Shalador's Lady

by Bishop, Anne

  *Cassie?* Vae called softly. *Cassie!*

  *There is no danger,* Cassidy said. *You can let Reyhana come in now.*

  *She wants to talk to you.*

  *No. I need to be alone for a little while.*

  A hesitation. *We will wait for you.*

  Cassidy lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Theran probably would accuse her of telling tales, and Kermilla certainly would accuse her of acting out of jealousy and spite. But it was the bruised look in Birdie’s eyes more than the bruise on her face that had to be the deciding factor. Besides, no matter how hard it was, she had a duty to report Kermilla’s behavior. Since he ruled the town of Grayhaven, Theran should be the one who disciplined Kermilla—something he wouldn’t do if he truly belonged to the other Dharo Queen.

  Dharo Queen. That was the sticking point, wasn’t it? Kermilla ruled a village in Dharo. Her conduct was the business of the Queen who ruled that Territory. So Cassidy had a responsibility to Sabrina, Territory Queen to Territory Queen, to inform the Queen of Dharo that the conduct of one of Dharo’s District Queens needed careful review.

  If Kermilla, as a guest, had struck a servant, what was she doing to the people in Bhak—people whose lives depended on their Queen’s mercy?

  Get it done. This isn’t about you and Kermilla, no matter what anyone else might think. This is about being a Queen.

  Sitting up, she called in the lap desk the High Lord had given her, selected a sheet of stationery with her initial on it, and began writing her letter to Sabrina.

  “Ranon!”

  Seeing Gray trotting toward him from the court’s stables, Ranon stopped at the edge of the street and waited. He’d walked from the northern landing web, wanting the time to contact his grandfather, who would contact Akeelah. For now, two Tradition Keepers were enough to stand witness to what he’d brought home.

  “Where’s Shira?” Ranon asked when Gray reached him.

  “She’s been home for a while. I had another errand to run and just got back.” Gray cocked a thumb over his shoulder toward the stables. “Four of the stable lads from Grayhaven are working at the stables here. Just started an hour ago. They’re taking one of the cottages across from the stables as their living quarters. And some of the other servants from Grayhaven are working at the Residence. Did Cassie say anything to you about this? Or Talon?”

  Ranon shook his head. “I just got back myself. Let’s find out—” He stopped when Gray gripped his arm. “What?”

  “I need to go away for a couple of days. Three at the most. I need you to come with me.”

  Ranon studied the other Warlord Prince. Something different. Of course, Gray seemed to be changing daily, but this blend of excitement, fear, and determination was new.

  “Where are we going?” Ranon asked.

  “To Dhemlan. In Kaeleer. To talk to Daemon Sadi.”

  A few months ago, Theran had been the one going in search of Daemon Sadi. Now it was Gray.

  “There are things we need, for the court and for this village. I have an idea of how we can start to get them. But I need to talk to Daemon, and there are some decisions I can’t make alone.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re Shalador’s Warlord Prince.”

  The words rocked him. Yes, he was the last adult Warlord Prince until youngsters like his brother Janos came of age, but Gray’s phrasing gave a weight, a duty, to a truth he’d lived with for the past few years.

  “If Cassie gives her consent to this journey, I’ll go with you,” Ranon said.

  Gray huffed out a breath and smiled. “Good. So let’s find out what everyone else was up to today.”

  Plenty, Ranon thought when Dryden opened the door and greeted them.

  It looked like they were all going to have something to talk about that evening.

  CHAPTER 17

  TERREILLE

  Kermilla frowned at the toast that was burnt around the edges. She tasted the eggs and made a face. As she pushed her plate away—and noticed Correne doing the same—Theran walked into the small breakfast room.

  That was unusual. She and Correne, the “Ladies of the court,” had breakfast alone, leaving the men to a working breakfast where they reviewed their assignments for the day and were allowed to be fools before they had to put on their manners.

  It might be unusual to see him in the breakfast room, but his timing was perfect.

