Laughter rang out below and even the Bandar Queen's lips were seen to twitch with a slight hint of humor.
"Although I do not condone what my son did nor can I overlook the sins he committed, I do understand why he acted as he did." The Faolchúnna Queen stared directly into the angry eyes of her Bandar counterpart. "He was dying of loneliness, his heart shriveling in his chest because the woman to whom I had shackled him had never held even a moment's thought of love for him. We know a man driven to desperation to know a tender touch, a kind word, a moment's surcease from unrelenting isolation will act upon his first instincts and those instincts are to once again know the gentleness and affection he had known at his mother's breast." Her gaze fell upon Lauryl. "With your daughter, he found all that and more. He found love."
Queen Torreya sat up straight in her saddle. "Are you telling me this man loves my daughter?" she gasped.
"He does," Glade stated. "He loves her dearly."
Lauryl smiled so widely she could barely contain the whoop of joy that threatened to erupt.
"And you, Daughter?"
Lauryl met Glade's eye. "I love this man with all my heart. I would lay down my life for him."
Stunned silence settled over the women warriors and those assembled on the balcony and within the throne room. Glade's lips parted in amazement while his mother turned a stunned face to the young woman standing beside her. Lauryl's mother was so shocked by her daughter's words the Bandar Queen had covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with astonishment.
"Why are they all so still?" Dell asked Moor.
"Because no hell-hag has ever dared say such a thing," Moor replied. "Men are not important in their world." She looked at Glade with speculation. "They are thought of as expendable, useless excerpt for breeding and entertainment. For her to make such a statement, the man must be one worthy enough to warrant it."
"And our brother is?" Dell asked.
Moor nodded. "It would seem so."
On the field beyond the fortress, the women warriors were looking at one another, shaking their heads, shrugging with eyebrows raised and eyes full of either surprise or uncertainty.
"Did you hear her?" one of the hell-hags asked another.
"She has proclaimed herself his bond-companion," another said, awe making her voice shudder.
"But it isn't done!" still another stated. "He's just a man!"
"Aye, but he's her man. The declaration has been made," Lady Ashlyn said quietly and the women warriors said no more.
"She doesn't look any too thrilled at this news, little brother," Slade said to his twin, nudging his chin toward the Queen of the Daughters of the Night.
"That is one very unhappy witch," Ridge agreed. "I wouldn't be you for all the tea in Haboo, Gladeson."
Staring at Queen Torreya's expression, Glade was picking up on something entirely different than the impressions his brothers were getting. He knew he was looking at a woman whose world had been turned upside down to bewilder and disappoint her. It wasn't anger that kept the Queen still and silent, but confusion.
"Will they attack us now, Ami?" King Barren asked his wife.
"No," Amélia stated. She held up her hand to gain her counterpart's attention. "It would be our honor to have you break bread with us at the nooning meal if you would be inclined to grace us with your presence, Queen Torreya. We are not equipped to feed your entire troop but if they would like to bivouac there on the plain, we will send servants out with fresh water for them. Of course your kinswomen and Lady Ashlyn as well as five or your personal bodyguards would be welcomed among us, as well."
Queen Torreya lowered her hand. It was gracious invitations that had been extended and courtesy dictated she either accept gratefully or decline politely.
"What say you, Ashlyn?" the Queen asked softly.
"I know Amélia Sandiborn from childhood, my Queen," the general replied. "There is no subterfuge here and I, for one, am curious to get a closer look at this marvel of manhood for whom Lauryl is willing to give her life."
"As am I, Mother," Princess Acacia admitted. "He's nothing more than a blur from here and if that voice is any indication, my big sister has more than a handful in him."
The Bandar Queen smiled knowingly. "Then let's hope you have the good sense not to put your hand where hers has marked the territory, 'Cia," she recommended.
"Unless you wish to draw back a nubbin," Lady Ashlyn joked.
Those women around them who had heard the remark laughed and Acacia rolled her eyes at the warning.
