by Anne Bishop
“If they want to live here, why not work for me?”
Daemon looked amused and exasperated. “Some of them might prefer to pay you a tithe and run their own businesses—and possibly make a better income than what you can provide. Do you resent Merry for running her own business and paying a tithe instead of working for you?”
“No. But she doesn’t pay a tithe to me. She pays it to Lady Shayne’s court.”
“The point,” Daemon said pointedly, “is that Merry and Briggs don’t serve in anyone’s court; they work for themselves, because that’s what they want to do.”
When it was put that way, he wondered how many of the Eyrien women had been waiting to be safely cut loose in order to try out their own ambitions.
“After my chat with Rainier, I’ll come back to the Keep and be available if you need any help.”
“Thanks.” Lucivar blew out a breath. “Guess I’d best get on with it.”
“Good luck, Prick.”
Leaving the Keep, Lucivar flew to the communal eyrie. He’d spent the past couple of days looking at the Eyrien camps or, in the case of the women, the settlement tucked low in the mountains near Doun. He’d looked every man in the eye as he would if he was deciding if a man was an ally or an adversary. The women were harder, because most weren’t easy around men, but he’d gotten a sense of them too. There were some men he hoped would stay—and some he would encourage to leave Ebon Rih and go all the way back to Terreille.
Rainier studied the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and wished he had some idea what Daemon wanted to discuss.
Not much use to him, am I?
Daemon had been paying for his living expenses since the night he’d been injured. But he couldn’t expect Sadi to carry him forever. Didn’t want to be supported forever. He just didn’t know yet what he could do to earn a living.
“Lucivar says the leg is healing,” Daemon said. “That’s good.”
“I guess it took me a while to understand some things.” That pity can be as crippling as a physical wound, for one thing. And after being shown what he had survived, I understand why no one gets pity from Lucivar.
“And now that you understand those things, you’re ready to work on healing?”
“Yes.”
“What about other kinds of work?”
“I haven’t been useful lately,” he admitted.
Daemon raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Lucivar found your assistance very useful. There is more than one kind of dancing, Rainier. You learned some of those other steps while working with the coven and the High Lord. Now I’d like you to consider using those skills for me.”
“Meaning?”
“I need a secretary, someone I can trust with private matters.”
Anger flashed through Rainier. “You’re offering me pity work?”
“In that Lord Marcus asked me to take pity on him and hire a secretary, yes. You’re an Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince. That alone gives you weight when dealing with much of the Blood—enough weight to act as my representative at the SaDiablo estates or the minor Dhemlan courts in much the same way that Mephis represented my father. It would be helpful to have you staying at the Hall or in Halaway a couple of days a week to help with the paperwork there, but otherwise you could reside in Amdarh, either at the family town house or in your own apartment—although I would prefer that you work out of the study in the town house.”
“May I think about it?”
“Yes, but I’d like an answer soon. I am going to oblige Marcus and get a secretary. If not you, then someone else.”
Rainier studied Daemon, who looked as sleek and elegant as usual, but also a little uncomfortable.
“So you’re doing this because Marcus asked you?”
A hesitation that was too long for Sadi. “I owe him. He took a Sceltie puppy home for Winsol.”
“Mother Night. Couldn’t he sidestep taking the pup?”
“Not after I tied a pretty ribbon around the puppy’s neck and gave her to Marcus’s daughter to play with while he and I took care of some last-minute business.”
When Rainier finally stopped laughing, he agreed to take the job. He wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to do, but he was damn sure his days would be interesting.
Lucivar watched the Eyriens as they entered the big front room of the communal eyrie. Hallevar and Kohlvar entered first, followed by Rothvar, Zaranar, Tamnar, and Endar. He’d excused Endar’s wife from this meeting, asking her to help Jillian look after the children who had been left at Nurian’s eyrie. After all, she’d hear about this from her husband soon enough.
He picked up a sense of puzzlement in Hallevar and his companions, especially after Eyriens from the northern camps walked in, but there was no wariness in the men he worked with the most, no worry that he’d found out about some less-than-honorable activity.
Falonar came in with Nurian. He was full of hot impatience and likely pissed off because he knew no more than the others about why this meeting had been called, despite being Lucivar’s second-in-command.
Nurian hurried up to the table Lucivar had set up at the back of the room.
“Prince, am I really needed for this meeting?” she asked. “There are still a lot of people who have that stomach illness, and I promised the Riada Healers that I would help them by making more of the tonic.”
“This won’t take long,” he said—and wondered if the tonic would be made after she heard what he had to say.
The last group to arrive were the women from the settlement near Doun. They hugged the wall, watching the men from the northern camps with an uneasiness that made Lucivar wonder if there had been “visits” he should have known about or if this was just the fear that had come with them from Terreille. He also noticed the way one of them gave Kohlvar a timid smile of greeting—and the solemn, respectful way the weapons master tipped his head in acknowledgment.
When the last man had stepped into the room, Lucivar called in the leather case and took out the papers. A few papers were placed on the right-hand side of the table; the rest went on the left.
