Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 9

Cassidy slowly made her way up to her suite. Her head ached and her stomach burned. Not an unusual combination these days. All it took was hearing “Oh, la” for the pain to start.

Shira had a tonic that could soothe the stomach and medicine that could ease the headache. But she couldn’t go to the Healer. Not again. The first time, Shira had performed her duties without comment. The second evening it happened, those dark eyes held a sharp reminder that Shira was a Black Widow as well as a Healer, and poisoning a “guest” would be a simple thing to do.

She had to write her report to Prince Sadi, and she didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what she dared to say.

It was happening again. She had failed. Again.

Kermilla shone. She dazzled. Just like the last time. She flattered and flirted, wore a different gown every evening that had the men’s eyes popping out, and hinted that she was on the primary guest lists of the most influential aristos in Dharo.

Which may or may not be true, but there was no way to call Kermilla on it without sounding churlish.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised, but it had been a shock to have Theran come up to her suite that first day and inform her that Kermilla was now his guest, just as she was his guest, and he expected her to act her age instead of behaving like a pouting adolescent.

That statement coming from a man whose pants tented every time he was in the same room as Kermilla might have been funny in a dark, painful way if the rest of the court hadn’t started acting just like her old court had done. They looked at Kermilla and then at her as if they were judging her and finding fault. Seeing her and Kermilla in the same room . . . The difference between a draft horse and a thoroughbred, Jhorma had once said when he had escorted her and Kermilla to a small party. He’d said it in a tone of voice that was supposed to mean he was joking, but everyone in the room had known he meant it. And everyone must have known that he resented riding the draft horse when he lusted for the thoroughbred.

Everyone but her.

Even when he said things like that—and justified saying things like that—she hadn’t understood his enthusiasm in her bed had to do with getting his own relief and nothing to do with a commitment to take care of his Queen.

Did he enjoy taking care of Kermilla?

She couldn’t think about that. She did her best to ignore the other Queen by spending time in the garden with Gray and working with Powell to send out messages to the surviving Queens in Dena Nehele.

At least one good thing had come from Kermilla’s visit: Theran was too preoccupied with her to pay attention to the fact that Cassidy was reaching out to the other Queens in Dena Nehele.

Ranon stared at the special flower bed Gray had made for Cassidy—the plants were similar to ones found in Dharo but were native to Dena Nehele. The common ground, Gray called it.

He’d been coming out here every night since Theran had given Lady Kermilla an open-ended invitation to stay at Grayhaven. Shira was acting peculiar in a way that unnerved him. He loved the woman with everything in him, but he didn’t forget he was sleeping with a Black Widow, and there was a reason why that caste of witch was feared.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Talon said.

He half turned toward the voice, but didn’t speak for a minute. “Something is draining the heart out of Cassidy.”

“Oh, I think we’ve all figured out what that something is,” Talon said. He kept walking, but he lifted his chin to indicate the stone storage shed where Gray used to live because he was too frightened to enter the house.

His heart pounding, Ranon glanced at the house before drifting toward the back of the shed. What did the Master of the Guard want to say to him that couldn’t be said inside the house?

“What . . . ?” he began.

Talon raised his left hand. The two missing fingers were a reminder that this man had not lived a soft life—even after he became demon-dead.

A minute later, Archerr, Spere, and Shaddo slipped behind the shed. A minute after that, Bardric and Cayle joined them.

“Burne, Haele, and Radley are providing a presence in the parlor this evening,” Talon said. “Archerr, you’ll relay instructions to Burne and Haele. Cayle, you’ll keep Radley informed.”

*I’m your second-in-command,* Ranon said, using a tight spear thread to direct the words only to Talon.

*I know what you are,* Talon replied sharply. *You have the task of keeping Gray and the Black Widow leashed. And yourself.*

Shit. *You don’t ask for much.*

*If you don’t have the balls for it, tell me now.*

Stung by the verbal slap, Ranon didn’t answer.

