by Anne Bishop
All that precision gave him a headache.
“High Lord,” Gray said.
When Gray hesitated, Saetan supplied the rest. “You have something you want to discuss, but it needs to be in confidence.”
“Yes,” Gray said.
“Will my keeping this confidence put anyone I care about at risk?”
A hesitation before Ranon said, “No one in Kaeleer.”
Interesting answer. “Very well.”
As soon as they had that much assurance from him, they both relaxed.
Gray called in a folded paper and held it out. “We’d like you to read this and tell us what we should fix. Powell said this is a copy, so you can mark it up if you want to.”
Saetan called in his half-moon glasses, unfolded the paper, and read the carefully written words.
Mother Night. These children had balls.
“Are you trying to start a war or avoid one?” he asked.
“Avoid one,” they replied.
Thank the Darkness for that. “Then there are a few phrases that should be reworded.”
As he turned toward a chair where he could work, he felt another dark presence in the Keep. Ranon and Gray felt it too and knew who was approaching the room. Since neither of them asked him to do anything to keep this meeting private, he settled into the chair, called in a lap desk and a pen, and began rereading the document that would break a Territory.
Lucivar walked into the room. A slashing glance at Gray and Ranon, an assessing look at him, and his Eyrien son had seen enough to know this wasn’t a battlefield.
Which didn’t mean Lucivar wouldn’t turn it into one if he decided there was a reason.
“Gray,” Lucivar said. “Ranon. What brings you here?”
The question wasn’t as idle as it sounded. Ebon-gray was asking Purple Dusk and Opal to explain their presence—and would get an explanation one way or another.
Since dealing with Lucivar had been a valuable lesson for all the boyos in Jaenelle’s First Circle, Saetan pretended to be unaware of this particular pissing contest. He didn’t want Gray and Ranon to get hurt, but he wasn’t going to step in unless it was necessary because every man needed to know when to stand and when to yield.
Gray glanced at Ranon, who nodded slightly.
“The Shalador reserves and the five southern Provinces are breaking from the rest of Dena Nehele to form a new Territory,” Gray said.
“That makes the Heartsblood River your northern boundary?” Lucivar asked.
“How did you know?” Ranon asked.
Foolish boy, Saetan thought, looking up to watch this part of the drama. An Eyrien could see a great deal from the air while riding the currents. Especially when that Eyrien was an Ebon-gray Warlord Prince.
Lucivar shrugged—and then winced so slightly no one but family would notice. “It’s a natural border, not to mention a means of travel and a source of water. Stands to reason you’d want to hold on to one side of it. How many Warlord Princes on your side of the line?”
“About forty,” Gray said. “That’s almost half of the adult Warlord Princes in Dena Nehele.”
“Adult,” Lucivar said. He gave Ranon a long look. “If this gets messy, your brother will end up on the killing fields with the rest of you. You know that.”
“I know,” Ranon said quietly.
“That’s why I’m looking over this document,” Saetan said. “To try to avoid the necessity of anyone standing on a killing field because of a preference for one Queen over another.”
Another assessing look at him before Lucivar focused on the other two men. “Have Talon deliver the copy of the document to Grayhaven. He’s the one man Theran won’t challenge.”
Saetan crossed out a sentence and wrote his changes in the margin. “And be sure to have a copy of the final, signed document brought here to the Keep. Documents can be lost or destroyed in a Territory when it’s convenient to hide information. Nothing can touch them here.”
That wasn’t quite true, but there was no one else in the room, including Lucivar, who could destroy a race so completely that all trace of them was eliminated from all the Realms.
Gray had brought a map of Dena Nehele, so while he, Ranon, and Lucivar reviewed how to make the best use of the trained warriors they had, Saetan worked through Powell’s draft, making subtle word changes that would place the burden of war squarely on Theran Grayhaven’s shoulders. Only a fool would start a war under these circumstances.
Of course, a man driven to serve a particular Queen could be ten times a fool. He might hate himself for it, but he’d still follow the Queen’s command and be her instrument.
They would all have to wait and see how firmly Kermilla held Theran’s leash.
He finished his changes, read them again, and then handed the document back to Gray. The Warlord Princes from Dena Nehele didn’t linger, and Saetan thought that was wise. News would travel. Rumors would begin. The sooner the official document was in the open, the better.
When they were gone, Saetan looked at Lucivar. “Well?”
“Gray and Ranon are solid,” Lucivar replied, rubbing his left biceps. “And they’re a good team. You fix their paper?”
“Yes, I did. It’s still possible that Kermilla can goad Theran hard enough to try to start a war, but I don’t think he’ll be equally successful in convincing enough Warlord Princes to join him on that particular killing field.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Saetan waited a moment. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing.”
“Would you like to answer that question again without lying to your father?”
Lucivar made a face. “It’s nothing. A bruise. She didn’t break skin.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, Hell’s fire, the woman’s got some temper when she’s riled.”
“What did you do to upset Marian?”
“I was being considerate. Don’t women want men to be considerate?” Lucivar looked like a puppy who had gotten smacked and had no idea what he’d done wrong.
