Shalador's Lady bj-8 Read online

  Cassidy stood frozen while Shira dried her eyes and the men shifted uneasily.

  How much trust had gone into what she’d thought was Yairen’s friendly offer? How much fear had ridden alongside that trust?

  “I want all the Tradition Keepers in this village here within the hour,” Cassidy said quietly.

  “Cassie . . .” Gray began.

  She raised a hand, cutting him off. Then she looked at her Master of the Guard. “See that it’s done, Prince Talon.”

  She walked into the Residence. Powell took one look at her face and swallowed whatever greeting or comment he intended to make.

  She went up to her room, blind to whatever changes had been made in her absence. All she could see was the fear on Ranon’s face before he walked away.

  Cassidy stood in the street in front of the Queen’s Residence. The Tradition Keepers stood before her in their shabby best clothes. Filling the streets around them were the people of the village.

  “Lord Yairen.” Cassidy used Craft to enhance her voice. She wanted everyone who had come to stand witness to hear her words.

  Yairen stepped forward, standing tall. “How may I serve the Queen?”

  “I have just learned today that your people have been forbidden to play the music that was born of Shalador, that you have been forbidden to perform the traditional dances, or teach the young the stories of your people. Is this true?”

  “It is true, Lady,” Yairen said. “All have been forbidden for many generations.”

  “But the Tradition Keepers have remembered these forbidden things?”

  Yairen hesitated. How many times had one of the Keepers been cornered into answering a question that would condemn them?

  She didn’t have an actual psychic link to Ranon, but his psychic scent was filled with distress. Wouldn’t know it to look at him, standing cold and arrogant with the rest of her First Circle, but the worry that he might have misjudged her was eating his heart out.

  “Some things have been lost,” Yairen finally said, “but those of us who are the memory of our people have held on to enough.”

  Cassidy nodded. “In that case, as of this hour, the music of the Shalador people will be taught and will be played openly. The dances of the Shalador people will be taught and performed openly. The stories of the Shalador people will be taught and told openly. The Queens in the Shalador reserves will be given a written decree so they will know these words are true. But it will be up to the Tradition Keepers to return Shalador’s heart to its people. This is my will.”

  Silence.

  Finally one of the Tradition Keepers raised his hand. “Does this mean we can perform the circle dances this autumn?”

  “Yes,” Cassidy replied.

  Another silence.

  Then Yairen pressed one of his crippled hands to his chest. “Our hearts are too full for words tonight.”

  Cassidy swallowed hard. “Then return to your homes. We will speak more of this tomorrow.”

  She took a step back, a clear signal this audience was over.

  Ranon broke away from the rest of the First Circle. Hugging his grandfather, he put his head on the old man’s shoulder and wept.

  A hand linked with hers. Looking to her left, she saw Reyhana trembling with the effort not to cry—and felt the girl’s hand tighten.

  “The circle dances mean so much to my people,” Reyhana said. “To our people.” She choked, but went on. “Someone will write a song about how Shalador’s Lady gave the heart back to the people, and all the children will learn it, and someday I will tell my grandchildren I was there and heard the words as they were spoken.”

  Mother Night.

  A familiar touch on her shoulder. She looked at Gray, hoping for some help, but his eyes were too bright, too wet.

  “I’d like to go inside now,” she said.

  It was Talon who nudged Reyhana aside and gripped Cassidy’s arm to lead her into the house before she ended up weeping too.

  “I told Ranon to spend the night with his grandfather,” Talon said once he got her to the parlor. “He’ll be better for it.”

  “Talon . . .”

  “Don’t say anything, witchling. Don’t. I knew Jared. I’ve seen the circle dances. I know what the bitches took away from these people—and I know what you just gave back to them. I think it’s best if you Ladies have a quiet evening for yourselves.”

  He kissed her cheek, then said, “Gray, let’s see what can be put together for a meal.”

