The Invisible Ring

Chapter Twenty-three

Jared poured another two fingers of whiskey into his glass. Raising it to eye level, he studied it.

A liquid cloak to cover the heart and protect it from lethal shards of pain. A fluid wall to keep grief at bay.

He turned away from such thoughts. If he kept his mind harnessed to practical matters, he didn’t really have to think at all.

And right now, he couldn’t afford to think.

“Jared.” Yarek sipped his whiskey, hesitated.

Jared leaned back and waited. He and Yarek were the only ones left in the inn’s dining room. Lia, Thera, and Blaed had gone for a walk after the midday meal. He suspected Lia needed a little time away from the pulsing needs everyone in the village was trying so hard to keep reined in. He’d seen the hunger in the males’ eyes, the relief in the witches’. And he’d seen the way Lia had quietly accepted and eaten the full bowl of stew that had been placed before her—the only full bowl that had been served. She hadn’t shamed the village by refusing the food offered, hadn’t denied them the honor of serving a Queen.

She must have choked on every mouthful with all those eyes anxiously watching her, but she never showed it.

Sitting beside her, his heart had swelled with pride . . . and something more.

He would never burden her with his feelings. Having been a pleasure slave—having his self so divided and debased—made it impossible for him to have what he wanted most.

But he would love her for the rest of his life.

“Jared,” Yarek said again.

Jared pulled his attention back to his uncle. “What is it?”

Yarek cleared his throat. Took another sip of whiskey. “The witchling . . . the Lady. She’s got a kind heart, but . . .”

“If she says there’s a place for all of you in Dena Nehele, then there is,” Jared replied.

“A land can only give so much, can only hold so many before the scales tip and we take too much.”

“I think Dena Nehele can absorb a hundred of Shalador’s own.” A hundred survivors out of two thriving villages. Jared took another swallow of whiskey.

“More and more people are going over the mountains,” Yarek said worriedly. “Plenty of them settle in the other Territories, but—”

Jared laid a hand over Yarek’s. “You were the one who always told me not to plant troubles where there aren’t any.”

“Suppose I did.”

“So Dena Nehele will gain Shalador’s best and be better for it.”

Naked grief filled Yarek’s eyes before he looked away.

Jared leaned back, unable to offer any words of comfort that wouldn’t shatter his own fragile control.

Shalador’s best would never leave Shalador—unless they found their way to the Dark Realm. The war had seen to that.

“The Coaches are intact?” Yarek asked after a moment.

Jared nodded. The two Coaches that belonged to the destroyed Coach station hadn’t been damaged in the attack, but he still hadn’t figured out how they were going to fit everyone who couldn’t ride the Winds on their own into two Coaches that comfortably held thirty people between them. And he didn’t know who would handle them. The three Warlord brothers who had run the Coach station hadn’t survived the attack, and no one else had the training.

Yarek frowned, gave Jared an uneasy glance, frowned harder. “Didn’t have a Black Widow in Wolf’s Creek.”

“Not every village has one, any more than they have a Priestess or a Queen,” Jared said, wondering where this was leading.

Yarek rubbed his chin. “The Hourglass covens have different ways. Stands to reason considering the kind of Craft they do.”

Nodding, Jared waited.

Yarek shrugged, and asked hesitantly, “Do they eat different?”

Jared narrowed his eyes. That hint of fear hadn’t been there a few hours ago when Yarek talked about Thera fretting.

“The women asked about it, you see, and I said I’d ask you.”

“About what?” Jared said cautiously.

“Well, they butchered the two pigs and the chickens that were left.” Yarek held up a hand as if Jared had protested. “No room to take them with us and no point leaving them to fill someone else’s belly. But a cool box filled with cooked meat won’t take up much room in the Coaches and would make everyone feel a little easier having a bit of their own for the first day or two. So we’ll eat hearty tonight and tomorrow morning.”

“What’s that got to do with Thera?”

“Seems she came along early this morning and saw what they were doing. Came back a few minutes later carrying a couple of wash buckets and insisted on having all the offal she could fit in them. Soon as they were filled, she vanished the buckets and left.”

“I don’t—”

“I told you how she was fretting last night, remember?”

Jared nodded.

“Well, after I got her calmed down a bit, she went up to the room she’s sharing with the young Warlord Prince. He went up with her, then came down a few minutes later in a snarling mood. At the time, I just thought she wanted to be alone for a little bit and had shown him the door. Now I’m thinking she wanted some privacy to spin one of those tangled webs. When she came back downstairs a couple of hours later, she was troubled but a lot calmer—and very hungry. Didn’t have much to offer her last night. That’s why the women started wondering—”

“Lord Yarek! Lord Yarek!” A boy barreled into the dining room. “Riders coming,” he gasped. “Thirteen of them.”

