Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 8

Gray watched Cassie from the corner of his eye and tried not to hover and fuss. Uncle Saetan had sent a note by special messenger warning him that hovering and fussing too much could turn even the most mild-tempered woman into a snarling bitch. Not that Uncle Saetan had put it in those terms, but that was the message.

It was hard not to hover when he was sitting with Cassie, Ranon, and Shira in one of the four-seat squares in the Coach. Powell had claimed one of the seats around the table so he could catch up on paperwork, the other men were split into small groups to talk or not, and Vae was sprawled on the floor where she’d be in the way of the most people, snoring lightly. Talon was in the small bedroom at the back of the Coach. Cassie had insisted he take it so he could stay inside until sunset and not be disturbed by the rest of them when they returned to Grayhaven.

It was hard not to hover when they were sitting side by side. Even harder not to fuss, but she hadn’t snarled at him yet, so he figured he was keeping that tendency fairly well leashed.

Until she marked her spot, vanished the book she was reading, and closed her eyes.

“Tired?” Gray asked, trying to keep his voice casual while everything in him went on alert.

“Just feeling lazy,” she replied.

He glanced at Ranon, whose attention had also sharpened.

Then Shira said, “Thank the Darkness. I wasn’t sure you even knew the word.”

Cassie smiled—and Gray relaxed. He slipped his arm around her and shifted them both so her head rested on his shoulder. He brushed his lips against her hair. “There’s nothing to do for the next little while, so rest, Cassie. Rest.”

“Ranon, why don’t you play for us?” Shira said.

Ranon glared at his lover. Before he could make some excuse or just refuse, Cassie said, “That would be nice.”

Trap set and sprung, Gray thought, fighting to keep a straight face while looking at his friend’s sour expression. Then Ranon called in the Shalador flute and began to play.

The notes meandered like a stream winding its way through a summer meadow. Soft. Easy. Gray wasn’t sure if it was a song or just one note following another. Either way it was peaceful. Within minutes, both women were asleep.

The rustle of paper and the murmur of male voices twined with the flute, and Gray sensed the men relaxing. Their Queen was safe and she was content, so they could afford to let down their guard and rest.

*They’re proud of her,* Ranon said on a psychic spear thread. *She scared the shit out of all of us when she drained herself like that, but there’s a feeling of pride now. Even more than when she defended that landen family.*

*Why wouldn’t they be proud to serve Cassie?* Gray asked.

Ranon didn’t answer for a minute, but the music became bittersweet. *We’ve all seen too much, Gray. We’ve all done too much in defense of our people to trust without reservation. When she stood in front of us that first day, we knew we belonged to her, and that scared every one of us. We didn’t know what kind of woman claimed our loyalty and honor. Now we’ve got a better measure of what kind of Queen we serve, and we’re proud to be in her First Circle, almost to the last man.*

Almost.

Theran sat across from Powell, his face turned to the Coach’s outer wall, shutting them all out, holding himself separate from the rest of them.

It was a shame that Cassie and Theran were back to strained tolerance with each other. The tentative peace that had begun between them after she found Lia’s treasure broke under the strain of her draining her power into the land. They were all back to enduring Theran’s undisguised unhappiness with the Queen he had brought from Kaeleer.

He was sorry that Theran was unhappy, but everyone else at Grayhaven—including the servants—was pleased to be serving Cassie, so Theran was the one who needed to accept the way she ruled. Hopefully once Theran saw how her understanding of the Queen’s connection to the land would help all their people, he would be able to accept her as the Lady who could restore Dena Nehele.

“Do you play chess?” Cassidy asked Shira as they walked from the landing web up to the Grayhaven mansion.

“Yes, I do,” Shira replied at the same time Ranon said, “No, she doesn’t.”

Cassidy laughed. “I was told chess is not a game that should be played between genders. Our style of playing is too different to be compatible.”

“Style of playing?” Ranon muttered. “Being irrational is not a ‘style.’ ”

“In the Dark Court, if a male couldn’t behave himself when playing chess with a female, he was required to play a game of cradle with her as compensation.”