  Cassidy curled up on the sofa, stunned by the emotion that had swirled around her.

  “You look like you got kicked in the head,” Shira said when she and Reyhana came in a minute later.

  “I thought the Tradition Keepers would be happy that they could teach openly again,” Cassidy said.

  “They are happy,” Shira replied. “We’re feeling too much right now to be just happy.”

  And her First Circle was going to want time to consider the ramifications of what she’d done tonight.

  “Do you think the men would be upset if I went out and gardened for a little while?” Cassidy asked. “It’s still light out.” The sun had set, but they were still into the longest days of summer.

  “Gray will have a fit if you pick up a weeding claw,” Shira said. “And so will I.”

  Cassidy huffed. “There’s too much feeling. I need todo something.” Shira eyed Reyhana, who looked confused about what she was supposed to do.

  “Do you play drums?” Shira asked Reyhana.

  The girl shook her head. “But I’m supposed to start learning. Shalador Queens all learn to drum.”

  “I’m not a Tradition Keeper,” Shira said, “but I’ve been drumming since I was a girl. I can start teaching the basics to both of you.”

  “But we don’t have drums,” Cassidy said.

  “We do have a wooden table,” Shira replied, pointing at the table in front of the sofa. “And tonight, that’s all we need.”

  EBON ASKAVI

  Saetan signed his name to the message, then waited for the ink to dry before folding the paper and sealing it.

  Daemon had asked to be informed of anything to do with a Dharo witch named Kermilla. Having two of her escorts show up at the Keep, wanting assistance to go through the Gate and return home, certainly qualified as something of interest—especially since he knew those men hadn’t gone through this particular Gate to get to Terreille. Granted, there were thirteen Gates that linked the three Realms, and those men could have used any of them—except this one and the one that was next to the Hall—without causing too much interest in their business. And granted, there weren’t many Priestesses left in Terreille who knew how to open the Gates to let someone move from one Realm to another, so this was the best choice if someone wanted to get back to Kaeleer and not mistakenly end up in Hell.

  But Daemon’s interest in this witch sounded a warning inside Saetan because it carried the feel of a predator analyzing potential prey. And Daemon’s refusal to say why he wanted information sounded a more ominous warning—because there was only one person who could muzzle Daemon Sadi.

  What did Jaenelle know?

  He couldn’t ask—and didn’t need to.

  He folded the paper, melted the black wax, and added a touch of Black power as he pressed the SaDiablo seal into the wax. Black to Black ensured that this would be a private message, since Daemon was the only person who could open it.

  His task completed, he placed the message in the basket with the rest of the mail that would be collected in the morning and taken to the message station.

  Then he went to his suite and vanished everything from the surface of his desk. He placed a small wooden frame in the center of the desk and called in several spools of spider silk, different weights.

  Since he could not ask Jaenelle or Daemon for answers about Kermilla, he would find his own answers. After all, he, too, was a Black Widow—one of only two males in the history of the Blood who belonged to that caste.
r />   So during the silent, dark hours, Prince Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, High Priest of the Hourglass, spun his own tangled web of dreams and visions.

  CHAPTER 15

  TERREILLE

  Ranon rode up to the Queen’s Residence, dismounted, and gave his horse a pat.

  Most mornings this past week, he’d loaded the horse and gear into the two-horse livestock Coach and headed out to one of the other Shalador reserves to ride through a village or two. He’d listened to the elders and Tradition Keepers, answered questions about things they had heard about the Rose Queen—and assured them that he, Shalador’s only adult Warlord Prince, had heard Cassidy give Shalador’s heart back to the people.

  Today, he’d been assigned the ride through Eyota. It lifted his heart to see the people he’d grown up with smile and raise a hand in greeting when a member of a Queen’s court rode by. That had never happened before in anyone’s memory. He would never admit it, but every day he gave silent thanks to Theran Grayhaven for being enough of an ass to send Cassidy running so that she ended up here, among the people who needed her the most.

