Shalador's Lady

by Bishop, Anne

  He shook his head too quickly. Resentment bubbled up inside her.

  “I’ll see Sabrina tomorrow and fix this,” she said tightly.

  “Tomorrow is the first day of Winsol,” Gallard said. “Except for emergencies, the Queen doesn’t grant audiences during Winsol.”

  “This is an emergency!”

  “No, my dear, it is not. But it is a smear on our reputations that we must all work to overcome. Everything has a price. We acted imprudently, and now we must pay the consequences.”

  It wasn’t a smear on her reputation. Just because her First Circle hadn’t had balls enough to keep things under control didn’t mean she should bear the blame.

  “How soon can the servants open up my side of the house?”

  “You would have to discuss that with Lady Sabrina or her Steward. He closed that side of the house since it wasn’t in use.”

  She wasn’t getting anywhere with him. He wasn’t saying the things he should be saying. “Where is Jhorma?”

  “Jhorma is celebrating Winsol elsewhere this year,” Gallard said. “Since none of us are from Bhak, everyone else is spending Winsol in their home villages. I elected to stay and catch up on paperwork—and to maintain the court’s presence in the village. After darkest night, the Master of the Guard will return, and I’ll go home for a visit.”

  “And what am I supposed to do? My house is closed up, my court is scattered, and no one seems to care that I came back to celebrate the most important holiday with my people!”

  “We didn’t know you were returning. Frankly, Kermilla, we had no reason to believe you would return to Bhak.”

  “Why wouldn’t I return? I rule here.”

  For now.

  She heard the unspoken warning. “I’ve been traveling most of the day, and I’m tired. I’d like to go to my room now. Please arrange to have a carriage for me first thing tomorrow morning to take me to the landing web. I want to talk to Sabrina before she becomes so immersed in frivolity that she forgets her duties as a Queen.”

  Gallard sucked in a breath, but in the end he escorted her to the guest room and said nothing.

  She would talk to Sabrina and get this mess straightened out so that she could enjoy some of Winsol. And she would go home for a few days. She needed to be around people who thought she was wonderful, and she could count on her father to give her enough marks to tide her over.

  CHAPTER 33

  KAELEER

  Kermilla stood at the parlor window in her parents’ house and watched the snow fall. It was a roomy house, the kind typically owned by a couple who came from secondary branches of aristo families and wanted to maintain the social connections that would be an asset to their children.

  Social connections were of no use to her right now. At least, not until she managed to get her father alone and talked him into giving her some help.

  She should have left early on the first day of Winsol as she’d intended to do. But she’d wrangled with that thrice-damned butler in order to get access to her clothes—which was insulting beyond words—and then discovered most of the new jewelry and half the new clothes she’d bought before going to Dena Nehele were gone. Not stolen by the servants, as she’d first suspected. No, something even worse. The jewelry that hadn’t been paid for yet had been returned to the jewelers. The dresses and formal gowns that hadn’t been worn had been sent to shops in other Provinces to be sold in order to pay for the clothes she had worn.

  Thank the Darkness she’d had two trunks of autumn and winter clothes sent to her in Dena Nehele. The damn nosy Stewards hadn’t found those clothes and they never would.

  By the time she’d gotten that sorted out and taken a Coach to Sabrina’s residence, the Queen of Dharo was gone and her thrice-damned Steward refused to reveal her location, even when Kermilla emphasized several times that this was an emergency.

  The Steward, of course, offered to hear her out.

  The man had no balls, no sex, and no heart. He listened calmly, with no sign of interest or concern. He didn’t respond to flirting or to pouts or any other tool that usually proved useful when dealing with men.

  He listened. Then he told her what financial arrangements Lady Sabrina had authorized for Kermilla and her court.

