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struck home. Two more followed in rapid succession. The impact rocked Imoshen and she had to fight to retain her balance. The cheering of the General’s men drowned out the rushing in her head.
    Suddenly Tulkhan was beside her, hand extended. His eyes blazed with triumph, reminding Imoshen that the savage in him was very close to the surface.
    Accepting his hand she leapt up behind him. Aware that the Ghebites loved display, she took her cue from Tulkhan’s earlier horsemanship exhibition. Planting her feet on the horse’s broad rump, she steadied herself with one hand on Tulkhan’s shoulder and held the spear-impaled target above her head. The crowd’s loud acclamations made her heart race and she experienced the heady rush of battle fever.
    When they reached the dais Imoshen tossed the target aside and jumped to the platform, where she signalled that the display was over. The court heralds sounded the closing notes while the General’s black destrier pawed the ground restlessly.
    Imoshen collected her cloak and caught Tulkhan’s eye. ‘Night comes early this close to midwinter, General. I will ride back to T’Diemn with you.’
    As Tulkhan extended his hand, he wondered why Imoshen had chosen not to ride her own horse. She leapt up before him, settling across his thighs. When he wound one arm around her waist, strands of her silver hair tickled his face and he inhaled her scent like rare perfume. She might be pure Dhamfeer, but she was all woman in his arms. The blood sang in his veins and he threw back his head and laughed.
    Imoshen twisted round to look up at him, searching his face. In Gheeaba an unmarried woman would not dare look a man in the eye. But then no Ghebite woman would have done what Imoshen had done today, turning what could have degenerated into a vicious fight into a celebration of martial skill.
    ‘You did not doubt my spear’s aim?’ he prodded, full of admiration for her bravery.
    Her lips quirked as she gave him a knowing look. ‘You are a great tactician, General. If you had wanted me dead, you would have chosen a less public way of doing it.’
    Anger replaced admiration and made his body tighten. The horse responded to the pressure of his knees, increasing its pace, and the General turned his mount towards T’Diemn.
    Weary shopkeepers packed up their stalls and children cried sleepily for their dinner. In the clear winter twilight a long line of carts snaked down the road to the capital, making way for the General Tulkhan’s black destrier and their escort, the elite guard.
    Silhouetted against the setting sun’s glow, the palace towers and Basilica’s dome dominated the old city. But T’Diemn had long ago outgrown its defences, and the city sprawled outside the old walls, prosperous and exposed.
    ‘I must design new defences and repair the old,’ Tulkhan said.
    ‘And I must oversee the restoration of the palace.’
    The General grimaced. The capital had suffered when it had surrendered to his half-brother. King Gharavan had slaughtered the town officials and executed the guildmasters. The King’s soldiers had camped in the palace, looting and destroying what they did not understand.
    Imoshen had been quick to point out that Gharavan’s cruelty threatened to destroy any trust Tulkhan might establish with her people. Conquering was one thing, holding was another. A conqueror had to win the people over or constantly fight rebellion.
    ‘General...’ Imoshen interrupted his train of thought. ‘What do you think of combining your elite guard with my stronghold guard and giving them an official name like... oh, the T’Diemn Palace Guard?’
    ‘You ask the impossible. My men would never accept women in their ranks.’
    ‘But you saw Crawen’s skill with the sword. Though the people of T’Diemn cheered you today, they are still uneasy. To restore their confidence we must be united.’
    ‘You push too hard, too fast, Imoshen. I have signed an agreement to honour the laws of the