With a glare at Dimitri’s bristling manner, Josef attempted to ease the rising hostility in the room.
“What could be more powerful than the desire for revenge?” he demanded.
Dimitri folded his arms over his chest. “Fear.”
Josef absently stroked a finger over the scar marring his cheek.
“You believe he fears the loss of his position as a diplomat?”
“No,” Dimitri readily denied. Koman was a self-indulgent pig who cared for nothing beyond his own pleasure. “It has to be a greater threat than his career.”
“His wealth?”
Dimitri nodded. “Or his life.”
Rajih made a sound of impatience. “You make no sense, Tipova. What possible gain could be in forcing Koman to testify against you?”
Dimitri’s attention snapped back to the caliph, his suspicions a hard knot in the pit of his stomach.
“Tell me what the pasha has decided.”
“Obviously, he has been put in an awkward situation.” Rajih paused, as if carefully considering his words. “He has long considered me a trusted advisor, but he cannot be seen to ignore the accusations of the Russian ambassador who also happens to be a powerful nobleman.”
A cold, humorless smile curved Dimitri’s lips. His cunning mind was already devising various plans of escape that did not include the pasha or Caliph Rajih.
“I sympathize with his dilemma, but that does not reveal what he intends to do with me.”
“Or me,” Josef muttered.
“He has sent an advisor to St. Petersburg to speak with Czar Alexander before a decision is made.”
Dimitri exchanged a startled glance with Josef. Was his mysterious enemy unaware that Alexander Pavlovich owed him several favors and assumed the czar would be happy to leave Dimitri rotting in a foreign prison? Or was this simply a delaying tactic?
He had first assumed that Koman’s petition to the pasha was an attempt to punish him. It could be an opponent who desired him to be distracted for some nefarious purpose.
And he knew precisely who would desire him to be distracted.
“A tidy means of avoiding responsibility,” he mocked.
Rajih silently studied Dimitri’s forbidding expression, his hand instinctively reaching to curl around the hilt of his sword.
“You should be grateful. It was within his power to have you executed.”
Dimitri was in no mood to be appreciative. “Am I to remain a prisoner while the advisor is in Russia?”
“A guest.”
“A guest who is unable to leave the citadel?” he growled.
Rajih shifted his weight, his fingers tightening on his sword.
“An unfortunate necessity.”
Dimitri refused to be intimidated, regardless of the stupidity of confronting an armed man with nothing more than his bare hands.
“It is also a predictable response.”
Rajih narrowed his gaze. “Predictable?”