The Invisible Ring

Chapter Fifteen

“So what’s wrong with the horses?” Jared asked.

Blaed and Thayne exchanged looks, each one waiting for the other to say something.

Watching them, Jared tried to still a growing uneasiness. He’d pushed the group hard yesterday, partly to put as much distance between them and the clearing as possible and partly because pushing himself physically was the only way he knew to stay sane and not hurt anyone. Thank the Darkness, the rut had only lasted one day, but it had been a long, miserable day. If his pushing had injured the horses . . .

Jared eyed the team hitched to the wagon. “Is one of them lame?”

“No, no, nothing serious like that,” Blaed said hastily.

Jared ground his teeth. The rut might be over, but his temper was still frayed. “Then why aren’t we moving?”

Thayne gave Blaed a “go on, tell him” look.

Blaed glared at his friend and then turned back to Jared. He looked like a man who had just bared his throat after handing a witch a well-honed knife. “It’s just—” Sighing, he raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “We think they’re sulking.”

Jared stared at the two younger men long enough to make them squirm. “Sulking?”

Thayne flinched.

Blaed huffed, then gingerly put his hand on Jared’s shoulder, leading him a little ways from the wagon.

Confused, Jared let himself be led. Brock and Randolf were on the saddle horses, scouting ahead. The others had stopped walking once they realized the wagon had fallen so far behind and were just starting to drift back to find out why. Lia was safely tucked in the wagon. And Thayne already knew what the problem was.

So who wasn’t supposed to overhear this conversation? The horses?

“I know you’ve been feeling a little . . . overprotective . . . lately,” Blaed began cautiously.

“You’ve got balls to say that to me,” Jared snapped.

“The point is,” Blaed hurried on, “does Lady Lia have to stay in the wagon? And there’s no point snarling about it not being the proper form of address. Tomas started calling her that and, since she didn’t mind, the rest of us just followed his lead.”

But not in front of him, Jared thought. They’d called her Lady Ardelia when he’d been within earshot. He understood why, but it still made him snappish. “The Lady has healed remarkably well, but she’s in no condition to be walking for hours over rough ground.”

“She doesn’t have to walk,” Blaed soothed. “If we used some blankets for padding and she bundled up well so she wouldn’t get chilled, couldn’t she sit on the driving seat for a while?”

Jared’s teeth hurt. He tried to relax his jaw. “What’s that got to do with the horses?”

Blaed sighed. “Thayne’s real good with animals. Better than anyone else I know.” He sighed again. “He thinks they miss her. You didn’t spend much time leading them, so you probably didn’t have the chance to notice the difference in how they responded whenever she took a turn at walking. Didn’t you wonder why she always stayed near the wagon? It’s because whenever she moved too far away, they tried to follow her. One time when she went into the bushes to answer a call of nature, the only thing that stopped them from going with her was Garth grabbing the harness and digging his heels in. And she sings to them.”

Jared rubbed his hands over his face. Great. Wonderful. “Didn’t you explain to them that Lia’s in the wagon?”

“She’s downwind, Jared.”

“Fine. All right. I’ll ask her.”

Giving Jared’s shoulder a cautious pat, Blaed stepped out of reach.

Jared marched to the back of the wagon and spent a minute glaring at the door. The horses weren’t the only ones sulking today. She’d let him fuss yesterday. It was the only thing that had gotten him through the rut. Sex might have helped, but he wasn’t sure. The kind of sexual fury that had roared through him wouldn’t have been easy to control, and there had been times yesterday when he’d been clearheaded enough to imagine what he’d be like in bed.

It had terrified him, and he’d clung to the knowledge of Lia’s virginity like an emotional lifeline. Even the rut was daunted by the risks and responsibilities of the Virgin Night.

So he’d fussed. He’d pampered and petted. He’d kissed and cuddled. She’d asked him to brush her hair. She’d let him feed her. She’d rubbed his back, making him ache for release and yet soothing him until it was almost enough.

Between the times when he’d gone to the wagon for the relief her presence gave him, he’d tried to work off the energy, tried not to see the other males as rivals.

It had been a physical and emotional strain for everyone, and he’d blinked back tears when, halfway through the restless night, he’d felt the rut waning.

He hadn’t realized something else would wane, too.

He’d said good night to Lady Cuddles, and woke up to Lady Grumpy.

“Jared?” Tomas peeked around the side of the wagon.

“You don’t want to be around here during the next few minutes,” Jared growled.

Owl-eyed, Tomas darted back to the others.

Taking a deep breath, Jared rapped on the wagon door— more a warning than a request to enter—opened the door, and ducked the boot that went whizzing over his head. He got the door closed before the second boot, aimed lower, could join its partner.

Retrieving the boot, he rushed into the wagon, tripped over the other boot, and swore.

She was sitting in the dark. Naturally. What good was sulking if you made yourself comfortable?

He made a ball of witchlight, then leaned against the door.

After one good glare at him, Lia stared at her feet.

Jared waggled the boot. “Didn’t your grandmother ever tell you it isn’t courteous to throw a boot at your escort?”

“Go sit on a pricker bush.”

So much for courtesy.

On the other hand, since she wouldn’t let him fuss, annoying her was almost as pleasing.

Settling back to enjoy himself, Jared shook his head and tsked sadly. “It wounds my tender sensibilities to hear you say that.”

“If you sat on a pricker bush, your sensibilities aren’t the only tender things that would be wounded.”

Jared narrowed his eyes and tried to remember he was enjoying himself. “You let me fuss yesterday.”

“That was yesterday. I’m mad at you today.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Lia’s voice rose to an outraged screech. “Why? Because I let you fuss yesterday. I let you treat me like some oversize baby bird whose mama keeps stuffing it with food—”

“I didn’t stuff you,” Jared grumbled.

“—I didn’t argue with you when you snarled everyone out of the wagon or when you got nasty with Tomas—”

“I didn’t get nasty.”

“—I didn’t say a word when you bundled me up in so many blankets I couldn’t move at all. All right. Fine. You needed to fuss. But that’s no excuse for today.”

“Today?” Jared raised his hand to rake his fingers through his hair and almost clobbered himself with the boot. Tossing it aside, he rubbed his hands over his face. Was aggravation supposed to be one of the privileges of serving? “What did I do today?”

His ignorance seemed to outrage her even more.

“Thera’s moontime isn’t any further along than mine, but do you fuss about her? No.”

Jared bristled. “Blaed doesn’t need any help fussing about Thera.”

“Doesn’t matter. The point is, you insisted that we stay in the wagon yesterday, and we did. But this morning, when Thera decided to walk, you didn’t say a thing. Not the littlest yip or snarl. Then when I said I wanted to walk, you bundled me up and chucked me in here. That’s why I’m mad at you.” Lia sat back, crossed her arms, and pouted.

“That has nothing to do with your moontime,” Jared shouted. “It has everything to do with the fact that Thera has two legs that work and you don’t.”

Her lower lip quivered.

Jared took a deep breath and released it slowly. He’d seen too many sulks and pouts used as manipulative games. Most of the time it had brought an edge to his temper and a stubborn refusal to respond. But he suspected this wasn’t Lia’s usual way of dealing with opposition of any kind. She had the safety of eleven other people weighing on her young shoulders, and she was feeling the strain.

“Look,” Jared said, trying to bring his voice back to soothing, “when we stop to rest for the midday meal, you can walk around a bit.”

“We’re not moving now,” Lia pointed out.

Which reminded him of why he was there in the first place. “That’s because I wanted to see if you were willing to compromise.”

Amazing how fast a pouting witch could change into an alert Queen.

“What compromise?” Lia asked, watching him a little too sharply.

“Well, I thought you might like to sit on the driving seat for a while. But you have to promise not to throw your boots at me, and you have to promise to keep the blankets tucked around you so that you don’t get chilled.”

“There’s not much difference sitting on the driving seat and sitting in here,” Lia said calmly. “So I’ll stay here.”

Jared rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure there is. You can get some fresh air, see some of the countryside . . . hum to the horses.”

Lia’s smile was far too knowing and smug for his liking. “Having trouble with Boots and Button?” she asked sweetly.

Jared raised his eyebrows. “What kind of names are those?”

Lia shrugged. “They answer to them.”

“What did you name the saddle horses?”

“Flirt and Handsome. If the bay had been a stallion, I would have named him Stubborn, after you.”

Jared smiled wickedly. “That’s not the only thing a stallion and I have in common.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

He liked the way she blushed, the way she suddenly turned shy.

“So do you want to go out and hum to the horses or stay in here with me?” he asked.

If he hadn’t found it so amusing, he would have been insulted by the speedy way she burst out of the nest of blankets.

He carried her outside, ignoring her mutters about walking, and presented her to the horses—and tried not to resent the cooing and petting they received. Then he settled his bundle of witch on the driving seat, tucking the blankets around her to his satisfaction.

“Well, that was simple enough,” Blaed said as he and Jared watched the happy horses and Thayne set off at a brisk walk.

“Simple as could be,” Jared replied, dropping a hand on Blaed’s shoulder. “Especially since you’re going to keep her company.”

“But—” Blaed looked wistfully up the road.

Jared followed the direction of Blaed’s attention. “It was your idea to have Lady Lia sit out here, Blaed. Not that I told her that. So there’s no reason for her to feel annoyed with you.” He gave Blaed a friendly punch in the arm and smiled too innocently. “Tell you what. You look after my Lady, and I’ll look after yours.”

Knowing there was nothing Blaed could say to that, Jared jogged up the road to join Thera, leaving Blaed to entertain Lia.

Frustration felt so much better when shared.

“Want some company?” Jared asked when he caught up to Thera.

“No.”

“Too bad.” Knowing Blaed was watching, Jared threw one arm around Thera’s shoulders.

Thera turned her head and stared at the hand so close to her teeth.

Resisting the instinct to jerk his hand away, Jared hoped she’d let him keep all of his fingers.

“I have an idea,” Jared said cheerfully. “Why don’t you just think of me as another older brother?”

“I don’t have a brother, older or otherwise.”

“I don’t have a sister. Let’s pretend.”

Her huff turned into laughter.

It jabbed his heart.

He’d thought she was in her late twenties, about his own age. Now, with her face softened by humor, he wondered if she was even close.

“Where are you from, Thera?” Jared asked, curious about her.

The laughter died. The softness disappeared from her face, making it look older again.

