Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 39

She looks tired, Ranon thought as he watched Cassidy enter the meeting room and take her seat between him and Gray. Of course, they were all tired, but this past week seemed to drain spirit as well as energy from their Queen.

A week of meetings, a week of talking—a week where he’d watched strong men struggle with a fear bred from hope.

Gray had shown the steel in his spine and his potential to be a leader. The other Warlord Princes had seen it too, and Ranon wondered how much that would sway opinions.

The rest of the First Circle drifted into the room, looking alert enough, despite the early hour. Cassie had chosen this dawn meeting so that Talon could be with them and hear Powell’s report at the same time as the rest of the First Circle.

Talon took his seat opposite Gray, then nodded to Powell.

The Steward looked pale but excited as he laid five letters on the big meeting table.

“The five southern Provinces have agreed to join the Shalador reserves to create a new Territory,” Powell said. “All the District Queens and the Warlord Princes who are ruling on behalf of our Queen support the court’s decision to break away from Dena Nehele and build the kind of life we want in a land ruled by the Queen we have chosen to serve.”

The men around the table released their breath in a collective sigh. Exhilaration and trepidation. None of them wanted war, but all of them were willing to step onto as many killing fields as it would take to buy freedom for the people they loved.

“I’ve drafted a document,” Powell said, looking at Ranon and Gray.

“We’ll take it up to the Keep this afternoon and ask the High Lord to review it,” Gray said.

“Until we know how Theran and his Lady are going to react to this news, everyone goes out in tandem,” Talon said. “And you Ladies are to have an escort with you at all times.”

“But—” Shira said.

“All times.” Talon stared at Shira until she nodded. “We can’t afford to lose either of you—or Reyhana. You’ll do what we need so that we can do what Shalador Nehele needs.”

“That’s fair,” Cassidy said, sounding too subdued for Ranon’s liking. “You should remember to talk to the Scelties about helping to guard the Queen’s square.”

Talon nodded as if he—and every other man in the room—hadn’t thought of that already. Having played hide-and-seek with the dogs in order to learn more of what they could do, the men had confirmed that no matter how well you could hide from another human, you couldn’t cover yourself in shields well enough or disguise yourself well enough to hide from kindred senses unless you were downwind of all of them.

“Is that all?” Cassidy asked.

“Yes, Lady,” Powell replied.

Cassidy pushed away from the table and walked out of the room.

“Let me,” Ranon said, reaching across the empty space to stop Gray from following her.

He waited for Gray’s nod before he left the room to look for Cassidy.

Wasn’t hard to find her. The garden gave her comfort—even when it slept under snow.

He stood on her left side, wanting to touch her, wanting to offer simple contact. But he wasn’t sure she would welcome a touch right now, so he stayed where he was.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “You’ve put your faith in me as a Queen, and you’re risking your lives and your people’s lives based on that faith. What if I fail?”

“None of us know if we’ll measure up to the demands of the day,” Ranon said gently. “Considering what we’re about to do, only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of what may be ahead of us, and you’re no fool. But I’ll tell you the same thing Talon told me once: don’t fail until you fail.”

She gave him a puzzled look that made him smile. Then he looked away. It seemed easier to say the words when he wasn’t looking right at her. “I was seventeen the first time I stepped onto a killing field. Warlord Princes are born to stand on the killing fields, and everything we are gives us the temper and the instinctive skills to be predators and killers. But it also takes maturity to accept what you do on those fields. I was seventeen, and I wasn’t ready. Neither were any of the other boys who were training in that camp up in the mountains. But a decision had been made to eliminate a Province Queen who had gone beyond cruel in what she was doing to the people, and part of that decision was to pay whatever price needed to be paid.”

“So they sent young men to support the experienced warriors,” Cassidy said. “Is that why you’ve kept such a strict watch over Janos, kept him hidden from the Queens?”

“That’s why. I didn’t want him to face that before he had to.

“I remember Talon coming into the camp the night before the fight to talk to the leaders. He couldn’t be with us for the attack. I think he was committed to another killing field farther north. Besides, Talon couldn’t fight in daylight, but he was the best instructor we had. When he was done talking to the leaders, he took a couple of minutes with each of us. It got to be my turn, and instead of telling him I would be brave and strong and win the battle, I told him I was afraid to fail. And he said, ‘Don’t fail until you fail.’ So I didn’t. We destroyed that Queen and the warriors she sent against us. Most of us survived.” Ranon hesitated, then decided not to tell her that some of the boys who survived went back into the mountains and never came down again. “There have been plenty of times in the years since then when things have looked too bleak for any hope to survive, when I watched other men fall in battle while trying to save what we could. There were days when I thought I couldn’t stand to see another friend die, but I’d tell myself that as long as I could stand and fight for my people I hadn’t failed yet. I don’t know if that helps.”

“It does,” Cassidy said. “Yes, it does. Thank you, Ranon.”

He touched her shoulder. When she didn’t pull away, he drew her against him for a hug.

“We’ll do all right, Cassie,” he said as he eased back. “And since our land will be a third of Dena Nehele’s size, there will be two-thirds less . . .” Suddenly dizzy, he staggered back a step.