  A quick psychic probe told him the only people in the house were Powell, Talon, and Vae, which meant Cassidy and Gray weren’t back from their planned ride, and Shira wasn’t back from her inspection of the nearby cottages. She wanted a Healer’s House—a place where she could take care of people without intruding on Cassidy’s privacy. There was only one other fully qualified Healer in Eyota, so even though Shira was supposed to be the court’s Healer, she and Cassidy agreed to expand that to the court and their families.

  He flicked an “I’m home” thought along a psychic thread aimed at Shira’s sharp, loving—and sometimes dangerous—mind.

  *Almost done myself,* Shira replied.

  *Find anything?*

  *Maybe.*

  But she sounded more resigned than excited, so he didn’t press her. Besides, the sound of another horse had him turning, his temper instinctively sharpening as Shaddo rode up to the Queen’s Residence.

  It was a Warlord Prince’s nature to rise to the killing edge. Since coming to Eyota, all of them had discovered that their instincts were more keenly honed when they were around their Queen or her home. Even with each other, there was still a bristling moment when temper was poised between predatory instinct and conscious loyalty to the Queen and their Brothers in the court.

  Watching Shaddo, who made no move, Ranon nodded to acknowledge that he had his temper leashed.

  “Anything?” he asked. Shaddo had spent the day in the western Province where his wife and boys had lived, riding through a couple of villages to see who might want to talk to a member of Cassidy’s First Circle.

  “Lots of circling around questions no one was brave enough to ask,” Shaddo replied, dismounting. “But everyone is interested in the special magic Queens can do to help the harvest. And I ran into a handful of Warlord Princes. I had the feeling they hadn’t met up in that particular village by chance.”

  “Does that mean trouble for us?”

  Shaddo shook his head. “I think . . . Hell’s fire, Ranon, remember when Cassidy first talked about having the Warlord Princes step up and rule on behalf of the Territory Queen because there weren’t many Queens left in Dena Nehele?”

  “At least not many living in the open or having a visible court,” Ranon said. In the past few days, Powell had received tentative messages from men in a dozen villages, all asking if they could see this special magic. Reading between the lines, there were Queens out there who wanted to learn but weren’t willing to trust their lives and what little structure was left in Dena Nehele to a Queen who was still unknown. But men who served those Queens would come to watch and learn—and report back to their Ladies.

  “Basically, they wanted to know how Cassidy would respond if they divided a Province based on who was available ‘to rule on behalf of the Queen.’ ”

  “I think she’d be relieved to have the Warlord Princes rule whatever the surviving Queens couldn’t handle,” Ranon said. Or didn’t want to handle because it would call attention to themselves.

  “I told them the Steward was trying to figure out how to divide the Provinces into Districts, but he was working blind because he didn’t know how many of the Warlord Princes were willing to step up to the line and help their people.”

  Ranon winced. “Those words must have stung.”

  Shaddo shook his head. “They didn’t, and that surprised me too since I’d meant them to sting. But word is spreading about what Cassidy did for the Shaladorans—and about her going into landen villages as well as Blood to do that special magic. Every man who had fought in the uprisings wanted to know how we could let her do something that dangerous.”

  “I hope you told them we don’t let her do anything,” Ranon grumbled.

  Wasn’t much of a grumble. Cassie might chafe at the boundaries the First Circle set for her protection, but the men were smart enough to keep expanding those boundaries as they settled down to a life here in Eyota. Besides, according to the Protocol Powell was studying every night, even the First Circle’s right to protect the Queen had some limits.

  “Papa! Papa!”

  Ranon felt Shaddo’s fierce joy as his two boys came running toward them, but he also saw the stern face and the hand quickly raised to stop them.

  “What did I tell you about running toward horses?” Shaddo said.

  “Don’t do it.” Eliot, the younger one, scuffed one shoe on the street.

