by Anne Bishop
She wobbled a little when the gelding shifted nervously, but she squared her shoulders and raised her chin.
The admiration he felt for the strength and pride he saw in her eyes only fueled his temper, and the wild stranger inside him started howling at him to protect, protect, protect. He tried to push it away by reminding himself that he was a Ringed slave, but instincts that had been bred into Blood males over dozens of generations weren’t easily banished by a Ring or a word.
In a commanding voice, she said, “I am Lady Arabella Ardelia. On the Gray Lady’s behalf, I’m taking you to Dena Nehele.”
Behind him, Brock and Randolf swore quietly.
Jared ground his teeth. Arrogant, stubborn, courageous, feather-brained little fool! Did she really think men like Brock and Randolf would just shrug and continue to obey her unless she used the Ring of Obedience and brutally revived their fear of the kind of pain it inflicted? Especially once they realized she was handicapped right now by more than physical injuries?
He took a step toward her.
“Stay back,” she said, her body tensing.
Jared bared his teeth in a savage smile. “You want me to stay back? Use the Ring.”
Her eyes widened.
Jared held his breath, waiting. She had to use the Invisible Ring now. She had to. She’d been able to avoid using it when he’d challenged her a short while ago, but she couldn’t now that he’d challenged her in front of the others. His Jewels outranked hers. He was a danger to her. If she didn’t use the Ring to pull him down, he could smash through her inner barriers and tear her mind apart. Damn her, she had to use it to protect herself, to reassert her control over all of them. She had to hurt him to prove that she could still brutally control the strongest male among them—and would inflict the same kind of pain on the others if the males didn’t continue to obey her.
Instead, she let go of the saddle and tried to brace herself for a fight.
Swearing, Jared closed the distance between them and scooped her up in his arms. “You don’t need a pleasure slave,” he snarled as he stomped to the wagon, “you need a keeper.”
“I do not—”
“Shut up.”
“Jared,” Thera warned as he brushed past her and the children. “She needs attention and—”
“In a minute.” He shouldered the door open and kicked it closed in Thera’s face. After setting his bundle of wet, bedraggled witch on the bench, he stepped back and leaned against the door, preventing anyone from interrupting them.
One of the shutters behind the driving seat had fallen open during the wild ride. Using Craft, he closed it and created a ball of witchlight, floating it near the bench so he could take a good look at her.
She wasn’t pretty—he'd always associated pretty with delicate—but there was a kind of strength in her face that would ripen into beauty in a few more years—a beauty that was a reflection of the deep inner strength strong Blood males found more arousing than a lush body.
Sadi had once said strength attracted strength, that a strong witch’s psychic scent acted like a catnip on strong Blood males. Even if the attraction wasn’t sexual, they’d still want to touch her, smell her, cuddle up next to her. It was part of a witch’s power over the males, something that soothed her chosen as well as filling them with possessive savagery.
Standing there, Jared felt the pull of her psychic scent— the same pull that had been luring and confusing him since she'd bought him. Knowing she wasn’t the old woman he’d thought she was, he felt his blood start to simmer with a dangerous hunger.
And flavoring all of it was fury fueled by relief.
Since fighting would help him keep his distance until he had time to think, he lashed out. “You mule-headed little idiot! You had no business jumping into that creek. You could have been killed—or didn’t you think about that?”
“If I hadn’t jumped in, Corry—”
Jared rode right over her. “Cony’s male. Males are expendable.”
Her gray eyes turned almost black with temper.
Remembering how their chess game had ended, he abandoned that line of attack and chose another. “Was this some kind of game?” he demanded. “The little witch decided to masquerade as a grown-up, go to Raej, and buy a few slaves for fun?”
“Not for fun,” she snapped. “For the Gray Lady.”
“For the Gray Lady. Of course. How could I forget? Do you even know her? Or was that the best disguise you could think of?”
“Of course I know her.” She raised her chin and glared at him. “I’m in her First Circle.”
Jared narrowed his green eyes. A young, talented witch might serve in a Territory Queen’s First Circle in order to receive special training before ruling a Province or District on that Queen’s behalf. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-seven.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. If the little witch wanted to play games, he’d play games.
He raked his eyes over her in a way that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but an insult. “I’d guess fifteen. Maybe sixteen.”
“I’m twenty-one!”
She sounded too outraged to be lying.
“And with the Gray Lady’s consent, you went trotting off to Raej, pretending to be a Gray-Jeweled Queen.” He shook his head and tsked. “Not a very sporting thing for a Queen to ask of a young protégée . . . unless, of course, she was trying to eliminate a rival.”
Her eyes glittered with suppressed fury, but her voice became dismissively chilly. “I told you everything you need to know.”
He studied her for a moment. That she’d taken an insult to the Gray Lady personally was a strong indication that she was a member of the First Circle—or at least a member of the court. And, perhaps, telling the truth.
He saw her shiver and leashed his temper. What was wrong with him that he was fighting with her when she needed attention? His father would have skinned him for neglecting his duties for such an indulgence.
Stepping away from the door, Jared reached for her coat. “I’ll help you get out of those wet clothes.”