“Nowhere,” she said tightly.

He heard the pain in her voice and wanted to ease it without betraying Lia’s confidence about their being set free. “Perhaps, when we reach Dena Nehele, you can persuade the Gray Lady to let you return to your family.”

Because he was touching her, he felt the fierce grief that flashed through her before she was able to lock it away again.

“I have no family,” Thera said coldly.

Sorry for having brushed against a heart-wound, Jared tried to find something else to talk about. “Blaed likes you.”

“Blaed’s a fool,” she snapped.

Thinking of how Blaed looked at her, with too much of his heart in his eyes, Jared’s sympathy for Thera rapidly faded.

“Tell me,” he said politely, “does being a bitch come naturally to you, or do you have to work at it?”

He’d expected her to lash out at him. It unnerved him to see tears fill her eyes and spill over.

“Thera,” he said softly, trying to hold her close to comfort her while she struggled to break away from him.

She stopped fighting and rested her head against his chest. “It’s safer to be a bitch. Can you understand that?”

“Yes, I can understand that,” Jared said, gently wiping the tears away with his hand.

“It’s hard to let go of a useful weapon. Hard to trust.”

“I know.” He hugged her once, then eased back, pleased when she didn’t shake off the arm draped companionably around her shoulders.

After they’d been walking for several minutes, he broached the question that had nagged at him for the past few days. “What were you doing at Raej, Thera? Why was a Green-Jeweled, unbroken Black Widow submitting to the humiliation of the auction block?”

“To escape. Why else?”

Dry, sharp amusement lit her green eyes for a moment. When it faded, Jared looked into a spiritual desert.

Thera took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “My mother wasn’t very bright.” Her laugh was tinged with bitterness. “The landens always think being Blood and using Craft has to mean we’re all very powerful, very wealthy, very intelligent. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re any of those things. We’re just Blood.

“She was pretty and gentle and had an innate sweetness that made her shine. Or it would have if she’d stayed in her home village living a life that suited her. But one day, a Warlord from the Province Queen’s court rode through the village and saw her. Courteous and admiring, he spent the afternoon with her, carrying her market basket and acting as if he’d never seen anyone quite so wonderful. Then he rode back to the court, and she was pleased to have been admired.

“A few weeks later, the Province Queen summoned her to the court and offered her a place in the Fifth Circle. She was awed, flattered, and overwhelmed by the way the aristo members of the court acted.

“He was there, a favored Second Circle male. He gallantly offered to escort my mother through the intricacies of court life. Since he was the only person she knew there, she accepted his company with open arms. He couldn’t bear to be away from her. He begged her to marry him. And he begged to see her through her Virgin Night.

“He broke her. An accident, they said. It happens sometimes. Even with all the care that’s taken, it happens sometimes. So sorry.

“Of course, he couldn’t marry her after that. Neither his family nor his Queen would grant permission for an Opal-Jeweled Warlord to marry a broken witch who wasn’t aristo. But she could be his lover, and in his heart she would always be his wife. It didn’t take her long to discover there wasn’t much difference between being a lover and a slave. At least, not in a court that had spread its legs for Hayll.

“He liked to hit. He enjoyed hurting anything or anyone who was weaker. He used to slap her to excite himself before he mounted her.”

“Why didn’t she leave him?” Jared asked.

“She had signed a contract to serve in the court. The Queen wouldn’t release her. Staying with him protected her from the other males.” Something fierce began to glow at the back of Thera’s eyes. “He didn’t think she’d challenge him about anything. But when I had the Birthright Ceremony and it was time for her to formally grant him paternal rights, to give him a claim to me, she denied paternity. Said it wasn’t his bloodline that ran in me. What could he do? Granting paternity is a public ceremony, and there are no second chances, no retractions.

“She sent me to her sister. My aunt had left the home village a few years before—I never found out why.” Thera paused for a moment. “Auntie had a lover, a Purple Dusk Warlord. They’d never formalized their union in any way. There were no records to link one to the other. He was a good man, solid and strong, easy-tempered. He worked hard for the first hug I freely gave him.”

Jared smiled sadly. He could imagine the pleasure and relief the man had felt when he finally overcame her sire’s viciousness. “What was his name?”

Thera shook her head. “He had a sister, a Sapphire-Jeweled Black Widow who lived in another village. She was a force to be reckoned with, and males who tried to force themselves on women, Blood or landen, usually found themselves impotent for weeks afterward. She spent a few days each month with her brother and Auntie. She had friends in her own village; she also had enemies. So she spent those first days of her moontime where she had the protection of the one male she could trust.

“She was born to the Hourglass, like me. Like calls to like. I’d barely settled in with Auntie when I met her. The next day, she began my training.”

“You were very young to begin training in the Hourglass’s ways,” Jared murmured.

Thera nodded. “Yes. Because of that, there was a lot she couldn’t teach me. I wasn’t mature enough mentally or emotionally to endure it. It wasn’t formal training. More like I’d show her how much I could do of what she’d shown me the last time. Sometimes we took the next step in that lesson; sometimes she began something new.

“She never actually said anything, but we all understood that her training me had to be a secret, that my being a Black Widow had to be a secret. By the time I reached puberty and would have been recognized for a child of the Hourglass, I’d learned how to mask my psychic scent well enough to fool even a darker Jewel.

“The ugliness had started by then—Queens and darker-Jeweled males muttering about Black Widows being dangerous, how they were emotionally unstable because of their journeys into the Twisted Kingdom, how only Hayllian witches had the lifespan and the maturity needed to handle the Black Widows’ Craft. The males began to break young Black Widows—for their own good, of course.”

“Bastards,” Jared snarled softly.

“The month before I turned eighteen, the Black Widow showed up unexpectedly. She said she’d been thinking about me while she was weaving a tangled web of dreams and visions. She said if I didn’t make the Offering to the Darkness before the next moon, I never would. And if I didn’t have my Virgin Night before the Offering, I would never reach my nineteenth year.”

Thera leaned against Jared. Surprised by her sudden weariness, he slipped his arm from her shoulder to her waist to support her.

“Auntie’s lover saw me through my Virgin Night,” Thera said quietly. “He wasn’t happy about it, but there was no one else we could trust, so he accepted his duty. He was generous and kind. When it was over and we were sure my inner web was intact and I still had my Jewels and my Craft . . . I think he was more relieved than I.

“A week later, we went to a Sanctuary a couple of days’ ride from Auntie’s village. The Priestess there and the Black Widow were friends. I made the Offering and came away with the Green Jewels.

“The day after I turned eighteen, my sire sent a message. My mother was dying and asked to see me.”

“You went back to the court,” Jared said, his temper simmering.

“I went back.”

“It was a trick.”

“It was a trick,” Thera agreed.

“Your mother wasn’t dying, was she?”

“Oh, yes, she was,” Thera replied too calmly. “He’d tortured her. After what he’d done to her, there was nothing she could do but die.

“She hadn’t asked for me. She hadn’t wanted to see me. The anguish in her eyes was all the warning I needed. I was the last cruelty, you see. She’d thwarted his having any control over me, so now he’d take me. He wanted her to know that all the sacrifices she’d made, all the pain she’d suffered was for nothing.

“He dragged me into the next room. There was a grille in the wall beside the door. There was no way she couldn’t hear what was happening in that room.

“He raped me.”

“Wait a minute!” Jared protested. “You said he wore the Opal. You outranked him. You were stronger.”

“She dragged herself to the grille and pleaded with him to stop. She couldn’t really talk, couldn’t really form words. Not that it would have made any difference.”

“Thera!” Red mist coated the road and land around them. Jared shook his head to clear the rage from his vision.

Thera stared at nothing. “When he found out he was too late to break me, he beat me.” Her eyes frosted. She looked fiercely triumphant. “And I let him.”

“Why?” Jared’s voice broke.

“To buy time. I’d slipped under his inner barriers just enough to find out why he’d done this. Revenge, Jared. He knew where Auntie lived. He’d learned enough to know about her lover and the Black Widow sister. He planned to have them all killed because my mother had defied him. He intended to make sure I had no one to run to if I managed to get away from him again. But he’d wanted me under his control before he ordered the executions. That was his first mistake.

“So I fought hard enough to enrage him, to excite him with the spilled blood. And while he raped me again, I sent a message to Auntie on a distaff thread and told her to leave, to vanish and never look back. The Green was strong enough to reach that far. I knew they’d warn the Black Widow.

“Even Auntie wouldn’t have recognized me when he was done. My mother died the next day. The day after that, he sold me to an acquaintance. He never told the man who I was. Since I couldn’t speak clearly, my owner gave me a name. By the time the bruises and swelling went down, I’d woven illusion spells around myself. I didn’t look like a fresh, young eighteen-year-old.” Thera laughed harshly. “I drooled a lot. Staggered around glassy-eyed. Anytime a male sat down, I’d climb into his lap and ask him if he’d like to be castrated because I was sure it would make him feel better not to have those nasty urges.

“The son of a whoring bitch couldn’t sell me fast enough.

“I’ve had nine owners in the past year. Sometimes the old one remembered to tell the new one my name. When he didn’t, I took another name, confusing the trail even more. My sire tried to keep track of me, you see. He never found my aunt or her lover or the Black Widow. Different names, a different place. They vanished like dreams.”

Jared didn’t know what to say. His grief for her made him ache. “You’ll never look for them, will you?”

“No. My sire lost me two owners ago. The name doesn’t match. The description doesn’t match. And by manipulating the last bastard into putting me on the auction block . . . no name, no land, no people. I became no one and anyone. I’d intended to snare some weak-willed fool who wouldn’t even be able to remember buying a female on the auction block. Once he got me out of Raej, I, too, would vanish.”

Thera bit her lip and shook her head. “But Lia bought me, so I guess I fouled that spell.” Pulling away from Jared, she started walking quickly.

Staggered by what she’d told him, Jared stood in the road for a full minute before he hurried to catch up to her. When he was an arm’s length behind her, he said, “Then your name isn’t Thera?”

She looked over her shoulder. What he saw in her eyes chilled him. “It is now.”

“Landens.” Randolf made the word for the non-Blood of each race sound like an obscenity.

Ignoring Randolf’s surliness, Jared rubbed his chin. The village nestled in the lowland a mile from the hilltop he’d chosen as their midday resting place looked fairly prosperous. From a distance, anyway. His father had always been fair about the tithes required from the landen villages that were bound to Ranon’s Wood, but he’d seen ragged, half-starved people in other Territories who were stripped of so much of their goods and harvests there wasn’t enough left for the whole village to get through the winter months.

