The Shadow Queen bj-7

by Anne Bishop

  Burle hesitated—and the air around them changed back to evening cool.

  “From what I’ve gathered, going out and about just yet may not be the wisest—or safest—thing for a Queen to do,” he said.

  “But Theran won’t let those Queens come to Grayhaven either. He even got his back up when I wanted to go into town with Gray and look at plants for the garden.”

  “He might have his reasons.”

  “I’m not pretty enough to impress anyone,” Cassidy muttered.

  “That’s foolish talk, and you know it.”

  Is it really that foolish? she wondered. Since she didn’t want her father challenging Theran—and getting killed because of it—she held her tongue.

  “Time for plain talk, Kitten,” Burle said. “Queens do important work, and they are as necessary to a land as they are to its people. They can make or break a Territory. Hell’s fire, they can make or break a Province or a village. But you’ve missed something along the way, my girl. What you do is work, and when you accepted this contract, you were hired for a particular job.”

  “No one seems to want me to do that job,” Cassidy said, her voice roughened by frustration.

  “Including you?”

  Barely enough light to see his face, but enough to know it was a serious question.

  “Sometimes I have an idea for a piece of furniture,” Burle said, “and I build it just the way I see it in my mind, exactly the way it suits me to build it out of particular materials. I take pride in the work. Some people will like it and some won’t, but it’s all mine. And then there are other times when I’m hired to help someone build a piece of furniture the way they want it built. Their vision, their design. I’ll make suggestions if I foresee a problem in the design or materials, but I’m not the designer, Kitten. I’m the skilled laborer who’s helping someone else create something that matters to them. And even if I think it could have been done differently—or better—I respect what they’re trying to do and give them the best work I can.

  “You’ve been here a few weeks. Prince Theran’s been here his whole life, watching what bad Queens did to his land and his people. I’ve been working with Gray this afternoon, and he’s told me a fair amount about his cousin. Enough for me to figure out that Theran wants to do right by his people and do right by Dena Nehele. The name Grayhaven means something here, and it’s a weight as well as a privilege to carry the name.”

  “So I should help him build a new foundation the way he thinks it should be built?” Which reminded her of one of Burle’s sayings: Don’t go knocking down a wall because you think the room will look better when all you were asked to do was paint.

  “A year from now, you can walk away from these people and their problems. He can’t. Won’t. Is he pigheaded?” Burle shrugged. “Probably couldn’t have survived if he wasn’t.”

  Nothing to say when Poppi put it like that.

  “I’ll tell you what else I figured out in these few hours. You and Theran might not be as far apart as you both seem to think.” Burle smiled and patted her hand. “You’re looking to prove something to yourself. He’s looking to prove something to his people. Maybe, Kitten, the reason you’re scrapping instead of working together is that you both want too much too fast, and you’re getting in your own way.”

  CHAPTER 18

  TERREILLE

  Cassidy pulled her nightgown over her head, then pressed a hand against her abdomen. A heaviness, settling low. A dull ache that got more pronounced every time she stood up this evening.

  Well, Shira warned her that it would hurt more if she delayed her moontime. Looked like she was going to find out how much more.

  She called in her supplies and tucked them in a bathroom drawer where they would be handy, then got into bed, feeling chilled despite the mild night. She plumped up pillows and opened the book she was reading. But she didn’t feel like reading.

  When she first arrived in Dena Nehele, it felt like an adventure, like a chance to do something good. Since then, she felt like she was constantly slogging through emotional mud that was knee-deep and getting deeper. She could see the value of looking at this like a contract job, but that didn’t seem to be working either, because every time she’d asked Theran what he would like to do about anything, he danced away from giving her a straight answer. He opposed her suggestions but wouldn’t make any of his own because that wasn’t a First Escort’s duty.

  And why not? If his reason for opposing her suggestions was superior knowledge of what was happening in the Provinces and villages, why didn’t he share the information?

  Sweet Darkness, she missed her father, and he’d left only yesterday.

  Cassidy snorted. “Left out a few details in my letter, my eye.” The dresser had already been made, and the wood had been cut for a small bookcase. Since he’d brought a mattress as part of the supplies, her father had had a good idea of how big the bed could be.

  It had been an excuse to come visit, but she wasn’t sure whose idea it had been—her father’s, Prince Sadi’s, or the High Lord’s. Didn’t matter. Besides her own time with Poppi, her father’s visit had done so much good for Gray. One of Burle’s sayings was “Work hard, but work smart,” and his practical balance of when to use muscle and when to use Craft—and when to rest—helped Gray feel less wounded.

  And the occasional silly smile on Gray’s face, combined with a twinkle in Burle’s eyes, meant her father had been telling tales about her. She might have wondered more about what was said if Gray hadn’t found the courage to enter the house and join them for meals the last day Burle was there.

  That had been her father’s finest piece of work.

  The only person who hadn’t warmed to Burle was Theran, who had remained freezingly polite. Even Talon, after he’d realized Burle wasn’t uneasy about being around someone who was demon-dead, joined them in the evenings to play cards or just talk.

  Only Theran had viewed her less-than-aristo background as further proof that she wasn’t worthy of ruling Dena Nehele.