  The private side of the Queen’s house in Bhak would be reopened for Kermilla’s use. Sabrina would pay for the general maintenance of that house and its stables until spring. That included the wages for the butler, housekeeper, cook, maid, footman, coachman, and stable lad. No additional staff, not even restoring Kermilla’s personal maid. Food for the Queen and the First Circle who were in residence, as well as for the servants, would also be paid for by the Territory Queen. Kermilla would be responsible for the expense of any entertainment held at the house.

  Income? Had Lady Kermilla discussed the situation in Bhak and Woolskin with her own Steward? Yes? Then the Lady was aware that there was no income available for her use since the winter tithes had gone into paying down the remaining debts.

  Insulting, insufferable man, treating her like a child who had overspent her allowance! Yes, just like that but never ever acknowledging that the allowance hadn’t been adequate to begin with!

  She’d gotten no satisfaction from Sabrina’s Steward beyond him giving her an appointment to meet with Dharo’s Queen the day after Winsol ended.

  It had been too humiliating to go back to the house in Bhak. If she summoned her court to return, what would she do with them? She couldn’t throw any parties or dinners, couldn’t afford tickets to a play or a concert or any other kind of entertainment. And it occurred to her that Sabrina didn’t know yet that her First Circle was short a man, and having the other men scattered would make that fact less obvious.

  So she returned to Bhak long enough to pack up all her clothes, then came here to her parents’ house to “enjoy the holiday as a daughter instead of a Queen.”

  Her father was delighted to see her. Her mother was pleased too, but Kermilla sensed a reservation there. And her brother and sister hadn’t made any accommodation to spend time with her, as they should have since she was a Queen.

  The parlor door opened and her father walked in. Then he saw her, realized they were alone, and started to back out.

  “Father, wait.” Kermilla rushed over to him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the room. “I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

  “Maybe we should wait for your mother.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She tugged him over to a chair, then sat on the footstool in front of him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  He sighed, as if he knew what she wanted to talk about. But there was sadness in his eyes and more than a little worry.

  “What’s on your mind, sweets?” he asked.

  “I need some help. Just a little,” she added quickly when he shook his head. “There was a misunderstanding about the court expenses and—”

  “I can’t help, Kermilla. I’m sorry, sweets, but I can’t.”

  “It’s not that much,” she coaxed, sure she could wear him down. He had never failed her before. Ever.

  “I can’t.”

  “But you don’t even know how much.”

  “How much doesn’t matter,” he said with a thread of temper that sounded a little like fear. “When your mother found out about all the debts I’d managed to hide from her, all the debts weighing on the family now for the clothes and things you needed while you were in training . . .” He clasped his hands together tight enough to turn the knuckles white. “She told me that if I gave you so much as a silver mark without her consent she’ll divorce me, and the only things I’ll take from the marriage are my personal belongings and all of your debts.” Now he clasped her hands.

  “I’ve got to think of your brother and sister now, sweets. They did without plenty of things these past few years because you needed so much to get established. But you are established now, ruling a village and having a Queen’s income.”

  “And a Queen’s expenses,” she
pouted.

  He released her hands. “Then you need to talk to your Steward about court expenses, or talk to a man of business about investing some of your income to give you some profit.”

  “That’s all well and good once the spring tithes come in, but I need something now!” Kermilla said.

  “But the winter tithes were paid not more than a few days ago,” he protested. “What happened to that income?”

  “A misunderstanding between my Steward and Sabrina’s. It will be straightened out as soon as I talk to her after Winsol, but for now I need two or three hundred gold marks to tide me—”

  Shock in his eyes. Panic as the front door opened. He bolted out of the chair and almost knocked her over in his haste to get out of the room.

  She heard her mother’s voice—and her father’s. Too low to hear the words, but she recognized the tone.

  A minute later, her mother walked into the room and stood near the chair. Kermilla stood up, lifting her chin in a subtle challenge. After all, her mother might wear Summer-sky too, but she was just a witch, not a Queen.