Jared jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over.

“Mother Night,” Yarek whispered. “They’ve come back.”

The descent to the Red was swift but controlled. By the time Jared stepped into the street, he was centered in his strength and ready, almost eager, to rise to the killing edge.

He looked east.

Lia and Thera, returning from their walk with Blaed, slowed down when they saw him.

Blaed gave Jared a swift look, then dragged the two women into the nearest building.

Jared turned and began walking down the street.

Brock and Randolf came out of one building, but neither of them stepped into the street to join him.

It was his uncle Yarek and Thayne—and Garth—and the Jeweled Warlords and witches who were left who formed a wall at his back.

The riders turned into the main street and rode forward slowly. Six pairs of Warlords behind a Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

The Warlords stopped.

The Warlord Prince kept coming. He reined in a few yards from Jared, dismounted, and closed the rest of the distance on foot until he stood a man’s length away.

“Warlord,” he said with deceptive pleasantness.

“Prince Talon,” Jared replied, keeping his face and voice neutral.

“We need to talk, Warlord. Privately.”

Jared jerked his head at the building to his left. “This will do.”

He barely got into the room before Talon slammed him into the wall.

“What in the name of Hell were you thinking—if you were thinking?” Talon roared as he jammed his tunic-filled fists under Jared’s chin. “You’ve been staggering around in a hostile Territory like a drunken landen! If we hadn’t come across that slaughter and followed the tracks, we’d still be searching.”

Jared bared his teeth. He clamped his hands around Talon’s wrists. “Maybe your tracking abilities are at fault.”

“I’m the best tracker around!”

“Then think how much trouble the second-best tracker has had.”

Talon’s eyes glazed with fury.

Remembering how easily a Warlord Prince rose to the killing edge, Jared leashed his own anger. “Talon—”

Talon just shook him and roared.

“What do you care?” Jared snarled. “You got your niece back. Lia’s not your concern.”

Talon slammed him into the wall again. “I’m the one who taught her to ride. I’m the one who taught her how to use a bow. I’m the one who taught her how to fight with Craft. Don’t you dare tell me she’s not my concern.”

Jared stared at Talon. Finally, he said, “Have you ever played chess with her?”

“What’s—” The glaze of fury slowly faded from Talon’s eyes. Releasing Jared, he stepped back. After a minute, he shook his head, and said dryly, “I think I just did.”

Now that Talon’s anger had passed, Jared felt the sting of the accusations. “If you were so concerned, why didn’t you stay to escort her to the Tamanara Mountains?”

There was no way to describe the look in Talon’s eyes. “Warlord,” he said quietly, “even a rogue knows when to yield to a Queen.”

Jared squirmed a little, like a boy chastised by an elder. “But you came back. You’ve been searching for her.”

“Well,” Talon said with a genuine smile, “I am a rogue.” He gave Jared a rough clap on the shoulder. “Let’s go see the witchling. She deserves a good scolding.”

“Can I watch?” Jared asked, falling into step beside Talon.

“Of course,” Talon replied, laughing. “How else will you learn how to do it right?

Jared knocked on the bedroom door but didn’t wait for Lia to answer before he slipped into the room.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, studying her with some concern. She seemed subdued and a little pale. He understood her feeling subdued. Talon’s skill at scolding far exceeded any instructor he’d ever had. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Lia murmured, twisting the bottom of her sweater. She wasn’t quite pacing, but she also couldn’t seem to stand still. “Jared, I have a favor to ask.”

“All right.”

Lia pressed her lips together and stared at the floor. Finally, she sighed. “One of the reasons—the main reason— I haven’t had my Virgin Night is that I never wanted to ask one of the males in the court to do something so intimate out of a sense of duty.”

Jared thought the males in the court would be appalled to hear her say that, but he could understand how Lia might think of it as some unwanted “duty.”

“I—” Lia took a couple of deep breaths. “Would you do it?”

Jared’s mind went blank. To have this much. To give this much. To know that she trusted him this much.

Lia flicked a nervous glance at him.

Jared ran a hand through his hair. “Yes. Of course. When we get to Dena Nehele—”

“No.” Lia scraped her teeth over her bottom lip. “It has to be now. Before sunset.”

