Chapter Eight

The door to Darius' prison opened. Darius, who had been sitting with his head in his hands, feeling as if he was slowly losing his mind to helplessness and frustration, looked up sharply as Naratha entered the room.

He lunged to his feet as she closed the door firmly behind her. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice tight with the need for confirmation. "Is it true, that Tanitha surrendered herself?"

Naratha looked at him, her gaze carefully neutral. "You've been told already that she's in our custody, then?" she asked. "I rather thought that you would be relieved."

"Relieved?" he demanded, fury further tightening his voice. "That she's been imprisoned, to be kept alive until the birth of the child and then executed?" He gave a shake of the head, the motion taut with anger. "No, Mother, I am not relieved. Tanitha is not some— some broodmare to be culled once it's outlived its usefulness!"

"No, she's a human woman whose continued survival necessitates the imprisonment of the heir to the Ivory Throne," Naratha snapped. Anger sparked in her eyes before she stifled it. She shook her head, her jaw tense with frustration and more than a hint of disgust, though Darius wasn't certain if that last was directed at himself, the situation at large, or the thought of Tanitha. "And as a matter of fact, I have made no decision regarding the timeline of her execution. I thought that perhaps your input on that matter might be valuable." Her jaw was tight. "In most circumstances, I would be inclined to let her live long enough to bear the child, but since this is the woman who soul- bound you against your will, I find myself leaning against our usual policies."

Darius forced himself to remain silent for a few seconds, centering himself. No matter how he was feeling, how desperate he was to convince her, he had to be strategic, or he might well do Tanitha more harm than good. And that was not a risk he could afford to take.

"Tanitha did not intend to harm me," he said at last, his voice low but firm. "She didn't know that she had the capacity to soul-bind me simply by seeing me in that form. I am telling you that she is innocent of all malice in this. You , though, aren't."

Naratha folded her arms, looking singularly unimpressed at this declaration. Darius matched her posture. Despite his best efforts, he found himself fighting a deep, instinctive urge to take a stronger form.

"What you are doing to Tanitha is barbaric and cruel," he said. "No, I wasn't relieved when I heard what had happened. I was horrified and disgusted and ashamed to be connected in any way to you."

"What would you have me do right now, Darius?" she demanded. Despite her obvious efforts to keep her composure, there was a tight edge of frustration and pain in her voice. "She soul-bound you. She exploited your single greatest vulnerability," she said, the frustration changing to a low, simmering fury. "She forced me to imprison my own son, and she has already taken strides toward turning the people of this city against us. And you? You endangered yourself with your own foolishness, endangered your own kind and your people. For the sake of what? Preserving the life of one human woman you knew to be dangerous to us? And now I must contend with the fact that even if I were willing to let my heir's astonishing lapse of judgement pass, I cannot even know how much of what he says is truly from him, and how much is corruption from her !"

Darius forced himself to remain silent despite the objections that felt like they might burst out of him. If Tanitha were anyone else, if she'd been trying to leverage the situation to gain power, Naratha's fears would have been extremely valid. But no matter how convincing he might be, no matter how firmly or eloquently he spoke in Tanitha's defense, Naratha didn't want to believe the truth. She didn't want to believe that her son had defied her. That he'd given his heart to a human woman.

And it was worse than that, he remembered, his stomach sinking. Tanitha wasn't just a human woman, she was a human woman tied to prophecy that Naratha had cause to fear.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, looking up to meet his mother's eyes. He couldn't read anything there but flat anger.

"What did you mean a moment ago?" he asked. If he wanted to have half a chance at convincing her, he needed a full understanding of the situation, not the bits and pieces he'd heard from Kai and Alethia. "When you said she'd taken steps to turn the city's people against us. What did you mean by that?"

Naratha pursed her lips. "She put word about her association with you out to the entire city, using the Sanctuary dovecote," she said. "Word claiming that you had chosen her as your bride." Her jaw worked once. "It spread astonishingly quickly."

Darius' eyes widened slightly before he neutralized his expression. It wasn't an action he would have expected from Tanitha, and something told him there was more to the story, though he was unlikely to get anywhere by saying so. If it had been Tanitha, though, it was a clever move. There was safety in being in the public eye. Although he had to assume that his mother was less impressed.

"Was that the sum of the word she put out?" he asked, frowning.

Naratha gave a quiet scoff. "As if it wasn't enough. Yes, that was the sum of it."