  Her mother studied her for a long moment. Too long. “We’ve given you all the financial help we can. It’s time for you to take responsibility for yourself, especially when you’ve taken responsibility for so many other people’s lives now. I love you, Kermilla, and I love your father. But I will divorce him if that’s what I have to do to protect your brother and sister’s future. I will do that.”

  “You won’t help me at all?” Kermilla asked.

  Her mother sighed. “Financially? No. There’s nothing left to give, and there won’t be for several more years.” She paused. “Are you going to stay with us through the days of Winsol?”

  Kermilla nodded.

  “Good,” her mother said. “It would have hurt your father terribly if you only came to see him in order to get money.”

  TERREILLE

  Cassidy came downstairs and paused, listening. Hearing nothing in the rooms usually occupied by the court, she went along to the kitchen, where the servants were most likely to gather at this hour for a cup of tea and a light snack.

  It stung that Gray had been right to insist that she take a nap. During the first four days of Winsol, she’d visited a dozen villages in the Shalador reserves and the two southernmost Provinces; she’d listened to children in each of those villages sing the same three traditional Winsol songs; she’d toured those villages with the residing Queen or Warlord Prince to see the new loaning libraries and other improvements; and she’d felt overwhelmed by the number of people who had lined those villages’ main streets in order to see the Queen known as Shalador’s Lady.

  A couple of sneezes this morning and Gray had started fretting that she was coming down with a chill from overwork. He’d held his tongue while she attended the performances this morning, since it was the last official function she would make beyond her home village until after Winsol, but when they returned home for the midday meal he insisted she go to bed and rest for the afternoon—and Shira had agreed with him.

  Her breathing had felt a little raspy and her chest had burned when she coughed, so she didn’t argue with them too much. Now, feeling better after drinking the healing brew Shira had made for her and getting some sleep, she wandered into the kitchen to find her court and family.

  Devra looked over, then pulled two baking sheets out of the oven and set them on trivets to cool. “There you are, Daughter. You look better for the rest.”

  “Uh-huh.” Cassidy was so focused on the baking sheets, she barely heard her mother. “What are those?” They looked like circles of dough, baked golden brown and full of . . . Was that chocolate?

  “Chocolate chunk cookies,” Maydra replied as she continued to blend and stir ingredients in a big bowl on the counter. “A special Winsol treat that’s made in Dena Nehele.”

  “I brought the ingredients to make a couple of our family treats, so Maydra and I have been baking this afternoon,” Devra said.

  Cassidy’s mouth watered.

  Devra transferred the cookies from the baking sheets onto cooling racks. She glanced at Cassidy, then shook her head and chuckled. “The last time you had that look in your eyes, you were seven years old and ate yourself into a stupor.” She picked up a cookie and handed it to Cassidy. “One.”

  Cassidy ignored Maydra’s amused snort and bit into the still-warm cookie. “Oh. Mmmm.”

  “Lady Devra suggested that the women connected to the court each make one or two treats for Winsol,” Maydra said. “Then we’ll divide them up between those households. That way everyone gets variety without extra expense.”

  “You’re going to make enough of these to share?” Cassidy asked, eyeing the cookies.

  Her mother gave her a look that made her feel like she was seven years old again, so she decided it was time to sound like a grown-up. “Where is everyone?”

  “Your father is with his apprentice carpenters. They’ve all made gifts for people and wanted his help with the finishing touches. As for everyone else . . .” Devra tipped her head. “They’re outside.”

  “Then I’ll just—”

  Frannie rushed into the kitchen with Cassidy’s heavy winter coat. “Lady! You can’t be going out there without a coat. Not with you trying to shake off a chill!”

  Cassidy eyed the young Shalador witch who wanted to work as a personal maid—and was using Cassidy and Reyhana as her training ground. The girl had potential and took real pleasure in her work—and everyone pretended not to know that Frannie had become so skilled at weaving hair into intricate braids by practicing on her father’s draft horses.

  “I’m just going to step outside for a minute,” Cassidy said.