Rising up in her stirrups, Queen Torreya inclined her head. "We would be honored to take the noon meal with you. My youngest daughter, Lady Ashlyn and two of my personal guards will accompany me."
"That is an honor, Your Highness," Lauryl said to Glade's mother. "It says much that my mother has put such trust in you."
"A trust we will not break," Amélia declared. She linked her arm through Lauryl's. "Come, then, and let us go down to meet your mother and queen."
Glade stepped back as his mother and the woman he loved past in front of him. He met Lauryl's eyes and when she winked at him, he sighed deeply, his relieved smile pulling at his lips.
"Gladeson."
He winced as his father's hand settled firmly on his shoulder. "Aye, Father?"
"I learned long ago to never interfere in the affairs of my womenfolk. That is why I kept my mouth shut during all this. It is never wise to delve into the murky minds of females," his father said, "and I will not start now but I will give you a word of advice."
"He'll need it," Breck said as he and Glade's other brothers gathered around to hear what their father and king had to say.
King Barren glanced at his three daughters. "Go," he ordered. "Join your mother. My words are not for your ears." He waited until they were out of earshot before he tightened his grip on his son's shoulder--either not realizing or not caring that he was causing Glade great pain. "I want you to listen carefully to my words, boy, and take heed of them."
"I will, Father," Glade agreed.
Fusing his gaze with his son's, the King lowered his voice. "It is said the female is the weaker of the sexes but I know you realize that is not true. They are not weak though many's the time they will pretend to be in order to have their way. They are a sneaky bunch and a man can never truly know what they are thinking or what the real motive is behind that which they do. They will say one thing and do another. Do one thing while meaning another. It is up to the man to attempt to glean the truth behind their actions but such a thing is hard, boy, very hard, indeed. It is a wise man who tends his business with a watchful eye open wide to what his woman is doing in the background. Many a man has lost his head and heart to a woman who says one thing then does another."
Glade nodded, knowing he was to keep quiet.
"Think you on the black widow," his father suggested. "It was long believed that the female black widow devoured the male after mating but that is not always the case. Many a male lives to mate another day. Now, think on the praying mantis."
The sons of King Barren were intently listening to his words even though each of them was a bit confused about where he was leading them.
"Legend tells us the female praying mantis mates with her male then turns around and bites off the poor bastard's head. That, too, is not entirely true. In each case--the spider and the mantis--those observations were made my scientific men while watching the mating habits of the insects in a caged environment, where the defenseless male had nowhere to hide, to run. In the wild, the behavior is not the same because the little chap can scuttle away before his paramour can get her pinchers in his neck."
"Like Rolanda got hers in Glade's," Slade pointed out.
"Precisely," his father agreed. Once more he squeezed his son's shoulder. "Do you understand what I am saying to you, Gladeson?"
"No, Father," Glade said honestly.
King Barren sighed and none-too gently shook Glade. "Think about it and you will," he sa
id then released his son. He turned and began walking away.
"What the fuck was he trying to say?" Knoll inquired, his thick brows drawn together.
"I haven't got the foggiest clue," Ridge admitted. He looked at Breck who shrugged.
"If you ask me ...." Glen, the youngest of the king's sons spoke up. "He's warning Glade not to let himself get caught. It's fine for him to take his mating out in the wild but not where that hell-hag can corner him and trap him."
Glade looked over at his youngest brother with one brow cocked.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Heath said, nudging Vale in the ribs.
"I believe the sprout just might have something there," Dene told his brothers.
"Aye, it makes as much sense as anything else," Breck acknowledged.
"Think on it, my brothers," Glen said. "Glade's already paid a stiff penalty for mating with her." He held up a staying hand when Glade would have qualified the situation. "Aye, we know you didn't poke her, big bro, but nevertheless you got caught with your fingers in her honey pot and had those fingers slapped."
"Big time," Dene put in.
"But you weren't in an enclosed environment like you are here," Glen continued. "You were out and about and able to ride off if a threat was posed."
