The Invisible Ring

Chapter Seventeen

“Well?“ Jared asked when Blaed met him where the main road forked with a stony track.

Blaed patted the sweating mare’s neck, then lengthened the reins to give her a chance to stretch her back.

“I didn’t see any sign of riders passing down that track,” Blaed said cautiously, “but it’s stony ground.” Then he took a deep breath and huffed it out. “Hell’s fire, Jared, I’m not a trained guard. I can handle a knife, and I know how to fight with Craft, but I could have looked at something obvious and not known it. The track does seem to run straight north. It’s wide enough to accommodate the wagon, although there’s a stretch that looks like it was cut out of the rock. No maneuvering room there.”

“So once we’re in that stretch, we’re committed to going forward.”

Blaed nodded.

Jared rubbed his thumb over the saddle horn. “Anything else?”

“There’s a large nest of viper rats among the boulders. I didn’t see them, but I heard them.”

Jared smiled grimly. “If we lock the boys in the wagon, we just might avoid having one of them get bit.”

Blaed waited. “Well?”

Jared looked back up the road he’d spent the past hour scouting, probing. “I found signs of a large group of riders having come this way recently. A day ago. Maybe two. But I didn’t find them.”

Blaed rubbed his neck. “A Red probe can cover a lot of ground.”

“And a Black Widow can spin a web that would defeat that probe.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

The four of them had gathered inside the wagon late last night. During the talking and planning, a lot of things had been revealed.

Lia had told Thera and Blaed the reasons the “Gray Lady” had gone to Raej one last time. She’d told them about the wrongness she had felt and about the warning note that had sent them fleeing cross-country.

But she didn’t tell them why she hadn’t been able to buy passage on a second Coach.

Then Thera had told the three of them about the tangled webs she’d created for the wagon.

Jared still wasn’t sure if he’d have felt easier if he’d known about Thera’s precaution earlier, but that kind of skill in a witch not fully trained had served as a sharp reminder of why Black Widows, with their ability to ensnare or deceive a person’s mind, were so dangerous.

She’d called it a mirroring web. A fairly simple tangled web. When triggered by a psychic probe, the web returned a message more subtle than a thought or a feeling. The probe would touch the web and deliver a simple message: Nothing there.

While they were still at the inn Lia had brought them to after leaving Raej, Thera had embedded four of those tangled webs into the wood of the wagon—one on each side. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say why she’d done it. But Jared suspected she’d been covering her own tracks, just in case her sire had somehow been able to trace her to the slave auction. It didn’t really matter who she’d originally created those webs to hide, the result was the same: How many times during their journey had someone probed for them after finding one of those brass buttons and found “nothing there”?

And had he really seen evidence of an abandoned camp when he’d scouted the road an hour ago, or could those men have been hiding nearby in the land’s many dips and hollows, shielded by a similar kind of tangled web?

Jared broke the silence first. “The road loops, then heads north.”

Blaed nodded slowly, looking at the track that forked with the road. “The track’s a shortcut then. If marauders blocked both ends, we’d be trapped on it.” He closed his eyes. “Jared, the Winds cross that track right near the stretch of boulders.”

Jared swore fiercely. While it was customary to use the official landing places—and it was certainly safer since there wasn’t the risk of dropping from the Webs onto precarious ground—the Blood could catch the Winds or drop from them anywhere along the way. Which meant they could have unwelcome company without any warning.

If they abandoned the wagon and horses, he could put a Red shield around all of them and they could ride the Winds the rest of the way to Ranon’s Wood. Even shielded, riding that dark a Web would be an uncomfortable ride for the lighter-Jeweled among them—and a desperate one for Cathryn, Tomas, and Garth, who couldn’t ride any of the Winds without the protection of a Coach.

If they did it, it would have to be the Red Wind. A lighter Web would be easier on the others. It would also increase the risk of having enemies riding the Wind with them.

But all it would take was one Red-Jeweled marauder unleashing enough power to break his shield and the others would have no time to drop from the Wind before their minds were torn apart by the power in the Red Web.

“I know,” Blaed said quietly. “I did think of it. I also considered letting everyone capable of it ride the Wind of their Jewels.”

“You’d let Thera ride alone?”

“No. Even if I was willing, she wouldn’t ride the Winds alone. Between them, she and Lia would gather up the children and Garth.”

“Taking all the same risks with none of the strength to back them.”

“So we stay and take the risks overland.”

Jared rubbed his forehead, trying to quiet the headache that was starting to bloom. “So we stay.”

“Serving in a First Circle’s not easy, is it?” Blaed said dryly. He shifted in the saddle. “A trained guard would know how to defend against an ambush.”

“A trained guard would know how to create one, too,” Jared countered. The headache was pounding in time with his heart. “You’re sure about Thayne?”

“I’m sure about Thayne. And we all agreed that, while a child could be misled enough to drop the buttons for someone to find, none of them is old enough or strong enough to handle a connection with the spells tangling up Garth.”

“That narrows our choices, doesn’t it?” Jared sighed. “Does taking an innocent life get balanced somehow by destroying an enemy? I couldn’t sleep last night, so I kept asking myself what my father would do if he were here.”

“Did you get an answer?”

Jared snorted. “No. Not from him anyway. But I know what my mother’s answer would be. Then again, she’s a Healer, and Healers feel quite strongly about life.”

“So do some Queens,” Blaed replied.

Jared shortened the gelding’s reins. “Yes, may the Darkness help us, so do some Queens.”

Jared climbed among the tumbled boulders, looking for a place that would give him a little privacy. After a minute, he found a spot cupped by surrounding boulders that rose a little higher than a man’s waist. Anyone who noticed him would think he’d just climbed up to take a look around. In fact—he unfastened his trousers and grinned at the wet rock in front of him—someone had already found this place.

The grin faded. As he took care of business, he studied the people gathered around the wagon.

Hell’s fire, why had the back axle broken now? Was it an accident caused by the stress of traveling over rough ground or a deliberate act to delay them in the worst possible section of this track?

As Jared straightened his clothes and turned to climb down, he caught a glint of metal among the rocks.

His heart slammed into his throat as he stared at the brass button.

Then a prickle between his shoulder blades made him look up.

The dust cloud coming down the road made no sense— until he realized a sight shield hiding horses and riders hadn’t been extended far enough to cover the sign of their passing.

Looking in the other direction, he saw another dust cloud rapidly approaching the wagon.

*Blaed!* Jared roared. *It’s a trap!*

Blaed didn’t turn, didn’t answer. For a moment, Jared wondered if he’d been wrong to trust the Warlord Prince. Then Blaed ran to the front of the wagon while the others scattered among the boulders.

Taking one deep breath to steady his hard-pounding heart, Jared turned south again, raised his hand, and created a Red shield that spanned the road, extending it upward until a rider wouldn’t be able to unleash his power without hitting the shield.

The sound of boots scrambling on stone came from behind him.

Whirling, Jared saw the three marauders just before one of them unleashed a bolt of Purple Dusk power directly at him.

Throwing a Red shield around himself, he flung himself to one side, gritting his teeth as the boulder that had been behind him exploded. Chunks of rock hit his shield hard enough to make him feel the blow.

Before the marauders could strike again, he unleashed the Red in two short bursts. The first blast shattered the marauders’ shields. The second tore through their bodies.

Jared scrambled through the boulders, reaching the road at the same time the marauders reached the Red shield. It sizzled as they unleashed their Jewels against it.

They’d come on foot. A good move, Jared realized as he extended the shield so that it formed a barrier along the top of the boulders on either side of the road. A few dead horses would have made an effective barricade.