"Then you have your proof she doesn't mean us ill," Darius said firmly. She sent him an incredulous look, and he pressed on. "Think about it. That message was calculated only to better her own chances of survival. If she wanted to turn people against us, if she wanted to truly harm us, she could have. " Naratha frowned, but made a small motion for him to continue. "She could have sent word to all quarters of the city that you had imprisoned your heir," he said. "Or she could have done worse still. In one stroke, she could have made it common knowledge why our kind is so cautious about securing the places we sleep."

A quick tension sprang to Naratha's shoulders before she composed herself again. Darius pressed his advantage. "How long do you think it would have taken for word of that to spread beyond the borders of the demon-ruled lands?" he asked, then lowered his voice. "How long before our enemies found a way to take advantage of the information, capturing one of our own and binding them to their will?"

He paused, letting the point sink in. Naratha's expression was impossible to read. He let the silence stretch for several seconds before continuing.

"She isn't here to hurt any of us," he said. "At least, that was true before you sought her death." He shook his head as Naratha watched him, assessing and weighing his words. "Don't make this worse," he said. "It isn't too late. Just leave her in peace." He paused, then added, "Tanitha doesn't mean us harm, but if you cannot tolerate the risk that she poses through me, you can remove that risk without gaining her enmity. If it means you will leave her unharmed, I am willing to abdicate my claim to the throne."

Naratha took a sharp step back, clearly stunned. It took several seconds for her to rally. "This isn't you," she said, her voice level with conviction despite the stirring of doubt he'd spotted in her eyes. "I raised you to be willing to put the good of Karazhen over everything else. Those words are not from you."

Ashen Halls, how could he ever persuade her when she thought his very words could be dictated by someone else? "They are from me, even if you don't want to hear them," he said evenly, despite how his frustration was tilting painfully toward despair. He had to stay strong, he had to protect Tanitha. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he said, "And it's for the good of Karazhen that I'm making the offer. You had enough faith in the oracles' words to condemn her to death, but not enough to consider what the consequences might be if you make her your enemy?"

"It stopped being a matter of faith in oracles the second my son came to be in danger," Naratha retorted. "I will not just step aside in the face of that. No matter what the fates may have in store for me." She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. "I came here to determine the truth of what happened that night," she said. "The night you came to us, saying that you'd been soul-bound."

"I've already told you everything," he said, the frustration forcing his voice to an edge once more. "And you won't believe anything contrary to what you want to hear."

"I won't believe anything that sounds like madness," she snapped. "I know you must be struggling against some sort of order that she gave, something you're compelled to obey. I imagine protecting her was one of primary importance. Somehow you managed to get free of her influence long enough to come to us, obviously, so her orders cannot have been as strict as—"

"She didn't give any orders, " Darius seethed. No orders; just a request. A request that he not hate her for her mistake. He forced his mind from that, from how those words had stabbed at him for days, along with the fear of what Tanitha must think his feelings were right now.

"I have told you," he said, his voice low with fury. "She is better than that. She didn't want to harm me. She was horrified when she realized what she'd done!"

Naratha just looked at him for several moments. The anger was still in her gaze, but there was something deeper than that in her eyes. As long as it had been since he'd seen something like that in her, it took him a moment to recognize it as flat distrust. His heart sank. She didn't believe him. And no matter what he said, she wouldn't.

"I know you have to say that," she said quietly. Darius made an exasperated noise, which she ignored. "Let's try again," she said. "Obviously you have to protect her interests, but perhaps you can tell me exactly what those interests might be?"

He snorted. "Well, primarily, I think her driving motivation to this point has been avoiding death." He made a helpless, frustrated gesture as Naratha pursed her lips. "None of this is about power or personal gain, Mother. She didn't even know who I was before she soul-bound me."

Naratha narrowed her eyes. "She had been with you for weeks, and you claim she didn't recognize you?"

"I summoned darkness whenever I was near her," he replied, trying not to let any sign of how much he regretted that choice show in either his voice or expression. "She never saw me in human form until the very end."

Naratha looked at him, assessing. "Why?" she asked at last. "You told me your original intention was to shape her destiny in a way that was friendly to us. Why not let her know who her protector was, if that was your goal?"

