by Anne Bishop
“I see,” Dorothea said. “Has she crossed the Tamanara Mountains?”
“No, Priestess.”
“Are you sure?”
He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “We’ll find her, Priestess. I swear it. I should have her location soon.”
Dorothea said nothing for a moment. Then, with a hint of distaste, “From your pet?”
“Yes, Priestess.”
Pet slaves had their uses, especially when it came to spying on other slaves. Using his status as Dorothea’s Master of the Guard, he had gone to Raej early to inspect the available slaves, and found one who had been more than willing to be a pet in order to gain whatever favors Hayll might grant.
Dorothea hadn’t been enthusiastic about his plan, but she had woven the spells he had requested, including the spells that would ensure that his pet was among those the Gray Lady purchased at Raej.
There was a lot of land between Hayll and the Tamanara Mountains, but those Territories now stood in Hayll’s shadow and would offer no safety. There were also plenty of marauder bands who were more than willing to hunt down a Queen if they were offered enough gold marks and a promise not to be hunted in turn. All he needed was the signal from his pet and he’d have the Gray bitch.
Dorothea let a heavy silence build while she led him through the hallways. Finally, she said, “Do you still have my present?”
Remembering the white feather, Krelis shuddered. “Yes, Priestess.”
“She always was a cunning bitch,” Dorothea said softly. “She might have anticipated an ambush at a station since that’s where the attack happened the last time. Did she have an escort waiting for her at any of those stations?“
“Yes. They were eliminated.”
“Good. That means she had intended to go to that station and whatever had changed her plans was unexpected—which means her court is probably just becoming aware that something went wrong.“
“She could have sent the escort to the station as a decoy.”
“She wouldn’t have sent them there just to die. Grizelle isn’t that practical.”
Unlike you? Krelis thought—then hastily buried that thought. “If she buys passage on another Coach . . .”
“There aren’t that many passes over the Tamanara Mountains. She’ll have to reach a station located near one of them and travel overland for some of the journey, no matter what she does.”
“She could ride the Winds.”
Dorothea shook her head. “She’s thwarted herself in that as much as she’s thwarted me. There’s some kind of spell that acts as a barrier across the Winds, preventing anyone from riding them into her Territory. Anyone trying to get into Dena Nehele from this side of the Tamanara Mountains has to use one of passes.”
She smoothed her coiled black hair. “Find out where the slaves she purchased came from. If any of them were from prominent families, she might try bartering with their kin for assistance.”
Krelis’s shoulders sagged in relief. At least he’d done this right. “I’ve already sent someone to Raej for the list, Priestess.”
Dorothea gave him a smile of approval. “I’m sure, once you have it, you’ll be able to offset your miscalculations.”
Krelis didn’t acknowledge the threat beneath the words.
Dorothea’s smile sharpened. He couldn’t tell if it indicated approval or displeasure.
They finally stopped walking when they reached a Red-locked door.
“Since you have a little time while we’re waiting for your pet to prove useful,” Dorothea purred, “I’d like you to do a favor for me.”
“Anything, Priestess,” Krelis said quickly.
A pleased, vicious light filled Dorothea’s gold eyes as she opened the door and gestured for him to enter the room ahead of her.
The darkened room stank of sweat and fear to the point where it almost overwhelmed the presence of a feminine psychic scent. Sufficient light came through the open door for him to recognize a bedchamber, but the bed was still too shadowed for him to see the occupant.
Dorothea raised her hand. The candle-lights on the bed tables brightened, softly lighting the room. Staying near the door, she gestured for Krelis to stand at the foot of the bed.
A young, naked Hayllian witch was tied spread-eagle in the center of the bed. As Krelis stared at her, she struggled against the leather straps around her ankles, trying to close her legs. Since she was also gagged, she could only make muffled sounds of distress.
It took Krelis a moment to get past the blatant, if involuntary, invitation to mount, and recognize her. He couldn’t remember her name, just that he’d seen her a couple of times several years ago when a maternal second cousin of his had been courting her. That courtship had ended swiftly, and the only thing the cousin had said afterward publicly was that they weren’t as well suited as he had thought.
But one night, over a couple of bottles of brandy, his cousin had muttered some other things about her. Since she no longer had anything to do with him or his family, Krelis had paid no attention.
Now he wished he had, just as he wished he could remember what it was about her that had made him keep his distance during his cousin’s brief courtship.
“You know her?” Dorothea asked, a dangerous edge in her voice.
Sweat trickled down Krelis’s sides. “I’ve seen her before, Priestess, but we were never formally introduced.” That, thank the Darkness, was true.
Dorothea nodded as if satisfied. “She’s a minor Queen from one of the Hundred Families. Her tendency to voice questionable opinions has caused great embarrassment and distress for her family. The latest unfortunate incident forced them to conclude that having her Virgin Night is the only thing that will settle her down.”
Krelis’s hands curled into fists. Now he remembered. A mouthy little bitch who was always criticizing the High Priestess and talking about how a Territory shouldn’t be ruled by a witch who was less than a Queen. Always talking as if she, who only wore a Rose Jewel, could gather enough Jeweled strength among the Hundred Families and the rest of Hayll to oppose Dorothea.