Jared started backing away, extending the Red shields as he moved toward the wagon.

Strikes against the side shield pulled his attention away from the men in the road. As he turned to strengthen that side, he saw a dozen more marauders suddenly appear.

Not only had they come down the road from both directions, the bastards were dropping down from the Winds!

The next few minutes passed in lightning-fast images. The wagon exploded when blasts of power struck it from two sides. A ball of witchfire set what was left on fire. A horse screamed. A man roared. More and more marauders gathered a few feet behind the Red shields, unleashing their Jewels against it, forcing him to draw more and more of his own strength into maintaining and extending the shields as he continued to creep back toward the wagon.

Suddenly, the Green Jewels unleashed farther up the road, one on each side.

Jared heard men scream, felt something in the land die as it exploded and burned. He couldn’t extend his shields to surround their little group because he didn’t know where the others were, didn’t know where Lia was among all the shattering boulders. There was so much power sizzling around them, his efforts to contact the others through a psychic link yielded nothing.

A blast of power coming from behind him hit the boulders above his head, knocking him down. Momentarily stunned, Jared felt the Red shield across the track break.

He created another a few yards in front of him.

“Give it up,” one of the marauders yelled when he reached the new shield. “You can’t win against us, slave. Give it up!”

“When the sun shines in Hell,” Jared muttered, strengthening the shields. He darted among the boulders that had fallen into the track, constantly extending the shields as he continued to work his way to the burning wagon and the section of the road where he’d seen the others run for cover.

Blast after blast rocked the shields. Jared continued to unleash short bursts of power to break through personal shields and inner barriers, but for every marauder who fell, two more took his place.

Two bursts of power were unleashed on the road directly in front of him, and a thick cloud of dirt rose up, blinding him while he tried to regain his footing on the edge of the newly made pit. Choking, he rubbed his eyes to clear away the tears and dirt and didn’t see the man rushing out of the cloud.

Strong hands grabbed him and hauled him behind some boulders.

A Purple Dusk shield formed a dome around them and the boulders in front of them.

“Hell’s fire, even the Black Widow knows how to fight better than you do,” Randolf growled, crouching beside Jared.

Resisting the urge to ram a fist into Randolf’s face. Jared snapped. “I was never trained for this.”

“Neither was she, but she knows enough not to be polite or dainty about it,” Randolf snapped back. “You’re wasting our best weapon.”

Refusing to respond, Jared started to extend the shield on his side of the road and hit a Green shield that returned the contact with enough punch to make him feel like a baby bolt of lightning had run up his spine and scorched his lungs.

Jared shook his head to clear it and tried to convince his chest to expand enough so that he could try to breathe.

“Told you she fights better than you,” Randolf said.

Marauders dashed among the boulders on the other side of the track. Collisions of psychic power caused the energy to veer off in all directions, striking wildly.

A woman screamed in rage.

A man roared a fierce battle cry.

Somewhere among the boulders, a child screamed in terror.

That scream chilled Jared. He turned to Randolf. “What’s our best weapon?”

“Your Red Jewels,” Randolf said abruptly. Shoving Jared closer to the ground, he raised his right hand, which now wore a Purple Dusk ring, and unleashed fast arrow bolts of power.

Pushing against Randolfs restraining left hand, Jared raised his head high enough to see a marauder trying to crawl back between the shattered boulders and the bottom of the Red shield. Blood gushed from the man’s severed leg.

Randolf waited until the man’s body filled the gap. He unleashed the Purple Dusk again, severing the other leg just above the knee.

Jared stared at the Warlord guard. Crouching comfortably, Randolf returned the stare with a steady gaze.

“You did exactly what they counted on you doing,” Randolf said quietly. “You threw your strength into defending instead of fighting. If I were up there, I would have gambled that way.”

“Why?”

Randolf ignored the question. “They’ve thrown twice as many men against you as they’ve got pinning down the rest of us because they want to eliminate the Red.” He snorted. “I doubt they were expecting our Ladies to show so much teeth and temper. Once you’re gone, though, they’ve got the numbers to pull the rest of us down and take whatever they’ve come to take.”

Randolf didn’t need to say the obvious. There was only one person—now, maybe two—who was worth this much effort and this kind of cost.

“You defend well, Warlord,” Randolf said. “Now it’s time to kill.”

“The bodies lying among the boulders aren’t resting, Warlord,” Jared replied, feeling foolishly like an adolescent who’d just had an older male dismiss his efforts as barely adequate.

“You’re wasting your strength that way. The way you’ve been doing it, you need two strikes—one for a man’s shield and one for the inner barriers. Plus you’re feeding the shields.”

Jared ground his teeth. “I know that.”

“Stop feeding the shields.”

“If I do that, they’ll fall in a minute,” Jared protested.

Randolf eyed him grimly. “Then a minute’s all you have. A fast descent to your core, come up under their inner barriers and unleash. Hold your strength in a half circle.” He drew a small figure in the air with his finger. “Keep the baseline directly in front of you. Then fan out the Red in front of that line. If you unleash in a circle, you’ll take out all of us as well as them.”

Jared swallowed hard. “I’ve never tried anything like that. What if I can’t control it that way?”

“Then, if we’re lucky, we’ll all be destroyed completely,” Randolf replied harshly. “If we’re not lucky, you’ll be looking at a lot of empty but still-living husks.” His hand clamped down on Jared’s arm. “No mistakes. No second chances. And no time to get squeamish. It’s a fast kill. We need to cut the odds.” The hand on Jared’s arm gentled. “And I won’t tell anyone if you puke your guts out afterward.”

Not understanding that last comment, Jared swallowed again, took a deep breath, turned inward, and dove into the abyss.

Except during his training when he’d been mentally tethered to an instructor, he’d never made a fast dive down to his core, his inner web. The speed and the panicky feeling that he was falling and out of control terrified him. If he plunged through his inner web, at best he’d cut himself off from his own power and destroy his ability to wear the Jewels; at worst, he’d shatter his own mind.

He flashed past the level of the lighter Jewels, gaining speed.

White, Yellow.

He was falling too fast. But there was no time to slow down the descent.

Tiger Eye, Rose.

If he failed, Lia . . .

Summer-sky, Purple Dusk.

A woman had screamed.

Opal, Green.

A woman had screamed.

He stopped thinking, let the Warlord in him reign. The dive changed instantly from a frantic, barely controlled plunge into a graceful, savage dive. His heartbeat drum kept the slow, steady rhythm as he flashed past the depth of the Sapphire and gathered his strength, preparing to make the turn just above his inner web.

This is what Blood males meant when they talked of rising to the killing edge. The mind cleared of all distractions. A lifetime was contained between heartbeats. He had all the time he needed to think, to act.

Jared made the turn and began his ascent. Above him, he saw those other minds as flickering, Jewel-colored stars, as candle flames that were about to be snuffed out by a wild Red wind. He drew a mental line, creating the half circle the way Randolf had told him.

As he continued to rise, he waited, waited.

A few Opals, but nothing stronger.

As he rose to the level of the Green, he unleashed the Red, flooding those smaller containers until they burst from within.

Up, up, up. Jewel stars exploded. Above the White were the colorless candles of the non-Jeweled Blood. He snuffed them out, too.

A hand clamped on his shoulder. Fingers dug into his arm.

Ignoring the hand, he turned and made another leisurely descent. Not so deep this time. He didn’t need to go deep. The Red still throbbed in his blood.

“Enough, Jared,” a harsh voice yelled in his ear.

