The Queen's Bargain

by Anne Bishop

  The stink of fear filled the room as the aristos looked at him, then looked at the Sadist, and recognized living weapons that were harnessed to a single purpose.

  “As of today, I don’t care if the person is male or female. I don’t care how aristo their family bloodline is or who they can claim in their family line—or if they are the least powerful person in a village. I do not care. Any transaction between individuals or families that ends with a reputation at risk or honor being questioned or someone being harmed in any way will be investigated by the court of the Queen who rules that village, and monthly reports will be sent to the Province Queens for review. If I hear of any attempt to hide an impropriety, the Province Queens will answer to me, and from now on, the price for looking the other way will be steep. But tonight, as warning and lesson, I’ll start with you.”

  Lucivar raised his war blade and pointed it at Lady Blyte, the bitch whose behavior had started Lord Dillon—and him—down this path. “All the Queens in Askavi will be given the names of the men you played by promising a handfast in exchange for them becoming your lover. You owe those men a debt because you then claimed ignorance of the promises you made and allowed your father to damage the reputation of those men to the point of them being considered prey for other women who had no honorable intentions. The Rihlander Queens will make reparation by seeing that those men are given a position in a court and sufficient income to support themselves, or they will make arrangements for those men to work at an honest trade—and they will guarantee on their Jewels that they will stop any further attempts to use the past as a hammer against those men’s efforts to restore their reputations and honor. The Rihlander Queens will do this for the men who are still among the living. There was one who was so filled with despair after dealing with this Lady that he found death preferable to remaining among the living.

  “And you, you smug bitch. Do you think I’ll let you walk away from this without paying what you owe?”

  That was exactly what she believed. He saw it in her eyes. He also saw a keen hatred for him because he had exposed her and made her behavior a public humiliation.

  “Everything has a price,” he said, letting his voice go quiet so that everyone strained to hear. “And you are the lesson of what it will cost anyone who plays Terreillean games in my Territory.”

  Rising out of the depths of the abyss like an Ebon-gray arrow of fury, Lucivar struck Blyte with power to shatter her Jewels, breaking her back to basic Craft. She screamed as the Jewels in her pendant and ring shattered and fell to the floor.

  “You have been stripped of your power,” Lucivar said. “You will always be a Blood female, but you are no longer a witch and will no longer be addressed by the title of Lady. Your debt to the men you harmed has been paid.”

  He turned and walked toward the doorway where his brother waited. He didn’t need to see Daemon focus on something behind him. He felt the anger rushing toward him.

  “You bastard!” Blyte’s father cried, brandishing a decorative knife.

  If it had been nothing more than the knife, which couldn’t get past his shields, he might have let the man go with nothing more than a slap. But the Warlord unleashed a blast of power in a way that made Lucivar wonder if the young man who had died really had taken his own life.

  Everything that made him a Warlord Prince responded to that lash of power. Lucivar pivoted, using Craft to extend the length of the war blade as he met the Warlord’s eyes.

  The war blade sang through muscle, humbled bone.

  For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. For a moment, it looked like the blade hadn’t sliced anything but the man’s jacket as some of the fabric fluttered to the floor. Then blood spilled from the man’s waist, his legs buckled, and the top half of the man slid off and struck the floor. Using Craft to stand on air just above the red lake rapidly forming on the ballroom floor, Lucivar looked at the stunned crowd. “Does anyone else need a lesson?”

  No answer except more screams from Blyte, but he doubted her distress had anything to do with the loss of her father and more to do with finally being punished for her own actions.

  Turning toward the doorway once again, Lucivar saw Chaosti walk in with two young Rihlander men.

  Daemon smiled a cold, cruel smile. Not the Sadist now. This was the High Lord of Hell.

  ٭You can’t leave him here to make the transition to demon-dead,٭ the High Lord said. ٭He won’t go to Hell on his own, as he should, not after you made his family’s deceits so public. Besides, one of those men deserved a chance to see the debt paid.٭ He looked at the two Warlords who carried out the upper half of the girl’s father.

  Lucivar waited for Chaosti and Daemon to follow the demon-dead Warlords out of the room. Then he turned back one last time and looked at the Rihland aristos. “Every attempt to bring Terreille’s ways into Kaeleer will be met with slaughter. Spread the word that I’ll be calling on the Province Queens soon to have a little chat.”

  He walked away, knowing there would be more slaughter before they believed he had drawn the line—knowing some courts would be torn apart for tacitly supporting the cruelty that had destroyed the Blood in Terreille. Knowing that, after tonight, most of the Blood in Askavi would call him the Demon Prince.

  Everything had a price.

  FORTY

  Lucivar hadn’t appreciated how much fury had been festering under the surface of some Rihland towns and cities until several places exploded in savage fighting, as if his breaking that one bitch had been a flame dropped on tinder, freeing that fury to blaze through Askavi. The Blood in those places didn’t want his help. The Warlord Princes in those places didn’t want his Eyrien warriors coming in to settle anything. They would talk to him when the fighting was done.