“We might be able to get supplies there,” Jared said slowly, turning to look at Lia.

She stared at something in the distance and didn’t answer.

Jared waited, knowing her answer wouldn’t really have anything to do with supplies—because the Winds ran over that landen village, and anyone she sent was going to be tempted to catch one of those psychic roadways for a fast ride home.

Hell’s fire, he was certainly tempted, and he knew freedom waited at the end of this journey. Would men like Brock and Randolf, who still believed they were slaves, be able to resist a chance to escape?

“You’ll need marks to pay for the supplies,” Lia said abruptly.

Jared narrowed his eyes and studied her stiff back as she slowly walked to the wagon and went inside. He felt the absence of something—as if she’d closed some inner door he hadn’t been aware of, leaving him on the outside. He couldn’t define it, couldn’t even say what was suddenly missing except that, without warning, she’d taken something away that she’d shared with him until now.

And he resented the loss because he’d done nothing to deserve it.

Fine, he thought as he brushed past the others and strode toward the wagon. If she wanted to give him the cold shoulder all of a sudden, that was just fine with him. He’d be a good boy and run her errands for her. Just see if he didn’t.

Why in the name of Hell had she shut him out?

He pulled up short to keep from knocking her down when she came around the corner of the wagon.

“Here,” Lia said, holding out a thick bundle of folded marks.

Jared stared at her. There was no color in her voice, nothing he could read in her gray eyes.

She was hiding something from him.

Resentment simmered, deepened into hurt.

He took the marks and riffled through the various denominations of gold and silver. She could have bought passage on a Coach for herself, Thera, and the children with what he held in his hand.

Which made him wonder just how much of her remaining funds she’d given him . . . and why.

Working to make his voice as colorless as hers, he said, “Am I supposed to buy supplies or the village with this?”

“You should have enough with you to buy what’s needed,” Lia replied carefully.

“If I needed more, I could contact you?” Jared watched her, not sure what he was looking for. “You could use Craft to send it to me.” Damn her, why was she doing this to him? Why was she holding herself as if he’d just beaten her?

“Take it with you, Jared.” She took a deep breath.

Jared held his breath and waited. There was something else she wanted to say, something she wanted to tell him. He could feel it. Had she discovered something about the danger that traveled with them?

She let her breath out and said nothing.

Vanishing the marks, Jared mounted the bay gelding. “Anything in particular you want me to look for? Any—” No, he wouldn’t ask her about personal needs. She didn’t want him to meet any personal needs.

She was a good Queen. He’d give her that. It was his error that he hadn’t realized it was a Queen acting responsibly toward a strong, distressed male and not a woman responding as a woman when she’d let him hold her, kiss her, caress her.

His mistake. One that wouldn’t be repeated.

Thera approached them, followed by Blaed.

“Take Blaed with you,” Thera said.

Jared knew the words were meant for him, but Thera kept looking at Lia, who hissed in anger.

“Lord Jared’s perfectly capable of obtaining supplies,” Lia said.

“Of course,” Thera agreed calmly. “But two of them will get it done faster. There’s not enough food left to put together a midday meal. How much daylight do you want to waste?”

The gelding snorted and backed away from the female tempers that gave the air a stormy tang as a silent, vicious argument took place.

“Fine,” Lia finally said through clenched teeth. “Blaed will accompany Jared to the village.”

Circling wide around the two women, Blaed mounted the roan mare.

“Ladies,” Jared said coldly.

Receiving no response, Jared shortened the gelding’s reins and turned the eager horse toward the village. He couldn’t blame it for wanting to get as far away from that anger as possible.

Blaed didn’t break the silence until they reached the bottom of the hill. “You and Lady Lia have a fight?”

“If we did, I wasn’t invited to participate,” Jared snarled, urging the gelding into an easy canter.

“Lia trusts you,” Blaed said, raising his voice above the rhythmic sound of pounding hooves. “You know that, don’t you?”

Jared reined the gelding in and slowed to a walk. He glared at the younger man, who met his temper with a steadying calm. “Did Thera shove you into coming with me because you were fussing her too much or because she thought I needed a keeper?”

“Maybe she thought you needed a friend,” Blaed replied quietly. “Lia’s upset. It has something to do with you. Stands to reason you might need to do a bit of snarling yourself.”

“Well, your reasoning’s faulty,” Jared snapped. And then swore.

Blaed made no comment, which was all the comment he needed to make.

“It has nothing to do with trust,” Jared said after a minute. He wouldn’t let it hurt him. He wouldn’t. “Who else could she have sent? Randolf with his surly contempt? The children? Garth?”

“Brock,” Blaed countered. “Thera.”

“Thera would have needed an escort.”

“Thera doesn’t need anyone to watch her back.”

Hearing the tightness in Blaed’s voice, Jared studied the Warlord Prince thoughtfully. “No, she doesn’t,” he agreed slowly. “What she needs—although she’d deny it with her last breath—is a patient man who could coax her into letting him warm her feet at night.”

Blaed smiled. “I could say the same about a certain Queen.”

“I suppose you could.”

They sighed in unison.

“Come on,” Jared said. “My mother always said a full belly dulls a sharp temper.”

“Did your mother have a sharp temper?”

“Occasionally, when we’d annoyed her past her formidable endurance. But she was referring to my father, my brothers, and me. Not that any of us could compete with her temper when she was really fired up.” Jared shifted in the saddle to get more comfortable. He smiled wryly. “It wasn’t always easy for her, living with four males. After all, when a boy’s first learning to serve, who better to practice on than his own mother? Shalador boys are given strict boundaries, but an intelligent boy can get into a fair amount of trouble without ever stepping over those lines. And my brothers and I were intelligent boys. Every so often, when all of us had frayed her temper, she’d throw up her hands and shout at the top of her voice, ‘I’m an intelligent woman, a skilled Healer. Why am I living in a house with four males?’ My father would answer meekly, ‘Because you love us?’ And she’d look at him and start to laugh. We always got sent to bed early on those nights. Took me years to figure out it wasn’t just so we wouldn’t annoy her further.”

Blaed’s laughter faded as they approached the village.

Not a good time to stir up memories and unspoken longings, Jared thought. Not when the Winds were within reach.

“Do you ever think about going home?” Blaed asked quietly.

Jared fixed his gaze between the gelding’s ears. “I think about it.” What would he do if Blaed tried to bolt? The Gray Lady was going to send the young Warlord Prince home anyway. Since he was one of the five Lia had been looking for, his family must know the Gray Lady intended to set him free. But what if his family didn’t know? What if the request to find him hadn’t come from them? They, and Blaed, would believe he was rogue. His family might hide him for a few days, but after that? No chance to dream. No chance to love. “You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?”

Blaed stared straight ahead. He swallowed hard. “No, I’m not going to do anything foolish.”

Thank the Darkness.

They rode into the village.

It looked too well kept to be deserted, but the streets were empty.

“Looks like someone spotted us,” Blaed said, watching the buildings on their right.

Jared nodded, keeping an eye on the buildings on their left. The lightest possible psychic probe had confirmed how many people were hiding within those buildings. Most of the time, landens realized it was suicide to attack one of the Blood, especially the Jeweled Blood, but sometimes desperation and sheer numbers could balance out power at a horrific cost.

“Call in your Jewels,” Jared said softly. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the Red Jewel so that it was visible. “Let them see they’re dealing with the Opal and the Red. If anyone has any ideas about tangling with the Blood, that should be enough to discourage them.”

Nodding, Blaed quickly used Craft to settle his Opal pendant around his neck, then slipped the Opal ring on his finger.

As they rode slowly down the empty main street, Jared added, “And stay shielded.”

As if realizing a deserted street would cause suspicion, a door opened a few yards ahead of them. An old man stepped out, leaning on a cane for support.

*The young bucks won’t face us, so they shove an old man into the street to do what they don’t have the balls to do,* Blaed said on a spear thread.

Worried by the bitterness in Blaed’s voice, Jared reined in the gelding and nodded to the old man. “Good day to you.”

“And you, Lords.” The old man clutched the cane with both hands.

Jared scanned the street. “I see we haven’t arrived on market day. Is there a place we can get supplies?”

The old man hesitated. “Don’t have a market day as such, Lord. But the old woman across the street keeps a store. Food and such. Likely you’ll find what pleases you there.”

The Blood couldn’t read landens’ thoughts without linking with them, which usually tore apart minds that had no inner barriers, but landen emotions were on the surface and easily read.

The old man’s sorrow speared Jared. “Thank you,” he said, struggling to keep his voice neutral.

The old man raised a gnarled hand. One finger brushed the brim of his hat. “The Blood are good and kind.”

Blaed turned the mare sharply. *He might as well have cursed us.*

*Leash it,* Jared snarled. *They’re frightened people.*

Blaed took a deep breath. *My apologies, Warlord. I’ll brush off my good manners.*

Jared nodded, not trusting himself to reply. He understood the sting of the old man’s words. He’d never heard that phrase until he became a pleasure slave. Not a compliment and, in the Territories that stood in Hayll’s shadow, far from a truth. Landens said it the same way a person said “good dog” to a snarling, vicious animal—as if saying it might make it true, might allow them to escape the encounter intact.

Tying the horses to a post outside the store, they stood in the doorway, giving their eyes time to adjust to the dim interior.

An old woman stood behind a counter at the back of the store. Her shaking hands were pressed flat on the wood so they could see she held no weapons, would pose no threat.

Jared stepped inside, moving slowly.

“A good day to you, Lords,” the woman said. Her voice shook, but it wasn’t because of age. “May the Darkness shine upon you.”

Jared smiled. “Thank you, Lady. We’re in need of supplies.”

She gestured toward the neat shelves, the small, high-sided tables piled with vegetables and fruits. “What I have is yours, Lords.”

Wondering at the regret he heard in her voice, Jared nodded to Blaed, who began to explore one half of the store while Jared looked over the other half. Since she was obviously a shopkeeper, why would she regret selling her wares?

The woman’s behavior was forgotten as soon as Jared rounded a table and saw the fruit hidden behind the apples.

