Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 32

Theran 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.

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 thismale 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.”

“Why?”

A tapping on the door. Butler walked in with a tray. He set another bowl of stew on the table, another cup and saucer, and a small plate of fruit and cheese.

Kermilla sniffed. At least Theran tried to set a better table. “I haven’t decided if I want that for dinner.”

“That’s what there is,” Butler replied. “If you don’t want it, do without.”

Too shocked to respond, she watched him leave the room.

“Sit down, Kermilla,” Gallard said. “The food isn’t fancy, but it is good.”

She sat—and tried to ignore his gusty sigh of relief as he settled the napkin on his lap and continued his meal.

Gallard ate as if he feared an interruption would take him away from the food. She ate because she was hungry. She didn’t say anything, but she made sure he knew she considered the meal an insult.

“That man is intolerable,” Kermilla said when Gallard poured coffee for both of them. “He has to be dismissed.”

“Can you afford to replace him?” Gallard asked. “He serves the Territory Queen, and his wages, along with the housekeeper, the cook, the maid, and the footman, come from her. If you dismiss any of these people, you will not get a replacement unless you can pay that person’s wages. And I can tell you right now, anyone who agrees to work here will want their wages in advance.”

“Fine. Then we’ll pay for respectful servants.”

“With what?”

“The tithes, of course!”

“There are no tithes.”

She bobbled her cup and almost spilled the coffee.

Gallard’s sadness spread over her like a smothering blanket.

“The court is beggared, Kermilla. I apologize for the criticism, but you spent so extravagantly when you first took over rule of Bhak and Woolskin that we haven’t been able to pay all the debts.”

Kermilla swayed in her seat. “Then raise the tithes. Squeeze a little more out of the damn landens.”

Gallard dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “When you demanded that I raise the summer tithes in order to provide you with money you needed during your visit, I obeyed and used some of the extra income to pay down your debts. However, when I went to pay the guards their quarterly income, I discovered the village treasury had been drained. The men were given half their wages, and they all began to fall into debt because they couldn’t pay their bills. You demanded more money. I raised the tithes again. When told what they would be required to pay for the autumn tithes, the landens refused to harvest their crops. They let them rot in the fields. They said that since their children were going to starve anyway on the little that was left, they saw no reason to work and sweat in order to feed you.”

“How dare they!”

“We tried to keep things contained, but you didn’t answer my letters, and you ignored my pleas for your return. Then Lady Darlena and Lady Sabrina’s Stewards showed up to review the accounts and to personally receive the Queens’ shares of the autumn tithes. They were almost buried under the complaints, pleas, and accusations from both villages.”

“That’s done,” Kermilla said crossly. “I’m back now, and I’ll fix things with the mighty Queens. What can you give me for income now?”

“There’s nothing.”

“Of course there’s something. Household funds. Something.”

“There’s nothing.”

“Don’t you have—”

He shook his head too quickly. Resentment bubbled up inside her.

“I’ll see Sabrina tomorrow and fix this,” she said tightly.

“Tomorrow is the first day of Winsol,” Gallard said. “Except for emergencies, the Queen doesn’t grant audiences during Winsol.”

“This is an emergency!”

“No, my dear, it is not. But it is a smear on our reputations that we must all work to overcome. Everything has a price. We acted imprudently, and now we must pay the consequences.”

It wasn’t a smear on her reputation. Just because her First Circle hadn’t had balls enough to keep things under control didn’t mean she should bear the blame.

“How soon can the servants open up my side of the house?”

“You would have to discuss that with Lady Sabrina or her Steward. He closed that side of the house since it wasn’t in use.”

She wasn’t getting anywhere with him. He wasn’t saying the things he should be saying. “Where is Jhorma?”

“Jhorma is celebrating Winsol elsewhere this year,” Gallard said. “Since none of us are from Bhak, everyone else is spending Winsol in their home villages. I elected to stay and catch up on paperwork—and to maintain the court’s presence in the village. After darkest night, the Master of the Guard will return, and I’ll go home for a visit.”

“And what am I supposed to do? My house is closed up, my court is scattered, and no one seems to care that I came back to celebrate the most important holiday with my people!”

“We didn’t know you were returning. Frankly, Kermilla, we had no reason to believe you would return to Bhak.”

“Why wouldn’t I return? I rule here.”

For now.

She heard the unspoken warning. “I’ve been traveling most of the day, and I’m tired. I’d like to go to my room now. Please arrange to have a carriage for me first thing tomorrow morning to take me to the landing web. I want to talk to Sabrina before she becomes so immersed in frivolity that she forgets her duties as a Queen.”

Gallard sucked in a breath, but in the end he escorted her to the guest room and said nothing.

She would talk to Sabrina and get this mess straightened out so that she could enjoy some of Winsol. And she would go home for a few days. She needed to be around people who thought she was wonderful, and she could count on her father to give her enough marks to tide her over.