She set her hands to the muscles between his neck and shoulders and kneaded them deeply, making him wince with discomfort. “You were intoxicated, Magnadon,” she recalled for him. “That was why you fell. The filth on your hands was your own vomit that they slipped in.”

He twisted his head abruptly to stare up at her. “That makes it my fault, I suppose?” he asked sarcastically. “I thought the whole purpose of paving stones was to make the ground even and safe for walking. My poor gut was severely shocked by that fall. It was no wonder I could not keep my food down. Three healers agreed with me about that. But, I am sure that my well-educated Companion knows far better than the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo or his healers.”

She stood abruptly, not caring that it unsettled him. She caught the wrist of his exploring hand and thrust it toward his own groin in disdain. “I am leaving. I am the Companion of your Heart. Nothing binds me to tolerate licentiousness from you.”

Cosgo sat up. He clenched his hands on his knees. “You forget yourself! No one walks away from the Magnadon Satrap Cosgo. Come back. I shall say when you may leave.”

Serilla drew herself up to her full height. She was easily a head taller than this pale, self-indulged young man. She looked him up and down, her green eyes flashing. “No. You forget yourself, Cosgo. You are not some Chalcedean so-called noble, with a harem of whores that scrabble to fondle and mouth you at your whim. You are the Satrap of Jamaillia. I am a Heart Companion, not some oiled and perfumed body tool. You say when I may leave, that is true. That does not mean I cannot leave when I find you disgusting.” She spoke over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. “Send me word when you want to find out just how much trouble you can expect from Bingtown. That is my area of expertise. Find someone else to deal with your crotch.”

“Serilla!” he protested frantically. “You cannot leave me in such pain! You know it is the pain that makes me forget myself. You cannot hold that against me.”

She halted at the door. Her brow creased as she frowned at him. “I certainly can. And I do. Your father suffered extreme pain from his joints as he aged, yet he never treated me discourteously. Nor did he ever touch me uninvited.”

“My father, my father,” Cosgo whined. “That is all you ever say to me. That I am not as good as he was. It makes me sick to think of that shriveled old man touching you. How could your parents have given such a young girl to such an old man? It's disgusting.”

She advanced several steps toward him, hands knotted into fists. “You are disgusting, for imagining such things! My parents did not 'give' me to your father. I came to Jamaillia City myself, on my own, determined to pursue my studies. He was impressed with my learning when he overheard me in the Library of the North Lands, reciting for my master. He invited me to be a Companion of his Heart, to advise him on those lands. I considered it well, for three days, before I consented and accepted his ring. I took the vow to remain at the Satrap's side and advise him. It had nothing to do with his couch. He was a fine man. He made it possible for me to study, and he always listened well to me when I counseled him. When we disagreed, he did not blame it on a headache.” Her voice fell. “I still mourn him.”

She opened the door and left the room. Outside, two stone-faced guards pretended they had not heard the squabble. She strode between them. She had not gone more than a dozen steps down the hall before she heard the door flung open. “Serilla! Come back!”

She ignored the imperious command.

“Please!” the Satrap's voice grated.

She kept walking, her sandals whispering over the marble floor.

“The Magnadon Satrap Cosgo courteously requests that Companion Serilla return to his chambers to advise him on the Bingtown matter.” These words were bellowed after her down the hallway. She paused, then turned. The expression on her face was studiously polite. It was in her vows. She could not refuse him her company if he asked advice in her area of expertise. Her considered advice was all she had vowed to give him.

“I would be honored, Magnadon.” She retraced her steps. He leaned in the doorway, his normally pale cheeks reddened. His dark hair was tousled over his bloodshot eyes. She had to admire the expressionless guards. She re-entered the chamber and did not flinch as he slammed the door behind her. Instead, she crossed the chamber and hauled the heavy drapes to one side. Afternoon sunlight spilled into the room. She went to the table, seated herself, and then leaned forward to blow out the lamp she had been using. The afternoon light was ample, once the drapes were opened. Cosgo came grudgingly to sit beside her. She had deliberately spread her elbows apart to keep him at a distance. He seated himself as close to her as he could without actually touching her. His dark eyes were reproachful.