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you'd have won easily."
    Pedric had gone beyond anger into open-mouthed shock. Marrika was a beautiful, sensuous woman. She had arrived in Braedon only a few months before, on a ship from Mhar. She'd been the first mate's woman then, but when the ship sailed back to its home port, Marrika had been in Pedric's bed, not on the vessel. Her hair was ebony, her skin tanned, and the movements of her body promised the ripeness of fruit newly plucked from the vine. She delivered on such a promise, and until this moment Pedric had assumed that he was the center of her universe. Despite her accusations, Pedric was far from being an idiot, and it was blindingly clear to him now that she did not desire him, had never desired him, and had attached herself to him only as the suckerfish to the shark. Had he won tonight, he wouldn't have been able to pry her off him. She would be all supple warmth and hot breath, sloe-eyed and eager for him. Now her fluid movements were stiff and frozen, and she was as cold as a breath of winter in the summertime, all the more chilling for its unexpectedness.
    He hadn't loved her. Pedric didn't think he could love anybody; he was too frivolous, and he knew it. Losing the election tonight had been an enormous relief. He hadn't wanted the position in the first place, had only reluctantly volunteered because it seemed important to Marrika. No, he hadn't loved her, but he had liked and admired her. She was the first woman he had ever known who wasn't all aflutter with false courtesies and faintness. Marrika hadn't hidden her sharp intelligence nor her ambition from him, but had rather turned these attributes into ones to be admired. Now he realized that they were not virtues after all—not the way she used them.
    His expression changed again, from shock to mild disgust. "Lucky thing I lost, isn't it," he said archly. "Not only would I have had to deal with responsibilities I didn't want and, as an idiot, couldn't have handled, but I'd have had to sleep with you again tonight. What a narrow escape."
    He turned and walked back toward Ocean's View.
    Marrika realized with a jolt that it really didn't matter to Pedric if she stayed or left. Her mouth dropped. She'd left men before, left them begging for her to come back. Less often, they had been the one to leave first, trying to salvage some shreds of pride, but she could always sense their bitterness and pain—and reveled in it.
    Now that he knew there was no point in being around her anymore, Pedric had merely turned and walked away. The aristo bastard simply didn't care.
    Recovering herself, she rushed out after him, intending to continue the fight and then, this time, conclude it with her walking away from him. She nearly collided with Freylis. "Oh!" she gasped, startled.
    The big man grinned down at her. Marrika tried not to wrinkle her nose. Freylis obviously believed that in order to own the streets one had to smell like them.
     
    "Overheard your conversation," he said. "Otter is an idiot, letting a pretty little fishy like you get away from him."
    She gazed up at him, letting her lips smile sweetly. Behind the mask of her face her thoughts raced. Freylis was, if possible, a greater fool than Pedric. He also had his own group of followers. She knew that he was furious at his defeat tonight. If she was any judge of men, she guessed that he was in a mood for a bout of hot, primal copulation, followed by plans for revenge.
    Both actions suited her just fine. "Would you mind walking me home?" she asked. "It seems I'm without escort tonight."
     
    Freylis's ugly face split into an even uglier grin.

C HAPTER T HREE
    Who is our King?_____ is our King! What can he do? Most anything! He'll call the birds and make them sing. And cause the bee to lose its sting, turn rocks into a wedding ring — A wizard most wondrous is our King!
    — Mharian children's rhyme

    The summer day was beautiful, the breeze soft and fragrant as it caressed the down-covered cheeks of