Shalador's Lady

by Bishop, Anne

“No, I’m not giving in, but you’re talking about war.”

  The thought of empty chairs around the table kept her arguing. “When Theran leaves it will break the court. We’ll have an unofficial court going up against an official one.”

  “You don’t know that,” Talon said. “He needs to convince eleven other men to serve Kermilla, and I don’t think that’s going to be an easy task.” He nodded at Gray. “And we’ve already got his replacement.”

  “Remember the lessons I was taking at the Keep?” Gray asked her. “I was training to be a First Escort. To be your First Escort. I’m qualified, Cassie. The High Lord, Daemon, and Lucivar all agree I can serve you and the court in this way. And the High Lord gave me this.” He called in a sheet of paper and handed it to her.

  She read it and landed in the chair. Hard. “Mother Night, he’s not hiding his teeth, is he?”

  Not a dismissal that would allow Theran to honorably accept another contract, but a kind of demotion that would have made Queens in Kaeleer take a wary look at the man if he came looking for a position of power in one of their courts.

  “That letter is a well-phrased kick in the balls,” Talon said. “It will be even more impressive once Powell copies it over and it bears your signature and seal. And the day after Theran gets that letter, you can count on every Warlord Prince within Dena Nehele’s borders and in the Tamanara Mountains knowing that Jared Blaed is now the First Escort to the Queen of Dena Nehele.”

  Gray sat beside her. “You’ve shown us what’s possible. We’re going to fight to keep what you’ve given us.”

  Cassidy pushed away from the table, needing a little space, needing to move, to think.

  She’d thought her men would step aside for Theran’s choice because he was the last Grayhaven. But they were going to fight. Not just for her. She never would accept a war and the loss of life just to keep her in power. But this wasn’t about her anymore. Not really. This was about holding on to the very things the Blood had said they wanted when she first came to Dena Nehele—a land that lived by the Old Ways, that held itself to the Blood’s code of honor.

  Weren’t those the same things Lia and Jared had fought to keep in Dena Nehele for as long as possible?

  A Sceltie fights for the ones who belong to her. So does a Queen.

  She turned and looked at them. All of them.

  Everything has a price. But, sweet Darkness, don’t let this price be too high.

  “All right,” she said. “We fight.”

  Fierce pride filled their eyes, and she hoped with everything in her that she would remain worthy of that pride.

  Her legs suddenly felt shaky, so she returned to the table and sat down. Clasping her hands and pressing them against the table, she gave Talon a pleading look. “Isn’t there some other way?” Would they even consider bringing this to a tribunal of Queens if she could arrange to get one?

  “None of us are afraid of fighting,” Talon said.

  “There may be an alternative to war,” Powell said quietly. “Especially since Kermilla has conveniently given us justification to act.”

  Cassidy looked at the men, who all seemed to be weighing Powell’s words on some internal scale. “I don’t understand.”

  Talon rubbed his chin and said thoughtfully, “I doubt Theran knows Kermilla sent you that letter. Poor tactics. We’ve known since he met her that he wanted her to be the Queen, but I figured he wouldn’t make it an official challenge until he had the men who would form her First Circle. And he wouldn’t want that court made public until close to the time when the contract he signed with you was finished because that would give you less time to respond and find someone to take his place.” He gave her a fierce smile. “Kermilla made the first move without having sufficient backing. Now we can hit hard and fast.”

  Leaning back in his chair, looking like a predator at ease, Talon said, “Powell, what’s your alternative to war?”

  “Secession,” Powell said.

  Silence.

  Cassidy looked around the table and saw shock on everyone’s faces.

  “The Shalador reserves don’t have enough land,” Ranon protested. “We wouldn’t be able to support the people without getting some of what we need from the other Provinces. Not for a good many years yet. And three reserves mean three battlegrounds. We don’t have enough trained warriors left to lead anyone else willing to fight. Not against the rest of Dena Nehele.”