He understood it now. Create a frame around the Jewel stars. Hold the power within that frame.

He turned slightly, his eyes seeing and yet not seeing the boulders on the other side of the road.

A box. A neat box to hold those little candles. His mental frame brushed against a Summer-sky star. Recognizing the psychic scent, he pulled the frame away from Corry’s terrified mind.

And unleashed again.

More Jewel stars burst. Died.

A fist clipped his chin, snapping his head back.

Snarling, Jared twisted to face whoever dared interfere with him.

Fear filled Randolf’s brown eyes—fear and grim acceptance.

Jared blinked.

The heartbeat drum sped up.

Before he was aware of it, he slid away from the killing edge.

He blinked again and looked around.

Randolf hadn’t told him the psychic explosion might also manifest as physical destruction.

Jared stared at the shattered faces, the exploded heads.

Breaking away from Randolf’s restraining hands, Jared leaned over the boulder that had been giving them a little cover and heaved.

A strong, callused hand covered his forehead. Another hand soothingly rubbed his back.

“You could have told me,” Jared gasped. He heaved again.

“Would have made it harder for you,” Randolf said roughly.

Panting, Jared tried to spit out the sick taste. He straightened up slowly.

Randolf took a step back.

“Have you ever done that?” Jared asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Randolf nodded. “Yeah. I’ve done it. There are good reasons why the dark-Jeweled Blood are feared, Jared.”

A blast of power striking a nearby boulder reminded them that the battle wasn’t over.

Jared threw a Red shield around both of them. They sprinted across the road, choosing a place that would hide them from anyone above them.

“Hell’s fire,” Randolf said with grudging admiration. “Despite all the power they’re throwing against her, the Black Widow is still managing to hold that Green shield.”

On the other side of that shield, dozens of marauders continued to unleash the strength of their Jewels, trying to break through.

The blasts of power coming from their side of the road were mostly focused on the remains of the wagon. Thera was probably using it for cover. Was Lia with her?

Jared pushed away from the boulders, feeling a little light-headed. “Shall we give the Ladies a hand?”

Randolf grabbed his arm and yanked him down.

“There’s something odd about that shield,” Randolf said, narrowing his eyes. “Never seen anything like that. Didn’t even know you could do that.”

Jared didn’t see anything at first. Then he noticed the weird flickering inside the shield—flashes of Purple Dusk inside the Green. He could almost feel the elation of the men who were sending bolt after bolt of power against the shield.

“The Purple Dusk is probably her Birthright Jewel,” Jared said. “If the reservoir of power in her Green Jewel is almost gone, she’d switch to her Birthright.”

“If that was the case, there would be a Purple Dusk shield behind the Green one. But it looks like she’s blending the strength of her Birthright Jewel with the strength of her Green. Damned if I know how.”

One of the marauders shouted something. The blasts stopped. A few seconds later, all of them unleashed at the same time.

Once.

Twice.

On the third collective strike, the Green shield broke and the Purple Dusk power inside it turned into a roaring wall of witchfire that swept across the boulders.

Men screamed in agony, caught in that flood of fire.

The witchfire burned out in a few seconds.

It was more than enough.

Jared closed his eyes, unable to watch as the bodies ravaged by the fire began to fall.

“Mother Night.” Randolf whispered sickly. “Mother Night.”

Shuddering, Jared pressed his forehead against his knees.

He heard horrified shouts coming from the boulders above him.

He couldn’t move. He had to move. Had to find the others. Had to find Lia.

In the tense seconds that followed, there were no more blasts of unleashed power. No more shouts.

Silence, except for a rhythmic pounding somewhere close by.

“The bastards who were left caught the Winds and fled,” Randolf said, cautiously getting to his feet. “I don’t think there were many of them.”

Jared slowly raised his head, but couldn’t bring himself to look across the road. Even using the boulders for support, it took a couple of tries to get to his feet.

“I’ve never—” Jared stumbled over the words.

Randolf wiped a sleeve across his clammy face. “Nor I. Not like that. Never like that.”

Jared raked a dirty hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and willed his quivering legs to move. “Let’s find the others.”

They found Corry and Cathryn a few feet up the road, half-hidden by piles of stones that had been large boulders a short time ago.

“You can drop the shield now, Corry,” Jared said, noting that the Summer-sky Jewel the boy wore around his neck didn’t have even a flicker of reserve power left.

“I-is it done?” Corry whispered. The faint freckles on his nose and cheeks stood out lividly against the pasty skin.

“It’s done,” Jared said.

Corry slowly uncurled. Cathryn remained in a tight ball.

Corry patted Cathryn’s shoulder. “It’s all right now. It’s all right.”

Cathryn’s eyes remained terrifyingly blank.

Corry shook her gently. “Cathryn? It’s all right now.”

Jared crouched down, wondering if he dared to touch her.

A minute passed before Cathryn took a shuddering breath and blinked. She looked at Jared and burst into tears.

Corry put his arms around her and rocked her. Then he pressed his face against her shoulder and started crying.

Jared rested a hand on Corry’s bright red hair. Recognizing there was nothing he could do for either of them, he left them.

A few moments later, Eryk stumbled into the road. He would have fallen if Randolf hadn’t caught him. He looked at Jared, and his eyes filled with tears.

“I tried,” Eryk sobbed. “I tried.”

Randolf pulled the boy into a fierce embrace. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“T-Tomas.” Eryk said. “Tomas . . . I tried!”

Leaving Randolf to deal with Eryk, Jared hurried toward the wagon. Thayne was nearby, swaying on his feet as he soothed the gelding, mare, and one of the wagon horses. When he turned, Jared saw the burns that covered the left side of his face and his left arm.

“You shielded the horses,” Jared said. Seeing the sorrow and pain in Thayne’s eyes, Jared glanced at the wagon. He quickly looked away from the remains of the other horse. “How badly are you hurt?”

Thayne tried to smile. “I’ll live.”

Blaed walked down the road toward them, moving so carefully Jared’s body ached in sympathy.

Do my eyes look that haunted? Jared wondered.

“I killed them,” Blaed said, his voice trailing away.

Jared understood what wasn’t being said. To protect Thera and Lia, Blaed had made the choice to step onto that private battlefield inside himself and wholly embrace the violent nature of a Warlord Prince. What Jared had needed Randolf’s instruction to do, Blaed had done instinctively—and had been no more prepared for the results of that kind of killing than Jared had been.

Before Jared could think of something to say to Blaed, Thera suddenly appeared, staggering from exhaustion and sobbing uncontrollably. Thin to begin with, she now had the gaunt, dried-husk look of a witch who had channeled too much power through her body.

“Lia?” she said plaintively, a desperate look in her eyes.

No answer.

When Blaed moved toward her, she stumbled away from him, holding her arms out for balance.

“Lia!” Thera looked around frantically.

Ice coated Jared’s spine. Where was Lia? Was she too hurt to answer?

“LIA!” Staggering over to the boulders, Thera tried to climb. Her body shook with the effort. Sobbing hysterically, she sank to the ground. “LIIIAA!”

Jared turned toward the boulders, opening his inner barriers as he searched for Lia’s psychic scent, probed for some trace of a Green Jewel.

He found nothing.

“LIA!” Jared shouted.

He scrambled through the boulders, slipped on torn-apart bodies, barely aware of them except to feel relief that they were male.

A groan to his left made him tense, crouch.

A male hand wearing a Purple Dusk ring appeared above a boulder, found a handhold.

Jared pointed his Red-Jeweled ring toward the man rising behind the boulder and waited.