It took a formidable amount of self-control to convey nothing but calm interest, but he did it. “Of course they do, but wives also expect to have sex with their husbands on occasion.” After waiting a beat, he added, “I take it you and Marian have resumed making love.”
“I don’t think there was any love in this particular bite,” Lucivar growled. “But, yeah, we had sex.”
“In that case, my darling, why are you here?”
This time Lucivar didn’t try to hide the wince. “The village theater group is putting on a play tonight. It’s a comedy. With singing. More or less.”
Saetan waited. “Are you asking me to watch Daemonar this evening or accompany Marian to the play?”
Lucivar gave him a pained look.
Everything has a price, boyo. “What time should I come over to watch the boy?” Saetan tipped his head to indicate the clock on the mantel.
Lucivar looked at the clock and sighed. “Now?”
Saetan headed for the closest courtyard that had a landing web. “You are planning to get cleaned up, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.
“If I can have the damn bathroom to myself, it doesn’t take me more than five minutes,” Lucivar muttered.
If she really wants to see this play, she’s going to clobber him, Saetan thought. “Go. Tell Marian I’ll be there by the time you’re ready to leave. And Lucivar? If you’re smart, you’re going to give your Lady more than just sex tonight.”
Lucivar went out the first available exit and launched himself skyward.
Saetan sent out a light psychic thread to the woman he considered the perfect match for his volatile son. *Marian?*
*Uncle Saetan?* Surprise turned to concern. *Lucivar was supposed to see you.*
*He did. He’ll be home in a minute. I apologize for the delay, but a meeting with two Warlord Princes from Dena Nehele had to take priority.*
*And h
e didn’t contact me because he wanted to wiggle out of going to the play tonight?*
Probably, but not consciously. Lucivar would rather crawl over broken glass than see a comedic play that included singing, but he wouldn’t shrug off an event Marian wanted to attend.
*I’ll be over in a few minutes to watch Daemonar. Lucivar swears he can get cleaned up and be ready to leave for you to get to the play on time.*
*So I should be understanding when he comes roaring in?*
Hearing the amusement—and the love—in the words, Saetan smiled. *Darling, make him work for it. It won’t hurt him.*
Her laughter filled the link between them before she broke the thread—no doubt to deal with the husband who had just come thundering home.
Smiling, Saetan shook his head. “She used to be a gentle hearth witch before she had to deal with all of us.” He felt the leash slip on his self-control and heard a peculiar sound come from behind his clenched teeth.
Imagining how well Marian would deal with Lucivar, Saetan leaned against a wall, let go of self-control, and laughed himself silly.
CHAPTER 40
TERREILLE
Three copies of a document that would break a land that had survived cruelty she couldn’t imagine, even when she heard some of the stories about Dena Nehele’s past. Three copies of a document that would change all of their lives.
And change nothing that matters the most, Cassidy thought as she carefully pressed her seal into the wax on the third copy—and heard the whole First Circle release the breath they’d been holding while she took this last step.
As soon as she sat back, Powell pulled the copy away and positioned it in the center of the big table, along with the other two copies.
“Done,” her Steward said. “Talon?”
“I’ll take the copy up to the Keep first.” Talon carefully rolled two of the documents and vanished them. Then he hesitated. “Once I hand this paper to the High Lord and it’s acknowledged at the Keep, the path is chosen. There’s no going back.”
He was giving her one last chance to walk away. A Queen’s wants, wishes, and will came first, no matter the cost.
“Safe journey, Prince Talon,” Cassidy said.
Her legs felt shaky, so she sat at the table while Talon and the rest of the court left the room. Naturally, Ranon and Gray were last and kept glancing at her as if trying to decide if they should stay or leave.
Shira made it simple by shoving the two of them out of the room. Before the Black Widow could close the door for a private chat, Reyhana slipped into the room.
“I want to help.” Reyhana squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
How much death has this girl already seen? Cassidy wondered. How much more will she have to see? “You serve in my Second Circle, Sister, so you most certainly are going to help.” She stood up and felt reassured that her legs weren’t as wobbly as they’d been a few minutes ago. “I could use a bit more to eat than the half piece of toast I choked down earlier. After that, why don’t the three of us review what needs to be done?”
“Don’t we first have to find out what Theran is going to do?” Shira asked.
Cassidy shook her head as she joined them at the door. “War or not, we’ve got two months before spring. Fields will need to be plowed, and crops will need to be sown—and the Queens need to affirm their bond to the land. We need to make sure all the Queens know how to enrich the land, we need to confirm that the villages—landen and Blood—have the plows and other tools they need for their farms and—”
“All right!” Shira said, laughing. “All right. Point taken. We have plenty to do.”
Cassidy looked at Shira and knew that, for a moment, they both pictured an orchard of honey pear trees growing out of the bodies of the dead.
Then they both pushed that image aside, and the three of them went to Cassidy’s study and got on with the business of living.
EBON ASKAVI
Saetan read the document carefully. Then, assured that Powell had made all the changes he’d written on the draft, he set the document on the library’s large blackwood table and vanished his half-moon glasses. “We’ll make sure this is preserved. A place will be set aside in the library for any other documents or work from Shalador Nehele that you want preserved outside of your land.”
