Shalador's Lady (23 page)

G
ray led the newest member of the household out to the corner of the yard that sheltered the pots containing the twelve honey pear seedlings. Going down on one knee, he waited for the Sceltie to join him.

Compared to Vae, who had more self-assurance than a dozen people combined, Khollie seemed so . . .

breakable. Or maybe the dog was still feeling bruised by Ranon’s initial rejection and was afraid of being sent away.

“Come here, Khollie,” Gray said gently.

Woeful eyes. Hopeful tail-tip wag.

“See these?” Gray pointed to the pots. “These are honey pears. They are very special trees. You do not pee on them.”

*I did not pee on the little trees. Only the big trees.*

“I know you didn’t pee on them”—yet—“but I want you to understand that we never pee on these trees.”

*Humans too?*

“Yes, humans too. These trees are very, very special, and we all have to protect them.”

The head came up, the ears came up, and the tail began wagging in earnest. *I will help you protect the little trees when I am not helping Ranon protect Shira.*

“Who’s protecting what?” Ranon asked, carrying a mug of coffee in each hand.

*Ranon!* The shout went out on a common psychic thread. *Do not pee on the little trees or Gray will bite you.*

Oh, the look on Ranon’s face.

Gray bit his lip to keep from laughing until Khollie trotted off to check the boundaries of his and Vae’s personal territory, which was the land that belonged to the Residence.

“Do you think there is anyone in the surrounding cottages who didn’t hear that?” Ranon asked in a strangled voice.

“No.” Gray’s voice broke with the effort not to laugh. “I think everyone on this street and the next two over knows not to pee on the little trees.”

“Shit.” Ranon handed him one of the mugs.

“He bruises easily,” Gray said quietly. “His feelings, I mean.”

“I figured that out, Gray. Not soon enough, but I did figure that out. It just takes a lot longer to fix the damage than to do the damage.”

“Do you think they made a mistake with him? Maybe he’s too young to be away from people who understand Scelties.”

Ranon shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. He’s here. Would you want to be sent home from your first assignment?”

Gray looked away, feeling his own heart ache a little.

Ranon swore. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

“Never had a first assignment—or any assignment. My training stopped when I was fifteen.”

“Do you want to resume that training?” Ranon asked.

Gray nodded. He’d spent a lot of time thinking while he’d worked in the gardens here. “I want to be able to protect and defend. That’s what I was meant to do. I grew up being told I was Theran’s blade, and I was educated to protect the Grayhaven line—until I was captured.”

“You were Theran’s blade, and now you want to be Cassie’s blade. Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

They sipped their coffee and watched Khollie and Vae flush a rabbit out of the kitchen garden and herd it right into Darcy’s jaws.

“Now what?” Ranon asked as the three Scelties snarled at one another for a minute before Darcy and Vae each grabbed a rabbit leg and the three dogs trotted away with their kill. “Khollie and Vae want the rabbit for us, and Darcy wants the rabbit for Soli.”

“They’ll take it to Cassidy, who will figure out a way for both households to have some of the meat so all three Scelties will be happy,” Gray replied.

“The duties of a Queen.” Ranon drained his mug. Then he sighed. “I came out here to ask a favor.”

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you too.”

“All right. Mine. Shira is supposed to take a last look at the cottages she was interested in. Something about this is making her unhappy, but she won’t talk to me or Cassidy about it. I was hoping, if you attached yourself as her escort, she might talk to you. I’d go with her and try again to find out what’s wrong, but I have to go to the Keep today. I’m just waiting for Cassidy to finish a letter to her mother before I head out.”

“I can keep Shira company,” Gray said.

“Thanks. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to learn the Fire Dance.” He saw Ranon’s initial surprise change to thoughtful assessment.

“Have you and Cassidy . . . ?”

Gray shook his head.

“Because of Yaslana’s rules about you having sex?”

He shook his head again. “When Cassie looks at me, she doesn’t see a man. I don’t know how to explain it. We kiss and we touch, and it’s good. Mother Night, it’s good. But there is something in me that is holding her back from letting me be her lover all the way. So I thought the Fire Dance . . .”

