by Anne Bishop
“If you promise that you’ll do nothing to hurt yourself because you’re upset with Gray, I’ll leave you in peace.” Soon after she’d come to Dena Nehele, she’d worked her hands into a bloody mess because she was distraught over something Theran had done. The court had learned a hard lesson that day, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. “Cassidy?”
“Why would she hurt herself over a man?” Reyhana said, bristling with challenge.
His temper sharpened. Reyhana wore Purple Dusk; he wore Opal. He couldn’t allow a challenge to go unanswered, even if the girl was a Queen. Especially because the girl was a Queen.
“Sister, you’re being disrespectful,” Cassidy said.
“But—”
“No,” Cassidy said. “Prince Ranon has reason to ask the question, and as one of my First Circle, he is within his rights to challenge me if he believes I am acting in a way that will cause me harm.”
“Oh,” Reyhana said in a small voice.
“Are you asking as one of my First Circle?” Cassidy asked, finally looking at him.
He shook his head. “I’m asking as a friend.”
Emotions flashed in her hazel eyes, which turned tear-bright for a moment—and he wondered if anyone in her previous court had given her more than duty.
“In that case, I give you my word as a friend that I won’t act imprudently because of this quarrel with Gray.” She hesitated, then added on a psychic thread. *This quarrel with Gray upsets me, but it hasn’t hurt me.*
He nodded to indicate he understood the difference. “Then I’ll leave you Ladies to your work.”
When he turned toward the boardinghouse, he froze for a moment before he strode across the lawn. With the exception of Talon and Theran, the rest of the First Circle was waiting for him.
“Is the Queen all right?” Powell asked when he joined them.
Ranon nodded.
“Is there anything we should do?” Archerr asked. “Powell, you’ve read those Protocol books more thoroughly than the rest of us. What do you say?”
“She gave her word that she wouldn’t do anything to hurt herself,” Ranon said quietly—and felt some of the tension ease in the other men.
“Can we scrounge a couple of chairs and a small table from somewhere?” Shaddo asked.
“For what?” Archerr asked.
“I noticed flagstones under the big tree,” Shaddo said. “They’re grown over some, but I think that area used to be a place for people to sit out under the shade.”
“Ah.” Powell smiled. “Chairs, a small table, cold drinks, and something to nibble. A subtle invitation to balance work and rest.”
“If we start cleaning up the flagstones and hauling furniture out to the tree, won’t it be obvious what we’re doing—and why?” Archerr asked.
“Yes,” Ranon said. “But sometimes a suggestion made by actions instead of words is more easily heard—and also less likely to offend.”
EBON ASKAVI
*High Lord? High Lord!*
“Now what?” Saetan muttered. Setting aside the book and just-warmed glass of yarbarah, he pushed out of the comfortable stuffed chair. Didn’t anyone remember that he had retired from the living Realms? “Come.”
But it was Gray, not Vae, who walked into the room. One look at the young Warlord Prince’s face, and Saetan knew the reason for this particular visit.
“Lady Cassidy said I need to talk to someone,” Gray said.
I’ll bet she did, Saetan thought. Noticing the way Gray eyed the furniture and seemed ready to burst, he sent a thought to Draca, the Keep’s Seneschal. *I need some firewood in one of the courtyards now and refreshments in about thirty minutes.*
*I thought ass much,* Draca replied. *It iss already prepared.*
*You don’t have to sound so amused,* Saetan grumbled. Taking Gray’s arm, he said, “We will talk, but first things first.”
Sun and shade, Saetan thought as he marched Gray out to the courtyard. Being in sunlight would have given him a vicious headache this late in the morning, but staying in the shade would give him enough time to deal with Gray before he needed to retire.
“Watch,” Saetan said. He picked up a piece of the firewood, held it over a large, wooden half barrel, released one tiny blast of Red power through his hands—and turned a piece of firewood as big as his thigh into wood chips.
Gray looked inside the barrel and frowned.
“Now you do it,” Saetan said.
“Why?”