“Honey pears!” he exclaimed, delighted with the find. Grinning, he cradled one arm and began a careful selection. They’d always been his favorite fruit, all the more special because they ripened after the first harvest celebrations. Small, sweet, and juicy, they didn’t keep well unless they were preserved—Reyna always put up jars of brandied honey pears for the Winsol feast—but he’d always thought the fresh fruit tasted better. And had always thought Reyna’s grandmother extraordinarily farsighted to have planted two honey pear trees on the family land for the gluttonous pleasure of her great-grandsons.

Two apiece, he decided as he gathered the pears and wondered if Lia had ever tasted one. They’d be expensive. Always were since . . . Jared’s mind stuttered to a halt. . .. since the trees only thrived in the soil of southwestern Shalador . . . and the land that bordered it.

Jared walked to the counter and carefully set down his armful of pears at the same time Blaed set down a large bag of potatoes.

“These are practical,” Blaed said, smiling indulgently at the pears. When Jared didn’t respond, he shrugged and went back to gathering supplies.

It was the hardest thing he’d done in a long, long time, but Jared kept his voice casual as he asked, “How far is it to Shalador?”

“Two full days’ ride north, Lord,” the old woman replied.

Nodding, Jared turned away to select some apples.

Two days to the border. Three days to Ranon’s Wood.

If he rode the Red Wind, he could be home in less than an hour.

He could send Blaed back to the wagon with the supplies and stable the gelding here. By the time they cooked and ate the midday meal, he’d be home. Rested, the gelding could catch up to them easily before they stopped for the night.

An hour. All he needed was an hour to see his family, to talk to Reyna. He’d be gone three hours altogether, four at the most.

He . . . couldn’t go.

The pain almost doubled him over.

He couldn’t go. Three hours, three days, it made no difference. If it wasn’t for Lia’s compassion, he’d be in the salt mines of Pruul right now. And she’d be home. Oh, the unknown enemy Dorothea SaDiablo had set among them still would have been there, the danger still would have walked beside her, but surely the Gray Lady’s warriors would have been waiting for her at the mountain pass and would have protected their young Queen at any cost.

But out here? Brock and Randolf still believed they were slaves, and both were bitter enough to step aside rather than risk themselves for their owner. Eryk and Corry wore Birthright Jewels, but they were too young and had too little training. Whatever useful knowledge Garth had was locked inside him. Little Cathryn had few defenses; Tomas, none. Thayne was a light-Jeweled Warlord but not a fighter. Blaed would fight, if for no other reason than to protect Thera.

And Thera would fight for reasons of her own.

Jared straightened up. A shiver ran down his spine.

Unless she really served elsewhere.

Unless her past was just a story shrouded in a Black Widow’s Craft.

Unless there was another reason why she’d changed her name.

She wasn’t among the ones Lia had been sent to bring back. She’d admitted she’d used a spell to draw the right kind of owner.

Or just a particular one?

She and Lia spent a lot of time in the wagon. Alone.

Green against Green. But if one of those Greens was somehow backed by a Red-Jeweled Black Widow High Priestess?

Hastily gathering the apples, Jared set them on the counter, noticing that Blaed had added a bag of flour, a small block of salt, and two bags of sugar.

“I think that will do it,” Jared said, fighting the urge to abandon the supplies and race back to the wagon.

Fool! Thrice-times fool for leaving her. She was too trusting, too gentle. She’d see the enemy’s smile but not the knife until it was too late. She didn’t have any experience with this kind of treachery.

“I think we should add a few vegetables to this,” Blaed said. “Onions, at least. And we need meat.”

Why was Blaed watching him like that? Why was Blaed really here? To help? Or to warn Thera if he returned sooner than expected?

*What’s wrong, Jared?* Blaed asked. *All of a sudden, you’re jumping at shadows.*

Jared added a braid of onions to the supplies. *Am I?*

A flash of Opal-strength anger touched him.

*I’m worried about them, too. Lia’s upset, Thera’s edgy. Neither of them will say why.* Blaed’s temper flared. *You’re not the only one who believes in honor, Warlord.*

They turned away from each other and began selecting vegetables at random, ignoring the old woman who watched them anxiously.

Jared took a deep breath. Returning to the full counter, he used Craft to float the vegetables so they wouldn’t bruise the fruit and offered the wide-eyed woman a shrug and a smile.

Deciding that he, at least, was finished, he watched Blaed pick up winter squashes and put them down without choosing any of them. And remembered something about the Warlord Prince’s training that he shouldn’t have discounted.

*What do you think Sadi would do if he were here?* Jared asked.

*I wish he was,* Blaed replied, facing Jared. *Then whatever was troubling Thera and Lia wouldn’t trouble them for long.*

Their eyes met and held.

Yes, if the Sadist had been with them, at least one of their group would have quietly disappeared by now.

Jared turned to the old woman. “Meat?”

“No, Lord,” she said. “There is a butcher just down the street.”

“Fine. What do we owe you?”

“What I have is yours, good Lords,” she whispered.

Blaed’s snarl had her backing away from the counter, her hands protecting her throat.

“We came here to buy supplies, not steal them,” Blaed said.

The woman looked pleadingly at Jared. “I meant no insult, Lord.”

“I know,” Jared soothed. “I know.” Worried that she might collapse, he waited until she seemed a little calmer. “How much?”

Her eyes darting from him to Blaed and back again, she pulled a piece of coarse paper and a slim stick of charcoal from beneath the counter and began writing figures. She totaled them, then licked her lips and said nothing.

Jared tugged the paper out from under her hand, read the total, called in the wad of silver marks, and paid her.

“If you’re thinking of telling me it’s fair that we carry what we each selected, think again,” Blaed said dryly.

Relieved that Blaed had shaken off his anger so quickly, Jared gave him a wicked grin and obligingly vanished half the supplies, including the bag of potatoes. The Warlord Prince could have taken all the supplies without thinking twice. It was just the principle of sharing the work. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Blaed vanished his half. Facing the old woman, he gave her the slight bow that denoted courtesy to a woman of less rank.

Flustered, she smiled shyly.

“A moment, Lord,” she said when Jared started to leave.

Nodding to Blaed, who went out, he turned back to the old woman.

She went to a small shelf behind the counter and took down a sealed glass jar. “Fruit preserves,” she said, handing the jar to Jared. “I make it myself. It’s good on morning biscuits.”

“Thank you. How—”

“A gift, Lord. Please take it.”

Touched, Jared kissed her hand. He vanished the jar and gave her the same slight bow. “Lady.”

When he turned again to leave, she placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t go back to Shalador, Lord,” she said hurriedly. “There’s nothing for you there. Shalador lies in ruins. They say all the good Queens are dead, and those who are left have sold themselves for Hayll’s pleasure.”

“Why?” Jared said sharply. “How?”

“War.” She shook her head. “Terrible war.”

Jared braced his hands on the counter and closed his eyes.

Belarr was a Red-Jeweled Warlord. He’d know how to protect Ranon’s Wood. He’d keep Reyna and the boys safe.

Except they weren’t boys anymore. His brothers were old enough to fight. Old enough to die.

He swallowed hard, afraid he was going to be sick.

“Lord?” The old woman patted his arm.

Jared opened his eyes His vision blurred when he saw her concern.

“I . . . I do not understand this Darkness that the Blood honor,” she said hesitantly. “It is not . . . evil?”

“No,” he replied wearily. “It’s not evil.”

“Then may it watch over you, Lord, and protect you.”

Jared tried to smile. “Thank you.”

She walked around the counter and took his arm. “Come. I’ll walk you to the butcher’s.”

“I can find it.”

She led him out of the store. “I’ll walk you.”

Blaed took one look at him and stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

Jared shook his head. He called in the silver marks and handed them to Blaed. “Go to the tavern and see if you can buy a few bottles of brandy and whiskey. That should be enough. I’ll get the meat.”

*Is it a good idea to dull our wits?* Blaed asked.

*It’s always a good idea to dull pain.*

Jared followed the old woman to the butcher’s. There were a few men on the street now. Silent. Watching. Including a man in a bloodstained apron.

The old woman raised a hand in greeting. “This Lord would like to buy some meat.”

The butcher eyed Jared warily. “The Blood are good and kind.”

Smiling, the old woman reached up and patted Jared’s cheek. “Some of them truly are.”

Jared turned back to the man in time to see his startled expression shift to a more businesslike one.

“You’re traveling, Lord?” the butcher asked once they’d entered the shop and the small glass-enclosed counter was between them.

“Yes.”

“Got some beef that would cook up just fine over a fire.”

“That’s fine.”

“Got some fresh sausages, too. Quick and easy in a skillet.”

“Fine.” Jared watched the butcher efficiently select and wrap up the meat.

The butcher glanced at Jared, then at the packages. When Jared said nothing, he cut and wrapped more meat.

“I don’t think you want more than this, Lord. It would only go bad before you could eat it, even with magic.”

Jared called in the gold marks and handed two of them to the butcher.

“That’s too much, Lord.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jared vanished the rest of the gold marks and the packages of meat.

The butcher fingered the gold marks thoughtfully. “A gang of men—Blood—came through here two days ago. They were looking for a pedlar’s wagon and a group of travelers. A vicious witch, they said. Dangerous. Thought she might be running to Shalador for some reason. Asked about a Shalador Warlord who might be with her.”

Jared finally focused his attention. “And what did you tell them?”

“What could I tell them? No one like that had come through here, had they?”

His attention sharpened. “And now?”

“Now?” The butcher shrugged. “What could I tell them now that’s any different? Haven’t seen a wagon or a witch. Two Lords rode in to buy supplies. Who can tell what Territory they came from? Was busy with my shop, wasn’t I? Didn’t see what direction they came from . . . or what direction they took when they rode out.”

“Thank you,” Jared said quietly.

The butcher hesitated, scratched his jaw. “Even in a tucked-away village like this, we hear things. You know?”

Jared nodded.

“If you aren’t heading someplace in particular, I’ve heard some talk that going west is the best choice. The Tamanara Mountains are still some distance away, and they’re full of rogues—vicious bastards who’ll gut you faster than you can spit—but if you can slip past them . . .”

“I’ve heard that, too. About the rogues,” Jared said, opening the shop door. “Might be better to head south.”

“It might at that,” the butcher said, smiling.

Outside, Blaed was mounted and waiting for him.

They rode out of the village at a walk.

Blaed caressed the Opal-Jeweled ring on his right hand. “I know I should put it away, but, Hell’s fire, it feels good to wear it again.”