Jared took a step back. His legs hit the edge of the bed. He sat down abruptly. “Now? Right now?”

Lia nodded. “Thera says if I don’t have my Virgin Night before sunset, I never will.”

Jared opened his mouth, sure that he’d been about to express a reasonable opinion, but nothing came out.

If only it hadn’t been Thera, who had heeded a similar warning and had survived because of it. That he couldn’t dismiss.

“Lia . . .”

“If you’re not comfortable with it, I can ask Talon—”

Jared shot to his feet. “I’ll kill him first.”

Lia blinked. Frowned. Finally said, “If you kill him first, won’t that make the rest of it . . . awkward?”

“It will make it impossible,” Jared replied, spacing out each word.

“Oh.”

Jared rubbed his hands over his face. His body remembered what it felt like to hold her, kiss her, and it wanted. His heart yearned to make love to her. His mind kept squeaking the words “Virgin Night” like some terrified mouse.

Jared lowered his hands. “I’ll be back shortly. You stay right here.” He gestured toward a chair. “Sit down. Relax. Concentrate on breathing or something.”

He bolted from the room.

Out in the corridor, Jared sagged against the wall.

He’d have to find Talon and ask him. Hell’s fire, he had to ask someone. Being a pleasure slave didn’t qualify him for seeing a witch through her Virgin Night. He’d seen plenty of witches who’d been broken during that first intimacy. They all had a lost, slightly vacant look in their eyes. Any fire that had burned in their hearts had been snuffed out under a man’s body.

If something went wrong, he didn’t think he could bear seeing Lia’s eyes filled with that lost, vacant expression.

Oh, witches adjusted to the loss of their Jewels and their Craft. The ones from aristo families were sent into arranged marriages. He wasn’t sure what kind of life the others endured. They adjusted. But they were never again whole. Many of them just faded away until there was little more than a husk left going through the motions of living. Some of them slipped into madness. None of them could be seeded more than once after being broken, and more than half of those pregnancies ended with an early miscarriage.

When he was younger, he thought it was unfair that broken witches should be stripped of their ability to have children as well as being stripped of their Jewels. But after having lived in the Territories that stood in Hayll’s shadow, he doubted any of them regretted that barrenness. It was not in a witch’s nature to become a breeder for the gender she would consider as the enemy.

Jared pushed away from the wall. He and Talon had spent the early afternoon removing the seats in the two small Coaches so they could fit more people in, while Yarek oversaw packing the storage spaces—and finding a safe place for the six honey pear trees Lia insisted come with them.

Thank the Darkness, some of Talon’s men knew how to handle a Coach, so there was no problem now about finding drivers.

With luck, Talon would be checking on something else that had to be readied for their departure, and it would take some time to find him. Maybe by then, Lia would have reconsidered.

He shook his head. Not with Thera’s warning riding her.

Before he took two steps, Talon turned the corner.

Groaning, Jared sagged against the wall again.

“She still upset?” Talon asked, eyeing the bedroom door.

“Not exactly,” Jared muttered.

Talon’s eyes narrowed. “She feeling all right?”

“She’s doing fine.” Jared looked Talon in the eyes. “She wants her Virgin Night.”

Talon gaped at him. “Now?”

“Yes. Now. I was just coming to look for you.”

Watching Talon sag against the wall made Jared feel better.

Talon rubbed a hand over his chest. “She wants me to—”

“No,” Jared said too quickly.

A slow, wicked smile curved Talon’s mouth. “In that case, Warlord, since the woman and the bed are in there, why are you out here?”

Jared’s face heated. He shifted so that his back was fully pressed against the wall. “I’ve been a pleasure slave since I was eighteen.”

Talon nodded in understanding. “That’s a long time to know the bed without ever knowing intimacy or pleasure. And at that age . . . Hell’s fire, you can probably count the number of times you were really with a woman.”

“I could count it on one hand and not use all my fingers.”

Talon rubbed his forehead. “Mother Night, you’re almost a virgin yourself. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jared stared at the opposite wall. “She asked me.” He paused. “Would you consider seeing a witch through her Virgin Night a duty?”

Talon stiffened. “I’d call it an honor.”

Satisfied, Jared nodded. “You’ve done it?”

“A few times. It’s safer when the male wears the darker Jewel.”

Talon settled more comfortably against the wall and crossed his arms. “It’s not that difficult, really.”

“It’s dangerous,” Jared argued.

“It can be if you forget why you’re in the bed—or if she panics.”

Well, that helped.