He stared at the youngster until Gray picked up a piece of firewood.
“I don’t know how to do that,” Gray said.
Yes, you do. Placing his hands below Gray’s, he taught the boy how to destroy an object using power. Nothing Gray couldn’t do just by following instinct. But unleashing power and letting it destroy whatever was in its path wasn’t the same as unleashing it with control and purpose.
Once Gray had the sense of how much Purple Dusk power to use in order to blast the firewood into wood chips of an acceptable size, Saetan settled in the shade and watched Gray drain away the anger that had grown to the point of needing a target.
The barrel was half-filled with wood chips before Gray paused and said, “Why am I doing this?”
“Can you afford to replace furniture if you blast it into pieces?” Saetan asked mildly.
“No.”
“That’s why you’re doing this. Chopping wood and using muscle instead of Craft works too, as long as you remember to shield before you pick up the ax. There is no reason to be careless or stupid just because your mind is chewing on a problem. In this case, you’re working off some temper by changing firewood into wood chips.” Saetan paused, then added, “Which, I’m told, are an excellent mulch in a garden.”
Gray’s mouth fell open. Then he began sputtering. “Garden? I’m making mulch for a garden?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
Gray huffed. He paced. He blasted a few more pieces of firewood into wood chips.
Finally he growled, “I guess Cassie is going to have plenty of mulch for her gardens.”
“I know several Queens who always have plenty of mulch for their gardens,” Saetan said.
Gray stared at the barrel and sighed, the sign Saetan had been waiting for to indicate that enough of the boy’s temper was spent.
“There’s some water on the table over there,” Saetan said. “Pour a glass for yourself. You could use it by now.”
There was more than water on the table. There was a basin of warm water, soap, and a towel; a plate of fruit, cheese, and small sandwiches; and a ravenglass goblet filled with yarbarah.
He watched Gray as the boy washed up before pouring a glass of water and drinking it. Strength and scars—and the temper that made a Warlord Prince a law unto himself. And a little something more.
Gray refilled the water glass, hesitated a moment over the plate of food, then picked up the yarbarah and brought it to him.
A simple choice, but it confirmed for him why Jared Blaed Grayhaven had made the journey from Dena Nehele to the Keep in Kaeleer in order to talk to him instead of talking to Talon or anyone else in Cassie’s court.
Gray had come for the same reason Khardeen, Aaron, Chaosti, and Elan had come to him when they needed to talk out frustration caused by a woman who was a lover as well as a Queen. He had been the Dark Court’s honorary uncle as well as the Steward, even before the court had officially formed. Those young men had come to him because they trusted his advice. They hadn’t always liked it, but they knew they could trust it.
Using Craft, Saetan floated the plate of food over to the bench where Gray sat, drinking water and staring at the flagstones.
“Do you want to talk or listen?” Saetan asked.
Gray shrugged.
Not a surprising response. Now that the anger had dimmed, unhappiness was settling in.
“Everything is supposed to be fine now,” Gray muttered.
“In other words, Cassidy is tired of you being a
ngry with her.”
“Yeah. So I’m not supposed to be angry anymore.” Gray’s hand tightened around the glass. “Well, I am angry.”
“You’re entitled to your anger,” Saetan said quietly. “And it’s your choice how long you hold on to it. But people make mistakes. Most of the time, mistakes can be forgiven. Some mistakes do enough harm to break what two people feel for each other. Sometimes the anger doesn’t go away, and that means you need to walk away.”
“Walk away from Cassie?” Gray looked shocked. “No!”
“Then you have to accept that she made an error in judgment.”
“Because she doesn’t care enough about us to take care of herself.” Saetan drank the yarbarah and let chilling silence fill the courtyard. Gray eyed him and wisely offered no other comment.
“She cares, Prince,” Saetan said. “If you think otherwise, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
Gray hung his head. “I know she does. I just don’t understand why she let the Craft go on so long that she hurt herself.”
“The whip that drives Cassie was shaped before she arrived in Dena Nehele. It left scars.”