Brock stared at Jared, blood streaming down his face.

“Did they take her?” Brock asked hoarsely.

Jared didn’t answer.

“Is the Lady safe? Is the boy all right?” Brock’s blue eyes begged for an answer.

“What happened?” Jared asked. Somewhere in the rocks behind him, he heard Thera calling for Lia.

Brock licked his lips. He coughed and spat out blood. “Too many of the bastards. One group came at me. While I was trying to hold them, a couple of them circled around. Eryk was trying to shield Tomas, but he only wears the Yellow. They broke through his shield. Tossed him aside and grabbed Tomas. Next thing I know, they’re standing up on that rock over there”—Brock jerked his chin toward a flat boulder a few yards away—“yelling if she didn’t give herself to them, they’d throw the boy to his death. I told her—I told her to stay down, stay hidden. Told her I’d get Tomas. Made it this far when my shields broke and they were on me. Last thing I saw before I went down was Lady Lia running toward that boulder and Garth swinging that damn broken axle like a club.”

Brock spat again and then said in a bewildered voice, “She was shielding that broken bastard. And there was some kind of Craft wrapped around that axle. They couldn’t touch him, and he was smashing through skulls like they were ripe tomatoes. Why did she do it, Jared? Why did she shield a male who’s already half-dead? Why did she risk herself for a half-Blood?”

There are no pawns.

Jared didn’t answer. There was something he’d forgotten. Something important. But how, in the name of Hell, was a man supposed to think with that damn pounding?

A woman screaming in rage.

A man roaring a battle cry.

A child screaming in terror.

Then he remembered the other danger that lived among the boulders.

Jared ran to the flat-topped boulder and climbed up it as fast as he could.

He saw Garth first.

The big man stood at the edge of the large nest of viper rats, pounding, pounding, pounding the faintly squeaking bodies into pulp. Tears ran down his face, and each breath came out as a sob.

Jared looked to the right and saw Lia crawling away from the nest, dragging Tomas with her.

Jared slid down the boulder, landing hard on his hands and knees. “Lia!” When she didn’t respond, he crawled after her and grabbed her foot. “Lia!”

She didn’t answer him, didn’t notice him. With one arm wrapped around Tomas’s chest, she kept trying to crawl away from the nest.

Jared leaned forward to grab the back of her coat, lost his balance, and fell on top of her.

She still tried to crawl.

“Lia!” Thera cried.

Jared rolled off Lia and looked up.

Blaed and Thera stumbled toward him.

“Let go, Lia,” Thera gasped, dropping to her knees beside the now-still body. When she couldn’t pry Lia’s fingers open, she used Craft to rip Tomas’s tunic around the clenched hand.

Blaed dragged the boy a few feet. Thera went with him.

Breathing hard, Jared turned Lia onto her back.

Her tunic was so torn, she was almost bare to the waist.

He looked into glazed gray eyes that stared back at him, unseeing.

Numb, Jared saw the smears of blood, the grotesque swelling of the viper rat bites on her jaw and neck, the swelling above her left breast. Aching, he listened as Lia struggled to breathe. Desperate, he tried to remember something, anything, about healing Craft that would save her.

Thera knelt beside him. Tears ran down her face.

“Tomas?” Jared asked.

“We’ll honor him as Blood,” Thera replied.

Jared waited for Thera to do something.

She simply knelt beside him, her hands pressed against her thighs.

“Help her,” Jared said, frightened by Thera’s calm shell.

Thera licked the tears from the corners of her mouth. “I only know a little basic healing, Jared. My knowledge of poisons is limited to what a Black Widow needs to know for herself. There’s too much venom in her. I’m s-sorry. I don’t h-have the s-skill.”

Watching Thera curl in on herself, Jared didn’t realize the pounding had stopped until the broken axle, now slimed with gore, thumped down beside him and a heavy hand squeezed his shoulder hard enough to crack bone.

He looked up at Garth’s tear-stained face.

“Yyyou fffind help,” Garth said, fighting for each word. “Yyyou go. Yyyou take—” He pointed at Lia. “Fffind help. Fffind sssafe place.”

Help. Safe place.

Hope shot through Jared.

Closing his eyes to concentrate, he sent out a summons on a Red spear thread. North, toward Ranon’s Wood. *Belarr!*

He waited a moment, then tried again. *Belarr! I need help!*

No answer.

Even if Belarr was still angry with him, he wouldn’t ignore a call for help.

*Father!*

No answer.

He tried an Opal thread. *Mother! We need a Healer!*

Silence.

Lia’s breathing sounded harsher.

Jared sent out a broad summons at the depth of the Red, letting it spread in an ever-widening circle as far as he could push it. There was the risk that an enemy might answer, but he felt desperate enough to believe any answer was better than none. *Please! I need help!*

Not knowing what else to do, he tried again and again.

Here.

At first, he wasn’t sure he’d been answered.

Here.

Not a communication thread. This was far more subtle. He couldn’t tell whether it was a male or female who had answered him. Couldn’t even tell what direction it had come from.

Here.

It would guide him. He couldn’t have explained why he believed that, but as he felt that coaxing tug, he was sure of it.

Jared opened his eyes and got to his feet.

“Something?” Thera whispered.

The painful hope in Thera’s voice decided him. “A chance,” he said as he picked up Lia.

“She can’t go like that,” Thera said, calling in her dark-green, hooded cloak. “She’ll get cold.”

Jared wasn’t sure Lia could feel anything at this point, but he didn’t argue. He and Blaed held her upright while Thera draped the cloak around her and pulled up the hood.

Jared wrapped his arms around Lia, resting her head against his shoulder. He looked at Blaed. “Get to Ranon’s Wood as fast as you can, any way you can.” He hesitated, hoping it would be true. “We’ll join you there.”

Blaed slipped an arm around Thera’s waist. “May the Darkness embrace you, Jared.”

“And you.”

Here.

Putting a Red shield around Lia, Jared caught the Red Wind and followed the promise of help.

Had it been a trick after all?

Jared stared at the large, rough-looking traveler’s inn. Somehow, the clean windows and the small flower beds on either side of the brightly painted door made the rambling stone building look rougher, like a sweaty laborer standing next to a woman dressed for an afternoon tea.

Not a sleek or refined place, Jared decided. Definitely not to aristo tastes, but definitely Blood. There was an unmistakable feel to a place where the Blood resided, a psychic residue that was absorbed by wood and stone.

Turning away from the inn, Jared focused his attention on the nearby road that led to a Blood village a couple of miles away. Was that his destination?

Sighing, he reluctantly turned back to the inn. The coaxing tug that had guided him had stopped here. If whoever had answered him was in the village, wouldn’t the tugging have continued? Here, then.

A cautious probe had told him there were twenty people in the inn, three of them women. Maybe one was a Healer.

Jared looked over his shoulder at the faint outline of a cloaked body. He’d taken the precaution of wrapping a Red sight shield around Lia before they’d dropped from the Winds to this landing place, and he’d used Craft to float her so that it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who might look out a window that he wasn’t alone. For a moment, he listened to her labored breathing, both pained and relieved by the sound.

He hadn’t found the Red-Jeweled person who had guided him there when he’d probed the inn on his arrival. That’s why he was still standing on the landing place, even though he knew Lia’s life was trickling away with every minute he hesitated.

Decide, he thought. Decide before she takes a breath and then doesn’t take another.

Jared raked his hands through his hair and brushed at his clothes. He smiled grimly. He doubted the owner or the customers were dressed much better, so at least he wasn’t going to look out of place.

