The Shadow Queen

CHAPTER 14

Talon waited in the small meeting room. As Master of the Guard, he didn’t have an office like the Steward—and didn’t want one—but this small room was becoming his place to talk with one or two of the men when he had specific instructions or one of them wanted to report something in private. Not that there had been much to report.

He had a bad feeling that was about to change.

Didn’t need to be told they were in trouble. He’d felt that dark presence the moment he woke; known a strong predator had come to the estate. And Powell had knocked on his door a minute after sunset to tell him an Eyrien was waiting to see him. A Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

“Red-Jeweled, my ass,” Talon muttered. He wore Sapphire. He knew the feel of Red. And he was willing to bet that if the Eyrien wore the Red, it wasn’t his Jewel of rank. Which meant the Eyrien had to be . . .

The door opened and controlled fury walked into the room.

“Lucivar Yaslana,” Talon whispered, feeling his legs go weak. He’d never met the man before, thank the Darkness, but there was no mistaking the Ebon-gray Jewel that gleamed against Lucivar’s brown skin. “I’m Talon, Master of the Guard.”

“You know what I am?” Lucivar asked.

Talon nodded. He’d heard enough stories to know exactly what was standing in this room.

Lucivar raised one hand. Two boxes appeared on the table. He approached the table and pulled the top off one box. “Official business first. This is yarbarah, the blood wine.”

With no wasted movement, Lucivar opened a bottle of yarbarah, called in a wineglass, filled it, and began warming the blood wine over a tongue of witchfire.

“Since you’re going to need to keep replenishing your power, you should drink a glass of this three times a day. More if you want, but three glasses will provide enough blood to maintain someone who is demon-dead. Every ten days, you should add some fresh human blood. How much depends on the strength of the person who is giving it, but a couple of spoonfuls is usually enough. And once a month you should drink an offering cup of undiluted human blood.” Lucivar handed the glass to Talon. “Yarbarah is best drunk warm. It tastes a little thick otherwise. And it’s best to keep a bottle chilled once you open it.”

Talon took the wineglass but didn’t drink. “The court can’t afford the expense of—”

“Queen’s gift. Won’t cost the court anything to keep you supplied with what you need to serve as Master.”

Someone’s paying for it, Talon thought, but he didn’t argue. And he didn’t try to resist any longer when the smell of blood was sharpening his hunger and need.

He took a sip, got the taste of it, then gulped down the rest of the glass. Not as rich or potent as human blood, but there wasn’t any shame in drinking it.

“There are specific rituals for the giving and taking of blood,” Lucivar said. “You should learn them.”

Talon hesitated, then filled the glass again and warmed it with witchfire the way Lucivar had done.

“Why do you know so much about yarbarah?” he asked.

“My uncle, cousin, and older brother were demon-dead. My father is a Guardian. Yarbarah is standard fare with the family.”

Talon took another swallow of yarbarah and frowned. “They were demon-dead?”

“They’re gone now.”

“And your father is . . . ?” According to some stories, Yaslana was a half-breed bastard whose bloodlines were unknown. According to other stories, Daemon Sadi shared that unknown paternal bloodline, making Sadi and Yaslana half brothers.

“A Guardian,” Lucivar said. “One of the living dead. And the High Lord of Hell.”

Ice twined around Talon’s spine. Saetan had sired Sadi and Yaslana? Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful!

That explained some things about the two of them. And it made Talon wonder if going to Sadi for a favor hadn’t been a serious mistake if his brother was also going to take an interest in Dena Nehele.

And his father as well? That wasn’t a thought Talon wanted to entertain.

“What’s your unofficial business?” Talon asked.

Lucivar’s gold eyes glazed. “I don’t like what I see here, Talon. I don’t like what I feel here. If it doesn’t change, I’m taking Cassidy back to Kaeleer, and I’ll leave nothing but corpses behind me.”

“You have no right to make that decision.”

“I say I do. Your Queen got hurt today, and not one of her court did a damn thing to stop it.”

“Hurt? How? What happened?”

“Ask the First Circle. Ask the First Escort, who’s lucky to still be alive.”

“What happened?” Talon asked again.

“I figured it was better for everyone if I didn’t ask for the details.”

Hell’s fire.

Something wasn’t right. Even if Yaslana was here because Sadi had asked his brother to play messenger, Lucivar’s interest in Cassidy seemed a bit too proprietary.

“What’s your interest in a Rose-Jeweled Queen?” Talon asked. He’d tried to put it aside because Cassidy seemed a likable enough girl—and because there was something about her that pulled at him and pulled hard—but the truth was they needed strength and had gotten weakness.