Gray raised his head and looked at him.
No, Saetan thought, not Gray. Jared Blaed. Two sides of one person. Gray was the man who loved Cassie and gardens. Jared Blaed was the Warlord Prince committed to his Queen.
“Who?” Jared Blaed asked too softly.
“She’s of no importance,” Saetan replied. “Neither are the men who chose her over Cassidy. What is important is that the hurt still festers inside Cassidy.”
“She’s trying to prove to us that she has something to offer?”
“I think so. That’s why a simple thing that Queens do all the time in Kaeleer almost turned into a tragic error.”
“Just a mistake,” Gray said softly.
“Yes.”
“Because she cares so much.”
“Yes.”
Gray sighed.
Crisis over, Saetan thought, draining the goblet. Until the next time. “Eat. Then go home and smooth things over with Cassie.”
Gray gave him a sideways look. Assessing. Measuring. “It would smooth things over a lot faster if Cassie and I could have sex.”
Saetan said dryly, “Boyo, we’re pretty sure Marian is pregnant, and she’s very queasy today. Daemonar senses there is something wrong with his mama and is acting out, and Lucivar is ready to chew stone trying to deal with his misbehaving boy. Today is not the day to ask him about sex.”
A pause. “If we had your permission . . .”
He laughed softly. “Not a chance, puppy. Lucivar had good reasons for setting firm boundaries for what you and Cassie can and can’t do, and he’ll be the one who decides when you’re ready for the next stage.” It didn’t sound like Gray needed as much emotional protection as he’d needed a few weeks ago, but that didn’t mean he had the maturity yet to be a Queen’s lover.
Still, the fact that the boy was starting to question those boundaries was a good sign that Gray was growing into a healthy man instead of remaining a wounded boy. Knowing how firmly the leash needed to be held while a young Warlord Prince made the transition to adult male, Saetan added, “And from where I’m sitting, boyo, those reasons still apply.”
“Oh.” Gray looked disappointed, but only for a moment. Then he gave his attention to the plate floating beside him and ate every bit of food with a young man’s enthusiasm.
Vae appeared on the edge of the courtyard. *Gray? Gray! Draca says it is time to go home. The High Lord will open the Gate for you. Then he needs to sleep because this is his sleep time.*
Gray sprang to his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to keep you from your rest.”
Saetan hesitated. In some ways, what he was about to do was a small thing, a simple choice. But the offer, and all of its underlying significance, would ripple through Dena Nehele if it was accepted. “You can call me Uncle Saetan, if you like.”
The words were absorbed. The significance was understood. And one more inner layer of defense that had protected Gray the boy but hobbled Jared Blaed the man was sloughed off.
On the walk through the Keep to the Dark Altar and the Gate, Gray talked about the Shalador village and the people he’d met there. It was clear that Ranon was becoming a good friend and that he and Gray were settling into a working relationship that was typical of a strong, healthy court where the males liked and respected each other—the kind of working relationship he’d seen in the Dark Court.
What wasn’t clear was how Theran was responding to any of the drama taking place in Eyota.
TERREILLE
Theran tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut—and tried not to think about the last time Gray had disappeared. Judging by the tight expression on his face and the grim look in his eyes, Talon was trying not to think about that too.
“You’re sure he’s not in the village?” Talon asked for the third time.
Ranon shook his head. “We’ve looked. I even checked the house that accommodates unattached males. He’s not here.”
Mother Night. “Should one of us go back to Grayhaven?” Theran asked. “That’s the only place he knows in Dena Nehele.”
“He might have gone back to the rogue camps in the Tamanara Mountains,” Talon said.
“Maybe,” Theran said. “But he couldn’t have gone alone.”
“He didn’t,” Ranon said. “He took Vae with him.”
As if speaking the name had conjured the dog, Vae rounded the corner of the boardinghouse and bounded over to them.
*Where is Cassie?* Vae asked. *Gray is looking for her.*
“And I’m looking for Gray,” Talon growled.
