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A chill raced up her spine. Keeping her gaze locked with his, Jekri returned the nod of acknowledgment She recalled the words of the Praetor / think you may have overlooked something, and I think you need to get back into the Empress's good graces very, very quickly. And I think, Little Dagger, that you need to watch your back. She returned to scanning the room.

"You're slipping, Little Dagger," came the nasal, high-pitched drawl of the Praetor. Startled, Jekri whirled He had managed to come up behind her completely unnoticed.

"Either that or your stealth skills are improving," she said, keeping her voice calm. "Have you tried the ale yet, Praetor? It's quite a superior vintage."

"The Empress's cellars are stocked with nothing less than superior vintages, and always have been," replied the Praetor quietly. His dark eyes flitted about the room. He did not look directly at Jekri. "It's not like you to waste time in idle conversation."

'It's not like me to be at formal functions at all," said Jekri. "Yet the Empress seemed adamant that I attend, even though I have her work to be about."

"It's not at her command you're here," said the Praetor. He nodded toward a small circle of people who had entered the room in a cluster. At their center was the tall, handsome alien calling himself a

Shepherd. Lhiau laughed and beamed and in general tried to conduct himself like a jolly ambassador. It made Jekri's stomach churn.

"It's at his."

Jekri's heart lurched. Her face revealed nothing, of course; she would not let it. Why did Lhiau particularly desire her here tonight? What nasty little surprise was in store for her?

"Watch yourself tonight, Little Dagger." With that ominous declaration, the Praetor stepped forward and blended into the crowd.

At that moment, Lhiau slowly turned his head and looked directly at Jekri. He smiled, and that smile could not have been more unsettling if he had had a mouthful of pointed teeth.

Still don't like me, eh, Little Dagger? Pity. We're both on the same side, you know.

The voice was inside her head, every bit as mocking as if Lhiau had uttered the words aloud. Jekri did not look away. She thought of the smooth taste of Romulan ale, of Verrak's strong body, of the little mind-puzzles that sometimes absorbed her whole attention. She thought of everything but how much she disliked and distrusted Lhiau.

His beautiful features were marred by a slight frown for a moment. Got you, Jekri thought before she could censor it.

For a moment only, Little Dagger. For a moment only.

The sweet jangling sound of the ritual summoning bell broke the link. It was time to head into the feast hall for dinner. Jekri summoned her strength, did her

utmost to mask her thoughts, and entered with the others.

The Romulans were proud of their heritage. Most important buildings were models of efficiency, contemporary sites with up-to-the-minute technology and comforts. Only the palace remained as a monument to the past, though even its trappings of bygone eras were essentially a facade. There were torches, hearth fires, and candles, but the room was climate controlled, and there were alternative forms of lighting available. The plates and the food items they held would be sent back to the replicators after the meal. The private rooms, Jekri knew, were as contemporary as her own offices.

But the candle's flame burned like any other, the ale was real, and the chairs and tables at which the guests seated themselves were genuine antiques.

Jekri did not care if she sat on a chair built yesterday or one on which an emperor of centuries ago had placed his royal posterior. She had not scrabbled in the dirt of the poorest province on the planet for riches and the trappings of decadence. She had done it for power, and now that power was in jeopardy.

There were name cards, another outdated and annoying tradition, and it took the assembled guests some time to find their seats. Jekri headed for the head table,