“Ranon?” Cassidy grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“We didn’t think of it. I swear we didn’t.”

“Think of what?”

“The tithes.”

She looked baffled. Completely, totally baffled. “What about them?”

“You’ll only get a third of the tithes you would have gotten if Dena Nehele stayed whole.” How could they have overlooked something that obvious?

More bafflement. “I know. Powell and I reviewed the accounts this week to make sure the court could still support itself, and we can, Ranon. All of you will receive your quarterly income.”

“What about your income?”

“I’ll have plenty.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, so he’d talk to Powell. Oh, he was certain that the court’s expenses would be paid, and everyone who was owed a wage would get the full wage. He just wasn’t sure Cassidy would have a copper left to call her own. The woman was quite capable of brushing that little detail aside.

He huffed out a breath and watched it cloud the air between them. “You know, it’s colder than Hell out here. I could use a hot drink and some breakfast. How about you?”

She studied him, and he had the sense that something in the past minute had shown her another point on the battlefield.

“Ranon? How do you think Theran will respond to this? Do you think he’ll let us go?”

“He’ll be pissed off, and I doubt he’ll be the best of neighbors, but I don’t think he’s enough of a fool to start a war. Not with Talon backing you.” But her question made him think of the reason they were risking war to begin with. “What about Kermilla? How is she going to respond?”

He looked into Cassidy’s eyes and knew the answer—just as he knew the reason before she said it.

“I think Kermilla is going to be very unhappy about losing a third of the tithes, and I don’t think she’ll let go of that income without a fight.”

Easy enough to take that stand when the bitch wasn’t going to be the one standing on the killing fields.

Cassidy hooked her arm through his and headed back to the house. “Let’s save that worry for another day and focus on today’s worry.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Whether or not there’s anything besides porridge left for breakfast.”

He laughed as he opened the kitchen door and they both hurried into the warmth.

Don’t fail until you fail.

She didn’t want to fail the court or the people. And they weren’t about to fail her.

Prince Ranon and Prince Jared Blaed arrived at the Keep thirty minutes after sunset. That was just enough time for a man to wake up, clean up, and drink a glass of yarbarah. In Saetan’s experience, young men didn’t show up with that kind of precision in order to make a casual request. The fact that Jaenelle would have considered those two as Second Circle gave him even more reason to pay attention to the timing.

“Gentlemen,” Saetan said as they crossed the sitting room and stopped at the precise distance that was deemed courteous according to Protocol and gave him the precise bows owed his rank.

All that precision gave him a headache.

“High Lord,” Gray said.

When Gray hesitated, Saetan supplied the rest. “You have something you want to discuss, but it needs to be in confidence.”

“Yes,” Gray said.

“Will my keeping this confidence put anyone I care about at risk?”

A hesitation before Ranon said, “No one in Kaeleer.”

Interesting answer. “Very well.”

As soon as they had that much assurance from him, they both relaxed.

Gray called in a folded paper and held it out. “We’d like you to read this and tell us what we should fix. Powell said this is a copy, so you can mark it up if you want to.”

Saetan called in his half-moon glasses, unfolded the paper, and read the carefully written words.

Mother Night. These children had balls.

“Are you trying to start a war or avoid one?” he asked.

“Avoid one,” they replied.

Thank the Darkness for that. “Then there are a few phrases that should be reworded.”

As he turned toward a chair where he could work, he felt another dark presence in the Keep. Ranon and Gray felt it too and knew who was approaching the room. Since neither of them asked him to do anything to keep this meeting private, he settled into the chair, called in a lap desk and a pen, and began rereading the document that would break a Territory.

Lucivar walked into the room. A slashing glance at Gray and Ranon, an assessing look at him, and his Eyrien son had seen enough to know this wasn’t a battlefield.

Which didn’t mean Lucivar wouldn’t turn it into one if he decided there was a reason.

“Gray,” Lucivar said. “Ranon. What brings you here?”

The question wasn’t as idle as it sounded. Ebon-gray was asking Purple Dusk and Opal to explain their presence—and would get an explanation one way or another.

Since dealing with Lucivar had been a valuable lesson for all the boyos in Jaenelle’s First Circle, Saetan pretended to be unaware of this particular pissing contest. He didn’t want Gray and Ranon to get hurt, but he wasn’t going to step in unless it was necessary because every man needed to know when to stand and when to yield.

Gray glanced at Ranon, who nodded slightly.

“The Shalador reserves and the five southern Provinces are breaking from the rest of Dena Nehele to form a new Territory,” Gray said.

“That makes the Heartsblood River your northern boundary?” Lucivar asked.

“How did you know?” Ranon asked.

Foolish boy, Saetan thought, looking up to watch this part of the drama. An Eyrien could see a great deal from the air while riding the currents. Especially when that Eyrien was an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince.

Lucivar shrugged—and then winced so slightly no one but family would notice. “It’s a natural border, not to mention a means of travel and a source of water. Stands to reason you’d want to hold on to one side of it. How many Warlord Princes on your side of the line?”