"Here, your freedom is limited," Slade reminded his twin.
"Here that female can trap you and chomp off your head," Vale remarked.
"Which one?" Heath inquired and all the brothers--save Glade--laughed at the vulgar imagery that question created.
"With a hell-hag, I'd say his pubic one instead of the public one," Knoll mumbled. "And don't tell me she hasn't wrapped that luscious mouth around your wiggly, Glade."
"Watch your mouth," Glade warned.
"I'd rather watch hers," Knoll said with a wink and then jumped back to avoid his brother's swat.
"Hell-hags are ball busters, that's for sure," Ridge said.
"Just be careful of her, Glade," Glen stressed. "Though she says she loves you and would give her life for you, don't put too much faith in her words."
Glade stiffened his shoulders though the action brought fierce pain to his back. "If there is one thing I know for a certainly about Lauryl, it is she says exactly what she means and does exactly what she says. She is as honest as the day is long."
"Winter day or summer day, Gladeson?" Breck countered. "There's a difference, you know."
"Leave him be, Breck," Ridge ordered.
"As long as he understands what I meant," Breck replied.
"I understand," Glade muttered.
"Then let's go below and meet your lady's mother before ours sends a royal summons," Ridge declared.
Chapter Eleven
Princess Acacia nudged her older sister then cocked a chin in Glade's direction. "Does he always fall asleep over his soup?" she inquired with a wide grin.
Lauryl groaned faintly. "He's tired," she said.
Glade sat directly across the table from her--between his twin and Prince Knoll. He seemed incapable of keeping his eyes open and kept jerking his head up each time it began to lower toward his chest, widening his eyes in an obvious attempt to remain awake. He was pale and each time he shifted in his seat, he winced.
Amélia sat the foot of the table as was her rightful place as the wife of the Faolchúnna king. Her husband sat opposite her at the head, his face turned toward their oldest son who sat to Barren's right. Their sons were ranged downward in rank and age from Ridge's right and their daughters were on the opposite side of the table with Meadow--as the eldest--sitting at her mother's right hand then Moor and Dell. The Bandar Queen sat in the place of honor at Barren's left hand with the Lady Ashlyn, Lauryl and Acacia next in line followed by the Queen's personal bodyguards. Eyeing her son's inability to remain awake, she called his name.
Glade's head snapped up and he found himself looking into Lauryl's concerned eyes. When the call came again, he turned to look at his mother.
"You need your rest, Gladeson," his mother said. "You may be excused."
The audible sigh of relief that came from the young man's mouth made everyone at the table smile--except his oldest sister who glared down the table at him.
"His bandages need changing, Mother," Moor said. "If I may be excused…"
"Keep your seat, daughter," Amélia ordered. "Lauryl will see to your brother's wounds."
Lauryl blinked. "I will?" she asked with surprise.
"Is he not your bond-champion?" Lauryl's mother inquired with narrowed eyes. "It is your duty to see to him."
Feeling the heat pulsing in her cheeks, Lauryl pushed back from the table. "Aye, Highness, it is."
"Slade, accompany your brother to his room then escort Princess Lauryl to her chamber when she has seen to your brother," Glade's mother told her son.
"Aye, Mother," Slade said, picking up his napkin to wipe his lips before rising.
"Why must she be sent to her room?" Queen Torreya asked in a hard tone.
"As much as we would love to have you spend the evening and night with us, Milady," King Barren answered for his wife, "the moon will be rising soon and we must all seek our rooms for rest before its call bids us answer. Out of necessity, you and your troop must be gone before the Rising."
"Ah, yes," Torreya acknowledged. "I had forgotten." The Bandar Queen looked up at her daughter. "You will be all right?" she asked.
"I will be fine, Mother," Lauryl answered. Glade had come around to her side of the table and was holding out his arm to escort her. She looked into his eyes. "I am where I want to be."
"You will take care of my daughter, Gladeson?" the Queen queried.
Glade locked gazes with his lover's mother. "I pledge my life for hers, Highness."