Not even the Hundred Families were invulnerable if Hayll’s High Priestess decided to punish disloyalty. And since the Families had gained the most from Dorothea’s rule, why would they oppose her anyway?
“I want you to take care of her Virgin Night,” Dorothea said.
Panic knotted Krelis’s guts. “Me?” His voice cracked. “But—”
“Yes, Lord Krelis?” Dorothea said with quiet malevolence.
Krelis licked his dry lips. “Priestess, I’ve never . . .”
Her amusement deepened his panic. “You regularly make use of the whores at one of the better Red Moon houses in Draega, so I doubt that you’ve never . . .” She let the words hang. He could almost see them becoming a noose around his neck. He should have realized Dorothea would make it her business to know about that, especially where it concerned the males who were the closest to her— and whose loyalty had to be watched the most carefully.
“Wouldn’t a consort be better?” Krelis stammered. “They’re trained for this kind of thing.”
“I want you to do this, Krelis. As a favor to me.” She studied him for a moment. “You needn’t be concerned about filling her belly. This isn’t her fertile time, so she’ll still have that asset when her family contracts a marriage for her.” When he didn’t say anything, she turned to leave. “I think an hour should be more than sufficient, don’t you?”
Krelis found his voice just as she was closing the door. “But . . . Priestess . . . what if I break her?”
Dorothea gave him a queer look before saying with deadly softness, “Lord Krelis, I think the question you should be asking is what will happen if you don’t?” She closed the door.
Krelis heard the click of the physical lock. Then the Red lock snapped back into place, trapping him in the room. Using Craft, he could have destroyed the physical lock, could have destroyed the whole damn door for that matter.
But his Sapphire Jewel, even though it was only one rank below the Red, wouldn’t get him through a Red lock.
Not in one piece anyway.
His bowels loosened. Afraid of soiling himself, Krelis looked around frantically and spotted two doors in the wall opposite the bed. The first one was the dressing room. The second was a small bathroom.
Fumbling with his clothing and not caring if the bitch in the other room heard his own sounds of distress, he managed to sit on the toilet before the foul-smelling waste poured out of him. Each time he thought he was empty, his belly cramped again. When it finally stopped, he flushed the stink away and just sat there, his elbows on his knees, his head braced in his hands.
To break a witch. Oh, he knew it was done all the time now. It settled down the troublesome ones all right, and it didn’t even take much effort. Make the sex rough, scare her while you’re handling her, and then one hard thrust to tear through the physical barrier. Ride her hard, each thrust driving her closer and closer to her inner web until she plunged through it, out of control. Descend quickly into the abyss, catch her before she fell so far that her mind shattered, and bring her back up. What was left was a witch closed off from her own strength, from the Jewels she had worn, from everything but basic Craft.
Simple enough.
But to break a Queen. Blood males were supposed to protect them.
Then again, since it was his duty to destroy the Gray Lady, why should he flinch about breakingthis little bitch-Queen?
With that question whirling through his head, Krelis cleaned himself and returned to the bedchamber.
From the first day he began his training as a guard, his ambition had been to serve in the High Priestess of Hayll’s First Circle. Serving a strong Lady meant prestige and privileges. Even more important, it meant safety. No one toyed with Dorothea’s males. Except Dorothea.
He’d planned to marry in a year or two. He was tired of using the whores in the Red Moon house. He wanted a woman of his own, one who wouldn’t be spreading her legs for anyone but him, one he could breed every few years to give him the offspring he wanted. His family bloodlines were good, his Sapphire Jewels were impressive enough, and his promotion to Master of the Guard guaranteed he’d be able to pick almost any witch he pleased.
Now all his plans, all his dreams might end in this stinking bedchamber because an aristo bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Anger stirred in him as he stared at her pleading eyes, as he listened to the muffled sounds she kept making.
Stupid bitch. It was her own fault she was here. It was her fault he was here. Always mouthing off as if that would change the reality of living in Hayll, as if anyone would think she could rival Dorothea. Even if she actually had the strength to rule, would she really be any different than the others? No matter what she said, she’d soon be snapping her fingers and expecting the males to dance to her tune.
That’s the way it was among the Blood now—a game of predator and prey, played out on a constantly shifting landscape of power: who wore the darkest Jewels, who had the most social prestige, who controlled the strongest males, who was the most skilled in Craft, who was the most dangerous.
Predator and prey.
Krelis stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed.
The weaker became prey. It was as simple as that.
His fear of failure churned inside him until it became a hot, throbbing anger. Since he couldn’t turn that anger on the witch who frightened him, he unleashed it on the one who feared him.
And discovered why men enjoyed breaking witches so much.
Chapter Seven
“It’s my turn to sit in the wagon,” Tomas said angrily, refusing to yield when Eryk stepped in front of him.
“You’re just a half-Blood,” the older boy said, giving Tomas a shove. “You’re just a stupid slave who has to do what he’s told.”
“So are you!” Tomas returned the shove with interest.
“Am not!” Another shove.
