Shalador's Lady (47 page)

Her parents and brother were joining her for Winsol here in Eyota. She still had some shopping to do, as well as some social events to attend as the Queen before she could be a daughter for a few days.

“Is there anything more?” she asked.

“Nothing that needs your attention,” Gray replied.

She considered the phrasing and was fairly certain she’d just been asked to leave.

“Come on, Shira,” she said. “We have drumming tonight, so Maydra is going to serve dinner in a few minutes.”

“I should—” Shaddo jerked, then gave Gray a sharp look.

“This won’t take long,” Gray said, smiling at Cassidy.

Ranon released the Opal lock on the door, and Cassidy and Shira left the room.

“That man has been spending too much time with Jaenelle’s First Circle,” Cassidy muttered. “He’s starting to sound like them.”

“Is that bad?” Shira asked as they walked up to their rooms.

“You couldn’t budge those men with a sledgehammer once they’d set their minds to something.”

Shira laughed. Foolish woman.

Going into her room, Cassidy sat on the bed and brushed a finger over the leather cover of the book.

Jared and Lia when they were young. Before their world had turned dark and terrible and bloody. She had never found any journals at Grayhaven from Lia’s younger years. Maybe the woman hadn’t started keeping a journal until she was a little older.

And maybe this would give her a glimpse of the young Queen who, in the last months of her life, had left behind the clues that led to the treasure Cassidy had found.

She opened the book, then closed it and put it on the bedside table. There was always a quiet afternoon or two during Winsol. That was family tradition. She would save the book for one of those days.

Gray waited until Ranon restored the Opal lock on the room. Then he faced the men who formed the First Circle. “A few months ago, Theran told me straight out he intended to break the court and set up Kermilla as the Queen of Dena Nehele.”

“When the sun shines in Hell,” Archerr snarled. “I’ve already had my fill of that bitch.”

“Since then, I’ve been going up to the Keep once a week to study with the High Lord, and sometimes Daemon and Lucivar as well. They gave me the training needed to stand as a Queen’s First Escort. This was the last time. By their standards, I’m qualified to serve in a court.”

Silence. Then Talon snorted. “If you meet their standards, no one here is going to dispute your credentials.”

The rest of the men nodded.

“I was also given this.” He called in the paper and set in on the table in front of Powell and Talon.

“Mother Night,” Powell said after reading it through twice. “I didn’t know anyone could write something so devastatingly courteous.”

“Who did write this?” Talon asked.

“The High Lord. Daemon said Saetan was very exact about the Protocol used to demote a member of the court for failure to fulfill his duties.”

“This holds Theran to his contract with the court, but it also strips him of the title of First Escort and ends his status as part of the Queen’s Triangle.” Powell looked at Gray. “The moment you sign a contract with Cassie, the court stands, with or without Theran.”

“Without Theran,” Gray said quietly. “No matter what else happens, the court will stand without Theran.”

He’d had plenty of time to think about that on the way home. He still loved his cousin, still cared about the man. But he wouldn’t want a Warlord Prince who couldn’t be loyal anywhere near his Queen.

“It pains me to say it, but I agree,” Talon said.

“What now?” Ranon asked.

“I was told we should put this aside and enjoy Winsol,” Gray said. “I think that’s what we should do.”

“Any of you who want to visit family, we’ll work out a way to give you a few days’ leave,” Talon said.

Yes, they would put it aside and enjoy Winsol, Gray thought as he went upstairs to wash up for dinner.

Men like Shaddo would savor the days with their children. Others would spend a few days with brothers or sisters or parents—the people they had seen only during hurried, secret visits for so many years.

They would visit them now, openly—perhaps for the last time.

That was the truth behind Talon’s words—the acknowledgment that, come spring, not all of them would walk away from the killing fields.

T
heran waited in the front hall for Kermilla. It would have looked, and felt, less clumsy if he’d waited in his study, but he wasn’t sure she would seek him out, and he didn’t want to miss this chance to see her one last time.