Ranon’s hand felt warm on his shoulder.

“I’ll teach you,” Ranon said. “And this autumn, when that full moon rises, you’ll dance with your Brothers.”

They walked back to the house, left the mugs in the kitchen, and went their separate ways.

As Gray went to find Shira, it occurred to him that Ranon wouldn’t have asked a man he thought was deficient in any way to stand escort to the woman who held his heart.

Kermilla looked through her mail again and sighed.

There were the usual reports from her Steward, saying the same things he said every time about the length of her visit to Dena Nehele—but hinting more strongly this time that it would be in all of their best interests if she returned to Bhak and took care of the villages she ruled. As if she were another Freckledy who really wanted to rule a sheep-shit village. Why did she need to be there? The men in her First Circle had been working that village for the five years they’d served Cassidy. They knew how to keep the landens in Woolskin leashed and how to discourage any complaints the Blood in Bhak might have about how the village was being ruled. If the person couldn’t be discouraged from complaining, her males should make certain the complaint went no further than her own Steward. After all, their reputations and ambitions were as much at stake as hers, and were, in fact, dependent on hers.

But this time, along with all the dull reports, there were letters from a couple of aristo friends. Those letters talked about parties and picnics, moonlight rides and concerts—and hinted about a daring new gown being designed for the autumn season.

What could she write about? She was stuck in a town that thought outdoor concerts and having a dozen people for dinner at an aristo’s house was outrageous and daring. And the clothes! Hell’s fire, she was from Dharo, the Territory for weaving and fabric of the finest quality. Even the meanest cloth that was only fit for landens in Dharo was better than the best she could find in this dung-gray town.

And Theran was always busy. Doing what? Who could tell! Nothing interesting. Maybe she should summon Jhorma. Playing with her Consort would fill an hour or so. But they would need to be discreet.

She’d invited Theran to her bed two nights ago, and now he seemed to think that gave him an exclusive claim. Maybe if he was bedding a merchant’s daughter who wanted to climb the social ladder, but it would take a more lucrative offer than having him as a lover before she would consider giving him anything exclusive. Besides, enthusiasm couldn’t replace skill, and a lover who brought his heart to the bed didn’t provide the same pleasure as a man who had been trained to please a woman’s body.

Despite the impression he gave of being in charge, Theran really didn’t have much understanding about how courts worked, and the privileges that were hers simply because she was a Queen. But he really did care about her even if he was rather dull most of the time, and she did want to help him rule this land and make it wonderful again. For a few years, anyway.

But that was the exciting future when she would be the Queen of Dena Nehele, and this was the boring, boring, boring now.

A sigh made her look up at the only other person in the room.

“You really study this all the time?” Correne asked, closing the book of Protocol she’d been staring at for the past hour.

Kermilla nodded. “From the first year of schooling to the last. And anyone who actually serves in a court studies even more because court Protocol is more demanding.”

“Well, when I set up my court, I’m going to forbid anyone from using all these tedious, stiff phrases.”

Kermilla sat up, alarmed. “Oh, no, Correne. You must use Protocol, and everyone in your court needs to know it.”

“Why?” Correne asked, pouting. “It’s so dull.”

“Because if you know how to use them correctly, some of those phrases can stop a Warlord Prince from killing someone, or command him to step back from the killing edge before he attacks. Males are controlled by Protocol.”

“What about the things males can demand from females because of Protocol?”

“Oh. Well. A smart woman can figure out how to get around those.” Kermilla smiled at the younger Queen. “Come on, let’s go into the town and do some shopping.”

Correne looked more unhappy. “Can’t. I spent all the marks I was given, and my father won’t send more until next month.”

“Oh.” Her smile turned sly. “I’ll show you how to purchase a few things without having to pay a single copper for any of it.”

Gray studied the two-story house and the neighboring one-story building, and said, “This is perfect.” He glanced at Shira, who seemed painfully unhappy as she looked at the place that would be a wonderful residence for a Healer. “Let’s take a look around.”