  “Theran, what in the name of Hell is wrong with the cook today?” Kermilla complained. “The toast is burned, and these eggs are unacceptable. And the beef is . . . Well, I can hardly choke it down.”

  “I suggest you try,” Theran said in an odd voice. “The woman who was the cook’s assistant has a blind eye and a weak arm, courtesy of the last Queen she served. She’s doing the best she can.”

  “Why is she doing it at all?” Correne asked, sounding pouty.

  She was going to have to talk to the girl about when a good pout worked and when it caused nothing but trouble—and judging by the look in Theran’s eyes, being anything but helpful today was going to cause trouble.

  Ignoring Correne, Theran watched Kermilla. “The cook, the housekeeper, and the butler resigned yesterday.”

  She heard a hint of accusation in his voice. “Because I had to discipline Birdie?”

  Theran’s face tightened. “You call it discipline. You said it was necessary, and I’m sure you wouldn’t have struck the girl without good reason. But Dryden called it abuse, said it was the same kind of treatment the purged Queens used to inflict on servants—and the kind of treatment I had promised him no one would endure in this house. So the senior servants resigned, along with four of the stable lads. It may take a while before I can replace them.” He glanced at Correne. “Ladies.”

  Stunned, Kermilla watched him walk out of the room. That little bitch Birdie had to be disciplined. The other servants should have accepted that!

  “What did he mean by the purged Queens?” Kermilla asked.

  Correne pulled her plate back and began eating. “The Queens who were destroyed by that witch storm a couple of years ago.” She shuddered. “I heard it swept through the whole Realm and consumed lots and lots of people.”

  “How many Queens?” Kermilla whispered.

  “The Territory Queen and all the Province Queens. Lots of the District Queens too. That’s why Cassidy had to come and rule here. There has been talk of letting Queens establish a court when they’re eighteen, which is before the age of majority and before they’re ready to make the Offering to the Darkness.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “The old Queens are too old to rule more than one village, so someone has to regain control of the Provinces.” Correne leaned forward. “I got a letter from a friend yesterday. She said some of the Warlord Princes are claiming whole districts as their personal territory and ruling like they were Queens.”

  Having males rule on a Queen’s behalf wasn’t that unusual—at least, not in Kaeleer—but Correne sounded shocked. And with good reason. If the most aggressive and dangerous caste of male began taking control and ruling without a Queen’s leash, the young Queens might end up being ruled by Warlord Princes instead of the other way around.

  And the Queen who could stop that change would have the loyalty of every other Queen in this land.

  “Look, look, look!” Powell danced into the breakfast room, waving a handful of papers over his head.

  Momentarily frozen in the act of biting into a piece of toast—which Birdie and Maydra pointed out that she had not had to make for herself—Cassidy finished chewing while she, Shira, and Reyhana watched the gleeful Steward.

  “What are we looking at?” Cassidy asked.

  “The dominant Warlord Princes living in the two southernmost Provinces have sent in a proposed division of those Provinces into districts that would be ruled by a Warlord Prince if a Queen wasn’t available.”

  “There aren’t more than a hundred adult Warlord Princes left in Dena Nehel
e,” Shira said. “Could so few actually rule effectively?”

  Cassidy wiped her hands on a napkin and reached for the papers. “Let me see those.” Her heart pounded and her hands trembled. No indication of which districts would be ruled by Queens. Not that she’d expected them to offer that much trust yet. She’d come to realize that the Queens who had met with her had been prepared to be sacrificed if the new Territory Queen turned out to be as twisted as the one who had ruled before. This was evidence that the Warlord Princes who had been disappointed when they had first seen her were now reconsidering what her knowledge might give their people.

  “Maybe . . .” Reyhana began. She immediately hunched her shoulders and toyed with her scrambled eggs.

  “Maybe . . . ?” Cassidy said.

  “It’s not my place to speak.”

  “Reyhana, I enjoy your company and I value you as a friend, but you’re also here to learn how to be a Queen. I can’t offer guidance if you don’t tell me what you think.”

  The girl straightened up. “Are any of the Warlord Princes taking responsibility for a whole Province?”