“Cradle?” Shira asked.

“A card game Jaenelle played when she was young and then expanded on later. Well, she and the coven expanded on the basic game. The men loathed playing it because their thinking just wasn’t flexible enough.”

Gray snorted. Ranon growled.

Cassidy looked at Shira, who winked at her but otherwise kept a straight face.

She felt good. Rested. Ready for the next challenge. Tomorrow she would write a general letter to all the Queens in Dena Nehele, gently reminding them of the basic ritual for enriching the land with power. If they, like the Shalador Queens, no longer remembered that ritual, they would be welcome to come to Grayhaven where she would teach them.

She would ask Powell to help her smooth out the writing—or find someone who had skill with words. There had to be a wordsmith or two in a town this size.

As she pondered that, the door opened and Dryden, the butler, stared at her with a peculiar look of relief. For a moment, she thought he was going to lift her off her feet and hug her. Since she was almost as tall as he and had a bit more muscle, the intensity of his psychic scent and expression made her shift her weight and take a step back, bumping into Gray.

“Lady,” Dryden said.

One word. Gray stiffened, but she felt the change in Ranon and knew the Shalador Warlord Prince was rising to the killing edge in response to Dryden’s voice. She reached back and planted her hand against Ranon’s chest, her touch a light chain that was the only thing holding him back.

The other men, who had been loitering to stretch their legs after the Coach ride, moved with purpose now, and the Warlord Princes among them were all rising to the killing edge. As Talon’s second-in-command, if Ranon’s temper snapped the leash, the others would go with him.

And she sensed nothing that would explain the reaction of any of the men—until she began to probe the mansion and picked up psychic scents that were familiar . . . and painful.

“You have visitors, Lady,” Dryden said. “From Dharo. They arrived two days ago. I did inform the Lady that you were not at home, but she said she was a friend and insisted that you were expecting her. Her Consort and escorts confirmed the invitation.”

There was a pleading look in Dryden’s eyes, but it was a struggle just to breathe, and whatever he was trying to tell her was beyond her ability to comprehend.

“Cassie?”

The violence that vibrated in Gray’s voice woke her up, snapped her out of her own bog of disbelief. If he, who was still learning to fit into the skin of an adult Warlord Prince, was that close to attacking her “visitors,” Ranon must be a heartbeat away from slaughter.

And because a part of her wanted to step aside and give Ranon a target for his barely leashed temper, she said briskly, “Since they’ve been here this long, I won’t keep my visitors waiting. Lady Shira, with me, please. Gentlemen, if you two will stand escort then the other men can settle in.”

Having Gray and Ranon with her would be bad enough without the rest of them crowding into the room. Thank the Darkness Theran was still in the Coach. She didn’t need him witnessing this meeting.

As Dryden stepped aside to let them enter, she felt the full weight of male temper at her back and realized that even a direct order now wouldn’t stop any of her First Circle from coming in with her.

She walked into the large parlor and her heart clenched so hard she feared it would stop beating.

The woman who sprang up from one of the stuffed chairs looked as pretty and dainty as ever. The man standing beside her was as handsome as she remembered, but shouldn’t Jhorma look more satisfied? After all, he was pleasuring the woman he’d lusted after. The other three men who had served in her previous court looked embarrassed.

As well they should.

“Lady Kermilla,” Cassidy said with frigid courtesy.

“Oh, la, Cassidy,” Kermilla said. “Is that any way to greet a friend?”

“We aren’t friends.”

Kermilla blinked and looked taken aback.

“Lady Cassidy, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Jhorma said.

“Since you were never pleased to see me, a lie dipped in honey is still a lie,” Cassidy snapped.

Hell’s fire. Who was this bitch who had taken control of her tongue?

*Cassie? Cassie! Gray wants to know why we don’t like this Queen.* Vae paused. *Ranon wants to know too.*

“Oh,” Kermilla cooed. “Is that a Sceltie? Oh, I so envy you having one of the kindred.”