  “I wasn’t referring to just the Shalador reserves, Ranon,” Powell said. “You’re not taking into account the influence Lady Cassidy has had on the southern Provinces. I think given the choice of living in a Territory called Dena Nehele that is ruled by Lady Kermilla or living in a newly formed Territory ruled by Cassidy, they will be more interested in who rules the land than what the land is called.”

  “You have a map of Dena Nehele in your office?” Talon asked.

  Nodding, Powell called in the map and spread it out on the table.

  “I had some time this afternoon to consider a few things the rest of you may not have thought about yet in terms of incentive,” Powell said as Talon studied the map. “The loan Gray acquired from Prince Sadi is a loan specifically to Lady Cassidy’s court, not the Queen of Dena Nehele’s court.”

  Cassidy jerked in her seat. So did several of the men.

  Powell smiled a tight smile. “Exactly. Prince Sadi was very precise in the wording of that loan. It doesn’t transfer to another Queen. If Cassidy’s court dissolves, the loan ends, and the Prince is within his rights to demand immediate repayment of whatever funds were used. However, the loan was not specific to Dena Nehele in terms of a name or boundaries. So if Dena Nehele is split between the Queens, any Provinces still under Cassidy’s rule could continue to request help for their people and businesses. Provinces under Kermilla’s rule could not make use of the loan and benefit from Prince Sadi’s generosity.”

  “Oh, but . . .” Cassidy began.

  “No!” several male voices replied.

  “Everything has a price, Cassie,” Gray said. “The Blood who want Kermilla to rule can’t have you taking care of them.”

  He was right. She knew he was right, but she thought of the letters she’d read that morning from the northern Queens and wondered what dreams might be crushed under the weight of Kermilla’s wardrobe.

  “The Heartsblood River is the natural border between two Provinces,” Talon said, running a finger along the map. “It begins in the Tamanara Mountains and runs all the way to Reyna’s Lake on the western border. That would give us five Provinces, plus the Shalador reserves. Plenty of fresh water. Some small lakes and lots of streams and creeks for fishing. Farmland and pastureland. Some woodlands that can be nurtured and allowed to grow back. That will help rebuild the deer herds and other meat animals.”

  Feeling dizzy, Cassidy leaned against Gray. “Everything south of the Heartsblood River? That’s almost a third of Dena Nehele!”

  “Seems fair to me,” Talon said. “That’s enough land to stand on its own as a Territory, but not so much it would feel like a grab without the honesty of a fight.”

  “It will be important to emphasize that we’re doing this to avoid a civil war,” Powell said. “We don’t want our families or the people we have promised to rule and protect to live under Kermilla’s hand. Instead of embroiling the Blood in a devastating fight, Lady Cassidy is relinquishing her claim to Dena Nehele and establishing this new Territory for the Blood who want to live by the Old Ways and want her guidance in order to do it.”

  “Hell’s fire,” Shaddo said, breaking the silence that followed Powell’s words. “I’d be ashamed to fight against men who wanted that.”

  “I hope you remember what you just said,” Talon told Powell. “I think we’re going to need something in writing.”

  “I’ll draft something,” Powell said. “With the Lady’s permission.”

  Feeling a bit battered—and wondering why they were bothering to ask her permission when they were barr
eling forward with a speed that left her breathless—Cassidy nodded.

  “If Jared Blaed and Ranon are agreeable, I’d like them to show my draft to the High Lord and get his opinion,” Powell said. “In confidence. He has a way with words, and we’re trying to avoid a war, not start one.”

  “We can do that,” Gray said, glancing at Ranon. “Once we’ve declared ourselves independent of Dena Nehele, I’d like Lucivar to come here for a day or two to give his opinion about what kind of defenses we need and where. No offense to you or your ability, Talon, but . . .”

  “No offense taken,” Talon said. “Lucivar Yaslana has been feared for centuries for what he does on a killing field. We’d be fools not to take advantage of his experience and listen to any suggestions or advice he wants to give.”

  “I think Jared Blaed and Ranon should meet with the Warlord Princes in the five southern Provinces,” Shaddo said.