“It’s come to my attention that many of you are no longer content to live in Ebon Rih,” he said, using Craft to make sure his voice carried to everyone in the room. “And I’ve been reminded lately that I’ve neglected one duty as the Warlord Prince who rules here.”
“More than one,” someone muttered near the back of the room.
He ignored the remark, but he caught Falonar’s quickly suppressed smile of satisfaction.
That smile made him choose words that would act as a fast, clean break. “Besides the Eyriens who came to Ebon Rih last summer, there are a couple of you who still have time to serve on the contracts you signed with me. The rest of you have fulfilled the emigration requirement of service and no longer have to serve me in order to remain in Kaeleer. You are free to seek service in a Queen’s court or find another kind of work. If you stay in Ebon Rih, you will be required to pay the tithe in both labor and coin the same as anyone else who lives here. If that is not acceptable to you, you’re free to leave. You have seventy-two hours to tell me if you’re staying in the valley I rule.”
“What about wages?” one of the men from the northern camps asked.
“You’ll receive what is due to you up to today,” Lucivar replied. “After that, my financial duty to you is done. From now on, I only pay the people who work for me. That’s all. You’re dismissed.”
Stunned silence.
“What in the name of Hell are you doing?” Falonar finally asked with lethal control.
“What every other ruler in Kaeleer has already done,” Lucivar replied. “What I didn’t do and should have—released everyone who has fulfilled their emigration contract.”
“You kept us on to have cheap labor,” one of the men shouted.
“I kept you on because I’d mistakenly thought you were content to live here,” Lucivar snapped. “Since that’s not the case, there is no reason for you to stay—and there is no reason for m
e to continue to support you. And since you all did damn little to earn your keep, I wouldn’t call you cheap labor.”
“You should have paid us more,” the man argued. “We’re Eyriens, not some Rihlander drudges.”
“Ebon Rih belongs to the Keep, and it tithes to the Keep. As the ruler of Ebon Rih, I receive part of that tithe, which I distributed to all of you equally. What you got is the same as what I kept for myself. Are we clear on that? I shared with you what came to me from this valley. Since what I can give you isn’t enough, you need to look elsewhere.”
“Look where?” Falonar asked hotly. “Do you know how many Eyriens are struggling to survive because the Queens severed those contracts ?”
“Probably every Eyrien who had refused to see that the Shadow Realm is not Terreille, who refused to see that the Queens are not going to bend for a race that is coming in from another Realm. If you want to live here, you adapt to the way the Queens rule Kaeleer—or you end up dead. The bitches you all ran from are gone, purged from the Realms. If you don’t like it here, go back to Terreille. If you don’t like the way I rule Ebon Rih, then leave.”
Lucivar paused, tightened the leash on his temper. “I’ve said all I have to say. Now you all need to decide what you’re going to do.”
“I’m not going to pay a tithe to that half-breed bastard,” a rough voice said.
Lucivar focused on the sound. The man thought he was hidden well enough by the crowd? Fool.
“Pay him to live here?” the man continued, laughing harshly. “He should have been grateful that any of us were willing to take a shit in his little valley.”
“That’s enough!” Hallevar shouted.
No room to maneuver for a one-on-one fight, and there were women in the room who could get hurt. Not that there weren’t other ways to kill a man. One blast of Ebon-gray power would burn out the bastard’s mind. But that wasn’t the Eyrien way of meeting a challenger.
Lucivar whistled sharply. “Yes, that’s enough.” He pointed at the man. “You. Get out of my territory. And take everyone who feels the same way with you.”
The man looked around at his comrades. “You think you can take all of us?”
Lucivar laughed and noticed that the men who had seen him fight turned pale. Falonar, on the other hand, looked thoughtful, which was something he wouldn’t forget.
His gold eyes swept from one end of the room to the other, and he nodded as he saw what some of those men no longer bothered to hide.
“I’ve marked you,” he said softly. “You’re no longer welcome here. If you try to stay in Ebon Rih, then you’re nothing but walking carrion—and you won’t be walking long. Now. All of you. You’re dismissed.”
The women from the settlement fled. So did the men from the northern camps. Hallevar and some of the other men who lived around Riada lingered until a sharp look from Falonar made them retreat, taking Nurian with them.
“Don’t you care at all for the Eyrien people?” Falonar asked as soon as they were alone.
“I care as much for them as they care for me,” Lucivar replied.
“I don’t want to stomach being your second-in-command if you’re going to rape Eyrien traditions and then ignore what Eyriens need on top of it.”
“Fine. You’re no longer my second-in-command.”
He saw the shock in Falonar’s eyes. Why the surprise? Falonar should know him well enough not to call his bluff. He’d let the other Warlord Prince assume the role of second-in-command because it was a duty worthy of Falonar’s power and caste. And while it had often been useful, he hadn’t needed someone to help him rule the valley.
But if you accept the other duties Andulvar left on your shoulders when he returned to the Darkness, you do need someone you can trust to look after things here when you have to be elsewhere—when you have to stand as the Warlord Prince of Askavi.
