by Anne Bishop
"Yes."
Kartane shivered at the sound of that midnight voice. Trying to ignore his uneasiness, he reached up to unbutton his shirt. "I suppose you want to examine me."
"That won't be necessary. I know what's wrong with you."
His fingers froze around the button. "You've seen this before?"
"No."
"But you know what it is?"
"Yes."
Annoyed by the terse answers, he tossed aside any effort at civility. "Then what in the name of Hell is it?"
"It's called Briarwood," replied the midnight voice.
The blood drained out of Kartane's head, leaving him dizzy.
"Briarwood is the pretty poison," the voice continued as fair-skinned hands reached up and pushed the hood back. "There is no cure for Briarwood."
Kartane stared at her. The last time he'd seen her, thirteen years ago, she had been more like a drugged puppet than a child—a plaything locked in one of Briarwood's cubicles, waiting to be used. But he'd never forgotten those sapphire eyes, or the terror he'd felt after he'd tried to touch her mind.
"You." The word came out as nothing more than exhaled breath. "I thought Greer destroyed you."
"He tried."
It hit him then. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You did this to me. You did this!"
"I created the tangled web, yes. As far as what's happened to you, Kartane, you did this to yourself."
"No!"
"Yes. To each is given what he gave. That was the only command I spun into the web."
"Since you did this, you can damn well undo it!"
She shook her head. "Many of the children who were the threads of that tangled web have returned to the Darkness. They're out of reach, even for me, and there's no way to undo the web without them."
"You lie," Kartane shouted. "If I hand you enough gold, you'd find a way fast enough."
"There is no cure for Briarwood. But there is an end to this, if that's any consolation. To each is given what he gave."
"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"
"Every blow, every wound, every rape, every moment of fear that you ever inflicted on another is coming back to you. You're taking back what you gave, Kartane. When you've taken it all back, the debt will be paid, and the web will release you as it did the other males who amused themselves in Briarwood."
"They're all dead, you stupid bitch! I'm the last one left. No one survived this web of yours."
"The web only set the terms. If none of the others survived... How many of the children who were sent to Briarwood survived any of you?"
"Since you didn't come here to heal me, why did you bother to come? Just to gloat?"
"No. I came to stand as witness for those who are gone."
Kartane studied her, then shook his head. "You can end this."
"I've already told you, I can't."
"You can end this. You can stop this pain. And you're damn well going to!"
With a howl of rage, Kartane rushed her—and went right through her. He hit the door, unable to stop himself.
When he turned around, there was no one else in the room.
5 / Kaeleer
Daemon approached Jaenelle cautiously, reluctant to disturb her solitude and not sure what to think about the odd blend of sadness and satisfaction on her face. The solitude was an illusion, of course. When she had left her room in the guardhouse and gone out to sit near the creek, Lucivar, Chaosti, and half a dozen Dea al Mon guards had followed her, swiftly disappearing into the woods. He couldn't see any of them, but he knew they were nearby, watching and listening.
"Here," he said quietly, handing her a mug. "It's just herbal tea. Nothing fancy." When she thanked him, he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, feeling self-conscious. "Is everything all right?"
Jaenelle hesitated. "I did what I went to do." She took a sip of the tea, peered into the cup, then looked at him. "What's in this?"
"A little of this and that."
"Uh-huh."
If that doubtful tone had come from any other woman, he would have felt insulted. But the concentration—and hint of frustration—in her eyes as she took another sip indicated that her doubt was caused by his dismissive "nothing fancy" rather than the brew itself.
She eyed him speculatively. "I don't suppose you would be willing to exchange the recipe for this brew for one of mine?"
Since she liked it that much, it was tempting to refuse so that he would be the only one who could make it for her, but he quickly realized that the time spent with her over a table full of herbs would serve him far better.
Daemon smiled. "I know a couple of brews you might find interesting."
Jaenelle returned the smile, then drained the mug and stood up. "I'd like to head out to Amdarh soon," she said as they walked back to the guardhouse. "That way, we can get settled in tonight."
