The Queen's Weapons

by Anne Bishop

“Delora, you don’t understand—”

  The sitting room door opened. Beale stepped in, his Red Jewel now worn over his pristine white shirt.

  “There are no male guests at this party,” Beale said, his voice rumbling through the room. “Leave. Now.”

  “They were invited, and they’re staying,” Delora said.

  “They aren’t guests; they’re intruders.” Beale took another step into the room.

  At the doorway, Titian saw Holt and a handful of footmen. All of them held a hand at their sides in a way she recognized meant they were holding sight-shielded weapons.

  Mother Night.

  Jaenelle Saetien looked at Hespera, then at Beale, then at Delora.

  You gave your word, Titian thought. Don’t break your word, not for her.

  Jaenelle Saetien turned back to Beale. “As the Lady of the house, I’m inviting the gentlemen to stay.”

  “As the one who is speaking for Prince Sadi, I say they go,” Beale replied.

  Titian saw her cousin hesitate, saw the look on Delora’s face before Jaenelle Saetien shouted, “I don’t take orders from a servant. They are my guests, and I say they can stay.”

  Silence.

  “Very well,” Beale finally said. He looked at each boy. “Are these all of your guests?”

  Jaenelle Saetien raised her chin. “Yes.”

  Beale took two steps back—and closed the sitting room door.

  Zoey grabbed Titian’s arm and turned her so her back was to the rest of the people in the room.

  “Are you wearing the charm Daemonar gave you?” Zoey whispered.

  “Yes,” Titian replied. She always wore it. She’d promised Daemonar she would.

  Zoey glanced past Titian and shivered. “Whatever that charm is supposed to do? Titian, it’s time to use it. Please.”

  She drew the gold chain out from beneath her dress, then pressed the mark of safe passage between her thumb and forefinger.

  *Daemonar, we’re in trouble. We need help.* She waited a moment, not sure what was supposed to happen. *Daemonar? We really need help. Please.*

  She waited a moment longer, then slipped the mark beneath her dress and looked at Zoey. “I don’t know how it’s supposed to work.”

  Zoey sighed. “Let’s get something to eat. There should be footmen in the dining room to keep an eye on things.”

  Linking arms with Zoey, she led their group of friends to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Delora called. “The party is just getting started.”

  “Some of us are hungry and prefer to be selective about who sits at our table,” Zoey replied coldly.

  Dhuran hooted. Clayton grabbed the hand of one of Zoey’s friends as she walked by and began talking to her with quiet intensity. Krellis’s eyes still glittered.

  We shield, Titian thought. We shield and we fight until help can reach us.

  She just hoped it wouldn’t take long for that help to arrive.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Beale closed the sitting room door, then turned to face Holt and the footmen who had gathered in the great hall to assist in removing the intruders.

  He swallowed his anger, let it burn away the affection that had existed since the moment that girl had been born.

  The presence of those pricks confirmed the true nature of this party—and proved the threat against Lady Zoela tonight was very real. And the threat was in this house because a girl who had been loved and protected all her life had chosen to break her word and put other girls in danger.

  “What do we do?” Holt asked quietly.

  “I don’t take orders from that child,” Beale growled. “I serve the Prince of the Darkness, the High Lord of Hell.”

  Holt’s eyes widened because he’d said the words aloud, and the newer footmen-in-training sucked in a breath. But Beale knew this . . . betrayal . . . would strip away the last illusion about the man who ruled Dhemlan and ruled this house—and ruled so much more.

  “We lock the Hall,” he said. “Those intruders got in, but they aren’t getting out until the High Lord returns.”

  He moved toward the front door, his strides measured. He called in an old seal that bore the SaDiablo crest, fit it into a metal circle embedded in the door’s wood, and turned the seal to the right. As seal and circle moved, the spells Daemon Sadi had woven into the Hall engaged, and Black shields flowed through all the outer walls of SaDiablo Hall—flowed through stone to prevent anyone from using Craft to pass through a wall; flowed over windows, whether they were open or closed, forming bars that were felt but not seen; locked every door that would allow anyone to leave the building; and wove power over the rooftops and inner courtyards, creating something like a steel mesh that would allow nothing to escape by going skyward.

  People could still enter, but no one could leave now. Not even him.

  “I’ll put a Red shield on the staircase that’s in the informal sitting room,” he said. “And engage the shields in the interior walls of that sitting room and the room beyond it.”

  Holt called in another seal and held it up. “I’ll slip around to the other side of the formal sitting room and engage the shields in those walls.”

  “It’s possible some of them have already slipped out for whatever they intend to do here,” Beale said. Whatever they intended? As if anyone now believed there were other intentions.

  “You should wake the other security Prince Sadi left in your care,” Holt replied.

  Before he could give the footmen his orders, the sitting room door opened and Lady Zoela and Lady Titian walked out, followed by their friends. But not all the girls Beale had identified as belonging to Zoela’s unofficial court were present.

  Holt was right. It was time to wake the other security and have them capture the wandering guests.