  “Can we walk the horses to the stables?” Eryk asked. “We’ll be careful.”

  Saying nothing, Ranon handed his reins to Shaddo.

  “You can walk them,” Shaddo said. “And then we’ll all take care of them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hearing an odd whistle on the “s,” Ranon studied Eliot. “Someone lost a tooth.”

  Eliot grinned, showing off the gap. “Mother is making a special tooth treat.”

  Eryk muttered something and looked sulky.

  Eliot scowled. “She made special treats for you when you lost a tooth.”

  “I didn’t knock one out to get a treat,” Eryk said, just loud enough to assure the men heard him.

  “I did not knock it out,” Eliot said.

  “Did to.”

  “Did not!”

  “Did—”

  “Boys,” Shaddo said.

  They obeyed the tone instantly.

  *I’m impressed,* Ranon said, trying not to grin.

  *Yeah, well, having me around all the time is still new to them,* Shaddo replied. *I figure the pissing contests will start soon enough.*

  He watched Shaddo and the boys until they went into the stables. Then he smiled.

  Tomorrow was a rest day, thank the Darkness. No work, no traveling, nothing but his woman and a sweet summer day. Maybe Cassidy and Gray would be interested in riding over to Mariel’s Pond to swim and have a picnic. Or maybe he and Shira would go alone so they could have long talks and sweet kisses before coming back to their room for a different kind of talking and kisses that were hot instead of sweet.

  With those thoughts in mind, he turned to go into the Residence to get a glass of ale and see if there was anything in the larder.

  *Ranon, I’m at the northern landing web. We’ve got company, and they’re heading for the Queen’s Residence.*

  Ranon tensed in response to the sharp edge in Archerr’s voice. *How many?*

  An odd hesitation. *Depends on who you’re counting.*

  What? *Shaddo, someone’s coming. Keep your boys out of sight.* As soon as Shaddo acknowledged the order, Ranon sent a command to Gray. *Keep Cassidy away from the Residence until you hear from me.*

  He stepped out into the middle of the street, made a quick descent to the level of his Opal Jewel, and waited a heartbeat away from the killing edge for their “guests” to come into sight.

  Then Vae raced out of the Residence, her joy sending out an almost staggering punch.

  *They’re here
!* Vae shouted along a common psychic thread that could be heard by anyone within range—which was probably half the village. She raced down the street toward the northern landing web. *They’re here!*

  Who’s here? Ranon wondered.

  The answer to that question turned a corner and came down the street a few minutes later. One man, wearing a vest and jacket over a shirt—too many clothes for the season and the weather. A Sceltie trotted beside him on his right. A few paces ahead of him, Vae bounced and danced with so much excitement it made Ranon tired just to watch her. And behind the man . . .

  Twelve of them, spread out in a V that covered the whole street—and gave every one of them a clear line of sight. Scelties. If men had been coming toward him in a fighting V, he’d know what to do. Faced with dogs, he wasn’t sure how to respond—but a sudden memory of Vae pulling down a full-grown man in a fight had him creating a skintight shield around himself. Just in case.

  Three of the Scelties spotted him and broke their position, dashing toward him. A barked order—literally—from the Sceltie trotting beside the man had them wheeling round, tails down in response to the reprimand, and returning to their position.

  “Good afternoon to you,” the man called.

  Curly brown hair, handsome face, lean body. Not much of a fighter, since he was approaching a stranger with his hands in his trouser pockets as if he were taking a simple stroll in his home village. But the stew of power Ranon was sensing from that group couldn’t be dismissed, and there was something in the man’s blue eyes that said this Warlord knew how to stop trouble—and how to make trouble.

  “Good afternoon,” Ranon replied.

  *They’re here!* Vae bounced and danced, but the men ignored her.

  “Would you be Gray?” the man asked.

  “I’m Ranon, First Circle in Lady Cassidy’s court and the Master’s second-in-command.”