He’d known this was coming, had seen it in her eyes after he’d told her about Correne’s death. The males in Dena Nehele weren’t sufficiently civilized for a vivacious young woman like Kermilla, and Correne’s savage execution made her realize she wasn’t as safe here as she’d thought. Being a Queen had never saved any witch from a Warlord Prince’s knife if her actions snapped the leash that held back a formidable temper. Without the security of a court or the presence of more than one man she could trust with her life, leaving was the prudent thing for her to do.

But, Hell’s fire, it hurt that she was leaving the day before Winsol began. Thirteen days of celebration that honored the Darkness; honored Witch, the living myth; celebrated the longest night of the year; and marked the last days of the old year.

Every aristo family still living in the town had invited him and Kermilla to parties or dinners or outings of one kind or another. Nothing overly sophisticated about any of those activities, he supposed, but he’d been looking forward to all of it—and would still have to attend out of duty, if not for pleasure.

Kermilla came down the stairs, hesitating on the last step when she saw him. He walked up to her, almost eye to eye with her since the step gave her a few added inches.

“You’re ready to go?” he asked, taking her hands in his.

“Yes.” She tried, but she couldn’t manage her usual flirtatious smile. “I should have told you sooner that I was needed back in Dharo. I thought . . .” Her voice trailed off.

I guess being with me isn’t enticement enough for you to stay. The thought saddened him. “I have something for you.” It was tempting to add “It’s not much,” but he was afraid she would agree with him, despite how much he’d paid for the gift.

He called in the box and gave it to her.

The excited light in her eyes when she took the box faded when she opened it.

He’d been right. Kermilla didn’t think much of his gift. There was only one good jeweler left in Grayhaven.

He’d been honest with the man about how many gold marks he could spend, and he’d thought the delicate silver bracelet was as fine a piece as any he’d seen in Lia’s jewelry box—the old box Cassidy had found that had contained the gifts Lia had received from her husband and children.

“Thank you.” Kermilla closed the box and vanished it.

Not even good enough to put on so he could see her wearing it before she left. Not even good enough for that.

The front door opened. Julien stood in the doorway, letting fresh cold air fill the entrance.

“The carriage is out front, if Lady Kermilla is ready to go to the Coach station,” Julien said. When Theran didn’t move, he came in and closed the door.

“It was a lovely visit,” Kermilla said. She couldn’t quite make the words sound sincere.

“I’m glad you were here,” Theran said. “I’ll miss you.”

He waited, still blocking the steps.

She gave him a look that was polite but a trifle annoyed. “I have to get to the station. It’s a long journey, and there will be a lot to do when I get home.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then stepped aside. He escorted her out to the carriage and watched until she passed through the gates of the estate.

“Would you like some coffee brought to your study?” Julien asked.

“Yes, thank you.” He could occupy himself with paperwork. There was always plenty of paperwork.

Once he was inside the room, he looked around carefully.

Nothing out of place. Nothing added.

He had hoped, but it appeared that had been foolish.

Despite what she’d hinted, despite what she’d told him, apparently none of the gold marks she’d spent had been on a gift for him.

KAELEER

Kermilla huddled in the back of the horse-drawn cab. Damn driver hadn’t even offered her a lap rug to ease the chill inside the cab, let alone the spell-warmed lap rug he should have offered the Queen who ruled his village. He hadn’t put a warming spell on the inside of the cab, either, which he also should have done. She could create the warming spell herself, but that wasn’t the point. A Queen shouldn’t have to do menial spells when there were others around to tend to her needs.

And that was a lesson this particular driver was going to learn very soon.

Having made that decision, she stared out the cab’s window.

Snow. Big, fluffy flakes of snow. Wasn’t that festive? Wasn’t that a lovely way to return to sheep-shit Bhak?

Thank the Darkness she had a few dresses that would be suitable for the Winsol celebrations, including the red dress she’d bought yesterday. It wasn’t the quality she was accustomed to, but people would be impressed that she’d lowered her standards in order to be a gracious guest and buy some dresses in Dena Nehele.