Vae’s tail stopped moving midwag. She spun around to face the way she had come. *Gray? Gray! Talon is looking for you!* Then she trotted off as if she had no more time for humans.
Gray rounded the corner, looking more relaxed than he had since Cassidy’s collapse. Maybe he had gone to that house for sex.
Now that he knew Gray was safe, worry gave way to temper. Theran shouted, “Where in the name of Hell have you been?”
Gray didn’t flinch, just gave him a steely look before focusing on Talon.
“We’ve been worried about you, boy,” Talon said with strained control. “Where have you been?”
“I needed to talk to someone about Cassie,” Gray said. “So I went to the Keep to talk to Uncle Saetan.”
Ranon’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.
The words felt like icy claws ripping up Theran’s spine. Uncle Saetan? Uncle Saetan?
He glanced at Talon, not sure how to read the older man’s expression. “I see,” Talon said quietly. “It would have been courteous to tell someone where you were going. These are still uneasy times. A man shouldn’t go off alone without leaving a direction to follow.”
“In case you need to search,” Gray said just as quietly.
Talon nodded.
“My apologies, sir. I was angry and didn’t think of that.”
“You were all right riding the Winds?” Talon asked.
Gray nodded. “I asked Vae to go with me and show me which radial and tether lines to ride on the Purple Dusk Wind in order to reach the Keep from here.”
“That’s good.”
Good? Theran stared at Talon. What was going on? Sure, they had to be careful. A few harsh words was all it took to have Gray whimpering in a corner, but Talon should be ripping his ass for all the hours the court had spent scrambling to find Gray while concealing his disappearance from Cassidy. Instead, Talon was almost respectful and that wasn’t right. Hell’s fire, Talon had raised the two of them, taught them, protected them.
Ranon turned his head, everything about the man on alert for a moment before he relaxed. “Cassidy, Shira, and Reyhana are back from their walk.”
“Please ask Lady Shira to convey my request for an audience with the Queen,” Gray said.
Already feeling off balance, Theran rock
ed back on his heels and wondered if the man standing in front of them really was his cousin Gray. A good illusion spell could fool the eye. Hell’s fire, they had lost enough men to that kind of trickery—which should have proved that the twisted Queens who were allied with Dorothea SaDiablo had Black Widows serving in their courts.
“Lady Cassidy will meet you under the tree,” Ranon said a moment later.
Gray looked at the tree and smiled. “You cleaned up that sitting area.”
Ranon shrugged. “It was a way to stay close but not underfoot.”
Gray shifted, as if he was about to walk away. Then he looked at Talon. “I’m sorry I worried you and the rest of the court.”
“Most times it’s the Steward or the Master of the Guard who is informed, but anyone in the First Circle would do,” Talon said.
“Yes, sir.” Gray walked over to the tree to wait for Cassidy.
All three men watched him. Then Talon rubbed his hands over his face. “Mother Night.”
Turning his back on Gray and struggling to keep his voice low, Theran fixed his anger on Talon. “We spent half the day searching this village for him, and you’re polite when he comes strolling back? Why?”
“Two words,” Talon replied. “ ‘Uncle Saetan.’ ”
Ranon huffed out a breath. “Yeah, that changes a few things, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Talon agreed.
“Changes what?” Theran demanded.
“Gray is not a boy anymore,” Talon said. “I taught him what I could. Now the High Lord of Hell will teach him the rest. Theran, no one would call that man ‘uncle’ without being invited to do so. And the simple truth is, he understands Gray better than I do.”
“Then let him go looking the next time Gray acts like an ass,” Theran snapped.
He walked away. Had to. Nothing was the way he’d hoped it would be. This visit to Eyota had shown him just how unsuitable Cassidy was to rule Dena Nehele. She had no sense of style, no sense of decorum, no sense. She was a handyman’s daughter who, through some freak combination of bloodlines, happened to be a Queen.
He had promised to try to be a good First Escort, but every day the court had spent here had made it harder to keep that promise.