  “That would be a bit too aggressive,” Powell said gently. “It’s one thing to rule what the available Queens can’t handle themselves; it’s quite another to rule over a Queen.”

  “Although it is done,” Cassidy said. “Daemon Sadi is the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. He rules that Territory, and every Queen in Dhemlan answers to him. He is the exception, that is true, but Queens do sometimes rule within a Warlord Prince’s Territory and not the other way around. Lucivar Yaslana is another example. He rules Ebon Rih, the territory that belongs to the Keep. The Queens who rule the villages there answer to him.”

  “I stand corrected,” Powell said with a smile.

  “Someone needs to rule each Province, isn’t that true?” Reyhana said.

  “Just getting the Warlord Princes to step up to the line and agree to rule a district is a victory,” Shira said. “At least half of these men lived in the rogue camps in the Tamanara Mountains after they reached puberty. Actually living in a village with the families they left behind is a new experience for them.”

  “This is a good start, but it’s just a start,” Cassidy said.

  “Why can’t your First Circle act as Province liaisons between the districts and the court?” Reyhana asked. “The same way Prince Ranon does for the Shalador reserves?”

  “The way Ranon does?” Cassidy asked, glancing at Shira—who was frowning thoughtfully.

  “May I?” Powell asked, indicating an empty chair.

  “Yes, of course,” Cassidy replied. “Here, it’s probably best if we look at these papers more carefully in your office.”

  Powell vanished the papers. Moments later, Birdie came in with a pot of fresh coffee, another cup and saucer, and more toast.

  Cassidy wondered who had told Maydra that Powell was joining her for breakfast. Then she noticed Vae in the doorway. The Sceltie wagged her tail once and left, no doubt to herd a few more of her humans.

  “Please explain about Ranon,” Powell said.

  “I don’t think he ever visited all the villages,” Reyhana said, “but Janos told me Ranon would visit all three of the reserves and meet with the elders at least once each season. So he always knew if there was trouble or when things were getting too hard. Even during the uprisings, when he was off fighting, he’d visit a reserve if he was close by.”

  “He’s been doing that for as long as I’ve known him,” Shira said. “Visiting the elders. I thought he was showing his respect. He never said otherwise.”

  No, he wouldn’t have said otherwise, Cassidy thought. But that awareness of his people . . . Not so different from what the males in Jaenelle’s court had done. Not so different at all.

  “If a member of the First Circle visited a Province once or twice a month,” Powell said thoughtfully, “and made it known he would carry back any concerns to the Queen, I think other men would approach him—especially if he’s already known to those men. Not an official ruler, but a reminder that all others who rule in Dena Nehele do so on the Territory Queen’s behalf. That is an excellent idea, Lady Reyhana.”

  Cassidy smiled at Reyhana and lifted her coffee cup as a salute. “Yes, it is an excellent idea.”

  Too bad Gray wasn’t here to share this moment with her.

  KAELEER

  Ranon stood in Daemon Sadi’s study, a stunned look on his face. “Mother Night, Gray. The man has a butler who wears a Red Jewel.”

  Gray looked around the richly furnished room. There had been a jelly-knee moment when the door to SaDiablo Hall opened and that large, formidable man had stared at them. But it was clear the High Lord had sent a message ahead of them and they were expected, because Beale had led them to this room and informed them that the Prince would be with them shortly.

  Noticing the stuffed toy on the floor near the long sofa, he nudged Ranon. “He may have a Red-Jeweled butler, but he also has a Sceltie.”

  “Then may the Darkness have mercy on him,” Ranon muttered.

  The door opened. Ranon sucked in a breath. Gray turned.

  Beautiful, deadly man. Had he felt that sexual punch the last time he’d seen Daemon, or was there a reason why that heat and power were sharper today?

  “Gray, it’s good to see you again.”

  Is it? Gray wondered, noticing Daemon’s slightly glazed eyes. “Prince Sadi, may I introduce my friend Prince Ranon?”

  Those gold eyes studied Ranon just a little too long.