Jared twisted in his saddle. “If you put those Jewels aside before we get to Dena Nehele, I’ll cut your balls off. I swear it.”

Blaed stared at him. Then he lowered his head and pursed his lips. “Since she treats us like a court circle and not bought flesh, we should act like a court circle. Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Blaed studied the glowing Red Jewel hanging from the chain around Jared’s neck. “Suits me.” He paused, and added, “You going to insist on the Jewels all around?”

“Everyone who can wear them.”

Blaed nodded thoughtfully. “Shouldn’t be a problem. At least, it shouldn’t add to the ones we already have.”

Jared felt a prickle between his shoulder blades. “What problems are those?”

Blaed snorted. He sounded amused.

Warlord Princes were a law unto themselves, Jared thought as he watched something shift in Blaed’s hazel eyes. A different breed of men, no matter what Jewels they wore. Men who rose to the killing edge as easily as other men slipped on a comfortable coat. Men who spent their lives dancing on the knife edge. Violently passionate—and passionately violent.

“Yes, I’m dangerous,” Blaed said softly, as if he’d heard Jared’s thoughts. “I’m younger than you and less experienced, but you can’t dismiss what I am. You came close to what it’s like to be a Warlord Prince that night when you were in rut. Do you know why you didn’t kill the rest of us? She balanced you, grounded you. If Lia wasn’t the kind of Queen she is, you would have come out of it surrounded by corpses. That’s what’s inside me, all the time. Banked, that’s true, except for those times when it becomes too fierce to control and I have to surrender to the bed and give in to the rut. The only hope I have of not becoming a vicious killer, of not being a butcher when I’m sheathed between a woman’s thighs is serving a Queen who can balance me, ground me. It’s not so fierce then. In fact, as long as there’s no provocation, it’s fairly easy to control when you’re grounded by a strong Queen. Or so my father told me.”

Jared licked his dry lips. “What if you couldn’t . . . what if there’s no relief, no release?”

Blaed didn’t have to ask who Jared was talking about. “He never gets aroused. Never. But the rut has to be siphoned off somehow.” Blaed shuddered. “I think it’s best not to think about how he does it.”

“We’re running,” Jared said. “You know that.”

Blaed nodded. “We’re being hunted. I know that, too.”

“One of us serves Dorothea SaDiablo.”

Blaed digested this and nodded again. “At least one of us.”

Jared narrowed his eyes. “You’re thinking of Garth?”

“Hard not to.”

Jared scanned the countryside. Then he opened his inner barriers enough to make a strong psychic probe.

Nothing. Not even a pocket of emptiness that might have indicated a psychic shield. A lighter-Jeweled psychic shield, he amended. If there was a Red Jewel out there, he might not be able to sense it. But a Red wouldn’t go up against another Red. Not alone.

“Whom do you trust among us?” Jared asked suddenly.

“Besides Lia? Thera. Thayne because we grew up together. You.”

Jared hesitated but had to ask. “Do you trust Thera because you’re attracted to her or because you truly believe she’s not a danger?”

“Oh, she’s a danger,” Blaed replied, “but not to Lia.” He paused, then chose his words as if he were picking his way over rough ground. “Even when they were both trying to deceive everyone with those illusion spells, I think they recognized something in each other, something that made them friends despite the deception. Hell’s fire, Jared. Right from the start, they quarreled like friends who just couldn’t see eye to eye. So, yes, I trust Thera. Besides, I think she’s the kind of witch Dorothea would see as a rival, not a tool.”

Jared thought that over and, reluctantly, had to agree. “What about the children? Do you trust them?”

Blaed shook his head. “Too vulnerable. Useful as a weapon against us, though, unless you can hold Lia down during an attack.”

“Damn.”

“What’s in our favor is that Dorothea’s pet has to be in a constant cold sweat by now.”

“Why?” Jared asked, curious.

Blaed made that amused snort. “Jared, do you know where we’re making camp tonight?”

Jared thought about it for a moment and huffed. “No.” Then he started to sweat. He didn’t know. Lia wandered off the main roads for no reason he could figure out, sometimes wandered off the roads altogether for a little while whenever the terrain permitted. Always heading north or northwest, true, but this was rolling countryside, sufficiently wooded to provide plenty of hiding places for a pedlar’s wagon and a small group of people. If a man didn’t know where to look for her . . .

He’d assumed he’d be able to catch up to them if he left for a few hours. He’d assumed he’d be able to find them.

“Have we got any spare rope?” Jared asked.

“We’ve got the leads we were using for the saddle horses. Why?”

“I’m thinking of tying one end around Lia’s waist and the other end around mine.”

Blaed chuckled. “Better make sure it’s long enough for her to go into the bushes by herself.”

“Maybe,” Jared growled.

Blaed’s laughter stopped almost before it began. The roan mare snorted and danced as his hands tightened on the reins. Something predatory flickered in his eyes.

Jared started probing, searching. “What’s wrong?”

“Thayne,” Blaed said through gritted teeth. “He says Thera and Lia are snapping at each other. Everyone’s uneasy.”

“Damn!” Jared dug his heels into the gelding’s sides a second after Blaed kicked the mare into a full gallop.

*Blaed,* Jared said a minute later as they charged up the hill and swept past an anxious-looking Thayne. *We’ve got two lead ropes.*

Blaed bared his teeth. *That suits me just fine.*

Yes, Jared thought as he and Blaed dismounted and strode toward the quarreling women. That would suit both of them just fine.

Jared picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it as hard as he could. The midday meal he’d eaten an hour ago felt as hard as that rock in his stomach. Even the honey pear, ripened to perfection, had tasted bitter.

Fool. Thrice-times fool!

What was he doing here? He could have been with his family now. He could have talked to Reyna. He could have been home instead of walking along another of these excuses for a road.

He could have been in his mother’s house again and, if she’d been willing to forgive him, could have felt her arms around him, easing the hurts and worries like she used to do when he was a boy. Mother Night, how he’d missed being held by Reyna.

He threw another rock.

Lia hadn’t expected him to come back. He’d seen it in her eyes before she could hide it. She’d expected him to grab the chance of a little distance, catch the Winds, and disappear.

That’s why she had given him all those marks. That’s why she had intended to send him alone.

What would she have done when he didn’t return? Ride into the village herself to buy whatever she could with the remaining marks?

Had Thera guessed? Was that why she’d insisted on Blaed going with him? So that Blaed could return with the gelding and supplies?

Well, if Lia was going to let one male slip the leash, why not all of them? They wouldn’t assume it was because he outranked her. Any man who had worn a Ring of Obedience knew how well it could control a darker-Jeweled male. Or would they assume he’d been able to slip the leash because he wore the Invisible Ring?

Which was the point, damn it! He wore a Ring. So it wasn’t the Ring of Obedience. She’d placed a Ring on him, and even if his body couldn’t feel it, his heart did—and that Ring got heavier with every step he took away from a fast journey to Ranon’s Wood.

But it wasn’t the Invisible Ring that held him back. The fact that she had expected him to escape was proof enough that she didn’t intend to use it to control him. What really kept him here was the debt he owed Lia—his strength on the journey in exchange for the freedom she’d purchased.

And, damn her, she had hurt him. The witches who had owned and used his body had never been able to hurt him as deeply as she had.

He watched Blaed canter toward him. He must have fallen so far behind someone had started to worry. Not Lady Ardelia, of course.

He liked Blaed, but he wished it had been Brock who had come looking, a man closer to his own age. Then again, despite pleasure slaves being at the top of the slave hierarchy, most other slaves seemed to think that once a man was used in bed he couldn’t remember what the word “honor” meant, let alone live by it.

Maybe Lia thought the same thing.

Well, he’d take whatever company he could get. He was tired of sulking by himself.

Thera swung down from behind Blaed.

Jared swore under his breath.

Blaed wheeled the roan mare and cantered back to the wagon.

Thera fell in step beside Jared. “Want some company?”

“No.” He lengthened his stride.

“Too bad.” Since she wasn’t tall enough to throw her arm over his shoulders, she settled for wrapping both arms around one of his, forcing him either to slow down or drag her.

He slowed down. Reluctantly. “Let go.”

She ignored the snarled order. “Being an only child, I don’t have any firsthand experience, but it’s been my observation that one of the duties and privileges of a younger sister is to be a ripe boil on her older brother’s backside.”

“Well, you certainly qualify for that,” Jared growled. “Though you should keep in mind that the way to get rid of a boil is to lance it.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“What went wrong in the village, Jared?”

Jared looked at the cool eyes watching him so intently. Then he looked away. “Nothing went wrong in the village. We left to get some supplies. We came back.”

Thera tucked some stray hairs back into her braid. “Lia was glad to see you.”

“Of course she was.”

Thera nodded as if something finally made sense. “I don’t think Brock or Randolf would have come back.”

Which had nothing to do with anything. Lia should have known he would come back. Damn her.

Thera waited a minute; then, when he didn’t say anything, asked, “What do you think will happen once we get to Dena Nehele?”

Jared clenched his teeth. Damn damn damn.

“Lia’s asked me several times, privately, if I had finished my formal training. Each time, when I told her that I hadn’t, she mentioned that her mother was a Sapphire-Jeweled Black Widow who would be very pleased to have a Green-Jeweled apprentice or journeymaid.”

“Mother Night,” Jared muttered.

“Only a cruel person would say that to a slave—unless the slave was never intended to be a slave. Don’t you think?”

Jared bit his tongue.

Thera nodded as if he’d answered. “That’s what I thought, too. You know what else I think? I think she had a reason for the choices she made in Raej, that she chose each of us because she felt she had something to offer us. Except you.”

Stung, Jared stopped walking. “She has something to offer anyone with the sense to see it.”

“That’s what Blaed said.”

“Blaed’s a fool.”

Thera bristled. “He is not!”

“You said he was. This morning.”

“That was this morn—”

Jared sucked air when Thera’s hands clamped on his arm.

“Listen,” she said, cocking her head.

A rhythmic pounding. Off to their right. Out of sight.

He probed cautiously, recoiling when he brushed against a slimy psychic scent. “It’s Garth.”

Thera released him and started walking toward the sound.

Swearing, Jared grabbed the back of her coat. “Stay here.”

She turned icy green eyes on him. “You can come with me.”

Keeping a firm grip on her coat, Jared muttered, “Blaed and I are going to have a little talk about tethers.”