All right. He’d rent a room where he could safely tuck Lia while he tried to find someone with the healing skills to help her. Failing that, he’d use the healing skills he had. Failing that . . .

Jared straightened his shoulders. He wouldn’t fail. No matter what he had to do, he was not going to just sit back and watch her die.

He added an aural shield and a psychic shield to the sight and protective shields already around Lia so that the others wouldn’t detect her psychic scent or hear any sounds she might make. The shields would make her completely invisible to anyone who wore less than the Red. Even another Red would only pick up a faint outline.

Jared took a deep breath. As he breathed out, he wrapped psychic threads around himself and Lia that sent out a feeling of danger and violence. With his Red Jewel hanging in plain sight, those projected feelings should be enough to keep everyone at a distance. All his efforts to prevent anyone from knowing she was there wouldn’t be worth anything if someone bumped into her.

With Lia floating upright behind him, Jared strode to the inn.

Balls and sass, he repeated under his breath. Balls and sass.

The door opened onto the common drinking room. To the left was a partially open door that led into a small, private room.

A heavy silence descended as every man in the room turned toward the door, including the bushy-bearded, Green-Jeweled Warlord standing behind the bar—a man who looked big enough and strong enough to wrestle with Garth and come out the winner.

Standing in the doorway, Jared looked at every face. No one but the innkeeper met his eyes for more than a second. Except for the innkeeper, the men were either lighter-Jeweled Warlords or Blood males who wore no Jewels at all.

Jared slowly walked to the bar, relieved that the men, picking up the scent of danger and violence that swirled around him, carefully moved out of his way. Calling in the gold marks he hadn’t returned to Lia after his trip to the village, Jared placed one on the bar and looked the Green-Jeweled Warlord in the eyes.

The innkeeper calmly returned the look, but Jared noticed a flicker of something else in the depths of the man’s eyes. Relief?

“What’s your pleasure, Warlord?” the innkeeper rumbled.

Jared let the silence spin out a little before he answered. “A room with a bath, if you have it. Dinner. A bottle of good whiskey.”

“Have a room that shares a bath with one other. All the others use the common bathing rooms.”

“Is the other room occupied?”

That flicker again in the innkeeper’s eyes. “It is.”

Damn.

Jared turned slightly away from the bar and scanned the room. No one admitted being the other room’s occupant. However, tucked between the staircase leading to the upstairs rooms and the inner wall of the small, private room was a round table that held an open bottle and a half-full glass of red wine.

The prickling started between Jared’s shoulder blades as two things struck him: Wine wasn’t usually served in a place like this, and all the men were standing or sitting on this side of the room, as if no one wanted to get too close to that table.

He had to get Lia out of this room before whoever was sitting at that table returned.

“I’ll take the room,” he said to the innkeeper.

The man took the gold mark. He set a bottle of whiskey and a key on the bar. “There are glasses and a jug of water in the room.”

Noting the number, Jared slipped the key into his pocket and picked up the whiskey.

He took a couple of steps toward the stairs and stopped, clutching the bottle with suddenly numb fingers.

The table was no longer unoccupied.

Daemon Sadi raised the wineglass in a mocking salute.

Balls and sass, Jared muttered silently as he walked over to the table, careful to keep Lia hidden behind him. Balls and sass.

“Prince Sadi,” Jared said politely.

“Lord Jared,” Daemon murmured.

The golden eyes watching him looked deceptively sleepy. That deep voice flowed over him like warm water over bare skin. That beautiful face might have been carved from ice for all the feeling it revealed.

“What brings you here?” Jared asked, feeling sweat trickle down his sides. He didn’t have time for this. Lia didn’t have time for this. “It’s not the sort of place I’d expect to find you or your Lady.”

“You’re right about my current Lady. This wouldn’t be to her taste.” Daemon sipped his wine. “But I sometimes find places like this a refreshing change from a court.”

“Then you’re alone?” Jared couldn’t mask his surprise fast enough.

“My Lady and I have reached an agreement. I spend a few days away from the court each month.”

“What does she get in return?”

The Sadist smiled.

Jared shuddered.

“I don’t hurt her as much as I want to,” Daemon said too softly. Another wineglass appeared on the table. “Join me, Lord Jared.”

It wasn’t an invitation or a request.

Feeling sick, Jared tried to smile. “It would be a pleasure, but let me wash the travel dirt off first.” He didn’t wait for Daemon’s consent, but turned toward the stairs, using Craft to float Lia in a counterturn so that she ended up in front of him.

Sweet Darkness, please don’t let the Sadist notice her, Jared silently prayed as he climbed the stairs, painfully aware of those golden eyes watching every move.

As soon as he was out of Daemon’s line of sight, Jared grabbed Lia and hurried down the corridor. The inn was larger than he’d thought, and it took him a couple of minutes to find the side corridor that held his room.

He put a Red shield around the room, a Red lock on the door. He pulled back the bedcovers, dropped all the shields around Lia and laid her carefully on the bed.

When he vanished her clothes and looked at her, the strength went out of his legs. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the viper rat bites.

They had swollen to twice the size they’d been when he’d taken Lia away from the wagon a short time ago. In the center, where the rats’ teeth had broken the skin, the bites looked pus-filled and yellow. The rest of the swollen skin was an angry, red-streaked purple that darkened to black.

The only viper rat bite he’d ever seen was the one his little brother Davin had gotten. Granted, that was years ago, but he didn’t remember it looking so dark and malignant.

Jared tucked the bedcovers around Lia’s still body. “I’ll find someone to help,” he whispered, gently brushing her dark hair away from her pale face. “I swear it.”

There had to be a back staircase, a servants’ staircase, some other way to reach the ground floor without using the stairs where Sadi waited for him. Hell’s fire, he’d climb out a window if he had to. One way or another, he was going to find a Healer and drag her back here. And no one, not even the Sadist, was going to stop him.

After probing the corridor to be sure it was empty, Jared slipped out of the room and Red-locked the door.

He’d taken one step when a phantom hand clamped around his throat and slammed him against the wall next to the door. Strong, slender fingers squeezed, cutting off his air. Long nails pricked his skin.

Jared tried using Craft to pry that crushing hand away from his throat, but it just absorbed the strength of the Red and squeezed harder. Knowing it was useless, he raised his hands as if he could physically pull the hand away. His own nails scratched his neck as his efforts became more desperate, but there was nothing to fight, nothing to grab. He could do nothing, while it could kill him.

Finally, too breathless to fight, he dropped his hands to his sides and leaned against the wall.

A sight shield slowly faded.

Daemon leaned against the opposite wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, his golden eyes still sleepy.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t tear your throat out,” Daemon said too quietly.

“You’ve no reason to,” Jared gasped. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

Daemon made a sound that might have been laughter. “You really shouldn’t play games with anyone from such a perverted race as Hayll, little Warlord. You say I have no reason. I say I do. Where do you think that leaves you?”

“Dead.”

Daemon smiled. “Exactly.”

Hell’s fire, it hurt to swallow.

“What are you doing here, Jared?” Daemon asked.

Working to breathe, Jared studied Daemon. The man looked as if he was just making small talk with an acquaintance instead of choking someone to death. Then again, unlike his half brother, who was known to be a walking explosion, Daemon seldom gave any indication of his mood.

“What are you doing here?” Daemon repeated.

This time Jared heard the snarl of temper under the calmly spoken words.

Struggling to sound calm despite the phantom fingers pressing into his neck, Jared replied, “The witch who owns me is ill. I was ordered to find a place where she can rest.”

