The Invisible Ring

Chapter Nineteen

“Would you like to play chess?” Jared asked as he set up the game board the innkeeper had provided and tried—hard—not to throw a fine fit of male hysterics. That’s what Lia had called his reaction when her legs had buckled while she’d been pacing the room earlier in the day. Working the stiffness out of them, she’d said. Scaring the shit out of him, he’d shouted.

Then his wobbly-legged little Queen had threatened to dump the hot soup that had been part of the midday meal into his lap if he didn’t stop pestering her to take a nap.

He didn’t pester. He never pestered. He was concerned. Couldn’t she tell the difference?

“One game,” Jared coaxed, grinding his teeth so he wouldn’t yell at her to sit down. “Just to pass the time.”

Looking much too fragile and very young in the too-large sweater and snug trousers that had belonged to one of the innkeeper’s sons, Lia crossed her arms and gave Jared a stony stare that would have made him nervous if it hadn’t been accompanied by a hint of a pout. “You snarled the last time we played.”

Jared placed one hand over his heart. “I promise not to snarl.” About the game, anyway. “Of course, if you don’t want to play, we could just turn in for the night.”

She snarled at him.

“She who snarls shouldn’t comment on someone else’s little grumbles,” Jared said virtuously.

Her hands balled into fists.

Jared watched her, fighting against the desire to provoke her a little more. In her weakened condition, if she threw a punch at him, she’d probably end up on the floor and would be even madder when he had to help her up.

After he’d finished setting up his red pieces to his satisfaction, Jared reached for the black pieces.

“Mine!” Lia said, sitting down too abruptly for the movement to have been completely intended.

While she set up her pieces, Jared poured a glass of fruit juice for her and a glass of wine for himself.

He’d wrapped himself around her last night, more out of a need to feel each reassuring breath she took than any belief that his presence would help her. This morning, he’d been rudely awakened when her elbow jabbed his belly and she started swearing to do vile things to his most valued body parts if he didn’t let go. When his still-sleepy brain had finally understood the reason for the desperation that laced her curses, he’d made her madder by carrying her into the bathroom.

He’d chuckled at her muttering when he tucked her back into bed and climbed in with her, so pleased to have her alive and well enough to be angry that he never gave a thought to how she might react to having a naked male beside her. He’d cuddled her for an hour.

And he’d held her and cried with her when she asked about Tomas.

He’d tried to spoon-feed her at breakfast.

He’d tried to give her a bath.

He’d mentioned taking a nap every hour or so, politely pointing out that she’d been very ill the night before and needed a lot of rest.

So maybe he’d fussed a bit too much, but he was entitled to fuss. She’d scared him. She’d more than scared him.

But he had not pestered.

“You’re muttering already,” Lia grumbled, watching him through narrowed eyes. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and picked up the glass of fruit juice.

Her hair was like a soft, dark cloud, Jared thought, sipping his wine. She’d let him brush it after her bath—had to let him brush it because, after a few strokes, her arms had felt too heavy to lift. Daemon had drawn most of the venom out of her, but her body still felt the deep fatigue of fighting to survive on top of the demands she’d made of it during the ambush. While he’d brushed her hair, he’d woven a soothing spell around her that Daemon had taught him during the year they’d been in the same court. It had put her to sleep for a couple of hours.

Remembering that, he grinned.

“What?” Lia said. “Did you put something in the fruit juice?”

“Of course not,” Jared huffed. “Roll the dice. Let’s play.”

She rolled a five for a Summer-sky Queen. He rolled a three for a Tiger Eye. Giving her a sassy grin, he opened by moving one of his Black Widows.

Several moves later, he began to worry about the change in her game. Her Queen remained in the background while her stronger pieces—especially the Black Widows and Warlord Princes—were doing most of the defending, supporting the weaker pieces who only captured one of his when there was no possibility of an exchange. Again and again, she retreated, giving up more ground and growing more timid each time he captured one of her pieces.

And all the while, her Queen did nothing.

Her brash courage might have enraged him when the instincts bred into Blood males howled to defend the female, but seeing her act timid and uncertain produced a deeper anger—and a deeper kind of fear.

Losing Tomas had produced an emotional wound that would heal in time, but she’d carry the scar of it the rest of her life. And there would be more scars. Dena Nehele’s continued freedom would be paid for in blood.

Her mind knew it, but her heart couldn’t accept it yet.

And he couldn’t allow her the luxury of thinking retreat would keep her people safe.

He moved one of his Warlords to threaten a Blood male pawn. If she moved her Queen to challenge, he’d let the pawn go. If she didn’t . . .