Thera made a sound a feral dog would envy.

They found Garth, his large hand filled with a stone that he was using to pound something he’d placed on a flat rock. His teeth were bared. His face was contorted. He grunted with each impact as he pounded, pounded, pounded.

“Garth,” Jared called, approaching warily. “Garth!”

Garth stared at Jared with blue eyes filled with a killing rage.

Jared hesitated, then stepped closer because he’d caught a glimpse of something shiny. “What are you doing?”

Garth’s mouth kept working, but no words came out. With an anguished bellow, he threw down the stone and ran away from them.

Jared took another step toward the rock.

“Jared, be careful,” Thera said.

Shiny brass buttons, mashed and useless, with pieces broken off.

Buttons.

And something else. Something in the buttons he could almost sense.

“Jared . . .”

He heard the sharpness, the intensity in Thera’s voice.

Careful. Careful.

With a delicate psychic tendril, he probed one of the buttons.

It happened too fast. One moment there was only that psychic sliminess. Then a psychic fog shot out of the buttons and rapidly changed into thick, sticky strands full of tiny hooks.

It looked like a badly woven net, Jared thought as it came down over his mind. The tiny hooks dug into his inner barriers, securing the strand. Another strand touched. More hooks dug in.

More strands. More hooks.

It surrounded him in seconds and immediately started to constrict. If it sealed his inner barriers, it would lock him inside himself.

Like Garth.

And then he knew what it was.

He poured the strength of the Red into his inner barriers, poured everything he had into his inner defenses.

It was a tangled web. The kind of web Black Widows used for their dreams and visions. The kind they used to entangle a mind and draw it into a living nightmare.

He struck out desperately, but the power only got through the shrinking spaces between the strands. Fed by his own strength, the strands in the tangled web swelled like fat slugs.

Panicked, he tried again and again.

*No, Jared! Don’t attack it! Don’t feed it!* Thera’s voice sounded like ice-coated fire.

Trembling, he obeyed.

Was this how Garth had felt? Had he done the same thing, unwittingly aiding in his own destruction?

*Hold your inner barriers, Jared,* Thera said. *I know how to get rid of this.*

She didn’t sound as confident as her words, but since he didn’t see another choice, he again obeyed. His body was shaking, but he felt distanced from it, unconnected. If he tried to raise his arm, how long would it take his body to receive the message—if it received it at all?

Without warning, a psychic knife came whistling down— a long, sleek blade, its edge glowing with icy Green fire.

It hit his inner barriers with enough force to make him gasp. It struck again and again, slicing through the sticky strands, charring the severed ends.

As sections of the tangled web fell away from him, little balls of psychic fire struck them, burning them to ash.

He endured the blows as Thera’s Green knife continued to hack at the tangled web.

Finally, enough had been cut away for him to be aware of something outside himself. Something that sounded like a roll of thunder, like the roar of a waterfall.

Like the sound of power gathering before it was unleashed.

*Leave it, Thera!* Jared shouted. *Get away from here!*

The Green knife paused.

*Mother Night,* Thera whispered, swiftly breaking contact with him.

Jared shook his head to clear it. His connection to his body still felt sluggish. Strands of the tangled web were clinging to his inner barriers, making him feel tainted, but he was no longer imprisoned.

Hands grabbed him. He stumbled.

“Jared!” Thera shouted. “There must have been another spell in those buttons. I can’t tell how strong it is. I don’t know if we can shield against it. We have to run.”

His legs just wouldn’t obey him. “Go,” he said. “I can’t run.”

Swearing, Thera tugged him away from the rock, toward the road. “Damn you to the bowels of Hell, you stupid man. RUN!”

She gave him a vicious clout. He couldn’t tell if it was physical or psychic, but it got his legs moving until he was running away from the rock, running up the road.

Feet pounded behind him. Two horses galloped toward him.

Seeing them burned away the last of the sluggishness.

He ran faster.

How dare she ride toward danger? How dare she risk herself? When they got out of here, he’d show her the sharp edge of his temper. Just see if he didn’t.

*Blaed!* Jared roared. *Protect Lia! Shield Lia!*

*Get down!* Thera yelled. *GET DOWN!*

He saw Blaed sweep Lia out of the gelding’s saddle, pull her to the ground, and cover her.

He tasted bitter jealousy that he was still too scrambled to use Craft, that he wasn’t the one shielding her, protecting her.

Thera knocked his legs out from under him. He went down hard, then tried to shake her off when she landed on his back. Wrapping her arms around his head, she buried her face against his neck, and enclosed them both in a Green shield.

The ground shook under him as the area around the flat rock exploded. Small stones and dirt rained down on them.

Thera pressed against him harder and kept muttering, “Mother Night, Mother Night, Mother Night.”

Moments later, years later, there was silence.

Thera rolled off him, quickly stood up, and moved a few feet away.

Shaken by everything that had happened, Jared moved more slowly. He noticed that Blaed, too, was slow getting to his feet.

Lia, on the other hand, strode toward Thera, her face tightened by anger. Her gray eyes looked stone hard.

“You stupid bitch,” Lia shouted. “I’ve been lenient about allowing you to use more than basic Craft, but I did not give you leave to play around with spells you have no training to handle.”

“Nothing would have happened, Lady, if you hadn’t tried to block it,” Thera shouted back. “If anyone’s to blame for this, it’s you.”

Jared shook his head, as if that would clear away the confusion. What were they talking about?

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Lia shrieked.

“A sexless bitch, that’s who! If you had any heat between your legs, you wouldn’t be wasting a male like him.” Thera jabbed a finger in Jared’s direction. “You would have ridden him for all he was worth long before now.”

Lia hissed. “How would you know what a normal woman feels? You’d sheath anything that was willing to get between your thighs!”

Letting out an outraged howl, Thera threw herself on Lia.

Jared watched them go down in a tangle of limbs just as he got to his feet. He watched them roll on the ground, hitting, shrieking, scratching, tearing at each other’s clothes and hair.

Shock locked him in place.

Witches didn’t fight. At least, not physically. Never physically. Witches fought with words, fought with Craft. But not physically.

Because something happened to witches when they crossed that line.

Blood males were fiercely aggressive and might engage in quarrels that ended in blows, but they never completely lost themselves in that kind of fight. Witches did. They became feral, cold-blooded, deadly. They became something even strong males feared because their savagery surpassed anything a male was capable of, and they had no mercy.

Thera and Lia rolled toward him. The shock cracked, shattered. A leg kicked out and hit him hard, knocking his feet out from under him.

He fell on top of them. His fear turned into white-hot anger.

He was only going to separate them, he assured himself as he tried to ram an arm between them. He wasn’t going to attack them, wasn’t going to hurt either one of them— especially because he wasn’t quite sure which body parts went with which woman.

One of them threw a punch that skimmed the side of his head.

Snarling, Jared tried to plant his palm on the bottom witch’s chin and give her head a good thump—and then yelled when two sets of teeth clamped down on his hand.

Hearing another male’s angry roar, Jared rolled, dragging Thera and Lia with him. He realized his mistake a moment later when he opened his mouth to try to draw a breath and inhaled a mouthful of long hair.

Another roar. A shriek as the weight on top of him suddenly lightened. Blaed yelling, “No, Garth! NO! That’s Lia! THAT’S LIA!”

One shove got Thera off him. Jared scrambled to his feet.

Garth held Lia over his head. Blaed stood in front of Garth, but not close enough to help if the big man flung Lia to the ground. Brock and Randolf were a careful distance up the road, breathing hard as if they’d come running to help but now were no longer sure of what to do.

“Put her down, Garth,” Jared said firmly.

Garth turned to face him. “P-p-protect!”

“You did protect Lia. You got her out of the fight.”

The angry flush that colored Garth’s face slowly changed to bewilderment.

Jared noticed the fresh blood darkening Garth’s left sleeve.

Probably something had cut him during the explosion— a sharp stone or even a small branch with enough force behind it to act like an arrow.

“You did well, Garth,” Jared said, walking toward the big man and hoping he looked far more sure of himself than he felt. “Stopping the fight was good. Prince Blaed and I will handle the rest.”

He held out his arms.

Garth hesitated, finally gave a grunt that could have meant anything, then carefully lowered Lia into Jared’s waiting arms. After giving Lia’s shoulder a thumping pat, he started walking up the road toward the wagon.

“Put me down,” Lia said, squirming.

Jared tightened his hold on her and bared his teeth. “When the sun shines in Hell.” Hearing a vicious curse, he looked over his shoulder in time to see Blaed haul Thera to her feet. Apparently Blaed’s temper was as sharp and hot as his own, and that pleased him.

Lia squirmed again, then yipped when his fingers clamped down harder. “I can—”

“Shut up.” Jared’s temper soared a little higher when he saw Thayne jogging toward them with the saddle horses. With Thayne there, that meant there wasn’t an adult looking after the wagon or the children.

*It’s all right,* Blaed said on an Opal spear thread. *Eryk and Tomas are holding the team, and Thayne put a shield around everything. He’ll know if anything touches it before we get there.*

*Get her to the wagon, Blaed.* He couldn’t even say Thera’s name. She’d saved him, but she also had attacked Lia, and he couldn’t untangle the feelings.

Blaed had Thera up on the roan mare and was galloping toward the wagon between one curse and the next.

Jared found his way to the gelding blocked by Brock and Randolf. Randolf was sweating and thoroughly shaken. Brock looked grim.

“What happened?” Brock asked.

“Later,” Jared snapped, shoving between them to reach the gelding.

The trip back to the wagon was too swift to cool his temper or soothe the fear that still jangled his nerves.

Handing the gelding’s reins to Tomas, Jared pulled Lia out of the saddle. The other three children clustered around the roan mare, watching him. “Stay here,” Jared told them. Not that he thought any of them would be anxious to be in a small, enclosed space with two snarling witches who had just torn into each other. Hell’s fire, he didn’t want to be inside the wagon with them either.

Ignoring Lia’s muttered protests when he picked her up, Jared marched into the wagon and dumped her on the bench opposite Thera. Blaed stood nearby, blocking any escape through the shutters that opened onto the driving seat, his muscles quivering with the effort of keeping his own anger in check.

Rubbing his teeth-marked hand, Jared leaned against the door and started putting shields around the wagon—physical shield, psychic shield, aural shield. No one was going to interrupt or overhear this little discussion.