“And you couldn’t find a closer Blood community between where you were and here?” Daemon shook his head. “Try again.”

Jared didn’t dare blink let alone breathe. How did Daemon know where they’d been?

“I told you—”

Daemon cut him off. “When the Gray Lady left Raej, you were with her. Why aren’t you still with her, Jared?”

Jared swallowed carefully and wondered how to answer. If he could trust Daemon, there was no one better to help him. If he couldn’t . . . “Ownership changed hands a few days after we left.” That was true in a way. Once Lia’s illusion web had broken, the Gray Lady was no longer part of their little group.

“What happened to the Gray Lady?”

Jared tried to shrug. “She’s probably back in Dena Nehele by now.”

The phantom hand pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back into it.

Something malevolent flickered in Daemon’s eyes. “Dorothea’s Master of the Guard is hunting for the Gray Lady. Every band of marauders who preys in this part of the Realm has been sniffing around for a particular quarry. Does that sound like Grizelle’s safely returned to Dena Nehele?” Daemon sighed and looked at the ceiling. “This is becoming tedious, so I’ll make it easy for you. You have three chances to give me a believable answer. After that, I’ll take the information I want. But I’ll make sure I leave enough of your mind intact so that you’re able to fully understand what I’m doing when I tear your little witch apart.” He paused. “What are you doing here, Jared?”

For a moment, Jared felt too stunned to even try to answer. Even the agony of the Ring of Obedience was a mild threat compared to this. He’d have no chance against Daemon. His inner barriers would be forced open, his thoughts, feelings, memories picked over like tawdry goods at a market stall. At best, it would be a mental rape. At worst, he wouldn’t necessarily be broken, but he could still be savaged so badly he’d never fully recover.

And what would happen to Lia? Daemon made no secret of his revulsion for the distaff gender.

Jared licked his dry lips. “It’s none of your business, Daemon.”

Daemon smiled, a sweetly murderous smile. “Puppy, when you wailed for help, and I answered, you made it my business.”

Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

“Although,” Daemon added, “I hadn’t expected you to show up shielding some battered slut.”

“She’s not a slut,” Jared said hotly, pushing away from the wall.

The phantom hand slammed him back again, hard enough to make him wonder if he’d have cracked ribs as well as a crushed throat.

Daemon said nothing.

“I told you,” Jared said through gritted teeth. “The witch who owns me ordered me to bring her—”

The phantom nails stabbed him, breaking the skin. Blood trickled down his neck.

“Liar,” Daemon snarled quietly.

Jared shivered as he watched the gold eyes glaze with cold fury. He bit his tongue to keep from whimpering.

“She owns me,” he said weakly as the fingers tightened a bit more.

Contempt joined the fury in Daemon’s eyes. He looked pointedly at Jared’s groin. “You wear no Ring, Warlord. And you’re down to your last chance.”

“I do wear a Ring,” Jared said, gasping for breath. “I wear the Invisible Ring.”

Unexpectedly, the phantom hand eased its vicious grip.

Daemon studied Jared. Then one finely shaped black eyebrow rose, and he asked mildly, “Which one? The Silver or the Gold?”

Which one? Jared thought desperately. Which one? How in the name of Hell was he supposed to know which one?

It was invisible! “I. . .”

A loud thump came from his room.

Jared turned toward the door without thinking. Releasing the Red lock, he rushed inside.

Lia was crawling toward the door, her eyes glazed and unseeing. Her right arm was curled, as if she were still dragging Tomas’s body away from the viper rats’ nest.

“Lia,” Jared murmured, hurrying to reach her.

As he crouched in front of her, he heard the door quietly close. Heard the snick of a lock.

He slowly straightened and turned.

Daemon leaned against the closed door, his hands still tucked in his trouser pockets. In silence, he watched Lia’s efforts.

“Who is she?” Daemon asked quietly.

Jared took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Lady Arabella Ardelia. The Gray Lady’s granddaughter.”

Daemon didn’t move, but Jared sensed a change. Not exactly surprise, but a swift reassessment.

“Viper rats?” Daemon said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Lia.

Jared nodded. He had no chance against the Sadist, but he’d make Daemon go through him in order to get to Lia.

Daemon shrugged out of his tailored black jacket, tossed it on a chair, and began rolling up the sleeves of his white-silk shirt. “Get her on the bed. We’ll finish this discussion later.” He stepped through the bathroom door.

Daemon returned before Jared had a chance to settle Lia.

“Wait,” Daemon said. He unfolded two sheets, then refolded them to make a pad. Placing them on the left side of the double bed, he smoothed the sheets.

What kind of spells was Daemon putting on the sheets? Jared wondered, holding Lia a little tighter to his chest.

Satisfied, Daemon said, “Put her on those. It’ll be easier than stripping the bed later and disturbing her.”

Jared did as he was told. He bit back a snarl when Daemon knelt on the bed beside Lia. “Is there a Healer in the village?”

Daemon’s hands glided over Lia’s head, slid down her swollen neck. “Even if there is, I doubt she’d be much help. You need someone who has some skill in healing Craft and a knowledge of poisons.” His hands glided over her shoulders, over her breasts.

Thera had said the same thing, Jared reminded himself as he watched Daemon’s hands move over Lia’s body. There was nothing personal or sexual about the way Daemon explored her, but Jared couldn’t push aside the memory of watching those hands with their long, black-tinted nails roam over other female bodies for a very different purpose.

Especially when those strong, slender fingers drifted through the triangle of hair between Lia’s legs and curved to cup her.

Jared snarled at the intimacy.

“If you don’t know how to behave in a sickroom, get out,” Daemon said mildly, giving Jared one piercing look before he turned his attention back to Lia.

Stung, Jared clenched his teeth. Of course he knew how to behave in a sickroom. His mother was a Healer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

The first rule of a sickroom was that no anger, no fear, no violent emotions were permitted because they could be absorbed into a healing, neutralizing or even destroying a Healer’s efforts.

He opened his eyes when Daemon sat back.

“If someone hadn’t taught her how to contain an injected poison, she’d be dead by now,” Daemon said.

“Her mother is a Black Widow.” The bites looked bigger, darker. “Isn’t there anyone . . .” Jared’s voice faded.

Daemon got off the bed. He called in two leather carrying boxes, opened them, and started looking through the various jars. “I know enough healing Craft.” Amusement and something else Jared couldn’t identify flickered in Daemon’s eyes. “And poisons are an interest of mine. Those bites have to be opened and the venom drawn out. If you don’t have a strong stomach, you’ve got five minutes to acquire one.”

Jared swallowed hard. Frowning, he gingerly touched his throat.

Daemon gave him a knowing look before calling in a mortar and pestle. “There’s no physical damage. Well, not much. I didn’t think I’d actually have to crush your throat to convince you to be reasonable. There are many kinds of illusions, Jared.”

Jared winced when his fingers brushed against one of the cuts made by the phantom nails. “But you would have.”

Daemon poured a jar of dried herbs into the mortar. “If you’d done something to harm the Gray Lady, yes, I would have.”

“Why are you so interested in the Gray Lady?”

Daemon’s golden eyes turned to hard, yellow stones. “Because she stands against Dorothea.”

“There’s nothing more we can do,” Daemon said wearily, wiping his hands on a soiled towel.

Jared braced his forearms on the bed, too tired to sit up straight.

They had done all they could, but had they done enough?