Her court would have to spread the word of her return quickly so invitations that might have been discarded in her absence could be sent again. And if all the invitations didn’t make it out, some families would be honored by her presence and the others not only would feel the social sting of their error, they also would feel a sting in their income when she, as their Queen, made a few adjustments to the tithes.

Why had she wasted so much time in Dena Nehele? Why had she wasted herself on those people? They wouldn’t have anything resembling polite society in years, if ever. And the men! Even a standard five-year contract would have been too long to survive among them.

Could she have survived five years among them? Or would one of those Warlord Princes have honed his knife on her bones over something that should have been overlooked in the first place?

She would miss Theran. He’d made her feel special in a way no one else ever had. She would miss him for that.

She called in the jeweler’s box and studied the silver bracelet. Then she vanished it again and sighed. A trinket gift that no one would notice—unless they noticed its lack of quality. How could a man live in a place like the Grayhaven mansion and not understand the difference between a gift of quality and a trinket gift?

The driver pulled up at the Queen’s house. The private side, her side, was completely dark, including the globes that should have lit the front door. On the side reserved for the business of the court, light shone from the window of the Steward’s office, and globes of witchlight lit the public door.

The driver handed her down and drove off without a courteous word or a backward glance. At least the bastard had known better than to ask her to pay a fare.

Despite the lack of welcome, she tried the private door first. Her key wouldn’t open the lock, and the shields permeating the door and walls kept her from using Craft to pass through the wood.

Having no choice, Kermilla stomped to the public door of her house and pounded on it. Hell’s fire! There were lights in the windows, so someone should be around to answer the door. It wasn’t that late.

The door finally opened. A stranger stared at her. “May I help you, Lady?”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I’m the butler.”

“What happened to the other one?” She couldn’t remember his name.

“He resigned.”

She took a step forward. He didn’t step back. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“No, Lady. You have not yet presented a card.”

Stung, she blinked snowflakes out of her eyes. “I’m Kermilla. The Queen of Bhak. This is my house.”

He studied her much too long before stepping back. “In that case, if you would like to step inside, I’ll inform the Steward that you’re here.”

“Never mind that,” she said, storming past him. “I’ll speak with him later. Right now I want to go up to my suite and clean up. Have the cook come to me so I can tell her what I want for dinner.”

“I can’t do that.”

She stopped short when a shield came up in front of her, effectively blocking all access to any of the rooms. She whirled to face him.

“What’s your name?”

“Butler will do.”

Not an answer. Before she could give him a blast of temper, she took a good look at him.

A Purple Dusk Prince. His caste didn’t outrank hers, but his Jewels did.

Footsteps along another hallway. Then Gallard turned the corner and stopped.

“Lady Kermilla! We didn’t expect you,” Gallard said.

“What in the name of Hell is going on?” Kermilla shouted. “Why is this male refusing to let me into my own house?”

“Ah.” Gallard looked uncomfortable. “Come into my office. There’s a lovely fire in there. So comforting on a cold evening such as this. Butler? Could you arrange for another setting?”

Butler tipped his head. “I’ll also inform Housekeeper that a guest room will be needed this evening.”

“Thank you.”

“Guest room?” Kermilla shrieked. “I want—”

“Kermilla, please.”

She saw it in Gallard’s eyes. Nerves. Maybe even fear. Which was why she didn’t say anything when the shield dropped and Gallard took her arm and led her into his office.

“There’s beef stew tonight,” Gallard said. When they reached the small dining table that was against one wall of his office, he released her arm. “Cook added a different spice, I think. Gives the stew a bit of heat.”

“Who is that man?” Kermilla shrugged out of her coat and tossed it toward a chair.

Gallard picked up the coat where it had fallen on the floor and carefully laid it over the chair’s back. “He’s the butler. Considering who he reports to, it is in our best interest to maintain as amiable a relationship with him as possible.”

“Who does he report to?”

“Lady Sabrina’s Steward.”