The Shadow Queen

CHAPTER 24

Several days after the dinner party at the Keep, Theran walked into Powell’s office so soon after breakfast, the Steward wasn’t settled behind his desk yet.

“Did the letter arrive?” he asked.

“The messenger just returned from the Keep with the sack,” Powell replied. “I haven’t even opened it yet.”

“Well, get on with it.”

Before Powell could say what he looked like he wanted to say, Ranon and Shira walked into the office, with Archerr following right behind them.

“Did the letter arrive?” Ranon asked.

“Hell’s fire,” Powell muttered. “The last time this many men were interested in a single letter, it was because all the young men in my village were waiting to see who the prettiest girl had asked to be her escort to the harvest dance.”

“It’s been enough time,” Theran muttered. “How long can it take to write down the names of a few plants?”

Shira rolled her eyes. “Men are so dim about some things. The more it matters, the more time it takes.”

Theran gave Ranon a sharp smile. “So what’s Ranon hurrying that he shouldn’t be?”

Ranon snarled at Theran.

“I wasn’t talking about him,” Shira said.

“If anyone is interested,” Powell said, “Lady Cassidy has two letters here—no, three. And there’s a box for Gray. Looks like Prince Sadi’s writing on the label, and that’s definitely the SaDiablo seal.”

“Damn,” Theran and Ranon said.

Theran sighed, then raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Give it to me. I’ll take it out to Gray.” And try to figure out what to say today when that look of disappointment fills his eyes.

Powell handed over the box.

Breakfast felt like a cold, heavy lump in Theran’s stomach, and it got heavier and colder with every step he took toward the ground Gray was breaking for this new planting.

He’s working too hard, hoping for too much, Theran thought. These past few days, he had the feeling that Gray had made a blind leap and had broken the life he’d cobbled together, but wasn’t sure of what kind of life he would have in its place. What kind of life he could build.

If he could build anything at all.

“Gray?”

Gray set aside the spade and reached for the water jug. He glanced at the box Theran carried, but he didn’t ask about it. He drank, then pulled a scrap of towel out of the waistband of his trousers and wiped his face.

“No letter,” he said.

There was a flatness in Gray’s voice, a lack of light in his eyes, that worried Theran.

“No letter,” Theran said. “But this box came from Prince Sadi. Gray, it hasn’t been that long since you sent the letter.”

“Long enough for a mother to decide that she doesn’t want a particular man showing interest in her daughter.”

Mother Night, Gray, what are you thinking?

The hurt in Gray’s voice made it clear exactly what his cousin was thinking: he wasn’t good enough to be more than a friend.

“Open the box,” Theran said. “Maybe there’s an explanation.”

Gray wiped his hands on his trousers to clean off some of the dirt. Then he took the box and set it on the freshly turned earth, which made Theran wonder why he’d bothered to wipe off his hands.

The box had a simple hook closure, so whatever was inside couldn’t be valuable. Or it meant that no one would be foolish enough to take anything from a box that had the SaDiablo seal.

Gray opened the box. He sat back on his heels. He lifted one Craft-preserved flower out of the box. Then another—and another until he was holding a bouquet.

“There’s a note and a book in there,” Theran said, looking into the box. “And something else.”

Handing the bouquet to Theran, Gray opened the note.

“ ‘Prince Gray,’ ” Gray read.

“A common-ground planting is a wonderful idea. The seeds I gave Cassie were meant to span the seasons, so there aren’t many yet that I can show you. I’ve sent flowers from the late-spring and early-summer plants, but hopefully you’ll be able to match the others from the sketches in the book. The bulbs can go in pots. Those, too, span the seasons—a reminder of family as she makes a new home. Burle spoke highly of you. I’m beginning to see why. I hope we can meet one day. Devra.”

Gray set aside the note, picked up the book, and riffled the pages. “Plants from Dharo. There are drawings and information about planting, and . . .” He closed the book and studied the cover. “Cassie’s mother wrote this book. Cassie said her mother knew a lot about gardening, but I didn’t realize. . . . No wonder she understands the land so well.”

“So this is good?”

“Better than good. It’s—” Gray’s eyes widened and his face paled. He grabbed the bouquet from Theran and shoved it in the box. “Cassie’s coming. You have to distract her. She’ll notice I’m breaking new ground, and she’ll ask about it, and I can’t lie to her. I can’t. And she can’t see what her mother sent. She’ll know then, and it will spoil the surprise.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Theran.”