Torreya nodded. "That is all a mother can ask."
Lauryl moved away from the table.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" Glade asked.
"It is not the way of my tribe," she answered. "Goodbyes are reserved for deathbeds and killing fields."
When the three young people were out of the banqueting room, Queen Amélia got to her feet. Every man there rose in honor of her. She waved them back to their seats. "I remember there is a stronger salve that should be applied to Glade's back. I'll fetch it to Lauryl."
"I can do that, Mother," Moor spoke up and began to rise but was waved back down.
"So can I," her mother said firmly, continuing out of the room.
Queen Torreya turned to the Faolchúnna king. "How severe are your son's wounds?"
King Barren frowned. "They will leave deep scars," he replied. "The executioner is not known for a light hand with the lash." He reached for his wine glass, casting a slow glance to the Bandar witch. "Glade lost a considerable amount of blood and is weak. Like the rest of us, he did not sleep last eve and is now weak. A good rest would do him good but with the pull of the Moon, he will not be able to sleep this night, either."
Watching her host drain his cup, Torreya wondered if it was wine or Sustenance he took such relish in imbibing. Because she had Ascended to the Blood, was One with the Blood, her need for Sustenance was most likely as great as his own and she licked her lips, thoughts of the rich, red fluid making her mouth water.
Glade's father did not miss that tell-tale sign and smiled boldly at her. "You would like some of my headier potable, Queen Torreya?" he inquired.
She swallowed, achingly sure now what he drank was not wine. "That would be most agreeable, King Barren," she replied.
"Call me Barren," he said, motioning a steward over to refill his cup. He indicated the Bandar Queen's cup, as well. "We are practically family it seems."
"Then I would have you call me Torri," she responded as the thick crimson liquid filled her empty cup.
"Torri, it is," her host said and lifted his cup to her.
As tired as he was, Glade's footsteps up the stairs had been slow and painful, his back a wretched burning, throbbing agony that made him clench his teeth. At his side, Lauryl stroked his arm
gently but did not speak as they ascended to his chamber, one floor below the one allotted to her. Behind them, Slade was silent as well, his face holding a detached look of disinterest. Now at his door, he reached for the handle and opened it, indicating Lauryl was to precede him over the threshold.
"I'll help you get your shirt off, little brother," Slade said.
Lauryl had deliberately kept her gaze from wandering to Glade's twin for the man was a mirror image of his brother. She doubted few people--if any--could tell them apart. She could only because the light in Slade's eyes was not warm and loving as was Glade's and at the moment she looked up at Slade when he made his offer, she saw a strange light pass through his pale green gaze.
"Why?" she asked and stepped back to take a look at Glade's shirt. What she saw made her moan.
"I doubted you'd seen it," Slade said. "It wasn't that bad until he sat down at the table. "
Glade's shirt was crisscrossed with scarlet stains and it was obvious some of the streaks were stuck to the prince's back.
"I can manage," Glade said tiredly as he began unbuttoning his shirt.
"I don't think so," Slade protested and bobbed his head knowingly when Glade tried to shrug out of the garment and sucked in a harsh breath. "See what I mean?" He reached for the collar of his twin's shirt.
"No!" Lauryl said. "Wait."
Both men turned to watch her as she went to the table which held a pitcher. She picked it up and carried it to the fireplace.
"Find me something to use to heat this water," she ordered Slade.
Slade's brows clashed together then his forehead smoothed. "Ah, I think I see where you're going with this." He strode over to stand beside her and reached for the poker. "Let me heat this then I'll plunge it into the water. The water should get warm enough to do what you intend it to. "
So sleepy and weak he could was weaving where he stood, Glade made his way to the bed and sat down, lowering his head to his chest. He yawned and rubbed a tired hand over his face. He grimaced for he was in sore need of a close shave. Because of the coming Reversion, the growth that was already there was thick and heavy upon his face. If he didn't shave soon, he would have a bristly overgrowth of wiry hair covering the lower portion of his face.
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