“Thank you,” Talon replied.
Saetan studied the demon-dead Warlord Prince who had been a friend of Jared and Lia. “This is hard for you.”
“Yes, it’s hard. Not so much that it happened, but the reason why it happened. Makes me wonder what I’ve been fighting for these past three hundred years.”
“I can tell you that,” Saetan said. “You’ve been fighting for honor and to protect what you cherish.”
“I failed him.” Talon shook his head. “Theran doing this means I failed him.”
“You don’t know that. Until he steps up to the line and makes the choice to start a war, you don’t know that. And if there is enough of Jared in him, he may surprise you.”
“I served a Queen before I turned rogue. She was the reason I turned rogue. I never felt the pull with her that I feel with Cassie. I don’t think I could turn away from Cassie, no matter what she did at this point.”
“That bond can wane or break, like any other kind of love,” Saetan said. Having faced the possibility of killing a son in order to save his Queen, he knew what Talon was feeling, but there wasn’t much comfort he, or anyone else, could give this man.
“It’s too late in the morning for you to be traveling back to Dena Nehele,” Saetan said. “I’ll show you to a guest room where you can rest until sunset.”
KAELEER
A simple message was sent from the High Lord of Hell to Lord Khardeen, Lady Sabrina, and Prince Daemon Sadi. It said:
Dena Nehele has broken. Shalador Nehele rises with Cassidy as its Queen. May the Darkness have mercy on them.
TERREILLE
Theran read the document a second time, then stared at the man who had raised him and loved him—and was now an enemy.
“Why?” He tossed the document on his desk. “Hell’s fire, Talon, why?”
“It’s clear enough,” Talon replied.
“It’s not clear,” Theran snapped. “Nothing is clear. You broke Dena Nehele. You broke the land that survived generations of twisted Queens and Dorothea SaDiablo’s hatred for the sake of a bitch who should be leaving instead of trying to take control.”
“I could say the same about you. And that’s the last time you get to call my Queen a bitch without blood being shed.”
Sick, scared, and furious, Theran clenched his teeth to avoid saying anything more. Talon would shed blood. Even his.
“You can’t do this. She took a third of the Territory.”
“Cassidy didn’t take anything. The Provinces were free to make their choice.”
“And what price would they pay if they didn’t make the choice Lady Cassidy wanted?” Theran asked bitterly.
“You’re trying to dress Cassidy in another woman’s temper,” Talon said.
“You’re asking questions that don’t fit her as a woman or a Queen, so maybe you’re really wondering about someone else.”
Theran rocked back on his heels, not sure how to answer that—and sure he didn’t want to answer that. “Talon, breaking Dena Nehele isn’t the answer.”
“Is Cassidy going to be the Queen of Dena Nehele two months from now?”
“No, she is not!”
“Then this is the only answer that gives both sides a choice besides war.”
“Choice.” The word hooked its claws into him and left his heart bleeding. “You call this a choice? Kermilla will never accept this.”
“She isn’t the Queen yet.”
“She’s going to be.”
“But she isn’t the Queen yet. And I guess, right now, that makes you the unofficial ruler of Dena Nehele. So it’s up to you to accept this.”
Theran staggered back a step. No Queen. No femal
e hand to guide them once it became known that Cassidy had turned away from the Provinces north of the Heartsblood River.
No Queen again. At least, not until Kermilla formed a court.
“I guess I’m no longer part of Cassidy’s court,” Theran said.
“You don’t serve the Queen of Shalador Nehele, so, no, you’re no longer part of the court.”
So much sadness in Talon’s eyes.
“Talon . . . are you really going to stand against me?”
“Let us go, Theran. We don’t want a war, but if you send men against us or our Queen, we will fight. And I tell you now, boy, if we meet on a killing field I will do everything I can to destroy you.”
Theran’s eyes stung. He blinked away the tears. “That’s it then.”
“Yes, that’s it.” Talon walked to the study door and opened it. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “May the Darkness embrace you, Theran.”
Theran said nothing until Talon left the room. Then he whispered, “And you, Talon. And you.”
Kermilla tapped on the study door and swallowed her resentment—again—about being locked out of Theran’s study. That would change once she was the Queen. Yes, that would certainly change. But for now, she couldn’t demand to know what had happened between Theran and that awful Prince Talon. Just looking at the man’s maimed hand and the way he walked because of the missing part of his right foot made her shudder. At least she wouldn’t have to consider him for her court, no matter how Theran felt about him.
She knocked on the door, louder this time. And this time it opened.
When she walked in, Theran was pacing, the restless movement of a man incapable of remaining still. And the look on his face . . .
“What happened?” she asked. “Did something happen to your cousin?” Not that she cared a finger snap about Gray since he’d been so rude to her, but Theran did care, so it was appropriate to show concern.
“He’s lost his mind, that’s what happened,” Theran snapped. “With help, I’m sure, from that Shalador bastard Ranon.”
That didn’t tell her anything. “Theran . . .”