It took less than five minutes for Talon to explain what he had to do for the Virgin Night.

“That’s it?” Jared asked.

Talon shrugged. “That’s it. Just take it slow. Let her get comfortable with each step before you go on to the next, and you’ll do all right.”

Jared glanced at the end of the hall.

“Go on,” Talon said with a smile. “I’ll stay here and make sure she doesn’t bolt.”

Jared took a deep breath, blew it out, and then walked to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

After cleaning his teeth, he paused and sniffed himself. He shook his head and stripped. Halfway through the fast bath, he realized he’d accepted what he was about to do and felt steady.

More than steady.

He dried off, vanished the sweaty clothes he’d been working in, then called in the trousers Daemon had given him and put them on. No point wearing anything more, he thought as his hand closed over the Red Jewel around his neck. He ran his other hand over the trousers. Did clothes retain something of the person who had worn them? Right now, he wouldn’t mind absorbing some of Daemon’s bedroom skills.

Jared closed his eyes and took a couple of deep, quiet breaths. He thought of the way Daemon’s hands glided over a woman’s body, coaxing, caressing. It became a slow, delicious dance that a woman was helpless to resist. It changed so subtly from cool water to fire she never had a chance to see the blaze before it consumed her in pleasure.

Smiling, Jared returned to the bedroom door.

Talon gave him an assessing look, returned the smile, and walked away. At the corner, he raised his hand. A Sapphire shield blocked the hall.

“That will make sure you’re not disturbed,” Talon said. He gave Jared an easy salute and left.

Taking one last deep breath, Jared opened the bedroom door.

Lia sat in the chair, fretting the sweater.

Jared leaned against the door and smiled when she peeked at him through her lashes.

“It’s not as if you haven’t seen me before,” Jared said, charmed by the shyness.

“That was different,” Lia muttered, focusing on his bare feet.

Jared took another breath . . .

. . . and heard the drums.

Heard the Priestess’s voice rising out of the twilight to call the men to the dance.

His nostrils flared. His blood heated. Tension flowed out of him as desire saturated his body.

He flicked a glance at the hearth. The wood that had been readied to take the evening chill out of the room began to burn.

A flick of his hand closed the curtains. Only the young fire lit the room, smudging all the sharp lines until there were no lines, until the walls seemed to disappear and go on forever.

Another flick of his hand vanished all the furniture except the bed and the small tables on either side of it.

Lia yelped when she landed on the floor. “Jared, what—”

He walked toward her. Her eyes widened.

“Can you hear the drums, Lia?” he asked softly.

“Can you hear them? Like the land’s heartbeat. Or the heartbeat of the Shalador people.” He held out his hands. “Let me show you the Fire Dance.”

He lifted her up and pulled her against him. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm. Her cold hands pushed at his waist.

He did nothing but hold her, letting his eyes wander over her face.

When she stopped trying to push him away, he slowly lowered his head, his lips parting for a kiss.

She arched back to escape his lips. He smiled because it only pushed her hips tighter against his.

Since she wouldn’t give him her mouth, he took her throat. Soft kisses. Gentle sucking.

He licked her jaw.

Her hands clamped on his waist.

“Do you hear them, Lia?” he asked as he licked the corner of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“I—I hear something beating.” Her voice had gone husky.

“The drums.” Jared brushed his lips over hers.

Her eyes were dark smoke. “Is there someone singing?”

“Yes,” he whispered into her ear. “Listen to her. Follow her. The Fire Dance lies at the end of her voice.”

He covered her mouth with his and let them both sink into the drums and the voice and the musky twilight.

Stepping back, he drew her into the center of the room.

Lia plucked at the sweater. “It’s warm in here.”

“Take it off,” Jared suggested quietly as he slowly circled her, his feet automatically following the set pattern of steps.

Lia tossed the sweater aside. She puffed out her cheeks. “Maybe we should open a window.”

“Maybe you should take off the shirt.” His fingertips brushed down her arm as he moved past her. “The Fire’s supposed to be hot.”

She reached for the first button. Her hand froze. Her eyes locked on the golden chest that glistened from more than one kind of heat.

“Let me help.” Jared gave her a feathery kiss while he used Craft to undo all the buttons. His hands brushed the shirt aside, brushed it over her shoulders, brushed it down her back.

She made breathy little sounds.

“Watch me.” He stepped back into his circle. “Watch the Dance.”

“Aren’t—” Lia puffed out her cheeks again. “Aren’t you supposed to be naked when you do that?”