They’d worked for hours, applying herb poultices to draw the venom, draining the pus and fluid that Daemon had explained were the result of the healing Craft Lia had used. They’d gone through the cycle three times. In between those cycles, Daemon stroked Lia’s body, soothing her while she burned with fever. Sure that Reyna had never used her hands quite that way, Jared had clenched his teeth and leashed his emotions while he assisted by doing all the mundane tasks required.

At the end of it, though, the swelling had gone down and the ugly, malignant look of the bites had faded to the color of pale bruises. Lia was breathing easily and no longer feverish.

Jared smoothed the already smooth covers and stood up. He swayed from fatigue.

“Here,” Daemon said, calling in a long dressing robe. “Get cleaned up. I’ll see about getting something to eat.”

Jared took the robe. Maybe a hot bath would ease his aching muscles enough to convince his body to keep going. “I’m not hungry.”

“Being tired is no excuse for being an idiot.” Daemon finished putting the empty jars back into the leather carrying cases. He vanished them, along with the mortar and pestle. “If you expect to be of any use to her tomorrow when she needs you, you’ll eat and get some rest tonight.”

Jared didn’t argue. What was the point of arguing with someone who was right?

Nodding agreement, he stumbled into the bathroom. It was a bit primitive, but it had running water and indoor plumbing. He fit the plug into the bottom of the bathtub, turned the single faucet, and stifled a yelp when cold water gushed out.

He sank to his knees and stared at the rising water, wondering how he was going to convince himself to get into that tub of cold water.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to clear away enough of the fatigue to think. If the innkeeper wasn’t supplying hot water, that meant the guests were expected to make their own.

Jared lowered his hands. Of course. This wasn’t an aristo inn where servants would be responsible for the warming spells that would keep tanks of water hot for the guests. He’d have to use Craft to heat the water. A small thing, really. Certainly nothing a Red-Jeweled Warlord would have to think twice about.

It took several tries before he got the water to the temperature he wanted, too mentally and physically drained to get even the simplest spell right the first time.

Finally, he got in the tub and let the hot water soak away the sweat and grime, the ache in his muscles, and the tension that had ridden him hard since he’d seen the brass button among the boulders.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, a square wooden table and two straight-backed chairs were positioned in front of the fire. The table held two steaming bowls of beef stew, a small loaf of bread, a dish of butter, cheese, fruit, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

Daemon sat comfortably in one of the chairs, smoking one of his black cigarettes. “You’re almost recognizable now,” he said as he flicked the cigarette into the fire. “Come and eat.”

Jared went to the bed first to check on Lia. He noticed a cup on the bedside table.

“A healing brew,” Daemon said.

“She woke?” Jared leashed the emotion that bubbled up before he had a chance to identify it. Before he had to acknowledge it.

“No. I brought her up out of the healing sleep enough for her to drink, but she wasn’t aware of anything.”

So she didn’t know he hadn’t been in the room. Didn’t know it had been Daemon who had held her and coaxed her to drink.

Feeling his body relax, Jared joined Daemon at the table.

“Eat,” Daemon said, picking up his spoon.

They concentrated on their food for a few minutes.

“Will she be all right?” Jared asked, carefully buttering a thick slice of bread.

“You’ll know by morning.”

Jared forced a mouthful of bread past the lump in his throat. Right now, he couldn’t bear kindness or understanding from Daemon. “Could you tell anything else?” he asked.

One of Daemon’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have something specific in mind?” He sounded amused. “Could I tell she’s still a virgin? Considering how many centuries I’ve been playing bedroom games, it’s a little insulting if you think a detail like that would slip past me. Or did you mean, could I tell that she’s recently injured her knee and hasn’t stayed off it enough to let it fully heal? Or that she hasn’t made the Offering to the Darkness yet? Is that what you meant?”

Jared dropped his spoon. His body went ice cold. “What?”

“She hasn’t made the Offering to the Darkness yet.”

“You can’t—” Jared raked his fingers through his hair. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“Jared,” Daemon said patiently, “you wear the Opal and the Red. I can sense both levels of strength in you. I only sense one level in her—the Green—and the . . . potential . . . for a much darker strength. If nothing interferes when she makes the Offering, my guess is she’ll wear the Gray.”

“No one can tell beforehand what Jewels a person will wear after the Offering,” Jared protested.

Daemon mopped up the last of his stew with a piece of bread. “She carried off the masquerade of being Grizelle so successfully, no one had doubted they were seeing a Gray-Jeweled Queen.” Mild irritation flickered across his face and was gone.

“She had good illusion spells,” Jared argued.

“An illusion spell wouldn’t have hidden the truth from someone who wears a Jewel darker than the Gray.”

There was something in Daemon’s voice that told Jared that was as far as he would go toward acknowledging the rumors that he wore the. rare Black Jewel.

“Which means,” Daemon continued, “that there must be something in her that resonates with the Gray in order to complete that illusion. That’s why I think Lady Arabella Ardelia is a Gray-Jeweled Queen who hasn’t taken the final step necessary to actually wear the Gray Jewels.” He paused, gave Jared a considering look. “But you had sensed the illusion before she revealed the truth. How?”

Frowning, Jared ate a spoonful of stew. It was a guess that hit the target. Since he didn’t want to admit it was his body not his brain that had picked up the signals, which he then dismissed as being wrong, he mumbled, “Maybe it’s because of the Invisible Ring.”

“Yes, I imagine it is,” Daemon replied dryly. Before Jared could say anything, he added, “Why don’t you tell me how you ended up here.”

So Jared told Daemon everything that had happened since he left Raej. Well, almost everything. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the Fire Dance and the rut. But he told Daemon what he knew about the others. He told him about Thera’s tangled webs. He told him about Blaed’s romantic interest in the young Black Widow. He told him about the brass buttons and Garth . . . and about the fight that had ended with a half-Blood boy dead and Lia desperately ill.

Using Craft and his thumbnail, Daemon delicately pealed an apple. “Why didn’t she buy passage on another Coach and head for the Tamanara Mountains as fast as possible?”

A bite of cheese stuck in Jared’s throat. He took a large swallow of wine to force it down. “After she sensed the wrongness, she didn’t know whom she could trust, and she wasn’t willing to bring an unknown enemy into Dena Nehele. Traveling cross-country was the only way she could bring everyone with her and give herself the time to find Dorothea’s pet.” He struggled to take a deep breath. “And she didn’t have enough marks to buy a second passage for all of us because she bought me.”

Daemon stared at Jared. Then he swore softly, viciously.

Jared’s eyes widened. “You put the compulsion spell on her.”

“Nothing so crude,” Daemon snapped. He drained his wineglass, filled it, and drained it again. “I didn’t force her to buy you, Jared. I nudged her toward that part of the auction grounds, and that’s all I did. I knew if she was the Queen she seemed to be, she wouldn’t let a Red-Jeweled Warlord like you be destroyed in the salt mines of Pruul. Not if there was a chance of winning your loyalty.” He swore again. “It never occurred to me that she might not have brought enough marks with her.”

Jared cut two more slabs out of the half wheel of cheese and offered one to Daemon. “Apparently, everything was more expensive than the Gray Lady’s court had anticipated, from the guard escorts to the slaves. There’s no way you could have known that. There’s no way you could have known she’d spend more than she could afford in order to get one more person out of Raej.”

“Perhaps not,” Daemon agreed. “But, Hell’s fire, if I’d suspected she was cutting it that tight, I’d have slipped her enough marks to cover the extra expenses when I had that note delivered.”

“You—” Jared’s voice cracked. He hastily swallowed some wine. “You sent that note? But you were in Raej. How could you know?”