  “Ladies,” Beale said quietly. “I think it best if I escort you to your rooms.”

  “Could we have something to eat first?” Zoela asked. “Or fix up some plates to take with us?” She glanced at one of her friends. “And use the nearest water closet?”

  Two of the younger footmen had been posted at the dining room door and hadn’t reported any trouble, so it should be safe for the Ladies to stay there long enough to eat. And one of the girls did look distressed. He assigned two of the senior footmen who had been in the great hall to escort that girl to the nearest necessary and then stand guard inside the dining room while the younger footmen remained at the door.

  He escorted Lady Zoela and the other girls to the dining room. A psychic probe detected no one else in the room and nothing seemed to be amiss when he opened the door and scanned the serving dishes arranged on a long table. After telling the footmen not to allow anyone else in the dining room except the one girl who would be escorted by the senior footmen, Beale hurried to the informal sitting room, engaged the interior defenses that would keep the intruders confined, then headed for the butler’s pantry to summon the Scelties—and release the cats.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  When something more feral than cold rage shivered through the sitting room across from the Queen’s suite, Karla looked up from the story she’d been reading aloud. “What’s wrong?”

  Witch’s sapphire eyes had that distant look of someone seeing something beyond the immediate room. She tilted her head as if trying to locate a sound.

  “Blood sings to blood,” she said softly. “Titian has engaged the gift Daemonar asked me to make so that he would hear her when she couldn’t call for help any other way.”

  “But she’s at a house party at the Hall, isn’t she?” Karla rose and dropped the book on the chair. “Sadi should be there.”

  “And still Titian is calling her brother for help.”

  Which meant Sadi wasn’t at the Hall for some reason—or Daemon’s temper had
snapped the leash and he was the danger.

  “Daemonar isn’t answering,” Witch said. “I’d feel him if he answered.”

  “Maybe he’s beyond her reach.”

  “But not mine, and as long as he’s within my reach, he’ll hear her call.”

  “Unless he’s riding the Winds.”

  Witch nodded.

  “Do we wait?” Karla asked.

  “No,” Witch said in that midnight, cavernous, sepulchral voice that seemed to rise from somewhere deep in the abyss. “I’ll send the other weapons.”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  I promised, Jaenelle Saetien thought as rising panic made her stomach churn. I made a promise before witnesses. And she’d broken it. Why had she broken it? Why had she said that to Beale about him being a servant? He must be so angry with her. And when her father found out!

  She shivered as she looked at Delora talking with Krellis as if nothing had happened, as if everything was going to be all right and they would receive nothing more than a slap on the wrist for being naughty.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  When she was around Delora, her father’s rules didn’t seem to matter. Seemed archaic. Moth and flame. That was what she and Delora were. Moth and flame. Delora was so compelling and exciting and knowledgeable about everything aristo and was so different from her own family, who were so hampered by duty they seemed stodgy in comparison. Not that she didn’t love her father and uncle, but in some ways, they were such rubes who weren’t interested in the excitement that could be found in the city and in things that were new.

  Now she wondered if the boys really had come to the Hall uninvited or if Delora and Hespera had arranged for them to be there, and that was why Delora had pushed her to convince her father to let the party continue.

  Now she wondered how the boys had known when to arrive, slipping into the Hall so soon after her father had left.

  She walked up to Delora and Krellis at the same time Hespera joined them, smiling as if she knew a particularly delicious, and nasty, joke.

  “Tacita is such a flirt,” Hespera said. “She can turn anyone’s head and have him standing at attention.”

  Jaenelle Saetien stared. Was Hespera saying that Tacita was trying to arouse someone who worked at the Hall? That she had aroused . . . ? “The boys have to leave. Now.” Before there is no way to fix this.

  “Don’t be such a sniveling little girl,” Hespera said. “Or does the butler still wipe your little nose—and other things?”

  She turned on the other girl. “Shut up, Hespera.”

  Delora waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Stop being such a rube, Jaenelle Saetien. Your father isn’t going to do anything because a few of the boys came to the party.”

  Had Delora really said that? Did she really think that? “I agreed that Beale would be in charge and would act on my father’s behalf. I gave my word. And Beale told the boys to leave.”

  “The butler,” Krellis sneered. “True aristos don’t take orders from servants. Then again, your mother is probably used to taking orders from all kinds of men.”

  “You’re the one who foolishly gave your word,” Delora said with a sniff. “If there’s a problem—”

  “I’ll forfeit my Jewel—and so will you and all your friends,” she snapped.

  Delora looked startled—and, finally, just a little frightened. “He was bluffing. He wouldn’t do that to his daughter because of a few extra people at a party.”

  “My father doesn’t bluff.” Jaenelle Saetien caught a glimpse of Clayton and one of Zoey’s friends slipping out the door on the other side of the sitting room. She looked at Krellis. “And you should know that any male who has sex at the Hall without my father’s permission will be skinned alive. He doesn’t bluff about that either.”

  She hurried out of the sitting room. She’d been so stupid. Whatever Delora had in mind for this house party, it wasn’t to mend any differences with Zoey.

