palace were only a stone's throw away. He could see why the cliff had been attempted for an assault, and also why the attackers had failed.
Looking down into the arena, he picked out the forms of the sultan and Alexandra, who had moved from under the Protection of the pavilion to watch. Unwinding the selendang, he raised his arm, letting the wind whip the scarlet banner. "For America and Alexandra!" he shouted to the sky. As drums pounded below, he allowed a moment to savor the triumph. Of achievement. Then he knotted the selendang around a stone pinnacle and began his descent. Because of fatigue and the danger that overconfidence would make him careless, this was the most dangerous part of the climb. The descent took increasing concentration. He was so intent that he didn't notice that the sky had darkened until a fierce gust of wind struck when he was halfway down. Caught in the act of transferring his weight from one set of holds to another, he became unbalanced. A blast of rain slammed into him and he lost his grip. As he slid out of control down the rock face, shocked cries rose from the arena. Instinctively he scrabbled at the cliff, clutching at a tuft of weeds that pulled loose, a scrawny shrub that broke, anything to slow his fall. A terrifying lifetime seemed to pass before the clawing fingers of his left hand caught a jutting knob of stone. The jolt of his full weight exploded painfully along his arm, but his grip held long enough to find a narrow ledge with one foot, then the other. He clung there, panting, as rain hammered unmercifully. Despite a passionate desire to be on solid ground, he didn't resume his descent until he recovered his breath and composure. Finally, cautiously, he began working his way downward again.
The squall ended as abruptly as it began. By the time he reached bottom the sun was shining and his drenched garments were drying. Trying to look as casual as if he were returning from a stroll in the park, he crossed to the pavilion and bowed to the sultan. "Your Highness, I have conquered the Cliff of Sorrows, and raised my lady's banner."
"Well done!" Kasan's smile seemed genuine. "Until tomorrow's trial, Captain." Gavin glanced at Alex. She gave him a warm, relieved smile, looking as tired as he felt. "Well done indeed, my lord captain." Her soft words made him understand why medieval knights had risked their lives to win a lady's favor.
Then his gaze fell upon the ivory die where it waited silently for the next day. Triumph faded at the knowledge that surely his next trials would be worse.
Alex was pleased to be returned to the cage in Gavin's rooms. He'd been delayed by men wanting to congratulate his success, so she was waiting when he entered the sitting room. For an instant his expression was unguarded, revealing weariness and anxiety. Then he saw her and his face lightened.
"They brought you back! I'm glad, though the women's quarters were probably more comfortable." Heart lifting at the sight of him, she reached through the bars, ignoring the clank of her chains against the gilded metal. "Thank God you're all right! I lost ten years of my life when you slipped." He took her hands, and she felt a startling jolt of emotion tingle between them. Not wanting to examine that, she said quietly, "It's hard to believe that we've only just met. The circumstances have taken us so far beyond social pleasantries."
"I know. I feel the same." His deep voice was perilously close to a caress. Uneasy, she released his hands and found blood on her palms. "You're injured!" He inspected his hands as if surprised. "Only scrapes from the stone."
"They need to be cleaned. Infection can flare quickly in this climate." She bit her lip. "As mistress of my household, I was always prepared for emergencies-salves, bandages, pills, and teas as needed. Now I have nothing to work with."
"I have some salve here, I believe. The longer I stay, the more Suryo moves up from the Helena."
"If you bring a cloth and a
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