It felt like half the night had passed before she hesitantly moved her Queen. Her hand trembled a little, and her face lost the little color she’d gained throughout the day.

Wanting to distract her and give himself time to choose a move that would seem a logical alternative to capturing the pawn, he said, “Does your grandmother really look that intimidating?”

Lia had just taken a sip of juice when he asked the question. She clamped a hand over her mouth until she managed to swallow. “Gran?” she finally gasped. Then she started laughing.

Jared moved a Priestess nearer to the protection of his Sanctuary.

“Hey!” Lia huffed, sitting forward. “No fair moving a piece when I’m too teary-eyed to see you do it.” She frowned when she figured out his move.

Before she could comment, he gave her another nudge. “Is she?”

Lia caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, those are the clothes she wears when she has to travel outside our borders. And she does look impressive when she wears her Queen clothes, but—”

“Queen clothes?” Jared interrupted. He held up a hand. “Move first, then explain Queen clothes.”

Lia scooted a Warlord Prince across the board.

Not sure if that was meant to do something besides move a piece, Jared studied the board for a minute but didn’t make a move.

“That’s what Gran calls the fancy gowns and things she wears once or twice a month to keep her First Circle happy,” Lia said. “She says, if males really don’t notice female fashions the way they swear they don’t, then why do they start drooling like a dog with a large soup bone whenever women wear evening gowns?”

Jared choked on his wine. “We don’t drool.”

“No? Oh. Well, that’s good. One of my cousins had this big dog who drooled buckets and always wanted to put his head in your lap. She—my cousin, that is—wanted to train the dog to put his head into just the boys’ laps so they’d have to explain why the fronts of their trousers were wet, but she only got to the lap part and not the boy part before the adult males in the family found out about it and roared. So we all got drooled on.”

Wondering if he’d had a game plan when he started, Jared moved a Prince to support a Healer. “If she only wears Queen clothes once or twice a month, what does she wear the rest of the time?”

“Um.” Lia moved her other Warlord Prince. “Well, clothes like this.” She pinched a bit of sweater between her thumb and forefinger. “Papa says that if you enter a large room full of people and there’s one woman there who looks like she should be out weeding the garden, she’s probably the Queen. Prince Harland—”

“Who?”

“Gran’s lover. He says—”

“Her what?”

“Lover. He’s also her Consort. Anyway, he says a Queen is a Queen no matter what she wears—”

“Or doesn’t,” Jared added under his breath, not quite able to picture the Gray Lady as part of an elderly couple having a tickle and tussle in a rumpled bed—even if he had been able to picture it quite clearly when he’d imagined himself as the lover. But that was different. Somehow.

“—and that it’s more important for her to be comfortable and happy than it is to have her measure up to someone else’s idea of proper dress, and if he didn’t have any complaints, Papa shouldn’t either.”

“Your papa should listen to an elder.”

“Harland’s not Papa’s elder. They trained together.”

Jared wheezed.

Lia leaned forward. “Are you coming down with something?”

A terminal case of curiosity.

“How—” Jared bit his tongue. There were some things a man did not ask a twenty-one-year-old virgin about her grandmother.

Lia shook her head and tsked sadly. “Someone your age really should know about these things. Didn’t your papa ever talk to you about that?”

“He talked to me at great length about a great many things. Including that.”

Spiffing primly, Jared added, “He even demonstrated once.”

Lia almost spilled the juice all over her lap.

“Not like that,” Jared growled. He made a circle with his left hand and brought it toward the pointing forefinger of his right. When his hands were half a hand apart, he noticed how huge Lia’s eyes had gotten—and quickly lowered his hands.

Lia gulped some juice. “That’s it?”

“That’s the gist of it.” And if he had to explain any more of it, he wouldn’t be putting a warming spell on the bathwater. Which reminded him of why heshouldn’t have to explain it. “Didn’t your mama ever talk to you about that?”

“Of course she did,” Lia huffed. Then she added, giving him a speculative look, “But she never said anything that looked quite like that.”

This conversation was going to kill him. He just knew it. “Your move,” he said a bit desperately, wanting to distract her.

She looked at the game board. “No, it isn’t.”

“Is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Is.”

“Isn’t.”

“Move anyway.”

She moved a Blood male pawn.

He pounced on it with a Warlord.

Her pained gasp broke his heart.

He caught her as she stumbled away from the table. “I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Lia, I’m sorry.”

“He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for me,” Lia sobbed. “If I hadn’t bought him, he’d still be alive.”

“Maybe,” Jared said. He gently stroked her back.

“He would.” She clutched his shirt and pressed her face against his shoulder. “He would.”