  “Huh!” Frannie held up the coat. “The stoop is swept clean, so you won’t be needing boots.”

  Cassidy glanced at her mother, decided the gleam in Devra’s eyes meant that mother sided with the maid, and let herself get bundled into the coat and nudged out the back door.

  Shira and Reyhana stood next to the stoop, watching men, boys, and Scelties run around the backyard.

  “You’re looking better,” Shira said.

  Cassidy nodded. “What are they doing?”

  “Playing cows and sheep,” Reyhana replied. “Eryk and Eliot are the sheep. Shaddo, Janos, Ranon, and Gray are the cows. The silver twins, Darcy, Khollie, and Darkmist are the herders. The white globes of witchlight at that end of the yard is the corral. The green globes are brambles.”

  “Are those little hourglasses floating near the witchlights?” Cassidy asked.

  “Yep,” Shira said. “Little two-minute timers. If a cow or sheep gets into the brambles, he can stay for two minutes as a resting period. If he gets herded into the corral, he has to stay for two minutes before trying to escape. The object of the game is to get all the cows and sheep into the corral.”

  “So who’s winning?” Cassidy asked.

  Shira shrugged.

  “Oh!” Reyhana said. “That looks like a stampede.”

  The men were smart, skilled at working as a team, and had long legs. The dogs had speed, were using Craft to run on top of the snow, and were born with the ability to herd reluctant critters. The boys had an abundance of energy.

  Based on what she was seeing, Cassidy figured the winners would be determined by which side had the most stamina.

  *Would you bet on the men to win?* Cassidy asked Shira.

  *Of course I would! Anything else would be disloyal.*

  *Would you expect to win the bet?*

  *Nope. So I wouldn’t bet much.*

  Cassidy suppressed a laugh and watched the game.

  One moment everyone was running, shouting, barking, laughing. The next, men and dogs stood frozen, staring at the house. The dogs growled softly. The men, Warlord Princes all, stared with eyes that began to glaze as they rose to the killing edge. Only the boys took a few more steps before realizing something was wrong.

  Then everyone was in motion again. Darcy got in fr
ont of the boys. Khollie dashed for her and Shira. Shaddo and the silver twins headed around the house in one direction while Janos and Darkmist headed around the other side. Ranon and Gray moved together, heading for the kitchen door.

  Then the Scelties hesitated, and Cassidy had the impression that information was being passed between all the warriors.

  *What just happened?* Shira asked.

  *An alert, I think,* Cassidy replied. But what had caused it? And would she ever get used to the way Warlord Princes could change in a heartbeat from laughing, easy men to warriors rising to the killing edge?

  The back door opened and Dryden said, “Lady Cassidy, Prince Ferall and Prince Hikaeda are here and have asked if you could spare them a few minutes of your time.”

  “Thank you, Dryden,” Cassidy said. As she turned to enter the house, she realized Gray and Ranon intended to come in with her. “You don’t have to interrupt your game. I can talk to them by myself.”

  They looked at her. Just looked at her.

  Overprotective and bossy—and they managed the bossy part without saying a word.

  And would fight with her and for her to their last breath in order to protect her from real or potential harm, whether she wanted them to or not.

  Sighing, she went inside, shrugged out of her coat and handed it to Frannie—and pretended she wasn’t worried about how to control Ranon’s and Gray’s response to men they knew.

  She walked into the visitors’ parlor with Ranon and Gray moving to flank her—Gray on her left and Ranon on her right.

  Vae wagged her tail in greeting, then trotted out of the room.

  Well, that explained why the Scelties had relaxed a bit. Vae had been watching the guests and hadn’t given a call to battle.

  What was she supposed to say to these men about being regarded with such suspicion just because they had asked to see her? Her former court hadn’t behaved this way, so she had no precedent.

  Yes, she did. Jaenelle’s court. Her First Circle would have looked more casual, but they would have been just as prepared to fight.

  Ferall gave her a quick glance before focusing on her men.