Shalador's Lady (40 page)

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Khollie and I are going to get something to eat.”

She rolled over to look at Khollie, who gave her a quick lick on the chin before jumping off the bed.

“Oh,” she said. “All right.”

As Ranon let them out of the room, he heard her muffled sob.

He closed the door as quietly as he could, but he’d barely taken a step before Cassie’s door opened and Gray stood there.

He knew about Yaslana’s rules concerning Gray and Cassie’s physical relationship. Hell’s fire, everyone knew about Lucivar’s rules. But he wasn’t going to ask where Gray was sleeping tonight.

Gray looked down and smiled. “Hey, Khollie.”

Khollie wagged his tail and whined softly.

“We’re going downstairs,” Ranon said.

Gray nodded and closed the door.

When they reached the back door, Khollie stood in the doorway, trembling.

*Khollie?* Vae joined them. *Are you going outside? I have to go too. We will go together. Ranon will guard us.*

“Yes, I will.” He put an Opal shield around the backyard. Nothing would get in—or out—without him knowing about it.

He stood in the doorway, watching, and didn’t turn when Gray came up behind him.

“I told Cassie that Khollie woke up,” Gray said. “She wants to cry by herself for a little while.”

“Shira is crying too.” Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask, but there was no one else he could ask. “Will Khollie be all right, Gray?”

Those green eyes held too much knowledge. Then Gray said, “We’ll help him be all right.”

S
aetan sat on the wide arm of a stuffed chair and watched a storm gather in one of the Keep’s sitting rooms.

The first warning of trouble had been the two Warlords who arrived at the Keep a couple days ago. They wanted passage through the Gate in order to return to Dharo—and they brought the body of another man.

The second warning had come in a note from Daemon yesterday, requesting his presence at a meeting.

Official, careful wording. Not a message from son to father but from Consort to Steward.

When Jaenelle was pissed off about something, she didn’t seem to remember that she no longer had an official court.

And no one was ballsy enough to remind her. Including him.

The third warning was Daemon’s note to Draca, asking the Keep’s Seneschal to accommodate several overnight guests.

Saetan wanted to believe the meeting was being held at the Keep to accommodate Lucivar, who still felt uneasy about leaving Marian on her own for too long. But when the others began to arrive, he knew why Jaenelle had chosen the Keep: It was the Sanctuary—and lair—of Witch.

Jaenelle and Daemon arrived first. She wore a cobwebby, spidersilk dress known as Widow’s weeds, and her Jewel was mostly Gray with streaks of Red and Sapphire—and a single thread of Black. Daemon wore a face that revealed nothing of his thoughts or feelings. He wasn’t there as Jaenelle’s husband or Consort or as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. He was in that room as the Queen’s weapon.

Lucivar walked in. “Cat, what’s this—” He looked at Daemon’s face and didn’t finish the question.

Sabrina came in next, tense and nervous, followed by Aaron, Morghann, and Khardeen.

Four of Jaenelle’s childhood friends, Saetan thought as he watched Sabrina greet the others. Four people who had served in Witch’s First Circle. Wil they stil be friends when this discussion is over?

Jaenelle sat on a half sofa across from several chairs. Daemon sat beside her, his right arm stretched out over the sofa’s back, looking calm and lazy.

Saetan watched the way Lucivar prowled the room without ever turning his back to Daemon and felt a shiver of fear.

The women sat. Aaron and Khardeen remained on their feet, tense and alert.

Then Karla walked into the room.

“Kiss kiss. Sorry I’m late.” She made her way to the chair closest to Saetan’s. “I was trying to undo an . .

. incident . . . that turned a large white cat into a bright pink and blue cat.”

A flash of warm humor from Jaenelle flowed through the room. “Did you fix it?”

“When I left, KaeAskavi was an evenly tinted mauve cat—and he was not happy.”

That produced a few chuckles, but the humor quickly faded as all their attention focused on Jaenelle.

“I received a letter from Cassidy yesterday,” she said. “I felt you should all know what happened and that we should come to an agreement about what will—and will not—be done.”

She called in the letter and handed it to Daemon. Lucivar immediately came around to the back of the sofa to read over his brother’s shoulder.

Daemon read the letter and handed it to Khardeen. That beautiful face revealed nothing, and there was nothing Saetan could detect on a psychic thread, even at the level of the Black. Daemon had his emotions tightly leashed.

