Shalador's Lady (The Black Jewels #8)

Shalador's Lady (The Black Jewels #8) Page 83

When told the news, the Keep’s Seneschal offered her congratulations and left. Daemon opened a bottle of wine and poured while Lucivar handed out the glasses.

After the first toast, Daemon set his glass aside and called in two small jeweler’s boxes. “Here, Gray. I had a feeling you were going to need these someday, and it looks like that day has come.”

Gray set his own glass down and opened the first box. “A man’s traditional marriage ring. Do you think it will fit me?”

Daemon chuckled as Gray admired the plain gold band. “Darling, I know it will fit you. Remember our trip to Amdarh for some of the Winsol shopping? Remember going to Banard’s?”

Gray nodded. “Surreal wanted to buy a ring for Rainier, and I tried some on so you could see how they fit.” He frowned. “Which actually made no sense, but at the time, itsounded like it made sense.”

*What sort of spell did you wrap around him when you did that?* Saetan said.

*Nothing much,* Daemon replied. *And it wasn’t around him, it was around my voice.*

*Ah.* “Except for a court ring or a marriage ring, the only ring a man usually wears is his Jewels,” Saetan said.

“Oh.” Gray narrowed his eyes at Daemon. “It was a trick?”

“A small deception,” Daemon replied. “But with that little ruse, you obligingly provided Banard with your ring size. And then there is this.” He flipped the other box open and held it out.

“Mother Night,” Gray whispered.

When Gray just stood there, staring, Daemon tipped the box so Saetan could see the ring.

“That’s lovely,” Saetan said. “And it suits Cassie.”

It did suit Cassidy. Amber in three colors, set in a clean design of gold.

“I can’t afford that ring,” Gray said.

“The two rings are a wedding gift from the SaDiablo family,” Daemon said. “A gift to a Queen we admire—and to a Warlord Prince who has had the courage to live up to his potential. I hope you’ll accept them.”

*I trust you have no objections to the gift?* he asked Lucivar and Saetan.

*None,* they replied.

Gray took the box that held Cassie’s wedding ring. “Thank you.”

“Come on, boyo,” Daemon said. “Let’s sit down, have something to eat, and you can tell us every detail about your marriage proposal.” He and Lucivar and Saetan all laughed at Gray’s expression. “All right. Not every detail.”

CHAPTER 45

TERREILLE

There was nothing Theran could do. The more he tried to hold on to the land his family had guarded and cherished for so long, the more of it fell away.

Two weeks after the Heartsblood River Province deserted Dena Nehele and gave itself to Cassidy, one of the northern Provinces that bordered the Tamanara Mountains became part of Shalador Nehele. A week after that, the other Province that bordered the mountains turned away from its heritage.

Only four Provinces left. A land that had held for centuries had been reduced to a third of its size within the space of a couple of months. Kermilla was almost hysterical in her demands that hedo something, and hetried . But nothing worked.

Nothing.

When the news about the second mountain Province reached him, he didn’t summon the Warlord Princes living in the four remaining Provinces.

This time, they summoned him.

They met in an old barn next to an abandoned farmhouse. A familiar kind of gathering place, Theran thought as he slipped inside. During the years when these men had fought against the twisted Queens, they couldn’t gather at an inn without coming to the attention of the Queens’ guards and they wouldn’t gather at anyone’s home and put that man’s family at risk.

He knew their names, but it was understood that no names were spoken at this kind of meeting. Foolish, really, when there were so few of them left they all knew one another, but that caution had been too well trained into them.

“Prince.” A Purple Dusk Warlord Prince stepped forward. “I’ve been asked to be the voice of my Brothers.”

Theran tipped his head to acknowledge the man—and to acknowledge that these men had gathered for a discussion at least once without him. “I’m listening.”

“The day after I reached my majority and my training was declared complete, I walked onto my first killing field. I’ve been fighting for Dena Nehele in one way or another ever since. I guess that’s true for all of us here.”

The other twenty-six Warlord Princes nodded.

Only twenty-eight of us to guard four Provinces,Theran thought.How in the name of Hell are we going to do that?

“I’ve fought for Dena Nehele,” the Warlord Prince said. “My father and my grandfather and his father before him all fought and bled and died for Dena Nehele. And as much as we respect Ranon and Jared Blaed, we want to live in Dena Nehele. The Queens in our Provinces feel the same. We don’t want Dena Nehele to become nothing more than a memory.”