“What about Powell?” Archerr asked.

“I’ll keep the Steward informed,” Talon said.

*What did Powell say?* Ranon asked, wondering if anyone else had noticed a slight hesitation in Talon’s reply.

*Later.* “Our Queen is distressed. The visitors are the reason. We need to find out why.”

“How does Kermilla know Lady Cassidy?” Spere asked.

“I can’t see that the two of them have anything in common except caste,” Shaddo said.

“She reminds me of a carrion eater picking at the bones,” Bardric said.

Shaddo nodded. “And Dena Nehele is the bones. We’ve seen bitches like her before.”

“She’s entertaining,” Cayle said. “And she’s false. You can see it in her eyes. What’s she looking for here?”

Archerr snorted. “Control over the rest of us. What else?”

“If she did have that control?” Talon asked.

Ice swept through Ranon, but a steely look from Talon kept him silent.

The other men shifted their feet and looked uncomfortable. Finally Spere said, “Those escorts aren’t fighters. Got some training—every escort does—but they’re Warlords, not Warlord Princes.”

Shaddo nodded. “Take them out fast and hard. Have someone coming in behind the others who is strong enough to take out the witch—burst heart and brain with a blast of power that will break her Jewels and finish the kill.”

Ranon swallowed hard. He thought he’d been the only one thinking along those lines. Apparently not.

Talon nodded, as if they’d told him what he’d expected. “Not yet. She’s a Queen from another Territory. Another Realm. We made the mistake of not looking for social connections to dark power when Cassidy first came here. Kermilla keeps hinting that she has powerful friends, so let’s not make that mistake again. Cayle, Bardric, you two are least likely to be perceived as a threat, so I want you to spend time with the Warlords who came with Kermilla. Find out what you can about her court and about her connection to Cassidy. They’re not friends, so let’s find out exactly what they are to each other.”

“We could force open the inner barriers of the lightest Jeweled Warlord and find out everything we want to know,” Archerr said quietly.

“And become no better than what we fought against all those years?” Talon shook his head. “You don’t do that to anyone but an enemy, and we don’t know yet that these men are enemies.”

“We know their presence is upsetting Cassidy,” Ranon said.

“Yes, we know that,” Talon agreed.

Ranon heard regret—and maybe a little guilt?—in Talon’s voice.

“When we find out more, we’ll decide what to do about it,” Talon continued. “That’s all. Any information you find out comes to me or Ranon.”

“And we don’t mention any of this to Theran?” Spere asked.

Even in the dark, Ranon saw the sadness in Talon’s eyes.

“We don’t mention this to Theran,” Talon said. “I’m hoping it’s just lust that’s making him stupid, but if he feels the same pull for Kermilla that we feel for Cassidy, we can’t trust him to stand for the Queen he promised to serve.”

One by one, the men wrapped themselves in sight shields and slipped away until Ranon and Talon were alone.

“Powell,” Ranon said quietly. “He said something. That’s why you’re giving these orders.” He waited. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘It’s starting to feel like old times, isn’t it?’ And may the Darkness have mercy on us, Ranon, I think he’s right.”

Talon walked away.

Ranon leaned against the shed, feeling sick.

It wouldn’t come to that. It wouldn’t. Not while Cassidy ruled Dena Nehele.

Theran sat in the parlor, happier than he had ever been.

Kermilla was wonderful, was everything he dreamed a Queen should be. The sound of her voice quenched a raging thirst inside him, and there was a spot on her neck that had a scent that aroused him and yet gave him peace.

She had been careful not to say anything outright, but she’d made it clear to him that, having come from an aristo family, the training that had honed her innate abilities as a Queen had been far more extensive than Cassidy’s—the kind of training given to someone destined to be a Territory Queen.

Damn Ranon for stirring everything up so much that the other men were wary about getting to know her. But they would come around.

Sooner or later they would recognize the treasure that had come to Grayhaven.