But the room grew cold.

Lucivar, on the other hand, began swearing softly, viciously in Eyrien as he resumed his prowling.

Hot anger. Cold fury. The room filled with temper as, one by one, the friends who had been First Circle in the Dark Court at Ebon Askavi read Cassidy’s letter. Finally Karla read it and passed it to him as he called in his half-moon glasses.

How many times did Cassidy write that letter before she achieved sentences that were so carefully honest? She didn’t accuse anyone of anything. She didn’t offer opinions or feelings. She didn’t report anything that hadn’t been witnessed. She didn’t say Kermilla had given the order, but there wasn’t a single person in the room who couldn’t read between the lines. The only break from that control was Cassidy’s excessive assurances that Khollie was still a little frightened because of the incident but they were confident that he would recover completely.

Which meant there had been some doubt that Khollie would recover at all.

“What in the name of Hell is going on there?” Khary said.

“This wasn’t Cassie’s fault,” Aaron snapped, instantly ready to defend his cousin.

“I didn’t say it was,” Khary snapped back. “But something should be done.”

“Nothing will be done,” Jaenelle said quietly. “At least, not by us.”

Daemon stiffened. Nothing anyone else would notice, but Saetan had been keeping a wary eye on him and saw the change.

He knows something. Or suspects something. But his tongue, like his temper, is held by the Queen’s will, and he’ll tell us nothing.

“What is Kermilla still doing in Dena Nehele anyway?” Sabrina snarled.

“You were aware she had gone to visit Cassidy?” Jaenelle asked.

“And aware of her mistreatment of a servant while she was a guest there. Believe me, that will weigh heavily in my decision about whether she’s going to continue ruling anything in my Territory.” Sabrina paced back and forth behind the chairs. “But that happened in early summer. We’re into the autumn harvest now.

What’s she still doing there?”

“Causing more trouble?” Khary suggested.

“Khary,” Morghann said in quiet warning.

“Don’t hush him, Morghann, he’s right,” Sabrina said. “Kermilla has no business being there, and it’s past time to go to Dena Nehele and haul the bitch’s ass home.”

“No,” Saetan said. “You can’t take action outside of your own Territory, Sabrina. That line was drawn thousands of years ago, and it does not—cannot—change.” Because that was the line Dorothea and Hekatah crossed in their efforts to take control of the whole Realm of Terreille. As much as I love all of you, for the good of the Realms and the Blood, I wil kill any one of you who tries to cross that line.

He glanced at Jaenelle and saw the way Witch looked at him. Looked through him.

And if it came to that, she would expect me to do nothing less. “Besides,” he continued. “Kermilla is, and has been, Theran Grayhaven’s guest these past few weeks, not Cassidy’s. If the Queen of Dena Nehele wants Kermilla out of her Territory, it’s up to her to take care of it—and her First Circle has the strength to do it without help.”

“Cassidy’s too polite,” Sabrina snapped at him, then turned to Jaenelle. “They have a history. You know that.”

Jaenelle’s sapphire eyes held Sabrina. A moment passed. Two.

Saetan wished fiercely that he was privy to that psychic thread and knew what passed between the two women. Because something had surprised Sabrina enough to drain the Dharo Queen’s temper.

“Are you asking me to be blind to what’s happening?” Sabrina asked.

“Outside of your own borders, yes,” Jaenelle replied. Then her lips curved in a sharp, chilly smile. “Would I ask you to be blind to what’s happening within your own borders? Never.” She considered. “Almost never.”

Four Queens who began ruling at a young age—as soon as they had made the Offering to the Darkness, in fact. Each one was capable of great compassion—and of being totally ruthless. Saetan watched them, certain that in these few seconds of silence they had reached an agreement of how they would work together to achieve a desired result without crossing that unforgivable line.

As curious as he was about what had passed between Sabrina and Jaenelle, he was equally certain that he didn’t want to know what the four Queens had decided to do. And maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to know. After all, he was supposed to be retired from the living Realms.

And the sun might shine in Hell tomorrow.

*Coward,* Daemon said softly on a Black spear thread.

A hint of humor, of relaxation. The Queen’s weapon would not be needed tonight.

