation to talk.
Attempting an innocuous approach, Kevin cupped her chin in his hand. ‘You have something of importance up your sleeve. What was that secret dispensation you bribed from the Keeper of the Imperial Seal, anyway?’
Mara answered with surprising pique. ‘You must not expect my confidence in all matters.’
‘No?’ Kevin sat up, unsure of the source of her antagonism, and stung just enough not to handle it without rancour. ‘Do I mean that little to you?’
‘You mean a great deal to me,’ Mara said at once. Fear made her voice cold, but in the dark he noticed only her tone. She drew away from him and sat up with her arms around her knees and her hands tightly clasped. ‘You mean everything.’
‘Then tell me what agreement you made in Kentosani.’ Kevin swept back a fallen lock of hair in a gesture so habitual it made her ache. ‘I know it concerns Midkemia.’
‘Arakasi did not tell you that,’ Mara accused, still snapping.
‘No. I overheard.’ Kevin’s admission revealed he felt no shame, which angered her.
Mara released a pent breath. ‘Only my Spy Master and I know the contents of that document. That is according to my wishes.’
Now convinced she was hiding something, and fearful that it might be a matter detrimental to his people, Kevin tried to pressure her. ‘You said I meant everything.’
Against the square of moonlight, Mara was perfectly still. Her profile went hard, expressionless, and thoroughly, infuriatingly Tsurani. She said nothing. Unaware that she was caught up in personal conflict that had little to do with the subject, Kevin reached for her.
‘Have we no trust between us, after this many years of intimacy?’ His voice was persuasive enough to wound; still she could have withstood him if he had not reached out and stroked her shoulder with all of his tenderness. ‘Mara, if you are frightened of something, can’t I know?’
She flung away from him, which was totally unexpected, and painful in a way that took his breath. ‘Of what would I be afraid?’ Her words were harsh, and he had no means to guess that he had hit upon exactly the point that troubled her. She was afraid – of the power he had over her, and of the tangle he had made of her emotions. Coldly, self-defensively, she reacted with the one thing she knew beyond doubt would distance him. ‘You are a slave,’ she said with icy, bitten clarity, it is not for a slave to suppose what I fear or do not fear.’
Angry himself, and beyond thought, Kevin let his words take on a sharp edge, is that all I am to you? A slave, to be numbered among your things? Am I of no more account than a needra bull, or a scullion?’ He shook his head and tried valiantly through his pain to soften his voice, ‘I thought, after Dustari, and a certain night in Kentosani, that I had earned some worth in your eyes.’ He felt a tremble invade his middle, and hardened himself against the emotion her people deplored, ‘I killed men for you, Lady. Unlike yours, my people do not lightly take the lives of others.’
His pride caught her heart and twisted. In a moment she would be crying, and in a desperate attempt to contain her own hurt, Mara held herself in grim control. As if she faced her direst enemy, not her most beloved companion, she said, ‘You forget yourself. You forget that your life could have been forfeit for daring to set hand to a sword. You are a slave, like other slaves, and to remind you of your station, it would be best if you left my chamber and spent the remainder of this night with your fellows in the slave quarters.’
Kevin sat, motionless with astonishment.
‘Go!’ Mara said, not shouting, but with all the finality of an executioner. ‘That is an order!’
Kevin arose, lordly in his fury. He snatched his breeches from the chest by the bed cushions but did not bother to dress. Naked, tall, and prideful, he said, ‘I have all but deserted my companions in sharing my love with their enemy. They might be barbarians and slaves, but they are not ones to cast aside loyalty. It will be a pleasure,’ he finished, and he spun and left without giving her a bow.
Mara sat, stonestiff. She did not cry until long after he had departed. By then he was knocking on the lintel of the hut where Patrick lived, politely requesting admittance.
‘Kev?’ a sleepy voice responded. ‘That you, old son?’
Kevin stepped across the threshold, then cursed when he recalled: the slave huts had no lanterns. He crouched in the dark and sat on the clammy dirt floor.