Step up to the line, Grayhaven, and be his shield. What he feels for Cassidy is something you’ve never felt for anyone. Not even in passing.

“Get that stuff tucked away,” Theran said as he rose and turned toward the house.

“Thanks, Theran.”

He watched Gray bolt for the stone shed, then hurried to intercept Cassidy.

“Is something wrong with Gray?” Cassidy asked as soon as he got close enough to hear her.

“He’s fine,” Theran replied, taking her arm and turning her back toward the house. “He’s got a bundle of work he wants to get done today.”

She wasn’t dressed for spending time in the garden this morning. Was that good or bad, since she always spent time in the garden after breakfast?

“Maybe I should give him a hand?”

Cassidy sounded doubtful. Was she trying to back away from Gray? She had been acting a bit skittish about being around him. At first Gray had been pleased about that, but that had changed more and more as the hoped-for letter didn’t arrive.

“I was going to come out and work in the garden, but Ranon is going back to his home village for a couple of days, and he and Powell said there was something urgent I needed to do before Ranon left, but they weren’t clear about what that was, and said I should talk to you.”

Theran tossed a psychic thread toward Ranon. *Next time you decide to be helpful, give me some warning.*

*We gave her a reason to come looking for you instead of Gray, so figure out why she’s supposed to be stuck at a desk for the next few hours.*

Go piss yourself. He didn’t say it, but the feeling traveled through the link between them—and the feeling was quite mutual.

What could he ask her to do that had to be done before Ranon left?

They were on the terrace and almost to the door before he had an answer.

“The Shalador Queens,” Theran said. “You need to write a letter inviting the Queens on the Shalador reserves to meet you. Ranon will take the letter when he goes back to his village. That’s why it’s urgent.”

“You don’t want me to contact the Queens in Dena Nehele,” Cassidy said. “You’ve opposed that suggestion every time I’ve made it.”

“Seemed more important for the court to adjust to working with each other. Now . . .” He shrugged.

“You really want me to contact the Queens on the reserves?”

“Yes, I do.” Besides, he added silently, it’s not likely any of them will come.

He opened the door for her. “Come on. Once you wade through the paperwork Powell seems to create overnight, you’ll be free the rest of the day to save the posies from the nasty weeds.”

She stopped in the doorway and looked at him as if she suddenly saw a different man.

“You don’t have a feel for the land, do you?” she asked. “It’s just dirt and boundaries to you.”

“I don’t fuss over it like you and Gray seem to,” he said dismissively. “It’s the people that matter. It’s the people that need tending.”

“How do you take care of one without taking care of the other?”

Since she didn’t wait for him to answer, he guessed she didn’t expect one.

Gray set the items in the box on the potting bench, one by one, and marveled at this gift.

Cassie’s mother had written this book. Cassie’s mother had sent this box. No hasty reply to his letter, but a bundle of information from a woman who seemed to understand that he was hoping to put down roots in her daughter’s heart.

And the flowers, preserved in shields so he could study them at his leisure.

His own mother had given him a fierce kind of love. He didn’t know if it was because she was unable to be soft, or if because he’d been destined for the killing fields, she hadn’t wanted to give him anything a warrior wouldn’t need.

He could still see her face, filled with hard pride, on the evening when Talon came to take him to the mountain camps. He’d been seven years old, but there had been no tears, no hugs. To her, he was already a warrior. To her, he always had been.

He didn’t think Cassie’s mother was a fierce woman. Didn’t mean she couldn’t be dangerous if there was need, but he thought, maybe, she’d be the kind of woman who wouldn’t be afraid to hug a boy.

Was his mother still alive? Did she know how to find him—if she wanted to find him?

He hadn’t wondered until now. Maybe Powell, being the Steward of the court, would know how to find out.

A knock on the shed’s door. He used Craft to vanish the box before the door opened and Ranon walked in.

The Shalador Warlord Prince glanced at the empty potting bench.

“None of my business,” Ranon said, “but I saw the box this morning. Well, a few of us did, and we wondered. . . .”

Gray called in the box and showed Ranon what Devra had sent to him.

“Look at this one,” Ranon said, picking up one of the cuttings. “It’s got one flower open and one still in the bud. Maybe that’s why it took her a few days to send a reply. She must have waited for some of these flowers to bloom so she could send them to you.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Ranon set the cutting down. “Look, Gray, planting this bed is going to be a lot of work.”

