with heavy locks, and one armchair with black upholstery. In such coarse surroundings, its gleaming wood and soft cushions seemed luxurious, regal.
Strangest of all, the walls of the room were filled with mirrors. Several hung on every wall and there was one in each corner, including one high up near the ceiling. The chieftain stood in the middle of the room, facing Judah, but in the various mirrors she could also see his shackled hands, the backs of his tattooed shoulders, and the top of his burlap-covered head.
“Leave,” the Seneschal ordered, and Judah realized he was talking to the guards, who rustled, but didn’t move.
“Seneschal—” one of them said.
The gray man cut him off. “Lord Gavin and I both have knives and the prisoner’s shackled hand and foot. If you’re needed, I’ll call.”
The guard who’d spoken didn’t look happy, but he obeyed. The rest of the guards followed with ominous scowls and shuffling boots. None of them spoke to Gavin or even acknowledged him, which seemed strange.
But the Nali chieftain was stranger. As soon as the guards were gone, the Seneschal pulled away the hood. The prisoner’s thin chest swelled as he took a deep breath. His eyes—as dark as Judah’s, although that was where the similarity ended—blinked; what remained of the windows didn’t let in much light, but the mirrors reflected it until the room was as bright as outdoors. His well-defined features were all planes and angles, his lips thin. Delicate silver earrings looped through his ears, two in one and three in the other, and his eyes were thickly lined with some deep emerald substance that looked like kohl but couldn’t be—she’d never seen kohl that color.
He surveyed the room as if he’d been invited for dinner instead of dragged in blindfolded. There was a glamour about him, despite the shorn hair and plain clothes. The tattoos, some crisp and some gone soft and blurry with time, added to the effect. She was willing to bet that if a courtier ever got a glimpse of him, green kohl and shackle bracelets would be all the rage inside a week. But they would never be able to replicate the way he held himself. His eyes were bleak without being hopeless as they took in the hard furniture, the mirrors, the ostentatious chair; the Seneschal, still holding the burlap bag, and Judah and Gavin themselves, hand in hand like scared children.
He took another breath, long and savoring. His upper lip twitched as if he smelled something unpleasant. His gaze lingered on Gavin and Judah, but then—clearly knowing who was in charge—he looked at the Seneschal, and waited.
The Seneschal cleared his throat. “I’m told you’re a chieftain.”
The chieftain’s dark eyes slid up at an angle and back again in an impressively economical gesture that said everything there was to say about the situation in which he found himself. “If that’s the word you like.” He spoke with a strong burr and a stronger disinterest.
“Do you prefer another?”
The thin shoulders moved in the barest of shrugs. “It’ll do. Your language is limited.”
“You speak it well.”
“My people value knowledge for its own sake.” It was clear from his tone that he believed Highfall didn’t. Judah felt Gavin bristle.
The Seneschal didn’t seem to take offense. “We’re in need of your knowledge, as it happens. In exchange for your assistance, I offer you amnesty in Highfall, or an escort back to your own country, if you’d prefer that.”
“If help was all you needed, you could have just said so, and left fewer bodies in your wake.”
“Would you have helped us if we’d just said so?”
At that the chieftain smiled, brittle and brilliant. “No.”
Gavin stepped forward, dropping Judah’s hand. “I’m Lord Gavin. Lord Elban’s heir.” Imperious and unflappable, Lord of the City. “When he’s dead, I’ll rule Highfall. I guarantee you amnesty.” He said the words, but Judah knew he was anxious, too.
The chieftain shook his head. The movement spoke of great fatigue. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t help you,” he said to Gavin. Somehow the words included Judah and excluded the Seneschal. A twinge of something she couldn’t identify ran through her like a shudder.
“We haven’t even told you what we want.” Some of the imperiousness in Gavin’s tone was replaced by surprise.
“You haven’t told me you’ve got a nose in the middle of your face, either, and yet there it is.” His eyes were so black that it was disconcerting, but people probably felt the same way about her. There was something strange