“Listen to me, sweetheart.” Jared gave her a little shake. “Listen to me. You may have heard the women the Gray Lady brought out of Raej talk about being enslaved and the brutality they endured, but you don’t know what it’s like for the males. You can’t.”

“I’ve heard—”

“You’ve heard nothing,” Jared said, sharpening his voice enough to prick her pride and make her raise her head and look at him. “You’ve heard what they would admit to, what the scars on their bodies won’t allow them to deny. But they aren’t going to tell you about the other kinds of wounds or the deep scars you can’t see. No man would tell a young Queen about the kinds of twisted games that are played in those courts. We’re all scarred, Lia. We’re stripped of our honor and our pride. We’re punished when we act like Blood males and punished when we don’t. Dorothea SaDiablo and the Queens who dance to her tune don’t just rape a man’s body, they rape his soul. They take what’s good in a man and twist it out of all recognition.”

Jared captured Lia’s face between his hands. “As bad as it is for a Jeweled male, it’s ten times worse for a Blood male whose inner barriers can be pried open by any Jeweled female who wants to toy with him. And half-Blood males, who have no barriers at all, don’t have any kind of a chance. Unless they’re sired by an aristo male, most of them never reach maturity. They’re used until they start showing signs of becoming men, and then—” Jared stopped. Took a deep breath. “Tomas might have lived another year or two. But if you hadn’t bought him, he never would have known kindness, never would have known what it was liked to serve a Lady who cared about him.”

Fresh tears spilled down Lia’s face. “He didn’t know he wasn’t a slave,” she choked out.

Jared wiped away the tears with his thumbs. “He served, Lady Ardelia. He was too bright not to understand the difference whether you actually said the words or not. He deserved more time. He deserved a better life. But he didn’t die because of you, Lia. He died because of Dorothea’s greedy ambition to devour the entire Realm of Terreille. If you want to avenge Tomas, continue to be the strong Queen you are. Don’t let Hayll’s shadow fall over Dena Nehele.”

Lia leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Jared swayed back and forth, rocking her as he softly sang an old song that Reyna used to sing when he needed comforting.

“That’s nice,” Lia murmured.

Jared sank the fingers of one hand into her hair. “Yes, it is.”

“You’ve got a pleasing voice. Deep but smooth.”

Jared smiled. “My father always said I got my mother’s voice but an octave lower.” His arms tightened around her. “Lia, we have to leave in the morning, and I’ve been thinking . . .”

Lia raised her head and studied his face. “Why does that sound like something I should worry about?”

Jared frowned at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my brains.”

“That’s true,” Lia agreed thoughtfully. “Your being so bossy when you start fussing has nothing to do with your brains.”

“What?”

She smiled at him.

His frown deepened. “Tomorrow we’ll go to Dena Nehele.”

“No.”

“Once you’re safely home, I’ll go to Ranon’s Wood—”

“No.”

“—and bring the others—”

“NO!”

Lia shoved him hard enough to break his hold on her. She stumbled back a couple of steps before she regained her balance.

“Don’t be stubborn about this, Lia,” Jared growled.

Her gray eyes darkened. “You’re a fine one to accuse anyone else of being stubborn.”

Jared gritted his teeth. “You’ll be safe.”

“I knew the risks when I agreed—”

“You knew nothing!” Jared shouted. “You were supposed to meet an escort at a Coach station who would get you safely home. You, Lia. Despite what you may want to believe, those men weren’t there to make sure the rest of us got to Dena Nehele. So get it into your stubborn little head that you’re going home tomorrow.”

“I’m going to Ranon’s Wood—”

Jared spewed every obscenity he could think of.

“Those people are my responsibility, Lord Jared. Mine.”

Jared bared his teeth. “My Jewels are darker than yours, which makes me stronger. If I have to, I’ll truss you up in enough psychic restraints it’ll take your granny half a day to undo them all and dump you on your father’s doorstep. He may have yielded about letting you go in the first place, but if his balls still work, he won’t let you go again no matter what your grandmother says!”

“How dare you say that about my father! What right do you have to make demands of me?”

“I serve you.”

Lia shook her head. “No, you don’t. The others, yes, until the journey ends. But not you.”

It felt like a large fist had just punched him under the heart. Jared stared at her, trying to get his breath. “I serve you,” he said hoarsely. “I wear the Invisible Ring.” The Silver Ring.

“There is no Ring!” Lia raked her fingers through her hair. “There never was a Ring! It was only a bit of Craft my mother calls lightning and smoke to fool them so they wouldn’t question my not using the Ring of Obedience.”