“The Warlord who acted on Kermilla’s orders came from Dharo?” Sabrina asked thoughtfully.

“That’s the assumption, since he didn’t come from Dena Nehele,” Jaenelle replied.

“And the body was brought back to Kaeleer,” Saetan said. When they all stared at him, he lifted an eyebrow. “Draca opened the Gate for them. If you think anyone is more qualified to decide who may use the Gate here at the Keep, then you can take it up with her.”

Jaenelle was the only person who might be able to challenge Draca’s decision and overrule the Seneschal about who could or couldn’t use the Gate. Since she seemed to have no objection, the rest of them backed away from any criticism they might have had.

“How many men are in Kermilla’s First Circle?” Karla asked.

“Twelve.” Sabrina stared at Karla. “She had the same twelve men who had been Cassidy’s First Circle.”

Karla’s lips curved in a wicked smile. “Then Kermilla’s court is broken, isn’t it?”

“Technically, yes,” Saetan said. “But no court that’s sound breaks because of a death, even when there aren’t more than twelve males in the First Circle. The court continues for a few days, sometimes even weeks, while the Queen considers the men in the Second Circle and decides who will be invited to fill the opening in the First Circle.”

“I don’t think she has a Second Circle, Uncle Saetan,” Sabrina said. “The First and Second Circles are paid with the Queen’s tithes. Cassidy didn’t need more than her First Circle to work exclusively on the court’s behalf, so she didn’t have anyone in her Second Circle except youngsters who were with her for training and court polish. I know she paid them because Darlena, the Province Queen who rules that part of Dharo, had been impressed by Cassidy’s generosity as well as by the number of requests she received from youngsters of all castes who were willing to serve in a small village court because of that generosity.

Darlena also noticed how many of those youngsters retracted their requests when they learned that Kermilla now ruled Bhak instead of Cassidy. So I don’t think the current Queen of Bhak has anyone who can fill the vacant place in her court.”

“Which means the court is broken,” Aaron said.

“Not yet,” Jaenelle said quietly, looking at Sabrina.

Sabrina tipped her head. “If her court doesn’t tell me, I can pretend not to know.”

Aaron swore but did nothing else because he, like the rest of them, knew there was a reason Jaenelle wanted some things to be ignored.

Even if she chose not to tell any of them the reason.

“There was an interesting miscalculation when the summer tithes for Bhak and Woolskin were sent to Darlena’s Steward,” Sabrina continued. “It was swiftly corrected, but Gallard had never made that kind of miscalculation when he served Cassidy.”

“Tried to short the Province Queen of her rightful share of the tithes?” Khary asked.

Sabrina’s smile was sufficient answer. “I think my Steward and Darlena’s should personally collect the autumn tithes from a few of the District Queens and review their court accounts.” She looked at Jaenelle.

“Don’t you think? That would be a fair warning to a Queen who had been granted a provisional year to prove herself—especially if she truly wanted to retain those villages as her territory.”

“Who gives a piss about being fair?” Lucivar growled.

Saetan felt his temper rise, but before he could respond, Daemon said mildly, “We all give a piss about being fair when it buys needed time.”

Lucivar stopped prowling and stared at Daemon. “Oh. That kind of being fair. All right, fine. But someone should still go to Dena Nehele and explain to that bitch that a young Warlord can’t be snatched off the street just because he has four legs and fur.”

“That’s been taken care of,” Jaenelle said.

“By who?” Lucivar demanded.

“By someone who can explain things even better than you.” Jaenelle smiled at Lucivar.

Lucivar took a step back and resumed his prowling.

After a few moments of uneasy silence, Khary said, “There might not be much we can do about Kermilla right now, but I can go to Eyota tomorrow and bring Khollie home.”

“I don’t think you can take Khollie anywhere without a fight,” Jaenelle said.

Khary gave Jaenelle, then Morghann, a hard stare. “He’s delicate. You both know that. And Ranon didn’t want him in the first place.”

“What was true then isn’t true now. Ranon needed some time to gain clarity in his feelings.”

Khary made a rude noise. “He’s—”

“One of us,” Jaenelle said quietly.

Silence as the men took a long moment to assess the implications of that statement.

One of us, Saetan thought. Those three words told him a great deal about Ranon—and explained even more why Jaenelle had avoided telling him any details about her meeting with the Shalador Warlord Prince.