Lucivar tipped his head, and his expression changed to cold amusement. “You don’t know? Your boy Grayhaven didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“The Jewels a Queen wears are not the only kind of power she wields. You should know that well enough. How many of the Queens you endured over these past few decades would have ruled at all if they hadn’t been backed by that bitch Dorothea SaDiablo?”

“None,” Talon said bitterly. “What’s that got to do with the here and now?”

“Connections, Prince. You looked at Cassidy’s Jewels and forgot to consider the connections.”

“What connections?”

“Do you know why Cassidy is here?” Lucivar asked.

“Because Sadi’s wife is a friend of hers, and Theran’s choice was to take Cassidy or walk away without a Queen,” Talon snapped, frustrated enough to be imprudent.

“Sadi’s wife.”

“A Queen who doesn’t seem able to form a court of her own, even with Sadi’s backing.”

The room suddenly turned cold enough to bite.

“Your boy left out a few things,” Lucivar said too softly. “Because of that, I’ll overlook your lack of courtesy. This time. Since Grayhaven has chosen to leave out a few details—or didn’t care enough to ask—you would do well to ask Cassidy a few questions. Like who really sent her to Dena Nehele.”

The cold was turning his muscles to stone. He wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to avoid an attack. Wouldn’t survive an attack even if he could move.

Killing field. Battlefield. Didn’t matter. Any man who fought knew that no one on the opposing side survived when Yaslana stepped into a fight.

“I’ll be back, Talon,” Lucivar said as he turned toward the door. “You can count on it. And the next time I won’t be as forgiving. You can count on that too.”

Lucivar opened the door, then stopped and looked back. “The Warlord Prince Gray.”

Talon swallowed hard. Mother Night! How would a defense-less boy like Gray handle crossing paths with something like Yaslana? “What about him?”

“How old was he when he was tortured?”

Talon rocked back on his heels, not sure what to think. “How did you know?”

Lucivar snorted. “I’ve lived seventeen hundred years. I’ve seen a lot of courts and a lot of men during that time. I know the look, and I know the feel, of a man who’s been tortured.”

“Fifteen,” Talon said. “He was fifteen years old and the most promising Warlord Prince to come along in a couple generations or more. Not as good with weapons as Theran, but stronger in other ways. He could have been stronger.” He sighed, feeling the old regrets. “Wasn’t much left of that promising boy two years later when I finally found him and got him away from the bitch.”

Lucivar just looked at him for a long time. “Ask the questions, Prince,” he said softly. “Ask the questions before it’s too late.”

Talon waited until Lucivar left the room before he drained the second glass of yarbarah. Then he corked the bottle and put a cooling spell on it. He wanted more, needed more blood, since he’d resisted asking for any—or demanding any—from the Warlord Princes in the court since the night Cassidy had freely given her blood.

“Too many warnings and not enough information,” Talon growled.

When he opened the door, he found Ranon on the other side.

“I came to tell you the Eyrien is gone,” Ranon said.

“In here,” Talon snapped.

Ranon came into the room, wary.

“What in the name of Hell happened today?”

“I don’t know,” Ranon said.

“You have no idea how much trouble we’re in, so don’t be playing games with me.”

“I don’t know!”

Frustration. Worry. Ranon wasn’t trying to hide those things.

“Then tell me what you do know.”

“I respectfully refuse to give you a shovel. Or a hoe. Or a rake. Or any of the tools. I Craft-locked the shed.”

Cassidy slanted a look at Gray, who had crept up to the flower bed and now stood a long step away from her.

Her hands throbbed whenever she lowered them. Her arms ached when she held her hands up. She shouldn’t even be out there. She should be in her room, resting. She’d slept for a little while after Shira finished the healing and helped her to her suite, but she didn’t feel easy about being inside the house. At least out here, there was the illusion of comfort.

Then the phrasing Gray used sank in and had her looking at him more closely—and had her eyeing the book he clutched to his chest like a shield.

“Is that one of the books of Protocol I brought?”

Gray nodded. “If I’d studied the book before, I could have stopped you from getting hurt.”

“I told you to stay away,” Cassidy said. “You obeyed my orders.”

“The first law is not obedience. Lucivar said so.”

Thank you very much, Lucivar. Even if he was an adult, Gray was still an impressionable young man, and Lucivar Yaslana could certainly leave an impression.

“How much time did you spend with Lucivar?” Cassidy asked.

“Not long.”

Long enough. There was a look in Gray’s eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday.