  “You’re Shaladoran,” Daemon said.

  “I am,” Ranon replied. “How did you know?”

  “You have the look of your people. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what brings you here.”

  Gray started to turn toward the informal side of the room. Daemon walked over to the blackwood desk and settled in the chair behind it, leaving him and Ranon no choice but to sit in the visitors’ chairs.

  He nodded to Ranon, who called in a package and set it carefully on the desk. “Lady Cassidy asked me to give this to you, along with this letter.”

  Daemon opened the letter and seemed to take a long time reading the single page. Then he opened the package that contained Jared’s journal and brushed his fingertips gently over the cover.

  “While I appreciate her efforts at economy, Cassidy’s request, as written, is not the most practical,” Daemon said.

  “I’ll convey the message,” Ranon said. He reached for the package. It vanished before he touched it.

  “Therefore,” Daemon said, “I will take care of it as it should be done.” Ranon hesitated, and Gray understood why. Jared’s story was one of the most precious gifts Jaenelle Angelline had sent back to the Shalador people.

  Daemon steepled his fingers and rested the forefinger nails against his chin. “Is that why you asked to come to Dhemlan? I could have met you at the Keep.”

  “We need a loan.” Gray hadn’t meant to say it that bluntly. In fact, he’d spent a good part of the journey rehearsing what he would say. Too bad the words just plopped out of his mouth.

  “What?” Ranon yelped.

  “We need a loan,” Gray said again, keeping his eyes on Daemon, who had done nothing more than raise an eyebrow.

  “You are aware of the Queen’s gift?” Daemon asked.

  Ignoring the slight chill in the words—after all, he figured plenty of people would like to dip a hand into the SaDiablo wealth—Gray nodded. “But that’s just for Cassie, for the things she needs that her people can’t provide yet.”

  “All right, I’m listening.”

  *Gray, what are you doing?* Ranon asked.

  Gray ignored his friend. “We need a loan to start building a life for the people again. For some simple things, like blankets and linens, and cloth so women can sew clothes for their children.”

  “Gray,” Ranon said, his voice a clear warning to stop.

  “We need money to fix up a Healer’s House. The village will give us the land a
nd buildings, but Shira needs money to fix it up so that she can take care of the court and some of the villagers.”

  “Does she know about this?” Ranon asked.

  “Not yet. She wants that place, and it’s perfect. But I didn’t want to tell her I’d gotten the deed made out for her until I talked to Daemon about a loan to fix it up.”

  Ranon looked ready to fall out of his chair. “Deed. You got an official deed?”

  “Yes. I talked to the elders yesterday. They witnessed the deed. The property that backs the Queen’s Residence now belongs to Shira.” Gray paused. “To you, too, I guess, since you’re living with her, but I asked to have it put in Shira’s name since it will be a Healer’s residence.”

  “But you didn’t tell her?”

  Why was Ranon getting so pissy? It was the best thing to do for the women and the court. “No. But I haven’t told Cassie yet that the Queen’s Residence belongs to her now. She’ll feel better about fixing it up into the home she wants once she knows she holds the deed.”

  Daemon started coughing. “We’ll . . . ah . . . have to talk about how to ease into these conversations so you don’t stun the Ladies when you get home.”

  Gray looked at the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. No chill in the voice now. No, Daemon seemed to be struggling with the effort not to laugh. “You think Cassie and Shira are going to go hissy cat about this?”

  “Hissy cat?” Those gold eyes were starting to water.

  “A Sceltie term for a riled human female.”

  Daemon’s roar of laughter filled the room.

  A couple of minutes later, Sadi finally regained some control. “So you want a loan to fix up the Healer’s House. Anything else?”

  “I don’t know,” Gray said, pressing his hands between his knees and leaning toward the desk. “But you have businesses in other Territories besides Dhemlan, don’t you?”

  Something pained and sad flickered in Daemon’s eyes. “I used to have a few businesses in Dena Nehele. It helped some people defy Dorothea’s bitches for a little while longer.”