They were about to do that frantic kissing thing again, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to fight it-
"Hello!" a voice called from a distance. "Is someone out there?"
The refugees had found them.
30
Rage demons were everywhere. By sunset, she and Rydstrom had followed a pair of demons-camp guards-until they'd reached a bluff overlooking a sea of tents spread out below.
When the guards had come upon them earlier, the two had wanted to know what they were doing outside the boundaries "when there are beasties about."
Rydstrom had merely demanded to be taken to whoever was in charge. He'd been shirtless and still had blood on him, but he was outwardly-if not calm- then at least stable.
Now, as she and Rydstrom trailed the guards down into the camp, through a crowd of what must be hundreds, Sabine stared around her.
The demons stared back. Whispers sounded, females glaring at her lack of clothing. The women here appar-ently favored excessive clothing-unnecessarily long sleeves and skirts.
A lesser sorceress would have been discomfited by
the fact that she wore a swath of cloth, a micromini, and sand-and had her hands tied. Sabine glanced around, her demeanor bored.
When males leered at her body, Rydstrom's hand fisted on her arm, his horns already straightening.
As she surveyed her surroundings, Sabine had to exhale in exasperation. Medieval castle, and kingdom, and people. Why should she be surprised that this place looked to be straight out of a Renaissance fair?
The "housing" consisted of pavilion tents, each with elaborate valances hanging from the roofs and topped with pennants flying aloft. She recognized several of the noble families' colors. These demons had come from all over the kingdom.
The guards took them to a sizable round pavilion. Inside, well-dressed males milled about, clearly noblemen.
One asked Rydstrom, "What were you doing outside the boundaries? Everyone has been informed of the dangers of this place."
"We aren't part of this group. We came from outside."
"Well, we've no more room here," the man said. "We can barely feed everyone as it is."
"Make room. I'm Rydstrom, your king."
Instant silence was followed by an uproar.
-"Rydstrom hasn't been back to this plane in centu-riesr
-"But the scar . . . ?"
--"There were rumors he'd been captured by a sorceress."
Sabine said, "Only a sorceress? Try the sorceress-"
"I am your king," Rydstrom spoke over her. "And I grow weary of this."
"It's true," a woman's voice said from the back. "He's Rydstrom." A demoness strode forward. She was beautiful, with long chestnut brown hair and petite horns that shone with health. Ah, but she was a pastel-wearer. She was forever dead to Sabine.
Rydstrom narrowed his eyes at the female. "Do I know you?"
She seemed taken aback. "I . . . yes, you do. I'm Durinda. I was a lady-in-waiting to one of your sisters at Tornin." A young demon boy of maybe six years peeked out from behind her roo-long skirts. "And this is Puck." She ruffled his blonde hair. "He was my best friend's son."
Puck was missing a baby fang, and he stared at Sabine with owl eyes. Which seemed to distress this Durinda, because she sent him outside at once.
Sabine had just become the pink elephant in the room. When their gazes fell as one on her, Rydstrom said, "My prisoner, Sabine. From Castle Tornin."
Jaws dropped, and another uproar sounded.
-"Omort's sister?"
-"The Queen of Illusions?"
-"She'll kill us all in our sleep!"
Sabine jerked her chin up at Rydstrom. "So now I'm only your prisoner? Why didn't you introduce me as-"
"Silence." His grip on her arm made her wince and keep her mouth shut, for now.
Rydstrom asked the apparenr lead noble, "Is this where the portals off-plane will open?"
"Yes, my liege," the man answered. "In four days."
Sabine noticed then that Durinda seemed spellbound by Rydstrom's muscular chest. There was something in that demoness's eyes that made Sabine step closer to him, leaning her body into his so much that he frowned down at her.
Sabine might not be keeping her husband, but for now, Rydstrom was hers, and Sabine had never learned how to share.
Durinda said, "I'm sure you're fatigued from your journey, my liege. You can have my tent, and we'll find a place for ... her."
"She stays with me," he commanded.
Durinda's face paled at his fierce tone. "O-of course."
Sabine said, "Durinda, we accept your hospitality." As our due.
Though the demoness's shoulders stiffened, she showed them to a spacious tent. The canvas was colored a subdued blue with a steel gray fringe on the valances. Tracery scrolled over the sides. The effect was striking-and denoted wealth.
Inside, the color scheme continued. A pallet in the corner was gray, with lush quilts in blue. Paper lanterns decorated with matching tracery hung from the roof supports.
Sabine's pavilion would be bold crimson and jet with a gold fringe. Real gold. Because I'm worth it.
The demoness removed some bags, then hesitated at the entrance flap.
In' her crispest tone, Sabine said, "That will be all, Durinda."
With an indignant huff, she whirled around.
As soon as the flap closed, Rydstrom said, "Do you have to act like that?"
Sabine rounded on him. "Yes. As a matter of fact." She was ogling my husband!
"She's doing us a kindness by letting us sleep here."
"No, she's not. They believe you're their king, which means that this tent and anything in this camp and in the whole bloody kingdom is yours. Since I'm your queen, that means all is mine as well. Why would I show gratitude to people for giving me what's already mine?"
When he began dousing the lanterns, she said, "And why didn't you tell them I'm wed to you?"
After all she'd put up with, he wouldn't even acknowledge her as his queen? She couldn't help recalling Omort's words. How disappointed the demon must be. . . .
Was Rydstrom shamed to claim her as his wife? "People will find out. You might as well admit that we're wed."
"Sabine, we're both injured and exhausted," he said, capturing her hand and dragging her down to the bed' ding. "We'll speak of this tomorrow."
Sabine was out of sorts in every way. They'd been less than four hours from reaching this place; maybe they could have done without her meltdown. No, she should still be furious with him over her treatment and her continued captivity-