Thank the Darkness. “Then come back to Grayhaven with me. Meet with Lady Kermilla. Help me form a court so that—”

“No.” The Warlord Prince took a step back. “We’ll protect Dena Nehele. We’ll defend the Blood against the landens, and we’ll fight to keep our Provinces safe from outside attack. But none of us will serve Kermilla.”

Theran’s temper flared hot. “You’ve never given her a chance. She’s young, and she doesn’t have as much experience as she thinks she has, but she’s not an evil woman or a bad Queen. Befriending Correne was a mistake, and I know the girl’s influence on Kermilla’s behavior left a bad taste in a few men’s mouths, but—”

“Theran.”

The breach of etiquette shocked him cold.

“We’ve heard words like this before, Theran. Heard them from good men who couldn’t see the blood on their Queens’ hands or tried to justify brutality because they couldn’t live with the truth.”

Theran said nothing.

“We won’t serve her, and we won’t stand by and let her become Queen of what is left of our land. We serve Dena Nehele, and we’re willing to let the Grayhaven line stand as the ruler. But not her. Never her. If we have to meet you on a killing field and end the Grayhaven line to make sure she doesn’t become Queen, then that is what we will do.”

He didn’t want to believe the words, but he couldn’t doubt what he saw in their eyes. If he helped Kermilla set up a court, they would kill him—and then they would kill her.

“She gave up everything to stay here and be our Queen,” he said, desperate to make them understand.

“I doubt she gave up anything, but you believe what you choose. It’s clear enough she’s your Queen; that doesn’t make her ours.” The Warlord Prince sighed. “Two weeks, Prince. She’s safe from us for two more weeks. After that, we’ll come hunting.”

They flowed around him, predators heading back to the territories they claimed as their own.

Theran stood there, alone, long after the last man had caught the Winds.

Where was the promise of a new life, a better life? Where was the hope? There had been hope a year ago, hadn’t there? Gone now. All gone. He didn’t know how to fix it, any of it.

And he didn’t know what he was going to say to Kermilla.

CHAPTER 46

TERREILLE

Days ticked by. Theran spent the time riding through the town. Dena Nehele’s capital had too many empty houses, too many empty shops. The people who remained watched him ride by, their eyes accepting and dull.

He rode into the landen part of town and stared at the craftsmen’s courtyard where Cassidy had defended a landen family against a Warlord and his two sons.

People’s eyes hadn’t been accepting and dull then.

To avoid Kermilla and the questions he couldn’t answer, he walked around the Grayhaven estate, slogging on slushy paths and riding trails until his trousers were soaked and his legs ached. Or he’d stare at the flower beds Gray had restored, at the spring flowers that had already bloomed or would bloom in a couple more weeks, according to Julien. And more often, he would end up in front of the bed full of witchblood, remembering the day they all discovered what it was—and what it meant.

The days ticked by, and soon there would be no days left. He had to make a choice before the other Warlord Princes made it for him.

A gorgeous spring day. Sweet air and sun that gave warmth as well as light.

Theran stood on the terrace, enjoying this teasing hint of the days to come. It was still too early in the season for the land to shrug off winter altogether, but this was a day to savor.

And there, tucked in the shelter of the terrace’s raised beds, was the little honey pear tree, which had survived the winter.

He heard the terrace door open and knew without turning who was there. Her psychic scent was irresistible even on a day like today when her physical presence had less than no appeal.

“Theran?”

Dredging up a smile, he turned toward the door. Kermilla was wrapped in a shawl and a sulky mood.

The shawl wasn’t one he’d seen before, and he wondered if that was because it was something she tended to wear in the spring or if he was going to receive an apology and a bill from one of the merchants.

“Why are you wasting time?” Kermilla asked. “Why aren’t you bringing the Warlord Princes here so that I can choose my court?”

“It’s complicated, Kermilla.” He’d been trying to work out a way for everyone to get something, even if he couldn’t give her what she really wanted.

“It’s not complicated, Theran. Justtell them.” She walked over to the table where he’d set a few papers down. Giving him a defiant look, she moved until she could read as much of the top page as was visible around the fist-sized rock serving as a paperweight.

“I can’ttell them anything.”

Since it wasn’t interesting, she gave up on trying to read the top page. “You’re the darkest-Jeweled Warlord Prince in this miserable excuse of a Territory. Of course you can tell them.”