Blaed gave him a look that said, what do we do now?

The women weren’t paying any attention to him or Blaed. A good thing, too, since he had no idea what to do next.

Still breathing hard, Thera dabbed at her lip, then stared at the fresh blood on the back of her hand. “Hell’s fire, Lia, you split my lip.”

Lia pushed her hair away from her face, and said contritely, “I’m sorry.” She studied all the strands of hair now tangled around her fingers. Her eyes narrowed. “Then again, maybe I’m not. Did you have to rip so much hair out?”

“Wasn’t deliberate. My arm jerked when someone who didn’t have enough sense to get out of the way fell on us.”

“Oh.”

They looked at him.

Jared gave them a cold, hard stare.

Their eyes dropped to the hand he was still rubbing. Both of them shifted on the benches, putting them a little closer to Blaed.

“We’re sorry we bit you, Jared,” Lia said meekly, glancing at him through her lashes.

“You’re not the only one who got hurt,” Thera complained, rubbing her shin. “I slammed my leg into something miserably hard.”

“Yes,” Jared said coldly. “Mine.”

“Oh.” After an awkward silence, Thera huffed and pushed her hair back. “Well, I doubt anyone’s going to have the balls to ask questions about what happened.”

Blaed growled.

“Except you two,” Thera added, regarding Blaed with respectful wariness. “Which was the point.”

Blaed’s muscles seemed to swell with the anger he was holding in.

Jared’s eyes narrowed. Where was the fury that had made Thera and Lia tear into each other? Their tempers couldn’t have cooledthat fast. But they were sitting there like friends who had had a minor spat instead of . . .

“You did this deliberately,” Jared said slowly. “You scared the shit out of all of us deliberately.”

“Of course,” Lia replied, looking surprised. “Thera and I realized we had to shift everyone’s attention away from the explosion so that no one would ask about it until we had time to figure out what happened.”

“You lied to us.”

“We didn’t lie,” Lia said indignantly. “We were pretending to have a fight in order to create a distraction.”

His mind understood the distinction between “lie” and “pretend,” but his emotions weren’t interested in being that picky.

“The fight did provide a reason for the explosion,” Thera said.

“And we used Craft to make sure our voices carried far enough so that everyone in the group would know,” Lia added.

Jared forced his teeth apart before he cracked some of them. A few seconds. That’s all it had taken for one of them to send a thought to the other. Something like, We have to do something to keep the males from asking questions. “You planned this in the time it took for you to get to your feet, but you couldn’t take a few more seconds to send a communication thread to Blaed and me to tell us?” He smacked a fist against the door, causing both women to jump. “You just started flinging out insults and tearing into each other without a thought about how we’d feel. You used Craft so that everyone could hear—”

The air in the wagon chilled. He saw the shift in their eyes. They’d been willing to placate him up to a point, and he’d reached it.

“You forget yourself, Warlord,” Lia said coldly. “A Queen doesn’t have to explain herself to any man.”

True, Jared thought, but hadn’t he earned a little consideration?

Lia’s expression softened. “If we’d told both of you it was an act, you wouldn’t have responded the same way. Not emotionally. And the other males would have wondered why.”

Jared couldn’t say anything. Wouldn’t say anything.

“Besides,” Thera added with deadly calm, “you responded to it even though you knew what had happened back there. In fact, you know better than the rest of us. What exactly was Garth trying to destroy, Jared?”

Jared shuddered as it came rushing back, making him realize how right they’d been about a witch fight shifting the focus of the males’ attention. “Buttons,” he said hoarsely. “Three brass buttons. He was smashing them with a stone.”

Thera nodded. “Metal holds a spell fairly well.”

“What’s the point of having exploding buttons?” Blaed asked.

“A weapon,” Lia said.

Thera shook her head. “The explosion happened because Jared tried to probe them—or maybe because I cut through the tangled web closing around Jared’s inner barriers.”

Lia paled, and Jared felt a swift, light brush against his inner barriers—a feminine touch seeking reassurance that he was all right.

“The buttons must have had another use,” Thera said. “The explosion and the tangled web were there to prevent anyone who didn’t have the key from finding out what they were being used for. I wish we had one of them intact to study.”

A chill went through Jared. “Could they be used to track us?”

Thera shrugged. “Sure. A drawing spell, a summoning spell. Either of those can be fine-tuned so that anyone who wasn’t looking for a specific signal wouldn’t notice it.”

Lia nodded thoughtfully. “And using a button is very clever. Even if someone noticed it, who would think twice about a brass button lying beside the road? You’d just think it fell off someone’s coat. You might pick it up—”

“No.” Jared realized he’d been rubbing his hand against his thigh. “They feel slimy. No one would keep it after touching it.”

“Garth did,” Lia pointed out.

Jared took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Garth had one the day we left the clearing. The day we reached the creek. Randolf had been trying to get it away from him. Garth had his hand closed, behind his back. I don’t know if Randolf knew what Garth was holding or simply wanted to be difficult because he hates Garth.”

“What happened to the button?” Thera asked, watching him sharply.

“Garth gave it to me. Then Randolf took it out of my hand and threw it into the bushes. He said Garth was tainted. He said maybe Garth wasn’t as mind-damaged as he seems.” Jared swallowed hard. “I began to wonder about one of us being a pet even before—” He stopped, remembering in time that Lia hadn’t told anyone else about the wrongness she felt.

“I think it’s time I had a little talk with Garth,” Thera said grimly. “But I’ll need an excuse to be alone with him, something that won’t make anyone wonder why I want to see him right after the explosion.”

“He was bleeding,” Blaed said quietly.

“That would do it. The bad-tempered Queen making me patch up the male hurt by my careless spell.”

“A tangled web like the one that almost entangled Jared means a fully trained Black Widow,” Lia said softly.

“I know,” Thera replied.

The two women stared at each other.

“I didn’t mean what I said about your not having skill,” Lia said. Then she glanced at Blaed. “I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

A wicked twinkle lit Thera’s eyes. She slanted a look at Jared. “And I didn’t mean what I said about your interfering with the spell—or being a sexless bitch.”

When Thera didn’t add anything, Lia blushed.

Jared decided that Thera had being a younger sister down pat. “I’d feel better if we could put some distance between us and anyone who might become curious about an unleashing. Can we move the wagon while you’re doing this?”

Thera nodded. “Keep the others away from it though. In case I trigger something.”

Blaed jerked. “What do you mean—” He snarled at Lia when she started pulling him toward the door.

Jared snarled at him.

“Well,” Thera said dryly, “a pissing contest between you two ought to keep everyone occupied.”

As soon as Lia was clear of the steps, Jared pushed Blaed out the door. Then he looked at Thera, said, “He gets to fuss tonight,” and closed the door before she could throw something at him.

Thayne had joined the children and the saddle horses, trying to soothe all of them—not an easy task since Randolf kept pacing and throwing dark looks at the wagon and Garth. Blaed stood an arm’s length from Lia, looking sulky. Still and silent, Brock kept his distance from everyone.

Jared met Brock’s eyes for a moment, then turned his attention to Lia, who was staring at Garth as if she’d like to gut him.

“Garth!” Lia’s voice had a whiplash sharpness that made every man flinch. “Into the wagon. That arm needs tending.”

Garth shifted his feet but didn’t come forward.

“Garth!”

Garth’s pale blue eyes focused on Jared.

“Go on, Garth,” Jared said, keeping his voice firm but kind. “The arm needs tending.”

Cautiously circling around Lia, Garth entered the wagon.

“Let’s move out,” Lia said. “Thayne, you lead the team. Corry and Cathryn, you ride the mare. Tomas, you and Eryk take turns leading her. When you get tired, switch.”

“Yes, Lady,” Tomas said solemnly.

“I may not like him,” Randolf said, “but if you let that Black Widow bitch tend Garth, he’s liable to walk out of that wagon with one arm instead of two.”

Lia took a swing at Randolf, only missing because he jerked his chin back at the same time Jared grabbed her.

“Whatever problem I have with her is my business, but you’d damn well better remember that she outranks you, Warlord.”

Swearing under his breath, Jared dragged Lia over to the bay gelding. “That’s enough,” he growled. “Don’t confuse them to the point of panic.”

“I wasn’t trying to confuse him,” Lia said through gritted teeth. “I was trying to hit him.”

Jared boosted her into the saddle, then handed the reins to Blaed before he stormed back to Randolf. The only thing that kept him from throwing a punch of his own was Brock joining them. He settled for a searing look that made Randolf shift uneasily.

“Tempers are running hot right now,” Jared said. “If they get any hotter, it’s going to be real uncomfortable for us. So keep your tongue and your temper leashed.”

“This really started over some messed-up spell?” Brock asked.

Jared caught a flicker of worry underneath Brock’s bland tone. Understandable, certainly. If he hadn’t seen the two of them in the wagon, hadn’t been told straight out the fight had been staged, he’d be more than a little worried, too, about having two Green-Jeweled witches going for each other’s throats.

“Guess so,” Jared said, shrugging. “I was just tucking myself back into my pants when Thera came rushing toward me, yelling at me to run. It didn’t seem like a good time to start asking questions. And after . . .” Jared rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

Brock snorted. “The whole damn Territory probably heard that.” He paused, snorted again, then gave Randolf a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Come on. We’ll take point. No sense riling things up more than they are.”

Jared waited until the two guards were moving up the road before returning to Lia.

*Everything all right?* Blaed asked, handing the reins to Jared.

*For now,* Jared replied.

*I’ll stay behind the wagon and keep on eye on things.*

*Thera wants . . . * Seeing the look in Blaed’s eyes, Jared let it go. Blaed the man might care a great deal about what Thera wanted, but Blaed the Warlord Prince would do whatever he felt was necessary—regardless of what Thera wanted.

Nodding to acknowledge Blaed’s choice, Jared mounted behind Lia and gave Thayne the signal to move on.

They were right, he thought as he wrapped one arm protectively around Lia’s waist. He’d never admit it to either of them, but, damn them, they were right. He wouldn’t have responded the same way if they’d told him the fight was an act. They shouldn’t have needed to tell him. If he hadn’t been so mentally scrambled, he should have realized it after the first shouted exchange.

And a Queen didn’t have to explain herself to any man, even the ones who served in her First Circle. Lia was right about that, too. A Queen might talk to all of her First Circle about the day-to-day concerns of the court, but there were also circumstances when only her Steward and Master of the Guard were told why something was required. Sometimes she didn’t even tell them.