“You can swear at me if you want,” Gray said with complete sincerity. “You can swear at me because I won’t let you have any tools.”

For the first time, Cassidy appreciated the lessons in maintaining a dignified expression and a steady voice.

“Thank you, Gray, but I don’t feel like swearing right now. I’ll take you up on that offer another time.”

“Okay.” He sidled up until he was standing right next to her. Until his shoulder brushed against hers.

Not wanting to wonder why he was standing that close, she stared at the flower bed. And frowned.

“You cleaned it up, didn’t you?” she asked.

He nodded. “You kept digging them up, but you stopped tossing the weeds out. Stopped picking up the rocks and tossing them out too.” He paused, then added softly, “Some of the rocks have your blood smeared on them.”

She felt sick. She hadn’t noticed the blood.

“So,” Gray said, giving her a light nudge as he pointed to the boulder she’d been digging around when Lucivar hauled her out of the garden. “What do you think? Should the rock stay, or should it go?”

Talon walked toward the back of the garden as fast as his limping gait allowed.

Connections. Yes, he knew about connections. But he hadn’t read the signs right this time. Hadn’t made the effort he should have over these past few days to find out more about the Queen who now ruled Dena Nehele. He had been disappointed by Cassidy’s lack of strength, hadn’t questioned Theran’s unhappiness that the one favor he could use hadn’t netted something better.

Until today, he’d thought the connection had been between Sadi and Theran, because of Jared. Now he understood: Jared’s bloodline had gotten Theran an audience and nothing more. The only reason they had a Queen at all was Cassidy’s connection to Sadi and Yaslana.

And he’d damn well better find out why two of the darkest-Jeweled males in the history of the Blood were taking such a keen interest in a Rose-Jeweled Queen they didn’t serve.

Gray noticed him first, and even in the dusky light, Talon saw the queer look in the boy’s eyes. In another Warlord Prince, he would have called that look a challenge. Then it was gone, and he pushed aside the thought.

“Lady,” Talon said.

“Prince Talon,” Cassidy replied.

“Gray, you should go on and get some supper,” Talon said.

Gray didn’t move.

“That was Prince Talon’s subtle way of telling you he wants to talk to me alone,” Cassidy said.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Gray asked.

Talon felt as if he’d stepped on ice but didn’t quite lose his footing.

What in the name of Hell happened to Gray today?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cassidy said, nudging Gray with an elbow. “I should go back inside before Vae comes out to find me.”

“You’ll wear your hat tomorrow,” Gray said.

“I’ll wear my hat.”

“You won’t pick up tools.”

“I won’t pick up tools.”

“You’ll—”

“Gray.”

“Are you going to swear at me?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Gray grinned, nothing more than a boy again. Then he headed for the stables, where the men would have some food for him.

Alone with her, Talon wondered how to ask the questions that needed asking.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been around a Queen. Maybe too long.

“I heard there was some trouble today,” Talon said, looking at her hands. They were bandaged so thickly he wondered if she had any use of them.

Cassidy shrugged and stared at the dug-up flower bed she could barely see.

“Are your hands going to be all right?” Talon asked.

“Yes,” Cassidy replied. “Shira says I didn’t do any permanent damage. I’ll just have to be careful for a while because they’ll be tender.”

Talon nodded. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

He tapped a finger against his chest. “Master of the Guard, remember?”

“It’s . . . personal.”

Personal. Theran wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t have gone up to her room last night without an invitation. Would he?

“Did Theran . . . ?” He looked away. He didn’t want to say the words, but he couldn’t dismiss the depth of Yaslana’s fury—especially when that fury seemed mostly aimed at Theran. “Did he do something he shouldn’t have?”

“No.”

He heard the lie, but he couldn’t call her on it. Even as her Master of the Guard, he couldn’t call her on the lie. But he could—and would—talk to Shira and find out if Cassidy had any other injuries.

He didn’t think Shira would tell him anything ugly—mostly because he was certain Yaslana wouldn’t have let Theran live if the harm the boy had done to Cassidy had been physical.

“I heard Yaslana dumped a couple buckets of water on you,” Talon said. “Not exactly a courteous thing to do.”

Cassidy looked at him, clearly surprised—and relieved—that he wasn’t demanding an explanation of what had ridden her so hard she hadn’t noticed the damage she was doing to herself. “Oh. Well. That’s Lucivar. He used to do that to everyone. When he was annoyed with his sister, he used to toss her into the pond, and she was the Queen he served.”

“How did you get to know someone like Yaslana?”