“About forty,” Gray said. “That’s almost half of the adult Warlord Princes in Dena Nehele.”

“Adult,” Lucivar said. He gave Ranon a long look. “If this gets messy, your brother will end up on the killing fields with the rest of you. You know that.”

“I know,” Ranon said quietly.

“That’s why I’m looking over this document,” Saetan said. “To try to avoid the necessity of anyone standing on a killing field because of a preference for one Queen over another.”

Another assessing look at him before Lucivar focused on the other two men. “Have Talon deliver the copy of the document to Grayhaven. He’s the one man Theran won’t challenge.”

Saetan crossed out a sentence and wrote his changes in the margin. “And be sure to have a copy of the final, signed document brought here to the Keep. Documents can be lost or destroyed in a Territory when it’s convenient to hide information. Nothing can touch them here.”

That wasn’t quite true, but there was no one else in the room, including Lucivar, who could destroy a race so completely that all trace of them was eliminated from all the Realms.

Gray had brought a map of Dena Nehele, so while he, Ranon, and Lucivar reviewed how to make the best use of the trained warriors they had, Saetan worked through Powell’s draft, making subtle word changes that would place the burden of war squarely on Theran Grayhaven’s shoulders. Only a fool would start a war under these circumstances.

Of course, a man driven to serve a particular Queen could be ten times a fool. He might hate himself for it, but he’d still follow the Queen’s command and be her instrument.

They would all have to wait and see how firmly Kermilla held Theran’s leash.

He finished his changes, read them again, and then handed the document back to Gray. The Warlord Princes from Dena Nehele didn’t linger, and Saetan thought that was wise. News would travel. Rumors would begin. The sooner the official document was in the open, the better.

When they were gone, Saetan looked at Lucivar. “Well?”

“Gray and Ranon are solid,” Lucivar replied, rubbing his left biceps. “And they’re a good team. You fix their paper?”

“Yes, I did. It’s still possible that Kermilla can goad Theran hard enough to try to start a war, but I don’t think he’ll be equally successful in convincing enough Warlord Princes to join him on that particular killing field.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Saetan waited a moment. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Nothing.”

“Would you like to answer that question again without lying to your father?”

Lucivar made a face. “It’s nothing. A bruise. She didn’t break skin.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, Hell’s fire, the woman’s got some temper when she’s riled.”

“What did you do to upset Marian?”

“I was being considerate. Don’t women want men to be considerate?” Lucivar looked like a puppy who had gotten smacked and had no idea what he’d done wrong.

It took a formidable amount of self-control to convey nothing but calm interest, but he did it. “Of course they do, but wives also expect to have sex with their husbands on occasion.” After waiting a beat, he added, “I take it you and Marian have resumed making love.”

“I don’t think there was any love in this particular bite,” Lucivar growled. “But, yeah, we had sex.”

“In that case, my darling, why are you here?”

This time Lucivar didn’t try to hide the wince. “The village theater group is putting on a play tonight. It’s a comedy. With singing. More or less.”

Saetan waited. “Are you asking me to watch Daemonar this evening or accompany Marian to the play?”

Lucivar gave him a pained look.

Everything has a price, boyo. “What time should I come over to watch the boy?” Saetan tipped his head to indicate the clock on the mantel.

Lucivar looked at the clock and sighed. “Now?”

Saetan headed for the closest courtyard that had a landing web. “You are planning to get cleaned up, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“If I can have the damn bathroom to myself, it doesn’t take me more than five minutes,” Lucivar muttered.

If she really wants to see this play, she’s going to clobber him, Saetan thought. “Go. Tell Marian I’ll be there by the time you’re ready to leave. And Lucivar? If you’re smart, you’re going to give your Lady more than just sex tonight.”

Lucivar went out the first available exit and launched himself skyward.

Saetan sent out a light psychic thread to the woman he considered the perfect match for his volatile son. *Marian?*

*Uncle Saetan?* Surprise turned to concern. *Lucivar was supposed to see you.*

*He did. He’ll be home in a minute. I apologize for the delay, but a meeting with two Warlord Princes from Dena Nehele had to take priority.*

*And he didn’t contact me because he wanted to wiggle out of going to the play tonight?*

Probably, but not consciously. Lucivar would rather crawl over broken glass than see a comedic play that included singing, but he wouldn’t shrug off an event Marian wanted to attend.

*I’ll be over in a few minutes to watch Daemonar. Lucivar swears he can get cleaned up and be ready to leave for you to get to the play on time.*

*So I should be understanding when he comes roaring in?*

Hearing the amusement—and the love—in the words, Saetan smiled. *Darling, make him work for it. It won’t hurt him.*

Her laughter filled the link between them before she broke the thread—no doubt to deal with the husband who had just come thundering home.

Smiling, Saetan shook his head. “She used to be a gentle hearth witch before she had to deal with all of us.” He felt the leash slip on his self-control and heard a peculiar sound come from behind his clenched teeth.

Imagining how well Marian would deal with Lucivar, Saetan leaned against a wall, let go of self-control, and laughed himself silly.