Vae snarled, and the Craft-enhanced sound rumbled through the room.

The men tensed. Kermilla’s smile wobbled.

The thought of locking Kermilla in a room with Vae for a few hours provided just enough humor to smooth out a few of the rough edges of Cassidy’s temper. But not enough of those edges for her to hold on to civility.

“Come with me, Kermilla. I’ll grant you a few minutes of my time, and you can say what you came to say. Privately.” Cassidy turned and looked at Ranon to make sure he got the message.

He didn’t like it. Hated her being in a room alone with a stranger who might be an enemy. But he gave her a curt nod to indicate he would stand aside. Then he focused on the four men who had come with Kermilla, and Cassidy understood the danger. If anything went wrong, those four men were forfeit. The Warlord Princes in Dena Nehele had survived the twisted Queens who had ruled here, and they had survived two years of war against the landens. They wouldn’t hesitate to tear her former court apart.

They might attack anyway if they realized those men were from her former court. Warlord Princes were possessive and territorial, and no one had been prepared for this visit.

“Kermilla, with me,” Cassidy snapped as she turned and walked to the door.

“May I remind you that I outrank you?” Kermilla snapped back.

“May I remind you that you don’t address our Queen in that tone of voice if you want to keep your tongue?” Ranon snarled. “And if rank is the pissing contest you want to have, then you may outrank her but I outrank you.”

*Ranon,* Cassidy said, putting as much steel in her voice as she could.

Those dark eyes blazed with fury. He wasn’t backing down.

*I don’t like her, so please let me hear her out and be done with this,* she told him.

*You don’t need to waste another minute on her.*

He’ll kill her, Cassidy thought, shocked by the truth. It was one thing to think about standing aside and letting him rip into these people; it was quite another to let him do it for no better reason than feeling bitchy and upset.

*No,* Cassidy said. *Prince Ranon, I’m asking you to step back from the killing edge. Let me deal with this, Queen to Queen.*

He struggled to pull back, struggled to obey. Finally, *Your will is my life.*

Words of surrender, of service.

Having gotten that much of a concession from him, she knew he would hold the other men back. But she didn’t dare look at Gray because what she was picking up from his psychic scent wasn’t good. She could only hope that he wouldn’t do anything imprudent in the few minutes she needed to deal with Kermilla.

As she walked out of the room, she brushed past Theran, who looked pale and dazed. Until she dealt with whatever trouble Kermilla had brought to Dena Nehele, she didn’t have the energy to wonder how much Theran had heard, or if it was her temper or Ranon’s that had shocked him. Either way, he said nothing; just watched as she led Kermilla to the smaller parlor that had become the “Ladies’ Room.”

Theran stared at the beautiful young woman struggling to maintain her dignity as she followed Cassidy into the Ladies’ Room. Dark curls framed a triangular face with dainty features and expressive blue eyes.

He felt a burn in his gut and a pull on his heart, and felt the breathless certainty that he had found the Queen he was meant to serve. Now he understood why Archerr, Shaddo, and some of the other Warlord Princes were so enamored with Cassidy. They’d been desperate to serve a Queen, any Queen, and had deluded themselves into believing they felt that burn for Cassidy because they’d had no opportunity to choose between her and another. But now he’d seen the Queen who should have come back with him, who could truly claim the loyalty of the men who formed the First Circle. She was the one he had hoped to find when he went to Kaeleer to beg Daemon Sadi for help. She was the Queen who should be ruling Dena Nehele.

She was the answer to his hopes and dreams.

A friend of Cassidy’s come for a visit? A long visit, he hoped. A lifetime visit, if he could convince the Lady to stay.

“What are you doing here, Kermilla?” Cassidy demanded as soon as the other Queen shut the parlor door.

“I came to see you,” Kermilla replied, her eyes wide and innocent—and on the verge of being filled with an expression of wounded dignity that was as false as everything else about the woman.