“My cousin Aaron served in the Dark Court’s First Circle, and Lucivar was the First Escort. Before the court formed officially, apprenticeships were offered to give some people an opportunity to work with darker-Jeweled witches and Warlord Princes and to study Protocol with the High Lord.”

Talon’s jaw dropped. “You learned Protocol from the High Lord of Hell?”

“Training in Protocol starts after a child’s Birthright Ceremony and continues all through schooling. The High Lord’s lessons were more about dealing with darker-Jeweled males and also the Protocols used when the living had contact with the demon-dead. And Jaenelle said trying to deal with Lucivar was an experience a Queen should have at least once.”

So Sadi’s wife had been there too.

“Where was this dark court located?”

Cassidy looked puzzled. “Where?”

“Seemed like there was at least one court in every Territory that was referring to itself as a dark court,” Talon said. “I was just wondering where the one you mentioned was located.”

“In Kaeleer, there was only one that was referred to as the Dark Court,” Cassidy said slowly. “That was the court at Ebon Askavi.”

Mother Night.

“With that kind of credentials, why doesn’t Sadi’s wife have a court?” Talon asked, but he was more wondering out loud than expecting an answer.

“After she recovered from her injuries, she didn’t want to rule anymore,” Cassidy said, “and everyone was so glad she survived, they didn’t care if there was an official court.”

“She was injured?”

“Two years ago. It was several months before anyone knew for sure that she survived, and several more before she was fully healed.”

Two years ago. Two years ago.

“She got caught in that storm of power the Kaeleer army unleashed?”

Cassidy frowned at him. “There wasn’t an army. That was Jaenelle. She unleashed her full strength and cleansed all three Realms of the Blood tainted by that bad High Priestess.”

Talon swayed. He had felt that power when it screamed through Terreille two years ago. Had felt the bite of it before it let him go, passed him by.

One witch had unleashed that much power? One?

He stared at Cassidy.

“Didn’t Theran tell you?” Cassidy asked.

“Tell me what?”

“Before she was injured, Jaenelle was the Queen of Ebon Askavi.”

Theran paced the length of the larger meeting room, shooting looks at Ranon every time he passed that end of the table.

“You’re sure Talon said to meet him here?”

Ranon gave him a cold stare. “I’m sure. He said to give him an hour, and then he wanted to meet with the whole First Circle. Guess he got delayed.”

By what? Theran wondered.

When Talon walked in a few minutes later, he knew something was terribly wrong, because he’d never seen the older man look so shaken—or scared.

“You young fool,” Talon said, heading right for him. “What did you do? What did you do?”

Talon grabbed Theran by the shirt and shook him before giving him a shove that had him half falling on the men sitting around the table.

“I didn’t do anything,” Theran snapped.

“You want to think for a minute and try the answer again?” Talon roared.

“I didn’t. Do. Anything.”

“You forgot a few details, boy. The kind of details that could destroy all of us—and Dena Nehele as well.”

“What details?”

“Connections, Theran. Connections.”

Talon sagged suddenly, and that was more frightening than his anger.

“I’m just as much to blame,” Talon said quietly. “Didn’t look closely enough. Didn’t think to ask until it was shoved in my face that I hadn’t asked.”

“Talon,” Powell said. “It would help the rest of us understand the danger if you could be a little less vague.”

Theran eased around to the other side of the table but didn’t take a seat. What sort of tale was Cassidy telling that would get Talon that pissed off at him?

“We’ve got Lucivar Yaslana—yes, that’s who that Eyrien was—honing his weapons and looking in our direction. Which means Sadi is also going to be looking in our direction and honing his own brand of weapons. And don’t think for a minute that Yaslana isn’t going to report to his father—who happens to be the High Lord of Hell.”

Some of the men sucked in a breath. Others groaned.

“And worst of all,” Talon said grimly, “I don’t think Lady Cassidy’s friend is going to be looking kindly at us.”

“Friend?” Ranon said, glancing at Theran. “You mean Sadi’s wife?”

Talon looked at Theran, and there was a bleakness in the older man’s eyes that made Theran shudder.

“Sadi’s wife,” Talon said softly. “Who was the Queen of Ebon Askavi.”

Shocked silence.

“Witch,” Talon continued, “chose Cassidy to be our Queen. So we’d all better start looking beyond a Rose Jewel to figure out why. Gentlemen, we’ve already made one bad mistake. We can’t afford to make another. So we’re going to study those books of Protocol, and we’re going to learn what we said we wanted to learn. And if the Darkness is merciful, the next time Lucivar Yaslana shows up here, he won’t invite all of us to step onto a killing field.”