“I know.”

“When are you planning to do this?”

“I’ll need a few days to study the book and select the plants that will work best in the place I’ve cleared. Then I’ll need to see what I can find.”

Ranon nodded. “I’m heading to my village, but I’ll be back in a couple of days. Three at the most. When you’re ready to plant, I’d like to help. Shira said she’d help too. And I think there are a couple of other men in the First Circle who would be willing to help.”

Gray studied Ranon, seeing more than a Warlord Prince who seemed to rub against Theran the wrong way.

“You liked Yaslana, didn’t you?”

Ranon gave him a considering look. “That one scares the shit out of me, but I’d follow him into battle without a doubt or second thought.”

And you’d have both if it was Theran who was leading.

“Thanks for the offer,” Gray said. “I’ll figure out the planting day and let you know.”

Ranon smiled and walked to the shed door. Then he paused. “Shira wanted me to ask. Are you the reason Cassidy isn’t sleeping well?”

Gray grinned.

After a moment Ranon laughed. “Good for you, Gray. Good for you.”

Cassidy sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the key she’d found in the old wish pot—something she’d done every day, hoping the key would provide some clue to the treasure that was supposed to exist on the estate. Of course, her mind wasn’t on treasure. Not tonight. Her mind was on . . .

“Lia and Thera, your male descendants are a pain in the ass.”

At least Theran and Gray could share the blame for her being unable to sleep tonight. Theran had run hot and cold all morning—wanting her to write to the Shalador Queens and then being opposed to her writing to any of the other Queens who must have heard by now that there was a Territory Queen to whom they owed allegiance. Then this evening, Gray had just run . . . hot. But not hot enough to do more than kissing and petting. Not hot enough to go to his room and make use of his bed.

But that could be Lucivar’s fault because at one point this evening, when Gray pulled away because what he really needed was more, he had snarled something about writing to Daemon to find out if he really had to follow that stupid schedule.

She hadn’t met Daemon before the dinner party, but she’d spent enough time around Lucivar to know the Eyrien wouldn’t hesitate to give Gray a few bruises if Gray didn’t stay within the boundaries Lucivar had set. So until Daemon convinced Lucivar to alter the rules, she wasn’t going to ask Gray for more.

Wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to ask for more anyway.

Doesn’t matter who decided what, she thought sourly as she turned the key over and over. It still means another sleepless night.

A scratching on her suite’s door. She got up to let Vae in, mostly because the sofa in her sitting room was a comfortable place to brood.

*Cassie? Cassie! You are not sleeping. Why aren’t you sleeping? It is sleep time. Everyone is sleeping. Except Talon. But it is not his sleep time.*

Cassidy barely had time to settle into a corner of the sofa before Vae was beside her, pressing close.

“You need to be brushed,” Cassidy said, noticing how much loose fur was now coating her trousers.

*I will nip Theran tomorrow,* Vae said. *Then he will brush me.*

Oh, good. Serves you right, Grayhaven, for being a brainless ass.

*You have smells,* Vae said happily.

Cassidy was about to remind Vae that it wasn’t polite to talk about human smells—especially the female kind. Then she realized the Sceltie was focused on the key in her hand.

“It’s a key, Vae. It’s made of metal. It doesn’t have smells.”

Vae sniffed the key again, jumped off the sofa, and trotted into the bedroom. *I will find the smells.*

“You do that.” If the dog was hunting for nonexistent smells, at least she’d stay out of trouble. Maybe.

Keeping one ear cocked toward the bedroom in case Vae began rummaging where she shouldn’t, Cassidy slumped in the corner of the sofa, feeling frustrated and wrung out.

Sometimes when Gray kissed her, she knew she was being kissed—and held—by a grown man. But other times, she felt like she was kissing a fifteen-year-old boy who was fumbling through his first exploration of a female body. And in some ways she was. But she wasn’t fifteen anymore, and those times when he seemed more boy than man made her uncomfortable.

And yet she couldn’t back away from the intimacy or end the relationship altogether, because her heart recognized something in Gray that she had never felt with or for any other man.

*Cassie?*

Maybe it was for the best that Lucivar had set such firm boundaries around what Gray could—and couldn’t—do in terms of sex. Physically she was ready—more than ready—for more. Emotionally . . .

*Cassie!*

“What?” She felt frustrated and snappish, and her voice proclaimed her mood.

