If it is a lie, it is painfully like the truth. -- Frances Hodgson Burnett, Little Lord Fauntleroy

Kilan's heart seemed to have become lodged in his throat. As he was escorted through the long hallways of the palace, his mind kept thinking of increasingly alarming reasons Qihadal had requested this meeting. Was it to be an assassination attempt? Was she going to declare war on her father's behalf? Did she just want to discuss the menu for the wedding reception?

"For goodness' sake, stop worrying," Death said as she walked beside him down a hallway lined with suits of armour. "You won't die today, whatever else happens. And I'll have a great deal to say to anyone who tries to kill, maim or otherwise harm you."

Death, in her guise as a translator, had donned a nondescript pale orange dress and a straw hat that seemed to be eternally in danger of flying away. If he had less to worry about, Kilan would have thought she looked ridiculous. But no matter how silly her choice of clothing was, he was glad to have her by his side. He wasn't in much danger of an assassination attempt when Death was there -- paradoxical though this sounded.

The guard led them into a large, airy sitting room. Princess Qihadal was waiting for them. Standing behind her were a group of servants.

The first thing Kilan noticed was that she wasn't wearing the veil she had worn the only other time they'd met. Without it, he could see that there were dark shadows under her eyes, and an angry yet worried look lurking behind her polite expression.

"Emperor Tinuviel to see you, your Highness," the guard said.

Princess Qihadal nodded silently. She dismissed her servants with a wave of her hand. The guard left too. And then it was just Kilan, Death and the princess.

Death spoke first. Whatever she said was in Malishese. Qihadal nodded again, but did not seem particularly reassured.

Death turned to Kilan. "I told her that you had received her letter, and that I am your translator."

"Ask her what she wanted to speak to me about," Kilan said.

Death asked her. Qihadal's reply was in a low tone, with frequent pauses.

"She said it's a matter of 'extreme delicacy'." Death somehow managed to sound exasperated and faintly sympathetic at the same time. Kilan spared a moment to wonder why she would be sympathetic. "That's an understatement if ever there was one."

Something about her choice of words awakened Kilan's suspicions. "Do you know what this is about?"

"I don't know, but I have my suspicions."

One of these days, he was going to have a very long talk with her about what she should tell him in advance. Springing these nasty surprises on him was not good for either his nerves or his temper.

While Kilan was lost in thought, Death had said something to Qihadal. The Princess replied, in a tone that was simultaneously detached and determined. Once, on one of his visits to a hospital, Kilan had overheard a doctor giving a family bad news about their relative. Qihadal's tone reminded him of nothing as much as that doctor's tone -- hating what she had to say, but forcing herself to say it anyway.

"I suspected this was what she wanted to say," Death remarked when Qihadal had finished speaking. "She's pregnant."

I must have misheard, Kilan thought. She couldn't possibly have said what he thought she had just said. "What did you say?"

Death rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, or you wouldn't be staring at me like I'd thrown a bomb at you."

Kilan stared at her, then at Qihadal. The Princess met his eyes with an angry, defiant look, but she was trembling. He tried to marshal his thoughts.

"She's... But how?"

Death folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Kilan, try not to be an idiot. You don't need to be given that talk, and we have much more important things to think of."

"That isn't what I meant!" Kilan protested. "I meant... Does she have a fiancé back in Malish?" A horrible thought struck him. "Or a husband? Is the Iqui trying to get me assassinated by an angry boyfriend?"

The strange dark look reappeared in Death's eyes. Kilan didn't understand it any more than he did the first time he saw it. But it frightened him. It made him think of horrible things -- slow, insidious poisons, decay, and the silence of a tomb. "Oh, Kilan, how little you know."

Death turned to Qihadal and rattled off a long sentence of what sounded like random vowel sounds with the occasional consonant thrown in. To Kilan, she explained, "I asked her to tell us her story."

Qihadal spoke. She spoke slowly and haltingly at first. Then the words came faster and faster until they were like a flood. Kilan didn't understand a word, and had to guess at what she was saying by her facial expressions -- and Death's.

Over the years he had noticed that Death tended to react to events with amusement. He had asked her why, once.

"Because after the first million years of existence, everything becomes repetitive. I would be bored out of my mind if I didn't find entertainment in mortal affairs," she had said.

Kilan couldn't remember ever seeing her look truly upset about any great tragedy or atrocity. He had thought about it for a while. He came to the conclusion that when she had collected the soul of every person ever to die, there was simply nothing left that could shock her.

Right now, she didn't look particularly distraught or moved by whatever saga Qihadal was recounting. She listened silently, her arms folded and her face impassive. If Kilan hadn't spent years trying to guess at her thoughts, he wouldn't have noticed the emotion lurking in her eyes. It was something like sympathy, but it was sympathy that had almost been killed by untold millennia of watching catastrophes unfold.

At last Qihadal fell silent. Death seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Then she spoke. "She was raped."

Those words struck Kilan like a physical punch. She was-- She had been-- That poor girl! She would need a rishan[1], and of course the wedding would have to be postponed or called off...

I wish Mother was here, Kilan thought miserably. She'd know what to do about this.

Death hadn't taken her eyes off his face while he was lost in thought. Now she apparently could tell he was over the initial shock. She continued Qihadal's story.

"When she realised she was pregnant, she attempted to abort the baby. But she was caught, and everyone learnt about what had happened. In Malish, an unmarried woman who becomes pregnant is a disgrace to her family, no matter what the circumstances of the case are, and she must be killed to restore the family's honour."