She followed him with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm, but he led her around to the back. The small barn was big enough for a couple of horses, and its paddock bordered the pasture for the court’s stables. The backyard had plenty of land for a kitchen garden, a Healer’s garden, and the private garden a Black Widow would find useful, and still had enough space for children or dogs to romp. Best of all, this property backed the land belonging to the Queen’s Residence, with only a low stone wall separating the two. And this place, unlike the others he had seen with Shira today, was inside what Ranon and Talon called the “Queen’s square”—the perimeter of streets and houses that would be the most heavily shielded and defended if the village was attacked.

“Enough of this,” Shira said. “Let’s go back to the Residence.”

Gray studied her, bewildered by the pain he saw in her dark eyes. “Why don’t you like this place?”

“Because it’s perfect,” she snapped. “And it’s nothing I can have.”

“Why not?”

She turned on him, her hands clenched. He should have feared her. After all, she was a Black Widow, which meant she had that snake tooth under her right ring fingernail. His Jewels outranked hers—Purple Dusk against Summer-sky—so her venom wouldn’t necessarily kill him, but it might cripple him even if he survived.

“I have no money, Gray.”

“But . . .” He called in the paper the village elders had given to Powell. It was a list of land and buildings all around Eyota that the court could have for the asking—property that had no surviving family left to claim it. “This place is on the list. You don’t need money.”

“What about furniture? What about a worktable and storage cupboards for tonics and brews and dried herbs? What about tools? What about blankets and linens and healing supplies?”

“The Queen’s gift . . .”

Shira shook her head fiercely. “No. I can justify what I have in the room at the Residence as a court expense, but I can’t expect the court to supply a place like this. And Cassidy shouldn’t pay for something beyond the court.”

“But you like this place.” He had an idea, but he needed to be sure of her first.

“Yes, I like this place.”

“Okay.” He looked around, then checked the list again. “I want to take a look at those two cottages.

They’re on the list too.”

“Suit yourself.” Shira sighed. “My apologies, Gray. I’m feeling sorry for myself, and I have no right to feel that way. The Shalador people have more now than we had dreamed possible a year ago, and I’m the court Healer to a Queen I like and admire. No Healer could ask for a better way to serve her people than to care for such a Queen.” She gave him a wobbly smile. “We’re almost home, so why don’t I take the horse and pony cart back to the—”

“No.”

She blinked at him.

“No,” Gray said again. “I’m standing as your escort today. If you want to go back now, we’ll go back. But you’re not going alone.”

“I can see the Residence from where I’m standing,” Shira said when she finally found her voice. “I can see the stables’ pastures from where I’m standing. Hell’s fire, Vae and Archerr and Cassidy are standing in the yard right now watching us.”

Lucivar had said, “Strong women can get bitchy about Protocol when they think you’re being bossy or overprotective or whatever damn thing they think you’re being. Sometimes it’s smart to give in, but if you know you’re right, set your heels down, boyo, and be a polite, courteous wall.”

He had the feeling Lucivar was still working on the polite and courteous part, but the man sure did know how to set his heels down.

“I could climb over the back wall and be home,” Shira said.

“Fine,” Gray said. “Then I’ll assist you over the wall.”

“And when you need help to do what should be done,” Lucivar had said, “ask for it.”

*Vae?* Gray called. *I need you.*

Shira began sputtering at him that she didn’t need help and didn’t notice Vae heading toward them until the Sceltie jumped the wall.

*Shira? Shira! Why are you acting like a hissy cat?*

“You,” Shira sputtered, glaring at him. “You . . .”

Whatever she was going to call him got lost in Khollie’s joyous *Shira!* as he got over the wall and joined them.

“Shira wants to go home now, and I have something else I need to do, so would the two of you escort her home?”

*We will take care of Shira,* Khollie said, his tail wagging as he looked up at Ranon’s mate.

“Fine.” Shira stomped off with two furry escorts who were more implacable than any Warlord Prince would dare to be.

At least she’s not unhappy anymore, Gray thought. But he figured it would be prudent to stay out of her way until Ranon got home.

*Gray?* Archerr asked. *Is everything all right?*