Swiping his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes, Jared swore under his breath as he turned around and slogged through the mud, hoping he’d reach the boys before they ended up bloodying each other’s noses—or worse, since Eryk was strong enough to wear a Yellow Jewel and Tomas didn’t have any way to protect himself. Hell’s fire, didn’t they have enough problems without having to deal with childish squabbles?
The savage muttering behind him told him that Brock and Randolf had also turned back. Good. There was nothing like annoyed adult males to shrivel a boy’s temper.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jared noticed Blaed and Thayne scrambling to reach the horses pulling the pedlar’s wagon before the shoving match spooked them.
“You don’t have any rank,” Eryk shouted. “You don’t count for anything! My family’s aristo. My family’s important. You’re just a bastard some landen bitch had because a Warlord’s dangle got stiff. You don’t deserve to sit in the wagon. You don’t deserve to eat up our food. You don’t deserve to live.”
Jared felt the emotional blows as if they had been directed at him. He was so intent on reaching the boys and letting that little prick-ass feel the lash of his temper, he didn’t see the Gray Lady until her hand connected with the back of Eryk’s head hard enough to make the boy stagger. The waves of fury coming from her hit the rest of them hard enough to make them freeze.
“How dare you?” she screamed at the cringing boy. “He has every right to his share of the supplies. He has every right to be treated with courtesy. He has every right to live, you selfish little prick!”
With a shriek of rage that had fear skittering up every male spine, she lunged at Eryk.
Jared lunged at her.
Their bodies hit with a thud. While he struggled to keep his footing in the slippery mud, she struggled to break free and reach the focus of her anger. They slid around in an ugly, fear-filled dance. Jared’s hands tightened on her upper arms hard enough to bruise, but that didn’t lessen her struggles or her venom-coated curses.
As she threw herself to the right, almost breaking his hold, her foot slipped and twisted. He saw pain beneath the fury in her eyes, felt the change in her body as she tried to ignore it.
Hell’s fire, what was he thinking of to slide around on a muddy road in the pouring rain, challenging a Gray-Jeweled Queen? The boy had no claims on him. Why should he care if she tore the little prick into pieces? All she had to do was send one bolt of power through the controlling ring and she’d have all of them rolling in the mud begging for mercy.
Since it hadn’t occurred to her yet, he wasn’t going to give her the chance to think of it.
“Lady,” he said through gritted teeth.
No response.
Fear shivered through him. Now that he’d committed himself to opposing her, he couldn’t back down and hope to remain intact. All right then. Balls and sass.
He put all the arrogance and temper he could summon into his voice. “Lady! It’s the males’ right to discipline their own.” That was true in a court. It was true in a Blood community. Slaves didn’t have that privilege, but he was hoping she was too angry to remember that.
Apparently she was because she stopped struggling. As he loosened his grip on her arms, her hands tightened on his coat, and he realized she couldn’t put her weight on her right leg.
Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against him to support and distract her—and found himself distracted by the way his body responded to being so close to hers.
A hint of wildness floated up from somewhere deep inside him. Following that instinct, Jared wrapped a faint seduction spell around her as he lightly kissed her lips.
When he was done, she just stared at him. Well, good. Now he wasn’t the only one feeling confused.
“Let us take care of the discipline,” he coaxed as he stroked her wrinkled cheek with a finger and wondered why her skin felt so delightfully soft. “Believe me, having been boys ourselves, we’re better at it.”
He he
ld his breath, waiting for her answer.
“All right,” she finally said. “Just . . . keep him away from me.”
“It will be our pleasure, Lady.”
Her lips curved in a reluctant smile. “I think this is what my father calls ‘things it’s best a Queen pretend not to know.’ ”
Calls? Her father was still alive?
“I’d say that’s just about right.” Jared put some sass into his answering smile and watched, amazed, as color flooded her cheeks.
Looking around, she finally noticed Brock and Randolf holding Eryk and Tomas, and Blaed and Thayne watching everything while they soothed the nervous horses. Twisting her upper body in the other direction, she met Thera’s frosted stare. The color in her cheeks deepened.
Feeling absurdly protective, Jared glared at Thera. She met him, look for look, and finally said in a voice so carefully neutral everyone knew she wanted to tear strips out of somebody, “Are you intending to help her into the wagon anytime soon, or are you waiting for that knee to swell up to the size of a melon?”
The Gray Lady let put a startled squawk when he swung her up into his arms and carried her into the wagon. Settling her on a bench cushioned by a couple of blankets, he knelt in front of her. Thank the Darkness his mother had taught him a little healing Craft. He couldn’t do anywhere near as much as a Healer could, but at least he could do something to help her.
Except he didn’t have a chance. He’d just pulled off her boot and was debating how to broach the necessity of removing her trousers when Thera stormed into the wagon, followed by Polli, who stared at him as if removing a boot was a prelude to rape.
“We’ll look after her,” Thera said coolly. “You’ve other business to attend to.”
Setting the boot on the floor, Jared rose slowly.
Polli pressed herself into a corner and started muttering about it being her moontime, her stock reaction to being within a male’s reach.