  “Let him take a piss in the wind,” Cassidy muttered, putting the book aside, since even reading seemed too much effort tonight.

  As she pulled the covers up and tried to find a comfortable position, she heard Craft-enhanced scratching on her suite’s door.

  *Cassie? Cassie!*

  To avoid getting out of bed, she used Craft to open the door to the suite and the glass doors that led into her bedroom.

  *You are not downstairs with the males,* Vae said as soon as she entered the bedroom.

  “Needed some quiet time tonight,” Cassidy replied. And needed some time to think about what she was going to do in the morning when every male around her would react to the scent of moon’s blood—and to the fact that she would be vulnerable, unable to use her own power during the first three days without causing herself debilitating pain.

  *You are not well?* Vae asked.

  An odd hesitation in the question, and the same phrasing a human would use to ask about such a personal subject. But why would the Sceltie know, or care, about her moontime?

  “Want to keep me company?” Cassidy asked.

  Vae jumped up on the bed and lay down next to her. Cassidy put her arm around the dog and cuddled closer, the warmth of that furry body soon easing the ache in her lower belly as her muscles relaxed.

  Sighing, she shifted her head to a more comfortable spot on the pillows, and fell sleep.

  Vae dozed on and off throughout the night, waiting for the change in scent that would tell her for certain if Cassie was moody because her sire had gone home or if it was the blood time that meant Cassie wasn’t safe around males. Even the males who were supposed to protect her.

  It wasn’t sensible for human females to come into heat so often, but there were many things about humans that were not sensible. That was why Scelties had been looking after humans for such a long time.

  Cassie was a Queen, and her court should protect her. Theran should protect her.

>   But Yas did not trust Cassie’s court, did not think the males would defend her properly. Ladvarian said Yas knew how to protect a Queen. Ladvarian said Yas was a human the kindred could trust.

  Ladvarian had learned his Craft from Jaenelle, who was the special Queen, even for kindred, and Ladvarian had taught other kindred what he had learned. So Vae knew her Craft, and she knew Yas understood things about the males here that she did not. Even Theran.

  Well before dawn, Cassie’s scent changed.

  Vae wiggled backward until her head was level with Cassie’s female place. Then she sniffed to confirm the scent.

  Human females did not like to be sniffed there by anyone but their mates, so it was good that Cassie was still sleeping.

  Jumping off the bed, Vae padded out of the bedroom and used Craft to pull aside a curtain on one window in the living area.

  Early. No one awake yet. But when the first birds woke up and began to chirp, Cook and her helpers would wake up too and start making food for the day. Then the Blood who took care of the house would wake up.

  But not yet. No one but Talon would be awake now, and he did not come to Cassie’s rooms, so he wouldn’t know about the change in her scent. Not yet.

  She wore Purple Dusk. Since she couldn’t ride a faster, darker Wind than the Purple Dusk, the Keep was far away.

  Cassie needed protection now. Cassie needed Yas.

  Cassie would be safe enough until the males smelled the blood.

  Vae leaped through the window, using Craft to pass through the curtain and glass. She landed lightly on air, two stories above the ground, and floated there for a minute.

  Going up was faster than going down and around, so still floating on air, she trotted up one side of the roof and down the other before leaping away from the house and gliding over the ground and locked gates.

  Landing lightly, she trotted over to the landing web and took a moment to make sure of her direction. Then she caught the Purple Dusk Wind and rode to Ebon Askavi.

  Ebon ASKAVI

  Wanting nothing more than to spend an hour with the novel currently intriguing him before he retired earlier than usual, Saetan turned away from his suite and retraced his steps to one of the Keep’s private sitting rooms, where Lucivar was doing a slow prowl.

  “Is there a reason why you’re showing up here every morning?” Saetan asked.

  “I can count,” Lucivar replied.

  “And that’s significant because . . . ?” He could think of one reason for the edgy prowling. “Is Marian pregnant?”

  “What?” Lucivar jumped as if he’d gotten jabbed in the ass. “Hell’s fire, no! Although she’s working on it,” he added in a mutter.

  “She’s working on it?”

  Lucivar gave him a dark look. “She hasn’t talked me into putting aside the contraceptive brew. Not yet.”

  Thank the Darkness for that. He loved his grandson, Daemonar. He really did. But he suspected everyone in the family would be grateful for a little more time before they had to deal with another miniature Lucivar.

  Including Lucivar.

  “Did Lord Burle say anything to you about Cassidy?” Lucivar asked.

  “A few things. Are you interested in something in particular?”

  “Did she have her moontime while he was there?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

  Saetan pressed his lips together, not sure if he was amused or appalled. He had known Andulvar Yaslana for over fifty thousand years, and even having all those years of experience with the straightforward way Eyriens had of looking at things didn’t always prepare him for Lucivar’s bluntness.

  “That’s a delicate subject.” He studied his son. “You would have asked him.”

  “Damn right I would have. Even if she’d had her last moontime right before she went to Dena Nehele, she’s late.”

  “It does happen.”

  “Especially with some help.”