Cassidy wondered if Jhorma had figured out by now that there wasn’t much substance once you got past the things that were directly related to Kermilla’s pleasure and personal gratification.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. After all, a flighty young Queen could mature into a solid ruler. But Cassidy wasn’t much interested in being fair anymore where Kermilla was concerned.

“Why?” Cassidy asked.

Kermilla did her sexy pout, but the usual “aren’t I being naughty?” twinkle wasn’t in her blue eyes. “You didn’t answer my letters, so what choice did I have but to interrupt my own duties and come here?”

“I didn’t answer because I have nothing to say to you.”

Kermilla stamped her foot. “Queen’s gift, Cassidy. I need the money you owe me for taking over the court.”

She hadn’t known she could be this furious, hadn’t known this much anger lived inside her. “I owe you nothing.”

“You do! Queen’s gift—”

“Is a gift, not an obligation. And you didn’t take over a court from a retiring Queen, Kermilla. You took my court. There’s a vast difference, and if you can’t see that I suggest you have someone explain it to you.” Someone with big, hard boots that could leave an impression where it might do the girl the most good. “The village treasury has the same amount of marks as when I came to Bhak. A little more, in fact.”

“But that’s the village treasury. Every copper spent from there has to be reported to the Province Queen. Those marks aren’t Queen’s income. I have expenses, Cassidy.”

“So did I, and I had no more than you when I started. Merchants are willing to run an account for a Queen’s personal expenses and court expenses. Those accounts are billed quarterly and deducted from that merchant’s tithe.”

“But they’re sending bills!” Kermilla shouted.

Which meant the girl had already spent past the summer tithe owed by those merchants. Once the tithe was met, a Queen and her court were expected to pay for goods like everyone else in the village.

“Then I suggest you curtail your spending until the harvest tithe,” Cassidy said.

“I’m not like you,” Kermilla snapped. “I know what it takes to look like a Queen and dress like a Queen and act like a Queen. Those things take money.”

“Then talk to your Steward. He’ll tell you how much income you can expect after you settle your obligations to the Province Queen and village treasury, and pay your court.”

“That’s your answer?”

“That my answer. You rule Bhak and Woolskin. Your income comes from their tithes.” And may the Darkness have mercy on those people. “I have work to do, and despite what you told Dryden, you are not a welcome guest. You’ve had your say. Now go. I don’t want you in my Territory.”

Kermilla looked stunned.

Cassidy strode to the door and reached for the handle.

“Cassidy . . . wait.”

She couldn’t wait. Her stomach burned and her bowels were turning to liquid. “Get out of my Territory,” she said harshly. “And take your cocks with you.”

Cassidy brushed past Theran, who was lingering in the hallway, and snapped at Ranon when he intercepted her on the way to her suite and tried to ask if she was all right.

She wasn’t all right. Wouldn’t be all right until Kermilla was back in Dharo and she could lock away all the painful memories. Again.

Kermilla dabbed her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.

Cassidy had been so angry. She had never seen Cassidy like that! And so unwilling to listen.

It had been a mistake bringing Jhorma with her. She had thought bringing her Master of the Guard might appear too much like a threat, and her Steward had to stay in Bhak to take care of all the boring details. That left Jhorma to represent the Queen’s Triangle—the males who were dominant in a court because they dealt with the Queen directly.

When she’d decided to come to Dena Nehele, she’d thought that reminding Cassidy that she was the Queen Jhorma had chosen to serve and pleasure would intimidate Cassidy a little. At least enough that Cassidy wouldn’t keep ignoring the Queen’s gift which should have been left as the seed money for Kermilla’s personal expenses.

But Cassidy had seen Jhorma and gotten so angry. And that dark-eyed Warlord Prince was so scary! He looked like he wanted to rip out her throat with his teeth!

It wasn’t fun being a ruling Queen. It should have been, but it wasn’t. Being in Cassidy’s court for her training had been great fun. She had danced and flirted and talked and attended the luncheons with the—well, they weren’t aristos, but they were the most influential people you could find in a place like Bhak. Sure, she had to follow Cassidy around to “learn” how to be a Queen, as if she didn’t know how to be a Queen, and she had made careful notes about what duties she would keep and what duties—the boring duties—she would require the Ladies in her First Circle to shoulder.