Darius gave a small, broken laugh. "Why? Because I was also trying to protect you !" he exclaimed. Naratha blinked twice in rare surprise, and he continued, "Yes, I could have told her who I was, but then she would have known that you had ordered her death! And I didn't yet know how strong she might be, or if she might be able to somehow seek vengeance! So instead, despite how I was beginning to feel toward her, I lied. Over and over again, I kept her in darkness, and I lied to her. And still she found it in herself to try to make this right!"

Naratha looked at him without giving a response, utterly expressionless. Gods, it didn't even matter. It didn't matter what he said, how passionately he defended Tanitha. Naratha wouldn't believe him. But there was still one last tactic he could try.

"You asked me a moment ago what you were to do," he said, forcing his voice to remain level. She inclined her head, waiting. "I have a suggestion, if you're willing to hear me out."

She motioned assent, her gaze somehow both weary and wary. Darius waited a moment, making sure that he was composed enough to speak without giving away the torrent of emotions tearing through him. He didn't want to do it like this, didn't want to trap Tanitha in any more ways than he already had, but it might be the only way he could save her now.

"Let her be soul-bound to me as well," he said. Naratha looked at him incredulously, and he raised a hand. "Let me finish," he said forcefully. "I understand it's never been done before, but I believe it's possible. It would negate most of the force of the binding she has on me, reducing it to only slight influence, balanced by my own. Once it's done, you can question me again. You can ask me how I feel toward her. You can ask me what I want done with her. And then maybe you'll be able to believe the words I say."

"Presuming that a soul-binding from a demon to a creature that lacks a true form can even take effect," Naratha said, her tone flat, "you're asking me to let you, Crown Prince of Karazhen, wed a human woman." She folded her arms. "That's your solution?"

"I want to be with her," Darius said quietly. "I didn't see a path because I knew you would never agree to a human woman as a future king's consort." He forced himself to take a breath, again reminding himself to keep his tone level and calm. "You were right a moment ago, when you said you thought that I don't truly want to abdicate," he said. "You're right; I don't. I want to lead this city. But if that is what it takes to convince you that she has no sinister designs, if that is what it takes to preserve her life, I will do it. If she consents to a mutual soul-binding, let us go through with it. You'll know that I'm speaking of my own will then. You'll know the truth of what happened, and you can act from there."

Naratha looked at him for several seconds. "You've forgotten something rather important," she said at last. "Or rather, some one . Namely, Alethia of Zharen."

Darius barely managed to restrain a flinch from crossing his face. Gods, if it weren't for the matter of Tanitha's survival consuming him, he didn't think he'd be able to stop berating himself for what he'd done to Alethia. She hadn't deserved this.

"I can't marry Alethia," he said, his voice low.

"I suspect she would rather wed a jackal than you right now, so yes, that's true," Naratha said coldly. "Do you understand that you humiliated her? That this city and all others know that you were carousing with a human woman while pretending to court her?" She folded her hands together at waist level, the tightness of her grip the only physical signal of her agitation. "I shouldn't have to explain this to you," she said. "But still, I shall. I'm already receiving reports of outrage on her behalf from Zharen. They are threatening to renege on all trading agreements. There's rumor of sanctions against us." Darius' eyes widened. "And the other demon-ruled cities, the Enclaves?" Naratha pressed on. "They'll seek to take advantage of the fracture, some by siding with Zharen, and others with us. And what happens if some sort of threat emerges in the midst of this? Which, as you know, is really quite likely; you know what happens when sharks smell blood in the waters. Our blood, Darius."

Darius kept his expression neutral, though her words had certainly had the intended impact. He made no response; what was there to say?

Naratha let out a tense breath. "You were angry a moment ago, saying that I was refusing to believe your words simply because I don't want to," she said. "Well, it's certainly true that I don't want to believe that you could have been so monumentally selfish that you would see the entire coalition fail because you couldn't simply do your duty."

She eyed him for a moment. Darius was very still. He could see several actions she could take to soothe the feelings of Zharen's rulers and its people. None of them, however, meant anything good for either him or Tanitha. The mildest one that he could think of was that Naratha could disown and exile him. If that failed to placate, however, there were several other options that were far worse.

"No reply?" Naratha asked quietly. He had the distinct impression she knew exactly what kind of possibilities had just occurred to him. "No rejoinder, no defense? Perhaps it's just as well." She shook her head. "I have other matters to attend to," she said. "A rather enormous list of them, in fact." She started to turn, then paused. "I am doing what I can for you," she said. "Please remember that."