  For two days, he stayed at the Keep with Daemon, listening to reports as Rothvar and his other men rode the Winds throughout Askavi to get a feel for what was happening in the Rihland cities. Some Provinces were untouched by fighting. Lucivar found it grimly amusing that Daemon’s prediction had been right about the Queens who ruled those Provinces. They were the first to show up at the Keep to talk to him, bringing documents to prove they had been drawing the same line all along and that any smear on someone’s honor or reputation was something that person had deserved.

  “You’re going to need help, Lucivar,” Daemon said when the sun set on that second day and they were finally alone for a few minutes. “Someone besides Marian. Someone you can trust who won’t be intimidated when dealing with Queens who wear darker Jewels.”

  “Who?” Frustrated, Lucivar raked a hand through his hair. “Every Eyrien who works for me will stand with me on a killing field, but every one of them has had his fill of dealing with Queens.”

  “Not to mention that most of them would rather chew off his own fingers than deal with paperwork,” Daemon said dryly.

  “Andulvar didn’t have to deal with paperwork. If there was a problem, he went to that village and killed what couldn’t be fixed.”

  “That might not have been how he handled things when he walked among the living,” Daemon pointed out.

  They both knew he wanted to ask Daemon to deal with the paperwork—and they both knew why he couldn’t. Daemon already had enough under his hand.

  “Rothvar is your second-in-command when it comes to defending Ebon Rih—and now all of Askavi. You need someone who can act as your second-in-command for the business side of ruling the Territory.”

  “Someone who isn’t Eyrien or Rihland, someone who is willing to deal with paperwork and knows what is important and what is crap, someone who can’t be intimidated by darker-Jeweled Queens. Who can do that, Bastard? Tell me who I can trust who can do that.”

  Lucivar looked over as the door opened, and said, “Hell’s fire.”

  Karla gave him a bright smile and said, “Kiss kiss.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Dillon listened t
o the raised voices in the parlor and winced as he looked at his cousin’s pale face. “I’m sorry, Terrence. I never meant to cause trouble for your family. Is your father going to lose his position in the Riada Queen’s court?”

  “Dunno.”

  Seeing the misery in Terrence’s eyes, Dillon suspected that the family’s social standing in the village was going to be nonexistent because they had allowed him to stay after his aborted romance with Jillian.

  With the women’s voices a shrill counterpoint to the men’s shouts, Dillon wasn’t sure he’d heard someone knock on the front door until the sound came a second time. When none of the servants appeared to answer it, Dillon opened the door.

  Lucivar Yaslana stepped inside. “Lord Dillon.”

  “Prince.”

  Yaslana nodded to Terrence, then looked toward the parlor. He didn’t ask who was shouting or why. He just opened the parlor door and walked in—and everyone stopped talking.

  The Warlord Prince of Askavi wagged a finger at Dillon and Terrence. “You two, in here.” He waited for them, then looked at the adults in the room before focusing on Dillon. “The matter has been settled. The witch who destroyed your reputation and smeared your honor has been broken back to basic Craft. Reparation will be made to every man she deceived. While your actions weren’t prudent where she was concerned, lots of young men go through a stage where they think with the head behind their zippers instead of the head above their shoulders.”

  Dillon choked. Terrence wheezed.

  “And if there is a man here who didn’t have sex with the woman he married before the contract was signed, let him step forward,” Yaslana continued.

  No one stepped forward. Women blushed. Men studied the carpet just beyond their shoes.

  Now Yaslana looked at Terrence’s father. “It will take a couple more days before arrangements can be made to send Lord Dillon to the court he’s chosen. If you’re not comfortable having him stay with you, I’ll arrange to have him stay at The Tavern.”

  “No, no. Better for the boy to be with his family.”

  “I agree, but you might be criticized for that compassion, and I wouldn’t want obliging me to cause problems for you.” He looked around the room. “But if you do have problems, I want to know, because what happened to Lord Dillon could have happened to anyone’s son, and that is something your neighbors shouldn’t forget.”

  Dillon and Terrence walked out with him. At the front door, Yaslana paused. “You make a decision yet?”

  “Almost,” Dillon replied. “I decided against the two courts in Scelt. Not that I wouldn’t like to visit there someday, but I can’t imagine living in a place overrun by dogs who poke their noses into everyone’s business.”

  Yaslana huffed out a laugh and muttered something that sounded like “May the Darkness have mercy on me.”

  As he opened the front door, Dillon gathered his courage and said, “Prince? Could I see Jillian before I leave?”

  Yaslana stared at him. “That will depend on whether or not Jillian wants to see you.”

  Dillon and Terrence stood in the doorway and watched Lucivar Yaslana walk down the street.

  “I’ve never been to another Territory,” Terrence said. “Never considered going someplace else for part of my training. Maybe you could let me know what it’s like?”

  Dillon felt surprise as well as pleasure. “You want to stay in touch?”

  “I do.”

  His parents didn’t want any contact with him. Neither did his brothers. But here, where he hadn’t expected anything but reluctant tolerance, he had found a friend—and family.