Then she found out she’d have to pay anyone who was officially in her First Circle, so she’d limited that Circle to the necessary twelve males. Which meant she had to take care of the boring duties, and since they were boring, she hadn’t bothered with them half the time. And lately it seemed like her Steward was handing her a list of complaints every day. And her Master of the Guard . . . Well, he’d seemed so charming when he’d first begun to serve her, and he’d been a darling when she’d been training with Cassidy. Now she dreaded talking to him because he looked grim grim grim when he reminded her that she was the village’s moral center and she could not allow rowdy young Blood males to use the landens for sport. There was already trouble because of a little mischief, but he’d wanted to publicly strap those boys because a landen had gotten hurt—and he hadn’t looked at her with any kind of warmth after she forbade him to punish the boys. And that merchant! Whining over a broken window and wanting the Warlord’s family to pay for the damages. Well, she couldn’t order that, could she? The Warlord’s sister was one of her closest friends. And then the merchant wanted to deduct the cost of the damages from the tithes and her Steward let him. Without asking her. Saying it was the only thing to do if she wasn’t going to hold the Warlord responsible.

She didn’t have a big enough court. That was the problem. There should be people taking care of these things so that she could be a Queen.

She’d spent some of the village treasury, which she shouldn’t have done and wouldn’t have needed to do if Cassidy hadn’t been selfish. So now she had to have the Queen’s gift in case the Province Queen’s Steward asked her Steward for a financial report. She had to replace what she’d taken, or she would end up having to justify her expenses to Lady Darlena.

Even worse, because she was only twenty-one and this was her first court, Lady Sabrina, the Queen of Dharo, had given her Bhak to rule for one year. A proving ground, Sabrina had called it. If the villages, Bhak and landen Woolskin, prospered under her rule, she could keep them. If not, Sabrina would declare her court broken and arbitrarily reassign her males to other courts, and she would have to form a new court and find another village to rule since Bhak and Woolskin would be given to another Queen.

It was all very distressing.

“Are you all right?”

She gasped at the sound of a strange male voice, then turned to face him, dabbing at her eyes so she looked as woeful as she felt.

Mine.

The shock of it rocked her, that pull, that demand that she be the one to hold the emotional leash that would keep him balanced. She’d never felt anything like this. Was she supposed to feel anything like this?

“Yes, thank you, I’m fine,” she said. “A little distressed is all. I seem to have come at a bad time and upset Cassidy.”

He was so handsome with that dark hair and those dreamy green eyes and that golden brown skin. There was a hardness to him that said warrior. More than being a Warlord Prince who was ready to fight, this man had fought, had been on killing fields that mattered.

She was already a little in love with him, and she didn’t even know his name.

“Who . . . ?”

“Theran Grayhaven.”

“I am Kermilla.” She offered her hand.

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Not lips held a breath away from skin, but a real kiss.

“Why are you distressed?” he asked.

“Well, Cassidy and I had a little disagreement, and she ordered me to leave.”

He stiffened. “Leave?”

Maybe she had an ally in this place after all. She gave him a wobbly smile. “As in, ‘Get out of my house.’ ”

A weird, chilling heat filled his eyes. “It’s not her house. She has no right to toss you out as if you were a landen.”

“But . . . doesn’t she live here?”

“This is my family home. I offered its use for the Queen’s residence, but this is still my house, not hers. And if Lady Cassidy has forgotten her manners, I have not. I would be honored if you would be my guest for as long as you want to stay.”

“Oh, that is most kind of you, Prince Grayhaven. Or may I be so bold as to call you Theran?”

His smile made her feel wonderful.

“I would be honored to be addressed as a friend.”

She vanished the handkerchief, then slipped her arm through his. “In that case, perhaps you would indulge me by showing me around and telling me about the history of this place and your family.” Men usually liked talking about such things.