Daemon smiled indulgently. “Let’s just say that, after the attack on the Gray Lady last spring, I wondered what might be waiting for her at the Coach stations she’d be most likely to head for and made arrangements to be informed. Unfortunately, my source arrived too late to help the men who walked into that trap. But she sent the warning—and I’d guess there were fewer males who saw the sun rise than saw it set.” He paused. “Would you like some coffee?”

Jared pushed his plate to one side and nodded. He toyed with the silverware and watched Daemon smoke another cigarette while they waited. “You said ‘she.’ ” Jared’s hand curled into a fist. “Knowing it might be dangerous, you still sent a witch to check out a trap?”

“Yes.”

“She could have been hurt. How could you be so careless, so—”

“Cruel?” Daemon said too softly. His face changed subtly when Jared didn’t answer.

Jared recognized that cold mask. He winced when Daemon’s deep voice lost every hint of color. That bored tone could cut someone as mercilessly as a sharp knife.

“Have you ever heard of Surreal?” Daemon asked, lighting another black cigarette.

Jared swallowed. Oh, yes, he’d heard about the most expensive whore in the entire Realm of Terreille. When he was seventeen and trying to gather up enough nerve to ask Reyna’s permission to visit a Red Moon house, he’d spent several sweaty nights fantasizing that Surreal would come to Ranon’s Wood for some reason and find him interesting enough to waive her usual fee.

“She’s a whore,” Jared said tightly. Had Daemon ever . . .? “What was she supposed to do? Distract an entire troop of guards?”

“I’m sure she could have if she wanted to,” Daemon said with such dismissive casualness it made Jared clench his teeth.

A chime sounded. A moment later a tray floated beside the table. The dirty dishes vanished. Daemon transferred the pot of coffee, mugs, cream, and sugar to the table and vanished the tray. He poured the coffee, making a small sound of approval after his first sip.

“However,” Daemon continued as Jared spooned sugar into the other mug, “she’s also a first-rate assassin. So gracefully vicious when she’s holding a knife.” His eyes narrowed. “Puppy, do you have any idea how much sugar you’ve just dumped into your coffee?”

Because his mind had stuttered on the word “assassin” and he really didn’t know, Jared poured the heaping spoonful of sugar back into the sugar bowl. He stirred carefully, trying not to disturb the half inch of sugary sludge at the bottom of the mug. He raised the mug to his lips and hesitated.

Daemon coughed politely. Several times.

Jared took a sip. Shuddered. Set the mug down.

Daemon’s shoulders quivered. He pressed a fist against his mouth.

“Good coffee,” Jared murmured. Hell’s fire, his teeth itched.

Daemon bolted for the bathroom.

Listening to the muffled laughter behind the closed door, Jared considered switching the mugs but decided he wasn’t up for whatever Daemon’s response might be after choking on the first mouthful.

Jared’s mug vanished.

Daemon returned a couple of minutes later, placed the cleaned mug in front of Jared, sank into his chair, and grinned wickedly.

Jared fixed another mug of coffee. “This is fine.”

“I’m so pleased.”

Jared almost gave in to the urge to give Daemon one hard kick. “They’re rather opposing professions,” he said, his thoughts circling back to the woman who, it was said, had exotic looks and enough bedroom skills to melt a man’s bones.

“Not really.” Daemon sat up, gave Jared a sharp look, and then drank his coffee. “Especially when one profession is part of the tools used for the other.”

Jared choked.

“Did I just ruin a long-held fantasy?” Daemon asked innocently.

“Of course not.”

“She doesn’t kill every male she beds.”

“Wouldn’t matter if she did.”

“Your Thera would like her.”

Mother Night, banish the thought. “She’s not my Thera.”

“Blaed’s Thera, then.”

“Haven’t you got the possessive turned around? Shouldn’t you say Thera’s Blaed?” He thought about that for a second, then set his mug down with a thump.

“Thera’s blade.” Looking too much like a cat that has one paw firmly on the mouse’s tail, Daemon poured more coffee. “Which is something you shouldn’t forget, Warlord.”

The dinner that had tasted good a few minutes ago swam greasily in Jared’s stomach. “You think—”

Daemon made an exasperated sound. “If I didn’t know you’re too tired to think straight, I’d knock some sense into you. Listen, and listen well. Blaed’s a good man and a good Warlord Prince. In a few years, when he matures, he’ll be an even better one—and a dangerous one. From what you’ve said, Thera’s a strong-willed young woman who’s been on a battleground for far too long. A Green-Jeweled Black Widow with that kind of fire in her isn’t the kind of witch Dorothea would allow to stay whole no matter what sort of games were being played. Because that kind of witch is a serious rival.”

Jared sipped his coffee. “Thayne?”

“Why? Because he protected some innocent, terrified animals that were caught in a battle? Because, no matter how he feels about them, he might have realized how much harder the rest of the journey would be without them, especially if any of you were injured?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” And now, remembering Thayne’s burned face, he wished he had thought of it. He rubbed his eyes, fighting to stay awake. “Who, then?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daemon said gently. “You’re too deep into the game, Jared. Your presence—and Blaed’s and Thera’s—combined with Lia’s wonderfully erratic actions, tangled up what was probably supposed to be a quick kill. Besides, how can a bargain to kill the Gray Lady be fulfilled if she isn’t there?”

“We still need to know who the enemy is,” Jared insisted.

“You do,” Daemon countered. “Dorothea SaDiablo— and her Master of the Guard. The rest doesn’t matter anymore.” He stood up and stretched the muscles in his back. “You can stay here tomorrow. The owner and I have an understanding.”

Jared shook his head. “If anyone puts together the Shalador Warlord who was in that fight and the one staying here . . .”

“No one will put it together. No one will remember seeing a Shalador Warlord walk into the tavern room—at least, no one will remember until he’s been away from this place for a day.”

Even dulled by fatigue, Jared understood. Daemon had cast a spell around this place, a kind of psychic fog that hid one specific memory.

Daemon rolled down his sleeves, fastened the ruby cuff links, and shrugged into his black jacket. “I have to return to the court. I’ll be leaving before dawn. Stay in the room. Get some rest. The owner or his wife will make sure you have everything you need. I’ve left a change of clothes for you. We’re about the same size, so they should fit well enough. Something will be found for Lia tomorrow.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Daemon slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “Get some sleep. In the bed. A warm body next to her will be more comforting—for both of you—than a pile of blankets.”

“If she snarls about it, I’ll blame you.” If she was still alive to snarl.

Daemon smiled gently. “Fair enough.” As he opened the door, he looked back at Jared. “By the way, you wear the Silver.”

Jared wasn’t sure how long he stared at the closed door. By the time he got his legs to move and got the door open, the hallway was empty. No point searching. He could spend the rest of the night turning this place inside out with Daemon, fully shielded, standing nearby the whole time, and he’d never know.

After Red-locking the door, Jared pulled off the dressing robe and slipped cautiously into the bed. He felt Lia shivering despite the warming spells on the blankets. He settled beside her, tucked the covers around them, and slid his arm around her waist. Slowly her chilled skin warmed. She made a sleepy, contented sound.

Jared dimmed the candle-lights in the room. But sleep didn’t come for a while.

Maybe being able to sense the Invisible Ring depended on whether a man wore a Jewel lighter or darker than the Gray since Grizelle had probably created it. He still couldn’t sense it, but Daemon had been able to tell which kind he wore. And Daemon wouldn’t lie to him. Not about something like that.

He wore the Invisible Ring. He wore the Silver.

Whatever that meant.