  Terrence smiled shyly. “Maybe I could even visit after you’ve earned some time off.”

  Dillon returned the smile. “I’d like that.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Jillian led Daemon Sadi to the sitting room in her sister’s eyrie. “I’ve made coffee, if you’d like some.”

  “I would. Thank you.” Sadi called in a box and held it out. “I brought these.”

  “From the Sweet Tooth?”

  “No.”

  She waited until she was in the kitchen to open the plain white box. Fresh-baked pastries that she was pretty sure came from the bakery on Riada’s main street. Nothing fancy, but the taste made up for the lack of fanciness. She filled a dish with the treats, then added it to the tray that already held two mugs of coffee and napkins. Returning to the sitting room, she set everything out on a table.

  “Did Lucivar tell you about the apprenticeship in a court?” Sadi asked.

  “He said you had talked to a Queen and would tell me about it. He also said you would have to decide about me bringing a friend.” She handed him a mug of coffee and felt bold and a little reckless when she said, “Have you decided?”

  “I had the impression that that decision was already made and my consent is superfluous, but you have it. As for the apprenticeship, you’ve been offered a six-month contract to serve in the Queen of Little Weeble’s court.”

  Jillian blinked. “The Queen of what?”

  “Little Weeble. It’s a small village on the coast of Askavi. Far enough but not too far from home. No mountains there, but you’d have a chance to live in a village that focuses on fishing and spend time with Rihlanders who have a different way of looking at just about everything.”

  The name tickled her. But . . . “Do you think Prince Yaslana would consent to me going there?”

  “He’ll give his consent. He’s struggling with the idea of letting you fly on your own, but if you send him a letter every few days to let him know how you’re getting on, Lucivar might resist checking up on you in person every day.”

  “But he doesn’t like to read.”

  Sadi smiled. “Darling, if you wrote him a letter, he would read it. And after he read it, he would tuck it in a drawer in his desk so that he could look at it every day and reassure himself that letting you go was the right thing to do.”

  “Then I’d like to go. I’d like to experience something beyond the villages in Ebon Rih.”

  “Dillon will be leaving Askavi in a few days. He asked to see you before you go.”

  “I—” Did she want to see him? Was there any point? “All right.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Jillian nodded.

  “Then I’ll deliver the message.” Sadi selected a pastry and took a bite. “I’m curious about something.”

  “What?” Please don’t ask me why I was attracted to Dillon in the first place. I don’t want to admit that having a crush on you is the reason I liked him.

  “What did Dillon finally say that made you angry enough to hit him?”

  Finally say? That meant there had been other things that should have sparked her anger. Something to think about at another time. “He said Prince Yaslana wasn’t my father.”

  “Is he?” Sadi asked gently. “Is Lucivar your father?”

  Jillian looked the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan in the eyes. “In every way that counts.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Daemon stepped out of Nurian’s eyrie. He’d spent a couple of days in the Consort’s suite at the Keep, giving himself—and the Sadist—time to settle so that his family would be safe around him when he went home.

  He was ready to go home. But he’d been given a message to see Lucivar before leaving Ebon Rih. He caught one of the Winds and rode to the landing web below the Yaslana eyrie. As he climbed the stairs to the flagstone courtyard, he wondered why Khary hadn’t been with Jillian while they had talked about the girl going to Perzha’s court. He’d have thought the Sceltie would have had any number of opinions about going to an unknown village and court.

  Maybe it was as simple as Jillian not wanting the Sceltie to be disappointed if he wasn’t included in this apprenticeship.

  Khary’s absence troubled him, but not as much as the control Dae
mon saw on Lucivar’s face when his brother opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

  ٭Daemonar found her this morning,٭ Lucivar said on a Red spear thread.

  ٭Found . . . ?٭ He looked toward the corner of the room where Daemonar knelt beside a whining ball of dirty fur.

  “See?” Daemonar’s hand rested on the fur. “I told you he would be back.”

  Shock sizzled through him, struck a blow to his heart. “Morghann?” He looked at Lucivar. “What happened? Is she hurt?”

  “We’ll talk later,” Lucivar said quietly.

  The Sceltie raised her head at the sound of his voice. Dull eyes brightened with joy. She uncurled, staggered a couple of steps, then ran to him. ٭Daemon! My Daemon!٭

  Afraid she would try to leap into his arms and fall, Daemon crouched to meet her and gather her up. “Morghann. Why are you still here, little Sister? Why didn’t you go home with Lady Surreal and the others?”

  ٭I couldn’t find you.٭ She licked his chin before tucking her nose under his jacket, where she could breathe in his scent. ٭They left us.٭

  Us. He had plenty of questions, but feeling the trembling dog in his arms, he focused on other priorities.

  “I think we should all have a snack,” Lucivar said. “Then I’ll drive you and Morghann home in a Coach.”

  “Maybe Morghann should have a bath before you go.” Daemonar wrinkled his nose. “She’s stinky.”