  “Why?” Ranon asked.

  “First Escort and the Master of the Guard’s second-in-command? Your words are going to hold a lot of weight with the other Warlord Princes. You, Ranon, have always stood for the Shalador people. Jared’s people. And Jared Blaed is descended from Thera and Blaed. Balanced against Theran using the Grayhaven name and being Lia’s last descendant, I’d say that evens the field.”

  “So we move fast,” Powell said. “Cassie sends the letter to Theran, stripping him of the title of First Escort, citing his failure to honorably perform his duties as the reason for the demotion. As the High Lord suggested.”

  “He’ll start recruiting openly in response,” Archerr said.

  “In the northern Provinces,” Talon said. “He doesn’t know Kermilla showed her hand, so he’ll start talking to the Warlord Princes farthest away from Eyota. Also, I suspect he’s been giving those men the impression that Cassie is going back to Dharo in the spring, leaving Kermilla a clear field, and that there won’t be an established Queen and court to challenge the upstart. Unless a man is truly drawn to Kermilla, he’ll think twice about signing on to serve in her court when he realizes it means going up against the ruling Queen and her court.”

  “I think those of us who have been acting as court liaisons for the southern Provinces should head out tomorrow and set up the meetings,” Haele said. “Make it an official request to meet with the new First Escort and the Master’s second-in-command. It would also be good if we told them the Queens would be welcome to have an audience with Cassidy.”

  “They’re always welcome,” Cassidy said, looking at her men. This might not end up being a war, but they were still preparing for a kind of battle.

  “One last thing,” Powell said. “What are we going to call this new Territory?”

  Cassidy looked at Ranon, who kept his eyes fixed on the table. “Ranon?” she said softly.

  Obeying the sound of her voice, he looked at her.

  Hope. The fulfillment of a dream. But for the first time since she’d met him, he was holding back, acting with fierce restraint.

  “You and your people have dreamed for a long time that you would have a place of your own again,” she said. “That you would live in a land called Shalador.”

  Ranon looked around the table. Cassidy’s heart ached with pride as every man nodded, giving his blessing to the name.

  Ranon’s dark eyes filled with tears. He blinked them away. Then he said, “We have dreamed of this, but the Shalador people won’t build this new land alone, and the name should reflect all the people who call this land their home.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Shalador Nehele. I would like to call our new land Shalador Nehele.”

  Cassidy swallowed hard to push down the lump in her throat. “That’s a fine name.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Talon said, looking at her.

  “It’s settled,” she agreed.

  She’d barely said the words when someone tapped on the door. Dryden and the footman entered, carrying a tray of glasses and bottles of sparkling wine.

  Seeing the number of bottles, Talon and Powell glanced at each other, then shrugged. Clearly, they had both sent an order to Dryden in anticipation of reaching an agreement.

  Bottles were opened and glasses were filled.

  The men and Shira raised their glasses.

  “To Lady Cassidy and the Territory of Shalador Nehele,” Talon said.

  Their voices rang all around her. “To Lady Cassidy.”

  CHAPTER 38

  TERREILLE

  The next morning, the First Circle moved quietly, and they moved fast.

  By the time Cassidy, Shira, and Reyhana had finished breakfast, Ranon and Gray were sitting down with Eyota’s elders and Tradition Keepers to explain the court’s decision to create a new Territory. By the time Cassidy and Reyhana had settled at the desk in the Queen’s office to sort and review all the requests and invitations again, the liaisons for the five southern Provinces were meeting with the Warlord Princes in those Provinces to arrange a formal visit with Ranon and Jared Blaed.

  By the time the messenger arrived at the Grayhaven estate and delivered the letter from Lady Cassidy to Prince Theran Grayhaven, every Warlord Prince who lived south of the Heartsblood River knew something was about to happen—and they began sharpening their knives.

  Worn out by a morning of useless meetings and a midday meal that still churned sour in his belly, Theran returned to the Grayhaven mansion and found Julien waiting for him. The look in the butler’s eyes chilled him because it signified another clash between butler and future Queen.