Blind trust was part of the price of service, and the day a male couldn’t give that kind of trust to his Queen was the day when, in his heart, he no longer served.

Jared understood that, had been raised to accept it.

But he didn’t have to like it.

An hour later, Garth left the wagon, looking dazed.

Half an hour after that, there was still no sign of Thera.

Jared handed the gelding over to Tomas, then hurried to the back of the wagon to join Lia and Blaed.

They found Thera curled up on one of the benches, shaking.

“Cold,” she said as Blaed raised her to a sitting position and Lia wrapped her in spell-warmed blankets. “So cold.”

“Whiskey would help,” Jared said, settling on the other bench to get out of the way.

Blaed called in two bottles of whiskey. He handed one to Jared, opened the other, and helped Thera take a couple of swallows since she was shaking too hard to hold the bottle.

Jared offered the other bottle to Lia. After shuddering through a couple of sips, she handed the bottle back and settled next to him on the bench. He took a healthy swallow, hoping it would soothe nerves frayed from waiting.

Thera pressed her face against Blaed’s shoulder and continued to shake. Blaed held her tightly, murmuring reassurances while he coaxed more whiskey into her.

“I need to wash,” Thera said plaintively. “I need to wash.”

“Soon,” Blaed promised. “I’ll heat some water and help you.”

When Thera didn’t protest, Blaed raised worried eyes to Jared.

Jared shared the worry, and not just because he liked Thera and was concerned about her. She was a strong witch, and something that could shake her this badly was a danger to all of them.

Lia held out her hand. Thera grabbed it.

In the confined space, Jared felt power flow between them—not just the power of the Jewels and Craft, but the power of the feminine, strength anchoring strength.

Thera’s shallow breathing eased, became deeper. She took another sip of whiskey. “Garth knows.”

“Do you?” Lia asked quietly.

Thera started shaking again. Her hand clamped on Lia’s.

“Tell us what you can,” Lia urged. “We’ll deal with the rest.”

Thera took a deep breath. “Garth knows.” Pressing closer to Blaed, she stared at Jared as if each kind of contact was a thread that helped anchor her.

Slipping off the bench, Jared knelt beside her, keeping his eyes locked to hers.

“It’s not like the tangled web that almost trapped you,” Thera told him. “It’s less and more and worse.”

Jared nodded.

“It’s like someone rooted a psychic weed inside Garth’s inner barriers that produced runners that could cover an area with voracious speed. Some of the runners went down below his inner web and then turned upward outside his barriers, forming a tangled net to keep him locked in. Other runners spread out inside his barriers, so he’s doubly caught.”

“What did you do?” Lia asked, watching Thera intently.

Thera licked her lips. “I—Mother Night, Lia, the mind that created that is so vile, so obscene.” It took her a minute before she could continue. “There’s great anger inside him. He must have tried to rip the runners away from the root because I noticed that he could open his first inner barrier a little. So I cut away the tangle surrounding his inner barriers and then . . .”

“You squeezed through that little opening, not knowing how fast that ‘weed’ might reclaim its ground, to clear a path to wherever Garth had retreated within himself,” Lia said, her voice flattened by anger.

“You would have done the same thing,” Thera said defensively.

She would have, Jared thought, and couldn’t choke back the snarl.

“I don’t think what I cut will grow back. I think that’s why something was added to make his psychic scent so repulsive—so no one would push past it. It felt like . . . like . . .”

“Falling headfirst into a giant spittoon,” Jared said.

Blaed shuddered. Thera and Lia turned a little green.

“If I throw up on you, it’s your own fault,” Thera said. She took a quick sip of whiskey.

Lia pressed a hand to her stomach and swallowed. “Don’t talk about throwing up.” Releasing Thera’s hand, she sat back. “Is he broken?”

Thera’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I had the impression this was done hurriedly.”

Lia nodded. “Because it was meant to be temporary. He could have been broken back to his Birthright Jewel.”

“What’s the point of all this?” Blaed asked.

Jared eased back onto the bench. “Destroying the one Queen capable of opposing Dorothea SaDiablo.”

“But Lia isn’t the Gray—” Blaed stopped.

Jared knew the moment Blaed put some of the pieces together and realized Lia must be more than just a young Queen serving in the Gray Lady’s court.

The young Warlord Prince swore quietly, passionately.

Lia squirmed.

“So Garth’s the only one who knows who the enemy is,” Blaed said through clenched teeth, “but there’s no way to find out.”

“Not for a few more days,” Thera said. “By then, all the runners I cut will have withered enough for him to break through.”

Lia closed her eyes. “A few more days,” she said wearily.

Jared slipped an arm around her shoulders to support her. “We’ve got a few advantages now. First, there were three buttons. That means three attempts to signal someone or leave an indication of our direction have been fouled. Second, whoever’s following us isn’t going to expect slaves to be wearing their Jewels.”

“Unless the bastard somehow reported that you’re wearing the Red,” Blaed pointed out. “But you’re right that they’ll have more opposition than they’re expecting.”

“And third,” Jared continued, “we’re less than three days away from my home village. If we push, we might be able to make it in two.”

“No,” Lia said, trying to pull away from him. “We knew bringing people out of Raej would be risky, and it was a risk they’d have to share for the chance of freedom. But I’m not going to let a village of people who have nothing at stake take the risk of having Dorothea’s wrath descend on them.”

Jared looked at Blaed and Thera. “My father is the Warlord of Ranon’s Wood.” If the war in Shalador had reached a small village like Ranon’s Wood . . . No. He wasn’t going to think about that. Couldn’t think about that. “We can get shelter and help there. And we can get a Coach to take us to the mountain pass.” He squeezed Lia’s shoulder. “The Gray Lady’s warriors would be waiting at the pass for you, wouldn’t they?”

Lia nodded reluctantly.

“What about all the rogues?” Blaed asked.

Lia rubbed her hands on her trousers. “Gran has an arrangement with all of the rogues in the Tamanara Mountains.”

“Gran?” Blaed and Thera said in unison.

“The Gray Lady is Lia’s grandmother,” Jared said, watching them. “Lia is her successor.”

Thera started sputtering. “You fool. You idiot.” She stopped because Blaed’s response was much pithier and far more creative. She nodded approvingly. “What he said.”

Blaed’s hazel eyes blazed with anger. “Are you sure about getting a Coach that will get us safely to the pass?” he asked Jared.

Jared nodded. “If, for whatever reason, my father turns down the request, I’ll steal the damn thing. We’ll get to Dena Nehele.”

“Do I get any say in this?” Lia muttered.

“No,” Jared and Blaed said.

She gave Thera a dark look. “You’re not being helpful.”

Thera responded with a cool, measuring stare. “You’ve risked yourself and your land’s future to bring some people out of Raej—which really means out of Dorothea’s control. One of those people has been trying to betray you during every step of this journey. The enemy’s remained undetected because he’s linked somehow with Garth. I got that much. It’s ingenious, actually. That link produces a sense of—”

“Wrongness,” Lia whispered.

“Wrongness,” Thera agreed. “Nothing to trace, nothing to detect, no stray thoughts or emotions that might alert someone. All of that is channeled to the one person whose psychic scent is already fouled.” She paused. “I’m with Jared on this. Once the enemy realizes the protection he’s been hiding behind has fallen, he’ll have to bolt or strike. You need a stronger escort than we can give you to get back to Dena Nehele.”

“Wait a minute,” Lia said, sitting up straight.

“No, you wait, Lady.” Thera’s green eyes flashed. “You’ve been the target all along. Not us, Lia. You. Don’t try to deny it. You’ll only sound like a fool.”

Gray eyes clashed with green.

Jared braced himself, not sure what to expect.

Lia lowered her eyes first. Leaning forward, she rammed her fingers into her hair. “How did it go so wrong?” she asked no one.

“Dorothea’s probably asking the same thing,” Thera said dryly.

Lia looked up. “You could go. There’s nothing to hold you. No one will stop you, any of you, from catching the Winds and going home.”

Thera took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If you make that same offer to everyone here, some, like Tomas and Cathryn, will stay with you because there’s nowhere they’d rather be; some will stay to safeguard Dena Nehele’s future; and one will stay to destroy it.”

Thera took a last sip of whiskey and handed the bottle to Blaed. “I’ve decided I’d like to settle in Dena Nehele and take you up on your offer to finish my training with your mother, if she’ll have me. So I have a strong interest in the land’s future and the Queen who will rule there. Besides, I’m not going to raise my children in a Territory that stands in Hayll’s shadow.”

Blaed paled, then gulped some whiskey. “W-whose children?”

“Probably yours.” Thera snapped. “Unless you annoy me too much.”

Blaed took another gulp of whiskey. As he linked his fingers with Thera’s, he gave them all a silly grin. “We’re really not slaves?”

Lia wrapped her arms around her stomach, bit her lower lip, and shook her head.

Blaed’s grin got sillier when he looked at Jared. “Is there a Priestess in this village of yours?”

“What?” Thera yelped.

Jared coughed politely. “There used to be. I’m sure she’d be pleased to officiate over a handfast.”

“Wait a minute!” Thera growled, tugging futilely to free her hand. “I haven’t agreed to—”

“Excuse me,” Lia said in a strangled voice. “I have to find a bush.” She flung the door open and tumbled out of the wagon.

“I’d better—” Jared began.

“Stay,” Thera said.

Tomas was right. She did get a look in her eyes that could singe a man’s ball hairs.

“Sorry,” Jared muttered as he bolted out the door.

Thera’s shout was muffled by the wagon door banging shut.

Ignoring a stab of envy, Jared corked the whiskey bottle and vanished it.

And realized he was missing a witch.

A quick probe of the surrounding area was rewarded by an annoyed mental jab.

A minute later, Lia emerged from behind the bushes, less than pleased to see him.

He matched her stride and waited.

“We’ll go to Ranon’s Wood,” Lia said quietly.

“Fine.” Jared replied politely.

He knew that would be her decision—not because of the help they’d find there, but because it was his home. If she’d realized it was that close, she probably would have headed there a lot sooner.

Getting her charges home. Getting one more to safety before her luck ran out. She’d focus on that until they reached Ranon’s Wood.

Too late, she’d realize her error.

Jared smiled in anticipation. It was going to be such fun watching Lia try to dodge around his father’s code of honor.