*I found the smells.*

“What smells?”

*The smells that match the key.*

Cassidy tangled her legs and almost fell off the sofa in her haste to get to the bedroom.

She didn’t see anything messed up or displaced. She also didn’t see a Sceltie.

“Vae?”

*Here! The smells are here!*

“Where?”

The tip of Vae’s tail suddenly stuck out from under her bed, wagged at her, then disappeared again.

Cassidy hurried to the bed, dropped to the floor, and lifted the bedcovers. “Get out of there before you get stuck.”

*Won’t get stuck,* Vae said. *Smells are here.*

Under the bed. The treasure had been hidden for centuries. Wouldn’t someone have looked under the bed?

That wish pot had been in the shed for centuries too and hadn’t been found.

“Get out of there, Vae,” Cassidy said. “I have to move the bed, and I can’t do that while you’re under it.”

She waited impatiently while Vae wiggled out from under the bed. Then she used Craft to lift and shift the bed as far as she could.

Vae went back to sniffing the carpet, then began scratching.

“Wait,” Cassidy said firmly. She moved the night tables and rolled up the carpet.

No trapdoor. No visible sign that there was anything different about that part of the floor. No lock embedded in the wood.

*Here,* Vae said, placing a small white paw near the spot that held the smells.

Cassidy ran her fingers over and over that spot. And found nothing until she held the key over that part of the floor.

A shadow so subtle she wasn’t sure she was seeing anything. But the key slipped into that shadow like a well-oiled lock, and when she turned it, a rectangle of floor as long as her arm popped up. When she moved it aside . . .

Vae sniffed. Sneezed.

Ignoring the box in the secret compartment, Cassidy took out one of the books and opened it to a random page.

Like the letter in the wish pot, the ink had faded, although not as badly.

“A journal,” she said softly.

*Paper?* Vae asked, sounding disappointed.

“Yes, paper. But valuable.” It didn’t take more than reading a few lines to realize this was Lia’s journal—and a few lines more to realize the entries were made near the end of her life.

Cassidy riffled the pages until she found the last entry. Which was written by a different hand.

Lia is dead. And Dena Nehele grieves.

Without the Gray Lady, Dena Nehele will fall to the twisted ideas Dorothea SaDiablo spews. It won’t happen next year, or the year after that. The dreams and visions I see in my tangled webs all show me the same thing—Lia’s granddaughter will hold the land for a while. Long enough to keep the bloodline from dying out with so much else that will die in the years ahead. And Jared and his grandsons will continue fighting to keep the shadows at bay.

I will die before the seasons change, slaughtered here at Grayhaven, which should have been the safest place, while Jared, Blaed, and Talon are fighting elsewhere. I will not tell them because if they are here, they will not survive—and they must survive a few years longer. They must.

Lia is dead. Tomorrow I will grieve. Tonight I will set in motion all the spells we created to keep the treasure safe—and the hope that is hidden with it.

Thera

Cassidy closed the journal and started to put it back. Then she hesitated. If she left it all where it had been safely hidden for so long, would the key work a second time? Or was this part of the spell done, and this was the only opportunity to retrieve these items?

Not willing to take that chance, she pulled all the journals out of the compartment and set them aside before she removed the last item—the trinket box.

During all this, Vae stayed with her, not really interested or curious, but still watchful.

Cassidy opened the trinket box and smiled as she lifted a few pieces from the jumble of jewelry.

No expensive pieces here, no precious stones. She imagined that, during Lia’s lifetime, the pieces weren’t jumbled to deceive someone into thinking they weren’t important. Because these trinkets were important. When she went through the journals, she’d find each piece recorded. Gifts from Lia’s children. Sentimental presents from her husband. Not expensive, but priceless nonetheless.

She spent an hour wiping the journals and trinket box clean of dust before hiding them in the bottom of a trunk of her own belongings.

Then she put the piece of floor back in place.

*The smells are gone,* Vae said.

The key was embedded in the wood, and when she tried to remove it, it broke cleanly, becoming nothing more than an odd gold glint in the wood.

She put the rest of the key in her own trinket box, then finished putting the room in order.

Time had made its shift from late night to early morning before she finally climbed into bed with Vae stretched out beside her.

Just before she fell asleep, she realized why the servants had acted so oddly when she’d chosen these rooms over the fancy Queen’s suite.

This must have been the suite that had belonged to Lia.