Lucivar stepped into the sitting room and stopped. He’d expected to find his father waiting for him, but . . .

“What are you still doing here?” he asked Daemon as he approached a low table filled with different kinds of edibles.

“Waiting for you.” Daemon put a thin slice of cheese on top of a triangle of toast and added a spoonful of chopped spicy beef.

“Wine?” Saetan asked, indicating the open bottle.

“I’d rather have ale,” Lucivar said as he took the remaining seat around the table.

Saetan smiled dryly. “I thought as much. That’s why there’s some on the way.”

Lucivar filled a plate while he considered the other two men. Saetan was . . . Amused was the politest word that came to mind. Daemon was definitely grumpy.

“How was your day?” Lucivar asked, watching his brother.

“Fine.”

“And you’re still here because you were waiting for me?”

Daemon made an inarticulate sound.

Saetan said, “He’s trying to figure out how to explain a certain bit of Craft to his wife.”

“Oh?” Lucivar said.

Daemon was paying an awful lot of attention to making little sandwiches he wasn’t eating.

“Marian is pretty sure she can clean the paint off the floor,” Daemon muttered. “Eventually.”

“Oh?”

Daemon huffed out a sigh. “Doesn’t that little beast ever get tired?”

Saetan had an arm wrapped around his belly and his other fist pressed against his lips.

“Oh, shit, Bastard. What did you do?”

“He made the mistake of falling asleep,” Saetan said.

Daemon growled. “I just thought . . . Something quiet. Just for a little while. We were sitting on the floor with sheets of sketching paper. They were big sheets. Why couldn’t he keep the paint on the paper?”

“It would have been better if Daemon had thought to provide watercolors instead of a different kind of paint,” Saetan said.

“And who in the name of Hell taught that boy about shields at his age?” Daemon snarled.

Probably the wolf pups. “Wasn’t me.” Lucivar looked at both of them. “So Daemonar managed to put some kind of shield into the paint so the standard ways of removing it aren’t working? At least, not completely?”

Saetan was going to strain a muscle trying not to laugh, and Daemon . . .

“Besides the floor, what else did he paint?” Lucivar asked.

A beat of silence. Then Saetan said, “He painted Unka Daemon.”

Lucivar ended up on the floor, roaring with laughter, which might have pissed off his brother if their father hadn’t ended up on the floor too.

“Oh, my,” Lucivar said, crawling back up on the chair. He looked at Daemon’s face, which, outside of looking unnaturally flushed, didn’t seem any different. “Where?”

Saetan propped himself up against a chair. “Let’s just say Daemon needs to explain this to Jaenelle before he takes his shirt off.”

Oh, shit.

The pitcher of ale arrived at that moment, making Lucivar wonder if that was luck or his father’s exquisite sense of timing.

For a few minutes they ate, drank, and generally avoided looking at one another.

Then Saetan said, “So. Would you like to tell us why you were still pissed off when you walked in the room?”

Should have known he couldn’t keep it leashed enough to hide it from those two.

“Is there a problem?” Daemon asked.

“Maybe.” Lucivar drained his glass and refilled it. “Cassidy got hurt. She was so focused on running from one kind of pain, she worked until she ripped up her hands.” He hesitated, then looked at Daemon. “I think Grayhaven was the cause of that pain, but I don’t know that for sure.”

Daemon’s eyes looked glazed and a little sleepy—and the chill that was filling the room came from two sources.

“Why didn’t you bring her back with you?” Saetan asked too softly.

“There’s another Warlord Prince at the house. About the same age as Grayhaven. Calls himself Gray. He was tortured when he was fifteen and hasn’t recovered from it mentally or emotionally. It’s safe for him to be a boy, to be nothing that would be considered a threat.” Lucivar took a long swallow of ale. “And yet he’s the one who stepped up to the line. He’s the one who told me flat out I had no right to take his Queen anywhere. He called her Cassie.”

“Jewels?” Saetan asked.

“Didn’t see them, but he felt like Purple Dusk. And he felt like he should have been more.”

“Your impression?” Daemon asked.

“They’re not a court yet. The males are resisting, and damned if I could figure out why. So I left some instructions with Vae. I’ll be there for Cassidy’s first moontime to make sure things get sorted out. And if I don’t trust the males in her First Circle the next time I see them, I’ll bring her back.”

“Fair enough,” Saetan said.

“What about Gray?” Daemon asked. “Anything we can do to help him?”

Lucivar thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ll tell you this: if that boy decides to wake up, the Master of the Guard is going to have his hands full.”