Kilan's stomach twisted. He suddenly regretted having breakfast before coming here.

"The Iqui was going to kill Qihadal. But then he decided that she would be of more use to him alive. So when the High Council made their proposal on your behalf, he chose her to marry you. He made a miscalculation, you see. He assumed that Carann has the same morals as Malish. In Malish, it would be a grave insult -- one of the gravest insults imaginable -- for a man to offer another man a wife who had been "defiled"." Death's face remained impassive, but Kilan thought he could hear a sneer in her voice at the last word. "He was hoping to provoke a war."

The room swam before Kilan's eyes. He half-sat, half-fell into the armchair behind him.

"My god," he said quietly. "What do I do?" Louder, he said, "Tell the Princess I need to think about this."

He practically ran out of the room.

~~~~

No one had made arrangements for him to be given a room of his own in the palace. No one had expected this meeting to last any longer than a few hours at the most. So when Kilan was out in the hallway, he found himself with no idea where to go.

What should I do? Should I call off the wedding? Should I marry Qihadal and pretend the child is mine? What does she want to do?

Kilan stumbled down the hallway in a daze. If anyone had been around to see him, they would probably have thought he was drunk. He didn't notice Death appear beside him until her hand landed on his shoulder.

"What do I do?" he demanded, turning to face her fully.

She looked at him silently, her face still emotionless. He was in no mood now to try to work out what she was thinking. Suddenly furious, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. If she had been mortal his grip would have been tight enough to hurt. Perhaps it did hurt her. He couldn't tell. Nor did he care.

"You knew about this, didn't you! Why didn't you warn me?"

"Kilan. Calm down." Death's voice was perfectly composed and even. This only made him even more furious.

"Calm down? After what I just heard? How can you--" The shock and stress of the last few minutes suddenly became unbearable. His vision blurred as angry tears appeared in his eyes.

Death moved so quickly that he didn't notice she had moved at all until they were both sitting on a settee. Some part of Kilan's mind was sure it hadn't been there a minute ago, but there were far more important things to think of. He tried to blink away the tears. He had no reason to cry! He wasn't the one who had suffered the unimaginable! He had to-- had to--

It was no use. The tears stubbornly remained. Before Kilan knew it, his face was buried in Death's lap as his body shook with suppressed sobs. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, and the other brushed his hair back from his face.

At last Kilan's sobs died away. Now he had a headache, his eyes felt sore and scratchy, and he still hadn't found any answers to this mess.

"What do I do?" he asked again, more quietly this time.

Death twined a lock of his hair around her finger. "Is that a rhetorical question or do you want my advice?"

"I want your advice." Kilan couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. "The Iqui wants to start a war, and he's trying to use his poor daughter to do it. Why? Is this over Istogu? Is there some other reason? Can I even believe Qihadal? Why would she reveal her father's plans like this?"

"Because she hates her father," Death said. "Who wouldn't, in her position? He planned to execute her, and changed his mind so he could use her as a political pawn. As for his motive, I suspect it is nothing less than hatred of Carann. He wants to be the most powerful man in the world. Carann -- and its Emperor -- stand in the way. If you refuse to marry Qihadal, he declares war. If you do marry her, he knows you aren't the father of her child, and at some point in the future he will reveal the truth. That will throw the line of succession into doubt, and it will create chaos that he can exploit."

"So he wins no matter what I do."

Death "hmm"ed. "Not necessarily."

Kilan raised his head. "What do you mean, not necessarily?"

"Think about it. Qihadal was brought up in the Iqui's palace. She has seen and heard things he would much rather keep quiet. You have excellent blackmail material on him. You can force him to do what you want, and if he refuses you can publish his secrets on every corner of the planet."

"But I don't want to blackmail anyone!" Kilan protested.

Death laughed. "Oh, Kilan. There is so much you don't know... yet."

~~~~

Qihadal sipped her cup of tea with the best appearance of nonchalance she could manage. Her hands shook as she held the cup, but she couldn't do anything about that.

At any minute, she thought, Tinuviel will send his guards to arrest me.

It had been half an hour since he stormed out. She was surprised he hadn't acted yet. But soon, she was sure, she would know one way or the other. Perhaps he would be so grateful to her for foiling her father's plans that he would send her to a convent instead of killing her.

The door opened. Qihadal's stomach twisted. Was this it?

One of her servants entered. She didn't keep the sneer out of her voice as she spoke. "Emperor Tinuviel wishes to speak with you again."

What did this mean? Why would he want to see her?

Qihadal set down her cup and stood up. When the Emperor entered she curtseyed awkwardly. He bowed in return.

Her eyes widened. Why had he bowed to her? No Malishese man would ever bow to a defiled woman. Many would not bow to any woman at all, but that was beside the point.

The translator spoke first. She was a woman so utterly mundane in appearance as to be completely forgettable. If Qihadal had been less distracted by more important matters, she might have wondered why she couldn't recall a single thing about the translator's appearance even when the woman was right in front of her.

"You need not fear, your Highness," the translator said. "You will not be killed or locked away. Emperor Tinuviel wishes to make a bargain with you."

Chapter Footnotes:

[1] rishan = Basically, a counsellor (of the psychological variety, not the High Council variety). A rishan is usually an older woman, often a priestess, who gives guidance to people who have suffered some sort of tragedy.