  “Prince Grayhaven.”

  “Julien?”

  Julien called in a letter and held it out to him. “After you left, Lady Kermilla went into your study and opened the mail. All the mail.”

  “Why in the name of Hell would she do that?” The words were out before he could stop himself.

  “I wouldn’t know.” The tone said the butler knew quite well why a Queen would go through mail that wasn’t addressed to her—and what happened to a man if she found something she didn’t like. “When this letter arrived, I felt it was best to deliver it to you personally since it has Lady Cassidy’s seal.”

  Shucking off his heavy coat, Theran handed it to Julien and took the letter. “I’ll be in my study.”

  “Lady Kermilla wanted to be informed the moment you returned home.”

  Should I take my time delivering the message? That was the underlying question.

  “Inform the Lady that I’ve returned,” Theran said as he walked away.

  Kermilla wanted Julien dismissed. Actually, she wanted the man banned from the town because, on his best days, Julien was barely courteous to her. On the days when memories rode him hard, he couldn’t stand being around her. Since she was still a guest, she had to tolerate the butler. Once she became Queen . . .

  Problem was, Julien was damn good at his job, took on more than a butler’s typical duties, and by standing between Kermilla and the rest of the staff, was the only reason the other servants hadn’t resigned.

  Why was everyone so resistant and so resentful? Yes, she was sometimes difficult or inconsiderate, but maturity and work that made full use of her abilities would soften those edges. Sure she had a temper, but that just meant she had spine and spirit. And that spine and spirit were the reasons Kermilla was the right Queen for Dena Nehele—the one who could represent their land and people with grace and skill.

  The servants grumbled on a daily basis, which he didn’t understand since he hadn’t seen Kermilla doing anything that justified the grumbles. He could ignore the servants for the most part, and did—as long as Julien managed to keep them from leaving. Couldn’t anyone understand that it was an anxious time for all of them and the next few weeks would be so critical? Nerves were a bit frayed and tempers were sharper than they would be normally. But once Kermilla had the assurance of her place in Dena Nehele, everything would settle down.

  Could he give her any assurance?

  The Warlord Princes he’d met with today
had listened—and had offered nothing. Not one indication that they would be willing to accept Kermilla, let alone serve her. And not one spark of interest in meeting her. There was wariness over being seen in her company because Talon had declared her an enemy of the current Queen of Dena Nehele, but there wasn’t any sign of the suppressed interest he’d expected once he’d hinted that Talon’s declaration would no longer apply come spring.

  What was he supposed to do about that? Having the backing of at least some of the Warlord Princes and minor Queens was crucial.

  He riffled through the opened mail. Invitations? Well, he didn’t mind her opening those. Not really. After all, she’d be attending those events with him, so she should have a say in which ones they accepted. But the rest . . .

  Uneasiness rippled through him, a warning that something wasn’t good, wasn’t right. Then Kermilla walked into the study, and the uneasiness was buried under his craving to be with her and use everything he was for her pleasure—whatever that pleasure might be. The uneasiness was buried, but not the anger.

  “Oh, la, Theran,” Kermilla said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t get back in time. There’s a delightful little party later this afternoon that I must attend and—”

  “Why did you open my private correspondence?” He hadn’t realized how much anger he was keeping leashed until he heard the roughness in his voice.

  She stopped moving toward the desk. She lowered her head and looked at him through her lashes while her mouth shifted into its sexy pout. “I was just trying to help. And I wanted to learn. You’re always telling me that I need to learn more about Dena Nehele.”

  “You learn by talking . . .” Listening. “. . . or asking. Not by violating someone’s privacy.”

  “Violating?” She widened her eyes. “That’s a harsh word. I just looked at a few silly old letters.”

  “No, it’s not a harsh word.” He fanned the stack of letters and the uneasiness returned. *Julien? How many letters did you put on the desk this morning?*

  *Five invitations and seven letters.*

  Theran counted them again, then moved them to make sure nothing was hidden.