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“I hoped that she could simply be persuaded that Zai was her God and she should join me. But it was not to be. She learned a secret when she looked at Lyr’s body that I needed hidden.”

“She would never have joined you in venerating Zai,” Jemel says. He wants to spit it viciously, but he’s too weak. His voice comes out soft and tremulous. “You could never have convinced Pershel that despite the fact Zai was a demon, she should remain faithful to him.”

And Doroth takes another drink of ale from the goblet carved with gold leaves and says, “Why not? I managed it with you.”

“What?” Jemel says, mouth dry.

“Zai will triumph. You will never discover what Pershel knew. You think it will be a simple matter to kill this demon, but it is not so. The Five Fae Princes discovered such when The King of the Earth slipped from their grasp to become Zai. But that matters little. Lyr has already left to complete some heathen ritual with that green forest witch. And it is too late for you. I should never have allowed you to survive this long, but I had no choice. I have learned now that Pershel convincing me not to kill you as a babe was not simply your good fortune. And the failure of all my poor dead brother’s attempts to clear away Rafus’s bastards to ensure his son’s path to the throne was clear were also not good fortune. I have been close to my brother, in different ways over the years. Close enough to know what he was trying to do, and close enough to see his failures and understand what they meant. There was a dark magic around all of you. When I returned to Ceruleum I spoke with the Shard. I learned much, including the truth of the protection you have. I discovered the magic that kept you all safe was bound to your father. I convinced Karo that we needed to kill him. Amusingly, I told her it would give you the very protection it was taking away. Karo conducted the ritual and I charged these tokens with your fathers’s blood.” Doroth reaches into a pouch tied at the waist of his robes and pulls out a small golden hare. “This is yours.”

He sets it on the table before Jemel. Jemel stares at it. Its tiny eyes seem to glow. Doroth’s tight grip on his wrist slackens. Jemel turns to look at him and as he does, Doroth pulls out a blade. “I can end all of this,” he says, turning the small dagger over in his long fingers. “You can end all of this. You can repair your relationship with Zai, be washed of all your sins, even the one of your siring.”

Jemel looks from the hare to the blade. “Zai is a demon,” he says.

“Zai is your God. And he needs something from you. Take this dagger. Leave this world and end this horrific plan to kill Zai.”

“How?” Jemel says, “how can I do that?”

Doroth smiles a rare smile. “Zai cannot be slain without you.”

Jemel looks at the blade. Doroth’s words are strangely seductive. He seems right. To sacrifice himself and be forgiven everything. And what is there for him in this world where he fights a demon with his brothers? He is so different from them. They are all enjoying their lovers, planning this battle. And he is here with Doroth. Doroth who found another path. To honour the demon, the demon that is his God.

Could Jemel do that? Could he offer himself as a martyr to Zai?

If he did that he’d never see Xan again. Xan is in the Rose Palace. Xan’s fingers, stroking over his scalp, taking away his pain. Xan holding him tenderly after they made love. “No,” he says again, the word shaking on his tongue. “Zai is a demon.” Jemel shakes his head, a sick feeling rising inside him. “No. You tried to keep me loyal to him. And you came close. But I broke my vow. I let Xan take me. I let him fuck me. I begged him to do it and it was…” Jemel’s voice cracks, “it was the greatest moment of my life.”

“Yes,” Doroth smiles nastily. “I suppose you have. I thought I could smell that same sly taint on you that covers all of your brothers.” His smile becomes a sneer. “Ah, it was a sweet thought. And it would have made things easier for me. But it does not have to be your hand. And, unlike you, craven, I was always willing to be a martyr for Zai.”

He lunges, thrusting the blade towards Jemel’s throat. But before it can touch Jemel, Damon is there. Behind them. He wrenches Doroth back, with a strong hand on his arm. The blade only grazes Jemel’s shoulder. Doroth seems to spin in Damon’s grip. He reaches out and yanks the Amber Blade from the scabbard at Damon’s waist.

Damon steps back as Doroth clumsily thrusts the blade towards him. Jemel’s heart is in his mouth. Everyone in the hall seems to be looking at them.

Doroth does not know how to use a blade. He stands there with it in his hand as if slightly shocked.

He blinks and then grimaces and seems to gather his resolve. Jemel feels he can see it. He’s going to kill Damon. He perhaps thought Jemel the easiest target. But now, he has Damon in his sights, defenceless.

Doroth lifts the blade with both hands. And as he does so, Lukas appears. The first Jemel knows of his presence is his hand on Jemel’s shoulder as he vaults the table, his boots catching the plate of honey cake and sending them flying as he crashes forward.

Lukas, landing behind Doroth, slams his hook into Doroth’s back. And Doroth falls forward into Damon, the Amber Blade plunging into Damon’s chest.

41

XAN

Just before Xan left the Happy Swineherd to return to the Rose Palace, Jemel came up to him. They are alone in the stableyard beside the pot shop. They can hear shouts from the streets beyond, the city still in uproar.

“Will you be safe?” the little priest asks him. He looks so strange without his veil, so different that Xan has to remind himself this is the same man. The man who entertained him, then beguiled him, then begged him to fuck him, then, ultimately, was betrayed by him. He is still beautiful, but he looks tired, skin dark beneath his eyes.

“Safe in the Rose Palace?” Xan says. “I have been safe in the Rose Palace for a dozen nights. And now I have Atticul’s favour…” He doesn’t finish. He sees Jemel’s face sour.

But he does have Atticul’s favour. And whether he won it by making a treacherous deal or by a strange mix of happenstance, poor timing and lustful desire the fact is that he does have it. And he will gain nothing by having the argument again.

Jemel does not speak.

He did not have to come out here. Xan had expected to leave for the Rose Palace without seeing him. But he is glad of it. Jemel is simply standing, in his shapeless grey robe, staring, as if he wants to say something to him and cannot. He’s still in shock, Xan knows. The events with Atticul after they had made love, the huge battle in the temple, his intense headache after reading the words written on Damon Darekul’s Klishian lover. It is surprising he is standing at all.

Xan wants to touch him. Not carnally, although his desire is still there, beating like a quiet, persistent heartbeat. But far stronger than that is the need to comfort his priest. But he cannot. He knows that no touch, no embrace, even a hand on his arm, would be welcomed in this moment. Or perhaps, ever again.

He thinks of the previous night, caressing Jemel’s temples and scalp to relieve his pain enough that he could sleep. Even that had been viewed with intense suspicion. He wonders if Jemel will ever allow comforting touch again. From Xan or from anyone.