  And yet . . . If Delora came after her and apologized for dismissing her concerns and made the boys’ arrival sound reasonable, would she be able to resist the glitter and excitement that was Delora and align herself with Zoey, who had such prosaic ideas of fun?

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” Krellis said.

  “There are too many guards at the school. This was the best chance of taking care of Insipid Zoey and some of her friends,” Delora said. “And no one knows you left the school. You paid the gatekeeper enough to keep him quiet?”

  Krellis nodded. “But I want to be gone before—”

  “Hell’s fire,” one of the boys said, pushing against something that blocked the open window. “There are shields over the windows! We can’t get out that way.”

  “Well, I guess I have to persuade my ‘friend’ that I’ve seen the error of my ways and get her to convince the butler to open the door and let you leave,” Delora said.

  Hespera shook her head. “Insipid went into the dining room. By now she’ll be needing whatever Krellis wants to give her.”

  Delora smiled and gave Krellis an arch look. “How long does it really take for you to get the job done?”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Finding nothing amiss at the school for half-Bloods, Daemon still sent commands to the District Queens and their Masters of the Guard to be alert to any attempts to attack the girls in their villages.

  As he strode toward the landing web, he felt Surreal tap his first inner barrier with a Gray psychic thread.

  *Anything?* he asked.

  *Nothing,* she replied. *It was a ruse.*

  *We had to be sure.*

  Then a midnight, sepulchral voice full of feral, icy rage filled his mind before he could break the link with Surreal. *Daemon, you’re needed at the Hall. Now.*

  *Mother Night,* Surreal whispered.

  Daemon broke the link with Surreal as gently as he could. If something had provoked Witch’s temper and she was giving him that command, he knew which aspect of his own temper needed to reply, and it wasn’t the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan or the High Lord of Hell.

  It was the Sadist.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Beale looked at the two shadows Prince Sadi had left with him, to be used if that kind of protection was needed. One was a shadow of Kaelas, the eight-hundred-pound Arcerian cat who had been a Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince. The other shadow was Jaal, who had been a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince—and a six-hundred-pound tiger.

  He opened his first inner barrier and offered the shadows and the four Scelties careful images of Ladies Zoela and Titian and the other girls he’d identified as their friends. “These witches need protection. Find them. Take them to Helene.” He offered an image of the Hall’s housekeeper so they would know her on sight. “Capture but don’t kill any males who are with the girls and don’t serve this house.”

  “We will find the human females,” the Sceltie Warlord Prince said.

  Dogs and cats left the servants’ dining room, the only place in this part of the Hall that was large enough to hold cats that size—after Beale vanished the table and chairs.

  He remembered the real Kaelas and Jaal and had no illusions about what he’d unleashed in the Hall. The Scelties would herd the girls to safety, and the shadows would capture any males they found wandering where they didn’t belong. But if any of those girls showed fear of the boy who was with them . . .

  Well, everything had a price.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  *Lucivar. You’re needed at the Hall. Now.*

  Hearing that midnight voice, Lucivar abandoned the game of hawks and hares he’d been playing with young Andulvar, walked out of the family room in his eyrie, and headed for the front door. He wasn’t surprised that
the command had come, but the location troubled him.

  “Lucivar?” Marian hurried after him.

  Feeling an icy calm settle over him, Lucivar called in the double-buckle fighting belt that Eyriens wore in battle. He slipped the fighting knife in the sheath and then sheathed the palm-sized knife between the belt buckles. Two more knives went into sheaths in his boots.

  “Lucivar . . . ?”

  “Trouble at the Hall.” Leather gauntlets closed over his wrists and forearms before he used Craft to fit the light leather vest and chain mail over the shirt he’d been wearing for an evening at home.

  “But Titian’s there,” Marian said.

  He looked at his wife, saw her coat a mother’s fear with a woman’s courage. “I know.”

  *Rothvar,* he called to his second-in-command. *There’s trouble at SaDiablo Hall. Put the men on alert in case that trouble is meant to draw me away from here.*

  *I’ll bring Nurian and our children to your eyrie. Easier to defend all of them that way,* Rothvar replied.

  “Bring Titian home, Lucivar,” Marian said.

  He nodded and walked out of the eyrie, still wrapped in an icy calm. That would crack soon enough, and when it did, his hot, volatile temper would be another weapon on a killing field.

  Except . . .

  Won’t get there in time. Not from here. Not even riding the Ebon-gray Winds will get me there in time to protect my girl.

  Then he saw it, felt it, the crack and sizzle of power that dwarfed his own.

  Black lightning.

  Only once had Jaenelle Angelline offered him the terrifying and thrilling experience of riding black lightning with her. It wasn’t like the Winds, which were set out in webs with predictable tether lines and radial lines. Black lightning ran deeper than the Black Winds and was so much faster. But it was dangerous because there was no way to predict the shape of each bolt and no way to recover from a miscalculation. He could die making this run.

  But it might get him to the Hall in time to save Titian.