“No,” she said quickly, her hands clutching the front of the coat and tunic, holding them closed. She pressed her back against the storage boxes, her body tensing as he bent over her. “I can manage.”
Jared closed his hand over one of her ice-cold fists and tugged gently. “You’re cold, exhausted, bruised, and can’t even stand up without falling over. According to all the rules my father thumped into my stubborn head, this is exactly the sort of circumstance when a Queen should put aside her pride and let someone help her.”
He tugged again. Her fist tightened.
He tried dredging up the smile that used to charm Reyna into giving him an extra nutcake.
She stared at him as if he’d grown fangs.
“Hell’s fire, Lady,” Jared growled as he tried to loosen her hands. “This can’t be the first time a man has offered to undress you.”
She said nothing.
All right, he understood her being nervous. They’d been arguing. It was her moontime, and she was vulnerable. Her disguise had failed for some reason, and she didn’t have the Gray Lady’s reputation to hide behind anymore. But, Hell’s fire, you’d think she’d never—
Jared took a good look at her pale, tight face and backed away so fast he yelped when he hit the door. His hand shook as he pointed a finger at her, and said accusingly, “You’re a virgin. Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful, you’re a virgin.”
Still clutching the coat, she eyed him warily. “There’s no reason to get hysterical. It’s not contagious.”
Jared raked his fingers through his hair, dizzied by the conflicting emotions spinning through him. “What’s wrong with your people? What’s wrong with your family? How could they let a virgin Queen out of her home village without an escort, let alone out of the Territory?” His temper roared to life with a vengeance. “What kind of man is your father to let you
go to a place like Raej?”
“What do you know about my people or my family?” She swung her legs off the bench and sucked air through her teeth. “And don’t you dare insult my father!”
Jared took a step forward. “If you stand on that leg, I’ll do what your father should have done. I’ll put you over my knee and wallop some sense into you! I swear it!”
“Unlike some people, I don’t sit on my brains, Warlord!”
“That’s highly debatable, Lady!”
Someone tried to open the door and smacked his arm since he was still blocking it.
Jared cursed, thought about throwing his weight against the door to give whoever was on the other side a taste of wood, heard the feminine snarl, and thought again. Rubbing his arm, he stepped farther into the wagon to let Thera enter.
“That’s enough,” Thera said, her eyes chips of green ice. “The Lady needs care, which even a male should be able to figure out.”
Jared bared his teeth at her, at the same time wondering if a man could be castrated by a look.
Thera tossed a blanket at him. “Hang that up and get out of those wet clothes before you get sick and become completely useless. I’ll help the Lady.”
He’d just bet she’d help the Lady, Jared thought as he used Craft to hang the blanket. He called in the cloth traveling bag he’d been given to store his extra clothes and dug through it, looking for something to wear that didn’t smell too ripe.
Of course Thera would help the Lady. Why wouldn’t she? Two of a kind, that’s what they were. Stubborn, temperamental, always sure they knew better than a man even if he had more experience, always so damn sure they could do just fine on their own, thank you very much.
Not finding anything clean to wear except the thin tunic and trousers he’d been given at Raej didn’t help his temper. He tossed them back into the bag and stripped. Smelling ripe would keep everyone away from him, which suited him just fine. Besides, after what they’d just been through, they needed time to recover, time to think, time to plan. And while they were doing that, he was damn well going to find a way to wash these clothes.
“I’m sorry,” Thera said, her voice a little muffled by the blanket. “When Garth got Eryk and Tomas out of the creek, I pulled out the chest with your heading supplies. Foolish. My wits must have been scattered . . . or else those damn spells were muddling my head. There was no reason to try to drag it outside since they were bringing the boys to the wagon. It was heavier than I thought.”
“It would have gotten heavier,” the Lady said quietly. “Several spells had been put on it to prevent anyone but me from moving it.”
Thera sighed. “I should have realized that. I should have realized that.” She sounded fierce and upset. Then she sighed again. “Anyway, when I pulled it out the door, I dropped it on the steps. The back of it got punctured and must have torn the tangled web that created the illusion.”
Jared kept still, hardly daring to breathe. He had the feeling whatever they might say to each other now might not be said at all if they remembered he was there.
“It doesn’t matter,” the Lady said. After a moment, she added, “Besides, you knew anyway.”
Jared could almost feel Thera’s shrug. “I guessed. Since I was trained in it, it’s easy enough for me to recognize the Hourglass’s Craft.” Another bit of silence. “I guessed,” Thera said, sounding careful, “just like you guessed I wasn’t broken.”
What?
Jared stared at the blanket. Then he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Thera. Unbroken. They’d all been fencing with a Black Widow who still wore the Jewels and had the full use of her particular Craft.
“Come on,” Thera said. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”
Hearing the familiar sounds of someone getting undressed, Jared hurriedly pulled on layers of clothes. If he added warming spells to them, they should keep him comfortable enough for the next few hours since his coat was soaked. Even Craft couldn’t instantly dry material. At least he didn’t think it could. The next time he met a hearth-witch, he’d ask her.
The rustling on the other side of the blanket stopped.
“Mother Night,” Thera said. “You’re a mess. Didn’t you miss any of the rocks?”