Despite Lucivar's and Chaosti's firm warnings, Daemon had to bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that she eat something first. They had told him her resistance against any attempt to get some food into her would be in direct proportion to her mood when she returned from this meeting. He'd only needed one glance at her face when she came out of her room to know any suggestion would have been pointless.
"I think you'll like Amdarh," Jaenelle said. "It's a beautiful—" She stopped walking, then sniffed the air. "Is that stew?"
"I believe it is," Daemon replied mildly. "Lucivar and Chaosti made it. It should be just about done."
"They made wildwood stew?"
"I believe that's what it's called."
Jaenelle eyed him. "I suppose you're hungry."
Even if he had never picked up a cue before in his life, he couldn't have missed that one. "Actually, I am. Do you think we could wait until after dinner before heading to Amdarh?"
Jaenelle turned her head away from him, but not enough that he couldn't see her lick her lips. "It wouldn't take that long to have a bowl of stew. Or two," she added as she hurried toward the guardhouse.
Daemon lengthened his stride to keep up, and wondered how much of a tussle the males were going to have in order to get their fair share.
6 / Kaeleer
Kartane burst into Jorval's dining room. "Is that bitch alive?" he demanded.
Jorval hurried toward him while a man Kartane had never seen before sat at the table and just stared.
"Lord Kartane," Jorval said anxiously. "If I'd known the healing would be done so soon, we would have waited din—"
"Damn you, just answer the question! Is she alive?"
"Lady Angelline? Yes, of course she's alive. Why do you ask? Didn't she arrive?"
"She arrived," Kartane snarled.
"I don't understand," Jorval said, almost wailing. "She's the best Healer in the Realm. If she—"
"SHE'S THE ONE WHO DID THIS TO ME!"
Jorval's shocked look was quickly replaced by a sly one. "I see. Please, come and join us. I can see you've had a distressing afternoon. Perhaps some food and company will help."
"Nothing will help until that bitch is made to heel," Kartane snapped, accepting a chair at the table and a quickly filled glass of wine. He glared at the other man, who continued to stare at him.
"Lord Kartane," Jorval said smoothly, "may I present Lord Hobart? He, too, has reasons to want to see Jaenelle Angelline subdued."
"Not just Jaenelle Angelline," Hobart growled.
"Oh?" Kartane said, pushing his anger aside as his interest in Hobart sharpened.
"Lord Hobart had controlled the Territory of Glacia for several years," Jorval said. "When his niece became the Territory Queen—"
"The ungrateful bitch EXILED me!" Hobart shouted.
"And you want to regain control," Kartane said, starting to lose interest.
Then Jorval added, "Lady Karla is a close friend of Jaenelle's."
Kartane randomly selected food from the dishes offered as he nibbled on that bit of information. There was nothing he would have liked better right then than to hurt
a close friend of the bitch. "I may be able to help. My mother is the High Priestess of Hayll."
Not only didn't Hobart look sufficiently impressed, he looked distinctly uneasy. He cleared his throat. "It's a generous offer, Lord Kartane. A very generous offer, but..."
"But you're already receiving some assistance from the Dark Priestess," Kartane guessed. When Hobart paled, he crossed two fingers and held them up. "Perhaps you're not aware that my mother and the Dark Priestess are like that."
Hobart swallowed hard. Jorval merely drank his wine and watched them out of dark eyes filled with sly glee.
"I see," Hobart finally said. "In that case, your help is most welcome."
Chapter Nine
1 / Kaeleer
Andulvar settled into a chair in front of Saetan's blackwood desk. "Karla says you've been in here sulking for the past two hours, ever since you got a message from Lady Zhara."
Saetan gave his longtime friend his iciest stare. "I. Am. Not. Sulking."
"All right." Andulvar waited. "Then what are you doing?"
Saetan leaned back in his chair. "Answer me this: if I were to run away from home, is there anywhere in any of the Realms I could go and not be found?"