He vanished the trousers.

She gulped and tried to stare at her feet, but he’d already drawn her in too deeply. She raised her head and watched him dance, watched the muscles flex, watched him smile as he moved his hips, watched the shadows form into other dancers.

Listening to the drums, Jared increased the tempo, stepping close enough to brush against her, stepping back to widen the circle.

She pivoted in the center of the circle, her eyes following him, no longer shy enough to look away from a male celebrating his maleness.

As the drums began to fade, Jared wrapped an arm around Lia’s waist and whirled her around the room until they reached the side of the bed.

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her long and deep.

“Let me show you the rest of the Fire Dance,” he said hoarsely.

She didn’t answer. But the look in her eyes was answer enough.

He undressed her slowly, coaxed her into the bed, and stretched out beside her.

She shifted a little to move her hips away from his throbbing cock.

He shifted with her.

“It’ll be all right,” he said as his hand glided down her arm and back again. “It’ll be all right.”

While he brushed his lips against hers, he reached with his mind and brushed lightly against her inner barriers.

She recoiled with a gasp.

Jared murmured soothing nothings while he kissed and caressed her.

Always before, he’d given pleasure in order to escape the pain of punishment. Now he gave pleasure for the pleasure of giving it. He explored her body, fascinated by the muscles that quivered, and finally relaxed, under his light touch. He tasted her, rubbed himself against her so that her scent would be on his skin and his on hers. He laughed silently when her fingers dove into his hair to hold his mouth to her breast. He enjoyed the way her body both pulled away from and reached for the finger lightly brushing between her legs.

And all the while he slowly seduced her body, he stroked her inner barriers until she was so used to his presence she didn’t react at all.

Then he began the journey into the abyss. Down, down, down while his mouth and fingers made her quietly desperate, while her grasping hands made him burn.

Down, down, down until he slipped under her inner barriers and saw the shining green web of herself.

Jared flowed upward. Carefully, delicately, he brushed a strand of her inner web.

Her body tensed. Thrashed.

His rolled, half-covering her to keep her still.

*It’s all right, Lia.* He brushed the strand again.

*Yes,* she said, but her body shuddered, and she didn’t sound at all convinced.

Following Talon’s instructions, Jared carefully flowed his Red strength between the strands of her web, then formed a shield above her. That, Talon had explained, was why it was better for the male to wear the darker Jewel. If the witch panicked for some reason and tried to descend into the abyss, she wouldn’t be able to get past the shield and inadvertently rip through her own inner web.

When he was done, he kissed her—and jerked back in surprise.

“What . . .” Lia said, her eyes wide with shock.

Jared caressed her breast, and felt the caress.

She pulled his head down and kissed him with a hunger that, when added to his own, left him reeling.

This was the seduction and the danger, Jared realized as he kissed her again. When a man was inside a woman’s inner barriers, he could become so tangled up in the physical sensations of being both the giver and receiver that he wouldn’t be able to distinguish his body from hers.

He covered her. Felt his body pressing her down. Felt the bed under her back. Felt himself press into the opening until he met the physical barrier.

Jared buried his face against her neck.

Breathing hard, Lia gripped his shoulders. “Do it.”

“Lia . . .”

“Do it.”

He thrust.

And took the pain as well as the pleasure.

For a moment, the world turned end over end, whirling them in a storm of sensations.

He wanted to thrust again, to feel that pleasure.

He was terrified of the blood that covered him.

Lia dug her nails into his shoulders hard enough to break the skin and cried out in pain.

Sheathed inside her, the impaled and the impaler, Jared forced his body to remain still while they rode out the storm.

And realized that he could have stepped away from it. That he could have kept himself disengaged enough not to be swept away.

That’s how a Jeweled male broke a witch. He mired her in the duality of sensations while staying in the eye of the storm. And then he gave pain instead of pleasure. The witch became her own enemy, feeling as if she were inflicting the pain upon herself. Unbalanced by the conflict, she would try to flee, but the pain would follow, driving her to her own destruction.

The knowledge made him shake.

“Jared.” Lia wrapped her arms around him. “Jared?” She shifted under him.

He struggled to find the self-control that would let him pull back enough not to get swept away by the physical sensations, not to lose control completely.

“Jared,” Lia murmured, stroking his back urgently. “Please.”

Even if he could have distanced himself from her body, he couldn’t bear to pull away from Lia.

So he wrapped her in his strength—body, mind, and heart—and surrendered both of them to the pleasure of the Fire.