Jared clenched his hands to keep from tearing down the blanket. He gritted his teeth to keep silent.
She was hurt. She was hurt. She was hurt.
All the training that had lain dormant for the past nine years came rushing back, overwhelming him with its fierceness. He wanted to lift his head and howl out his frustration. He wanted to hold her, yell at her, examine every bruise, and then kiss her to soothe the hurt.
How dare she be so careless, jumping into the creek like that? She was lucky she only had bruises instead of broken bones. How dare she, a virgin who was so terrifyingly vulnerable to a male attack, make a journey like this without even one loyal male to look after her? Didn’t she realize how precious Queens were, how vital to the Blood’s survival? And how dare she create this frenzied need in him to protect without giving him the outlet of honorable service?
Well, he’d be damned if he’d let her get away with it.
Fuming, Jared vanished the traveling bag and called in his Jewels. Two thin, wooden, rectangular boxes floated in front of him. He opened the first one and stared at his Birthright Opal, the gold jewelry gleaming against the box’s black-velvet lining. He brushed his finger over the ring and pendant. He’d worn the pendant since the Birthright Ceremony he’d had when he was seven, but the Opal ring had been made just before he’d made the Offering to the Darkness and came away with the Red. It had been a gift from his parents for his eighteenth birthday.
That was the only day he’d ever worn it.
He closed that box and vanished it, then opened the box that held the Red. Except for a few desperate moments over the years when he’d slipped on the ring, craving the feel of it on his finger, he hadn’t worn the Red Jewels— hadn’t worn any Jewels—since the night he was Ringed. Slaves weren’t allowed to acknowledge their strength openly, not even the strength that was their birthright.
He slipped the Red-Jeweled ring onto the third finger of his right hand. His left hand covered it protectively as he savored the bond that had been denied for nine years.
Taking a steadying breath, he licked his lips and picked up the pendant. No clasp to break or open. Just a chain of carefully formed gold links, long enough to let the power in that reservoir rest beside his heart.
He used Craft to put on the pendant. The cool gold settled around his neck, then warmed against his skin.
As he vanished the wooden box, Jared realized it was very quiet on the other side of the blanket.
Quiet and tense.
They knew he’d called in the Jewels. Even during her moontime, the one thing a witch continued to channel power through was the controlling ring linked to the Rings of Obedience. The controlling ring—and the males in the court who served her—were her only defense against slaves who would have taken advantage of her vulnerability to break free or destroy her.
Right now it didn’t matter if the Invisible Ring was linked to the controlling ring. The Queen who wore that ring was in no condition to fight him.
Which made him angry all over again.
He pushed the blanket aside.
Thera rose from the other bench, defiant.
Ignoring her, he looked at the young Queen now dressed in a long gray skirt and gray sweater.
“Even if we don’t push the horses, we’ll be able to get back to the clearing before dark,” he said.
“No.” The Lady chewed her lower lip. “We have to go on.”
“There’s nowhere else to go,” Jared said, biting back his temper. “Short of dragging them, you’re not going to get anyone to go back to that creek. This road didn’t branch off anywhere between here and the clearing. We won’t make it any farther before nightfall anyway. We’re goi
ng back.”
“We have to go on,” she said stubbornly.
Jared ground his teeth and tried to find something to say that he wouldn’t have to apologize for later.
“Jared’s right,” Thera said after a moment. “We need time to rest—and to prepare. The clearing is the best place to do both.”
“That attack might not have been meant for us,” the Lady said quietly.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” Thera said just as quietly. “We were lucky this time. If we’re not up to strength and able to think clearly, we might not be as lucky next time.”
The Lady sighed. “All right. We’ll go back to the clearing.”
“Thank you, Lady,” Jared said testily. It galled him that she had argued with him but had yielded to Thera.
Squeezing past them, he reached the door.
“One thing,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Thera. “Since you’re not broken, what Jewels do you wear?”
Thera looked amused. “I wear the Green, Lord Jared.”
Mother Night.
Two of a kind, Jared thought, flinging open the door. He strode to the bay gelding and mounted. “We’re going back to the clearing,” he told Brock. “I’ll take point. You and Randolf take the rear guard. Thayne, you lead the team. Blaed, you’re with me.” He looked at Eryk and Tomas, who were huddled in blankets, and little Cathryn, who was clinging to Corry. “You children ride inside the wagon.”
Brock gave one pointed look at the Red-Jeweled ring on Jared’s right hand and nodded.
As Jared nudged the gelding forward, he heard Tomas say, “You know, I thought she was kind of frisky for an old lady.”
Great. Wonderful.
Was he the only one who hadn’t figured it out?
As soon as he passed the wagon, he urged the gelding into a trot, not waiting for Blaed.
A minute later, he caught up to Garth. The big man hadn’t changed his wet clothes before heading back down the road. Jared slowed the gelding to a walk and waited for Garth to look at him.
He studied the man’s face. What lay behind those pale blue eyes? “Thank you for saving Eryk and Tomas.”
Garth just looked at him. Then his lips curved in a slow smile. He raised one huge hand in a casual salute and turned his attention back to the road.