  Apparently Lucivar had kept a few things to himself about his last visit to Dena Nehele. Like the fact that Cassidy might feel too uneasy about being vulnerable around the males who were supposed to serve her.

  “Her court,” Saetan said quietly. “You don’t trust them.”

  “No, I don’t,” Lucivar replied. “But I’m sure I can get things settled enough that she won’t have to worry for the rest of the time she’s there.”

  Preferring to have only a vague idea of how Lucivar might settle things “enough,” Saetan said, “If you don’t trust them, who is supposed to send a mes—”

  *Yas? Yas!*

  Of course, he thought as he turned toward the door just as the Sceltie barreled into the room.

  *It’s Cassie’s bleeding time!*

  He felt his temper shift, sharpen. Recognized that same shift by the look in Lucivar’s eyes.

  No, Cassidy wasn’t their Queen, and she wasn’t family. But she was connected to them because of Jaenelle—and Daemon—so they would respond in a way that was in keeping with their nature.

  “I’ll be back in four days,” Lucivar said.

  Saetan nodded. “I’ll go to your eyrie and inform Marian. Anything I need to know?”

  “No, there’s nothing that needs particular care at the moment.” As Lucivar headed for the door, he added, “Come on, Vae. You’ll ride the Ebon-gray Wind with me.”

  Saetan stared at the empty doorway a long time before saying softly, “May the Darkness have mercy on you, Theran, if you do anything in the next few days that pisses off Lucivar.”

  TERREILLE

  You can’t hide in your room for the next three days, Cassie thought as she pulled a long, moss green sweater over her head. There’s work to be done, and how can you prove to Theran and the others that you’re capable of going out among the people if you can’t even move among your own First Circle?

  She couldn’t hide in her room. But she wanted to. She knew what to expect from the males back home, but not here. Would they work together, or would the personalities that rubbed against one another turn savage?

  No way to tell. Not from her bedroom.

  Pressing a hand to her abdomen, she took a deep breath, blew it out, and left her suite.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she thought a few minutes later. The male servants she had passed on the way to her office had given her a sharp glance, but that was the only change in their behavior.

  As she rounded a corner, she thought, I guess I was worried over noth—

  Theran drew in a breath, no doubt getting ready to “ask” why it had taken her so long to come down when the Steward and others were waiting for her.

  Then his nostrils flared. His eyes glazed. And the look in those eyes was predatory, not protective.

  “Cassidy,” Theran growled.

  She took a step back. Took another. “I need some air. I’ll join you in the Steward’s office in a few minutes.”

  “Cassidy.”

  “I need some air!”

  She turned and headed for the nearest door that would take her out of the house. She almost made it, almost got the outside door open, when Ranon stormed into the room, moving with an intent that made it plain he had caught the scent and come after her.

  The glazed eyes. The power and savagery. Warlord Princes rising to the killing edge and honing their tempers to lethal intensity because of a blood scent.

  She knew she should direct that savagery, turn it into a fierce kind of service. She was a Queen, and dealing with a Warlord Prince when he rode the killing edge was part of her training.

  “Lady,” Ranon snarled, taking a step toward her.

  If she trusted him, trusted any of them, she could stand her ground and find a way to keep things from turning deadly. But she looked into Ranon’s eyes and realized he had taken advantage of those vulnerable days to kill witches he had hated, and right now, he was struggling not to see her as prey, not to see her as he’d seen most other Queens.

  One hundred Warlord Princes in Den
a Nehele. For the first time, she understood what they must have done to survive, how much blood they must have spilled to keep the failing heart of their people from being destroyed completely.

  “I need some air,” Cassidy said, easing herself out the door. “Take care of your duties, Prince. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Did he sense the lie?

  Fool. You should have gone to the Keep last night when you suspected this would start.

  But she hadn’t been frightened last night. Not really frightened. She’d had a false confidence, based on her experience with the Warlord Princes in Jaenelle’s court. She’d never felt threatened by those men, even the most powerful among them. Hell’s fire, Lucivar didn’t waste time discussing anything with a witch during her moontime. He’d simply pick her up and haul her to wherever he wanted her to be, and that was the end of it. If she was lucky—and he was feeling generous in a snarly kind of way—the witch would have a choice of what she was going to eat and whether she had one blanket tucked around her or two.

  Despite his power and temper, despite what she’d heard he could do when he rode the killing edge, she had never had a moment when she’d thought Lucivar would hurt her.

  Her thoughts fled in every direction. She kept her head down and her eyes focused on the ground as she hurried without considering where she was going. When strong hands grabbed her upper arms, she let out a breathless shriek.

  “Cassie?” Gray asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gray,” she gasped. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just . . .”

  His nostrils flared. His eyes glazed. And a friend was replaced by a stranger whose hands tightened on her arms when she tried to step back.

  “You’re hurt,” Gray said, his voice roughened by a temper turned unpredictable. “You need the Healer.”

  He started to pull her toward the house. She dug her heels into the ground, resisting.

  “I don’t need a Healer, Gray. I’m not hurt.”

  “You’re bleeding. I can smell it.”

  Mother Night. “It’s moon’s blood, Gray. You know about moon’s blood. Don’t you?”