Andulvar scratched his chin. "Well, if you wanted to hide from the Dhemlan Queens or the coven, there are quite a few places you could go to ground. If you wanted to hide from your male offspring, there are a few places in the Dark Realm that would take even Mephis a while to think of. But if Jaenelle was looking for you..."
"Which is precisely why I'm still sitting here." Saetan rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Zhara has summoned me to Amdarh to take care of a problem for her."
Andulvar frowned. "Lucivar's in Amdarh, isn't he? If Zhara needs help from a male stronger than the ones who serve in her court, why didn't she ask him?"
Saetan narrowed his golden eyes and let the words fall like precisely dropped stones. "Lucivar is in Amdarh with Jaenelle."
The silence thickened into a solid curtain.
"Ah," Andulvar finally said. "Well, Daemon—"
"Is in Amdarh with Lucivar and Jaenelle."
"Mother Night," Andulvar muttered, then added warily, "What did Zhara say?"
Saetan picked up the message and read in a funereal voice, " 'Your children are having a wonderful time. Come and get them.' "
2 / Kaeleer
Daemon braced his head in his hands and closed his eyes.
"Mother Night," Lucivar said, enunciating very carefully.
"I've never been this drunk," Daemon moaned quietly.
Lucivar stared at him with bloodshot eyes. "Sure you have."
"Maybe a couple of times in the stupid phase of my youth, but not since I've worn the Black. My body burns it up too fast to get drunk."
"Not this time," Lucivar said, then added after a long, possibly thoughtful, pause, "I've been this drunk."
"Really? When?"
"Last time I went on a crawl with Jaenelle. Big mistake. Should have remembered it. Would have, too, if I'd been sober when I did remember it."
After a minute's painful effort, Daemon gave up trying to decipher that comment and found something else to think about. "I've never been thrown out of a city before."
"Sure you have," Lucivar said in a hearty voice that made them both whimper.
Daemon shook his head and realized his error a bit too late. Even when he managed to stop, the room continued moving back and forth, and what was left of his brain sloshed noisily inside his skull. He swallowed carefully. "I've been thrown out of courts and wasn't allowed back into the city because that was the Queen's territory, but that's different."
"It’s all right," Lucivar said. "In a few weeks, Zhara will welcome you with open arms."
"She didn't seem like a foolish woman. Why would she do that?"
"Because we provide a restraining influence on Jaenelle."
"We do?"
They just stared at each other until the dining room door opened.
Daemon braced himself, absolutely certain that hearing the door slam would kill him.
"Mother Night," Surreal said, choking back laughter. "They're pathetic."
"Aren't they?" There was no laughter in Saetan's reply.
The soft footsteps approaching the table made the room vibrate.
"Please don't yell," Daemon whimpered.
"I wouldn't dream of yelling," Saetan replied in a voice that, nonetheless, rattled Daemon's bones. "There would be no point in yelling. You'd both be on the floor, insensible, after the first word. So I'll save the lecture until you're sober enough to listen to it, because I intend to deliver it with considerable volume. The only question I want answered right now is what in the name of Hell did you two pour down your throats to get in this condition?"
"Gravediggers," Lucivar mumbled.
"How many?" Saetan asked ominously.
Lucivar took a couple of careful breaths. "Not sure. Things got a bit blurry after the seventh one."
"After the—" Long pause. "Are either of you capable of walking to your rooms?"
"Sure," Lucivar said. It took him a couple of tries, but he got to his feet.
Not to be outdone, Daemon stood up, too—and regretted it.
"You take Lucivar," Saetan said to Surreal. "He isn't listing quite as much."
"That's because I didn't finish the drinks." Lucivar pointed at Daemon, tipped, and almost flattened Surreal against the table. "That's why you're so drunk. I told you not to finish them."
Daemon tried to make a rude noise and ended up spitting on Saetan.
Without further comment, he was hauled out of the room and up a terrifyingly steep set of stairs. Once he reached his bed, he tried to lie down, but was hauled upright and undressed while his father's ire made the room pulse.