He searched her face, but she had no idea what he searched for—or if he found it.

“Do you really want to know?” he finally asked.

No, but she could see it mattered to him. “Yes, I really want to know.”

“It would be a pleasure, Lady.”

He sounded like he meant it, and wasn’t that the loveliest thing of all?

Gray yanked out weeds with controlled savagery. A few days gone at this time of year and the weeds crept in. Had to be vigilant. Always vigilant. Or the weeds crept in.

Snarling, he twisted around and threw the weeding claw as hard as he could.

Ranon shouted and swore as the claw hit the shield he threw around himself.

“Hell’s fire, Gray! What’s the matter with you?” Ranon roared. “No one shields on the home ground. You threw that damn thing hard enough to hook into someone’s gut.”

Gray rose to his feet and waited for Ranon to get within reach. “Maybe everyone better start shielding, home ground or not.”

Ranon stopped. Stared. Looked at the mansion—and swore. “You feel it too.”

“Wouldn’t turn my back on her,” Gray said.

“Yeah.” Ranon stared at the flower bed. “Got no proof she’s a bitch, except the snotty way she spoke to Cassidy. Got no proof she’s done any harm to her people. But I wouldn’t trust her with anyone I cared about. She’s . . . off. Not twisted, not evil like the Queens who had ruled here before the witch storm swept them away. But something isn’t right.”

“Vae says Kermilla smells bad. Not her body, her psychic scent.”

“Shit.”

Gray looked toward the mansion—and went rigid. “What in the name of Hell is Theran doing? I thought she was supposed to leave.”

But there was Kermilla, walking arm in arm with Theran, who had the balls to point to the place where the dead honey pear tree had stood for so long—until Cassie had started unlocking the spells that revealed the treasure hidden within Grayhaven.

A treasure that included thirteen honey pears that had survived centuries and were now the seedlings that would be the start of new orchards.

“Gray, don’t,” Ranon said softly. “Cassidy isn’t feeling well. Too much upset.”

“Only a fool would expect her to sit down at the same table with that.” And he had a sick feeling that Theran was going to expect exactly that—and be pissy about Cassie not coming to the table.

“She’ll have dinner in her suite tonight with Shira,” Ranon said.

Gray nodded.

“Let it go, Gray. Both of us need to let it go. Whatever business Kermilla had with Cassidy is done. Tomorrow she’ll go back to where she came from, and we’ll get on with our lives.”

Gray nodded again.

“Are you going to sleep inside tonight?” Ranon asked.

He hesitated. Drought. Plague. Weeds creeping in and choking the good plants. That’s what he felt when he looked at Kermilla. He didn’t want to get anywhere near her, didn’t want to be locked behind walls where she could reach him. The old fears gnawed at him, but something else, something new pushed at him harder.

“Do you think Cassie would mind if I slept on the sofa in her suite?” he asked.

“I think she would understand if you felt uncomfortable being in the family wing.”

With no one but Theran nearby, and the “guest” too close for comfort.

“I am afraid to sleep alone tonight, but that’s only part of it,” Gray said.

“What’s the other part?”

He looked at Ranon. “If I’m sleeping on the sofa, the only way someone can get to Cassie is by going through me.”

Talon leaned against a tree, another dark shape in the night, and waited. Which one of the First Circle would come out to find him?

Hell’s fire. He’d gone to sleep in a Coach full of men feeling hopeful and pleased, and woke to find the Grayhaven mansion inhabited by two armed camps that were barely obeying the command to keep the peace. Ranon and Theran looked ready to tear out each other’s throats, and Gray . . . He wasn’t sure what was going on inside Gray’s head, and that was a worry—especially since Cassidy had retired to her suite before dinner, claiming to feel ill.

And all of this was because of the visitors from Dharo.

When he saw the man coming toward him, he was a little surprised that it was Powell instead of one of the Warlord Princes, but when he gave it a moment’s thought, he realized it wouldn’t have been anyone else. The Steward would be the one to approach the Master of the Guard to discuss how to direct the rest of the First Circle to best serve the Queen.