Not something he would say to Falonar. Not something he wanted to think about right now. And nothing he wanted said out loud. Not yet. The day he acknowledged that he was the Warlord Prince of Askavi, that Andulvar had made it clear to the Queens in Askavi that the Demon Prince had a successor, that the Ebon-gray would continue to defend not just the Keep’s territory but all of Askavi . . . The day he acknowledged that, there would be nowhere in Askavi for the Eyriens who didn’t like him to go.
“Well?” Falonar said. “Will you release me from my contract?”
“If you want to return to Terreille, I can release you from the contract,” Lucivar said. “If you want to remain in Kaeleer, you have three more years to serve.”
“With you.”
“A Queen who wears darker Jewels than you could take the rest of the contract. There is one Rihlander Queen who wears the Red. She’s the only other choice if you want to stay in Askavi.” She had always been gracious to him when he’d visited, but the Eyriens she had allowed to serve in her court to fulfill emigration requirements had tested her tolerance and her authority once too often.
And judging by the look on his face, Falonar already knew enough about that Queen to know she wasn’t going to offer another contract to any Eyrien.
“You’re going to destroy us,” Falonar said.
“I didn’t ask you to come here. I just offered you a place that was as close to the land you left behind as you’ll find in Kaeleer. I told you two years ago that if serving me was going to be a bone in your throat, you should take one of the other offers you’d received. Sounds like you’re choking on that bone, Falonar, but at this point you don’t have many choices besides me. Not if you want to stay in Kaeleer.”
Giving Lucivar a look filled with bitter anger, Falonar turned and walked away.
Lucivar waited a minute to make sure he was alone and would be alone for a little while. Then he rubbed his hands over his face. *Bastard?*
*Prick? Are you okay?*
Everything he needed was in his brother’s voice—love, acceptance, and a willingness to kick him in the ass when he needed a kick.
*Yeah, I’m okay. It went as well as you’d expect. And there are a few Eyriens who may be seeing Hell soon if they don’t get out of Ebon Rih.*
*If it comes to that, I’ll go with you to deal with them,* Daemon said. *I’d suggest taking Surreal to watch your back, but I think she’s a little too eager to use a knife right now.*
*You felt that too?*
*Yes. I’m just not sure why. I’ll ask Rainier. He might know.*
*Unless she attacks someone, let it go for a day or two. I’ve already stirred up enough people.*
*All right. I’ll be at the Keep if you need me.*
Lucivar broke the link between them. He’d stay at the communal eyrie for another hour so he would be easy to find—if there was an Eyrien anywhere in Ebon Rih who wanted to find him.
Falonar found Nurian in her workroom. The ingredients and tools were set out on the large table in preparation for making more of that damn tonic, but she just stared at them.
“Do you see now?” Falonar snarled. “Do you see what he’s really like? He doesn’t care about the Eyrien people. He doesn’t care about our traditions. He doesn’t care about anything but himself !”
“He cares about the people in Ebon Rih,” Nurian said. “All of them. He doesn’t divide people between those who have wings and those who don’t, like most of you do.”
Falonar took a step back. “Like most of us do? You’re Eyrien too.”
She looked him in the eyes. “But not like you, Falonar. I don’t think I’m the same kind of Eyrien as you or those men who spoke out today.”
“They said a few things that needed to be said,” he snapped.
“If you ruled this valley, would you divide the tithe evenly among every adult Eyrien?” she asked.
Of course he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But Yaslana’s family had more wealth than even an aristo like him could imagine. Lucivar could afford to be generous. Could have afforded to give them all a bit more, even if it had meant tapping into the SaDiablo famil
y’s pockets.
“There’s no proof he shared as much as he got,” Falonar argued.
“He said it. No other proof is required.”
“You’re being a fool, Nurian. We could be the dominating presence in this valley, the same as we were in Terreille, but Yaslana keeps hamstringing us with every decision he makes.”
“The Rihlanders were here before us,” Nurian said. “You’re talking about doing the same things we hated in Terreille, about becoming the same kind of monster as Prythian and the Queens who fawned over her.”
“How dare you?” Remembering what it was like in Prythian’s court, he swung. He tried to pull it back, and that took some of the force out of the blow, but the flat of his hand cracked across Nurian’s face.
They stared at each other.
“Nurian . . .”
“Get out of my home,” she said quietly, “and don’t ever come back. You’re not welcome here. Not in my home, and not in my bed.”
“Nurian . . .”
“Stay away from me and my sister. You stay away from us, Falonar.”
“Is that what this is really about? That I strapped a little sense into your sister for her own good?”
Nurian looked sick.
Hell’s fire. It had been only a couple of light blows. Just a warning. He’d told the little bitch to keep silent. Looked like she had.
“Stay away from us!” Nurian screamed.
“Nurian?” Jillian hovered in the doorway, with Dorian behind her.
He left. Wasn’t anything he could do until Nurian calmed down enough to listen.
Lucivar had hoped Hallevar would return, but the first person to storm back into the communal eyrie was Nurian.
He felt her anger and distress as she strode toward him, and figured he was the cause of both. Then he saw the mark on her face, and the heat of fury burned over his skin. He swung around the table and headed for the door to explain a couple of things to Falonar. Maybe the bastard wouldn’t feel so much contempt for the Rihlanders when he had to ask one of their Healers to set the broken bones in his hand.