"Do you need a basin?" Saetan asked with no sympathy whatsoever.
"No," Daemon replied meekly.
Finally, he was allowed to lie down. The last thing he was aware of was Saetan's hand brushing his hair back in a gentle caress.
Surreal closed the door of Lucivar's room at the same moment Saetan stepped out of Daemon's room.
"I appreciate your assistance," Saetan said when they met at the top of the stairs.
Surreal grinned. "I wouldn't have missed this for anything."
They started down the stairs together. "You got Lucivar settled?"
"He snarled a lot and kept telling me to keep my hands off him since he's a married man. He didn't want to get undressed, but I pointed out that, since he was married, he should know better than to try to get into a bed wearing boots in that condition. While we wrestled with the boots, we pondered how that little fish got wedged under the laces."
Saetan stopped at the foot of the stairs. "How did it get under the laces?"
"He has no idea. So I gave the fish a proper burial at sea, so to speak, managed to convince Lucivar that stripping to the waist was not improper since I'm family, and let what was left of him fall into bed." Surreal looked around. "Say, aren't you going to tuck Jaenelle in?"
"At this moment," Saetan said dryly, "Jaenelle is in the kitchen, tucking into a very large breakfast."
"Oh, dear," Surreal said, then started to laugh.
3 / Kaeleer
Karla removed the ring from the jeweler's box and slipped it on the second finger of her right hand. It was a simple ring of yellow and white gold, with a small oval sapphire. A tasteful design, but nothing that would really catch the eye, yet feminine enough that no one would wonder about a woman wearing it. An everyday ring rather than flash and glitter. "It's perfect."
"I had asked Banard to have that one done first," Jaenelle said, "but he'd gotten all the rings for the coven done since the designs are simple." She paused, then added, "I also ordered rings made for Surreal and Wilhelmina. They'll be ready next week."
Karla nodded as she studied the ring. "How do I activate the shield inside it?"
"You would deliberately activate it through your Gray Jewel. Oth
erwise, it's keyed in the same way the boyos' Rings of Honor are and will respond to fear, rage, and pain caused by a serious wound. It's set for fairly intense emotions because, when it activates, everyone else within range who wears a Ring that's connected to this one is going to act as if it was a call to battle. Which it is."
"How much range does it have?" Karla asked. "If it gets activated, would Morton sense it even if he's not in the same city?"
Jaenelle gave her an odd look. "Karla, if something wakes the shield in that ring, not only will you have Morton pounding on your door, you're going to have Sceron, Jonah, Kaelas, Mistral, and Khary showing up on your doorstep—along with our Sisters in that part of the Realm."
"Mother Night!" Karla frowned at the ring. "But ... I know the boyos have used this shield on occasion and it didn't make the rest of them go berserk."
"I wouldn't count on their responding to a signal picked up from a ring worn by a Queen in the same way they respond to a signal from another Brother in the court," Jaenelle said dryly. "Besides, at this point, the males are all attuned to each other. They can tell when to remain on alert but to wait for another signal and when to drop everything and head for the person in trouble with all possible speed."
"And you don't think they'll wait?"
"Not a chance."
Karla sighed. That was a little more male attention than she'd anticipated, and she was glad of the warning.
"I'll link it to your Gray Jewel now," Jaenelle said, holding out her right hand.
"Won't the boyos pick that up?" Karla asked, placing her right hand in Jaenelle's.
"Yes, and it will take them under two minutes to figure out that someone in the coven is wearing a ring they can connect with now."
Well, there's safety in numbers, Karla thought. With all of us wearing a ring like this —
"And it will take them about another minute to figure out the distinctive feel of this particular ring and recognize it as you."
"Hell's fire."
Jaenelle's smile was sympathetic but amused. "Wait until Lucivar shows up the first time. It's an experience."
"I'm sure it is," Karla mumbled.
A moment later, she felt a flash of cold followed by heat. The ring throbbed against her finger. The sensations faded, but she could sense the deep reservoir of power waiting just out of reach.