“Talon,” Powell said.

A middle-aged man whose left hand had been badly broken by the last Queen he’d served, Powell’s steadier temper was proving to be a good balance for the more volatile members of the court.

“Out to get some air?” Talon asked.

“Storm’s coming.”

“Might blow over.” They weren’t talking about the weather. Talon huffed out a breath. “What in the name of Hell happened? All I’ve heard from both sides is a lot of crap.”

Powell tensed.

Dangerous ground, Talon thought. Two Queens in the same house and all the men wary or edgy or just plain ready to kill. “Put caste aside for a moment and tell me what you’d say if this was about social standing.”

Powell relaxed. “Ah. Well. Plain girl. Comes from a simple family and expects to work for her keep. Earns the friendships she makes by being a friend. At a social gathering, she’s never asked by a handsome man for any of the romantic dances unless he’s an escort in training and is required to dance with the girls who wouldn’t have a partner otherwise. Her heart’s probably bruised because of that, but she’s learned to accept it.

“Then there’s the pretty girl. Spoiled and pampered. Her father’s darling.”

“Wait,” Talon interrupted. “Father’s darling would apply to both girls.” Having met Lord Burle, it was clear he was more than proud of Cassidy, and not because she was now the Queen of a whole Territory. That pride was for his girl, who just happened to be a Queen.

“You’re right,” Powell agreed. “However, the pretty girl is used to getting her own way, is used to being preferred over the other girls, always has her dance card filled before she arrives at the dance, and if she snubs one partner in favor of someone more polished or aristo, she expects to be forgiven—and her actions defended—because she is an aristo darling.

“These two girls have competed in the same social arena.”

“And when the plain girl did get a dance partner the pretty girl wanted, the pretty girl stole him just because she could,” Talon said. “Yeah, it’s clear enough there is some history between Kermilla and Cassidy.”

“Theran made no effort to hide his preference. Cassidy told Kermilla to leave; Theran said she could stay. That had to hurt Cassidy’s pride.”

“And the pretty girl wins again.” Talon sighed. Sweet Darkness, please let it be that simple. “Ranon and Gray have an intense dislike for her.”

“Which has made the others edgy and politely hostile toward our guests.” Powell paused, then added, “I have to say, Warlord Princes are the only caste of males who can act politely and still leave ‘I want to kill you’ hanging unspoken in a room. Ranon and Gray are the most attuned to Cassidy. Kermilla makes her unhappy, so they’re going to dislike her, no matter what.”

“And Theran? Is it a young man’s cock lusting for a pretty girl, or is it a Warlord Prince feeling the pull of a Queen?”

“I don’t know,” Powell said.

“Shit.” Until he’d met Cassidy and had felt that pull himself, he hadn’t realized how powerful a chain that connection between Queen and Warlord Prince could be. If that was the reason Theran was reacting to Kermilla . . .

Talon scratched the back of his neck. “She came here for a reason. No matter what she says, Kermilla didn’t come here to visit a friend, so she was expecting to get something.”

“I agree, and I don’t think she got what she came for. But she did win something by Theran inviting her to stay. The First Escort countermanding the Queen’s order for his own pleasure? Can we allow that, Talon?”

“It’s his house. He’s right about that. And Kermilla being a Queen might not mean anything.”

“It means something to Cassidy.”

“Yeah, it does.” But was the rivalry between Queens or women? If he took Kermilla back to the Keep tonight, which is what he should do to soothe his Queen, Theran would blame Cassidy for Kermilla’s departure, and the tension between them could grow to an animosity that would cripple the court. If this was nothing more than a physical attraction between Theran and Kermilla, it could burn itself out in a few days anyway, and he would have widened the rift already present in the court for nothing.

“What should we do?” Powell asked.

“We wait—and we watch,” Talon replied. And hope I’m not hurting Cassidy too much by letting Theran take the lead on this and have the time to get to know the girl.