“I wear your Ring,” Jared insisted.

“Listen to me, you feather-brained mule. There is no Ring. I made it up. All of it. Whoever heard of an Invisible Ring?”

Daemon Sadi.

But he didn’t say that. He took the verbal blows, unwilling to consider why they hurt so much. “Why?”

Lia took a couple of wobbly steps and made it to the chair before she fell down. “You’re a good man, Jared. And you’re a strong Warlord.”

“You couldn’t have known that about me.”

“I’m a Queen,” she said wearily. “I knew. But as you just pointed out, your Jewels outrank mine, and there was a lot of hate in you that day. I couldn’t leave you there, and I couldn’t control you.”

“You could have used the Ring of Obedience.”

Lia paled. “Do you—” She swallowed hard. “Do you think I could have used that—”

Either she couldn’t think of a word obscene enough or couldn’t bring herself to say it.

No, Jared thought as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t have used the Ring of Obedience.

“I knew I couldn’t control you,” Lia said. “And I couldn’t afford to fight you. I thought you’d escape as soon as your body healed. Then you folded up inside yourself and I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking you’d go. As soon as you realized there was nothing holding you, you’d go.”

But something had held him back.

Jared rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at his feet. Had she really counted on him going at the beginning of the journey? Had she counted on one less male to feed? Or . . .

He looked up. She watched him so carefully, as if she were trying to gauge the impact of her words.

“I wear no Ring,” Jared said, watching her with equal care as he remembered how well she could put on an act when she felt it was necessary.

“You wear no Ring,” Lia agreed. She looked away.

“You have no claim on me.”

“None.”

“If I walk out of this room, what will you do?”

“Meet the others in Ranon’s Wood and take them to Dena Nehele.”

“Why?”

When she looked at him again, he saw a Queen with shadows in her eyes.

“I took them out of Raej. I hold their lives in my hands because of that choice. So until we stand within the borders of Dena Nehele, they’re my people, Lord Jared.”

And he wasn’t? Oh, no, she wasn’t getting away with that.

Smiling, Jared walked up to her and held out his hands. “Time for bed. We need a good night’s sleep if we’re heading for Ranon’s Wood at first light.”

She looked wary, but she slipped her hands into his.

“You know,” he said pleasantly as he helped her to her feet, “I’m going to have to remember how good a liar you are when your back’s against the wall.”

“What?” Lia said weakly.

He kept a firm grip on her hands. “I’ve spent this entire journey chasing my own tail because I couldn’t sense the Ring in order to confirm that it existed. If you’d told me a couple of days ago that you had made it all up, I would have believed you.”

“Why won’t you believe me now?” Lia wailed.

Jared gave her a sharp smile. “Because we had help last night. A Warlord Prince I know did the healing. Just before he left, he confirmed that I wear the Invisible Ring. The Silver Ring.”

Lia tried to tug her hands free. “Why would you believe him?”

“He had no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, didn’t mention it until I threatened to drag you back to Dena Nehele. If you were in my place, what would you think?”

“That you’re an idiot.”

Slipping an arm around her waist, Jared led her to the bed. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. It was just bad timing on your part.”

She muttered something that sounded nasty.

“Come on, Lady Grumpy. Put your nightgown on, and I’ll tell you a bedtime story. Unless, of course, you’re like me and prefer to sleep in nothing but your skin.”

Her face had a lot of color now.

“Maybe you could sleep somewhere—”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh. I . . . I’ll change in the bathroom.”

“You do that.” He waited until she was at the bathroom door. “Oh, Lia. Just in case you get any ideas about slipping out of here without me, you should know that I’ve put a Red shield around the bathroom as well as this room and a Red lock on the door that leads to the adjoining bedroom.”

The mutter that got cut off by the bathroom door closing was definitely nasty.

Her brains were still as wobbly as her legs, Jared decided as he undressed. Why bother to tell him now, even if it was true? He’d just go to Ranon’s Wood, and she was going to Ranon’s Wood, may the Darkness protect the stubborn little idiot. She thought she could push him out of her life before he was ready to go? Well, she could think again.

And he would go as soon as he got her safely to Dena Nehele. He’d said nothing less than the truth when he’d told her all male slaves carried scars. Nine years as a pleasure slave had carved some deep ones into his soul.

He had no future in Dena Nehele. Or maybe it was more honest to say that he wouldn’t allow his heart to show him something that could never be more than a wistful dream.

Jared settled into bed and waited for Lia.

But he’d keep her safe until then. Safe so that, someday, a man without scars on his soul would be able to love her the way she deserved to be loved.