Shalador's Lady

Rage flashed in the landen’s face, quickly masked but not quickly enough.

Brok and Garth stepped up to the table.

“You trying to give the Ladies trouble?” Brok snarled.

“Gentlemen,” Kermilla said firmly. “There is no reason to be uncivil because of a simple misunderstanding.” She looked at the landen and used the same tone that effectively cowed the landens in sheep-shit Woolskin. “I’m sure this man didn’t realize aQueen was interested in the belt, and it is customary that when aQueen expresses interest in an item, it is given to her as agift. ” She picked up the belt and handed it to Correne. “Therefore, haggling over the price isn’t necessary. Is it?”

The landen looked at Brok and Garth. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s not necessary. Please accept this belt as a gift, Lady.”

“The guards are coming,” Garth said. “Let’s go.”

Something in his voice had Kermilla walking back to their carriage. And something in Brok’s voice when he looked at a weaver and said, “Tell your little bitch to keep an eye out for us,” made her shiver.

Then the guards rode up and surrounded them—hard men with honed tempers.

“What is the meaning of this?” Kermilla demanded.

“These two Warlords were forbidden to come into the landen part of town,” a guard said. “The penalty for disobeying the Queen’s command is exile. Or death.”

“No!” Kermilla’s heart pounded. How could this man be such a brute? He had no business threatening her boys. None! “You can’t do that.”

“The Queen’s command—”

“I outrank Cassidy, andI say these men are free to come and go as they please!”

The guard looked at her, and there was no indication he was going to yield.

“Your Jewels may outrank Lady Cassidy’s, butshe rules Dena Nehele.”

“For now,” Kermilla snapped. “Come spring,I will be the law here, and I won’t forget who caused trouble for me and mine.”

A humming, terrible silence.

“Warlord,” Kenjim said politely as he stepped up to stand at her left. “The Ladies were not aware of this command when they asked these two Warlords to stand as additional escorts.”

“Garth and Brok were aware of it,” the guard said. “They almost blinded a young girl. That’s why they were banned from this part of town.”

“If Lord Bardoc and I had been aware of this, we would have opposed those Warlords coming with us,” Kenjim said.

Kenjim’s anger was a scalding heat against her skin. Kermilla took a half step away from him.

“We’ll escort you all back to the line,” the guard said. “And we’ll take Garth and Brok back to their father’s house. This will be reported to the Master of the Guard. If he feels that more needs to be done, he’ll take care of it.”

If more needs to be done? Kermilla frowned. What did that mean?

“Fair enough,” Kenjim said.

“Fair enough?” Kermilla stared at Kenjim in disbelief. Then she glared at the guard. “You won’t report to anyone. Grayhaven isTheran’s town.”

“Last I heard, it was still part of Dena Nehele. Prince Grayhaven may rule here, but he still has to answer to the Queen and her court. And that includes Talon, the Master of the Guard.”

Theran would befurious if Talon came here and started chewing on him over this.

She offered no other protests as Kenjim and Bardoc helped her and Correne into the carriage.

*I vanished the belt before the guards arrived,* Correne said once they were all seated.

As if that was the least bit important right now,Kermilla thought.

Two of the guards escorted them all the way back to the spot where she had met up with Brok and Garth. Then they rode off with her two boys, leaving her with Bardoc’s discomfort and Kenjim’s simmering anger.

As soon as they returned to the mansion, Correne scurried to her room and Bardoc made some excuse about needing to talk to Jhorma. Which left her alone with Kenjim, who followed her right into her room.

“What in the name of Hell are you doing, associating with bastards who would try to blind a child?” Kenjim growled.

“Garth and Brok are mine.” Kermilla thumped a fist against her chest. “Mine!”

“They tried to blind a child!”

“A stupid landen!” Kermilla shouted. “Who cares about landens?”

He stared at her before saying quietly, “A Queen with honor.”

The insult silenced her. She studied his eyes, felt the sharp heat of his temper. She tried a delicate psychic probe to find out what was under the moment’s temper—and found disgust, disappointment, and contempt.

“If Garth and Brok belong to you, then I don’t.” Kenjim’s voice was dangerously quiet. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, claiming that you’re going to be Queen here—”

“Iam going to be Queen! Theran promised me!”

Kenjim let out a huffing laugh that held no humor. “Then he’s as much of a fool as we were.”

Kermilla walked over to the window and stared at nothing. Bardoc was unhappy about this misunderstanding with those stupid guards who were protecting landens, but she could talk him around. Kenjim, however, was now a danger to her. He wouldn’t be able to turn Theran against her, but his anger could sour the opinion of the Warlord Princes who were coming to meet her. He might even try to ruin her chance of becoming the Queen of Dena Nehele.

She turned back to face him. “Pack your things. You’re returning to Bhak immediately. I’ll have Gallard assign another in the First Circle to stand escort here.”

“As the Lady wishes.” Kenjim’s smile held a sharp, terrible edge. “Before you, I served an honest—and honorable—Queen for five years. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the value of negotiating.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you try to smear my reputation by distorting what happened today or by misrepresenting this conversation, I will go to Lady Darlena and counter your report with a charge of mistreatment.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Kermilla paled. As a District Queen, she ruled under the hand of a Province Queen who, in turn, ruled her piece of Dharo under the hand of the Territory Queen. If Kenjim went to Darlena with a charge of mistreatment, more than the Province Queen would be taking a look at her court. And that wouldn’t do at all. Not when spring was so many months away. If Darlena—or even worse, Sabrina—took Kenjim’s side in this and released him from his contract right now, it would break her court, and she wouldn’t have the income from Bhak and Woolskin to support her, as insufficient as it was.

If she asked Theran to kill Kenjim, would he do it without asking questions?

No. Not without questions. Even if Theran would do that for her, Jhorma and Bardoc would insist on some justification—and would insist on her leaving Dena Nehele, which would ruin everything.

Kenjim has already considered that. He knows the knife he’s holding against my throat is sharper than any I can hold against his. I can’t strike against him without hurting myself more.

“Very well,” she said coldly. “We’ll just say that you’ve completed your rotation as escort and are returning to Bhak to take up other duties on behalf of your Queen. Is that satisfactory?”

“Quite satisfactory.”

“In that case,get out. ”

He reached for the door but didn’t open it. When he looked at her, she thought she saw regret, maybe even sorrow, in his eyes.

“Do yourself a favor, Kermilla. Cut the acquaintance with those two young Warlords. Stop playing these games. Go back to Bhak and start taking care of what is already yours. If you don’t, I won’t be the only man who walks away from your court.” He opened the door and walked out.

She didn’t go down to dinner that night, claiming a sick headache. And that wasn’t far from the truth, since she had blurred the afternoon with many generous glasses of brandy.

Tonight she would brood and sulk and get gloriously drunk. Tomorrow, when those Warlord Princes came to dinner, she needed to shine.

CHAPTER 19

KAELEER

*Bastard?*

Daemon opened his eyes, not sure if the call that had broken his sleep had been real or part of a dream.

*Bastard?*

Ebon-gray psychic thread. No doubt now that the call was real. *Prick?* He waited. Didn’t get a response. Just a sense of pain running through that psychic thread.*Lucivar?*

*I need help.*

Daemon flung the sheet aside and rolled out of bed, startling Jaenelle. *Where are you?*

*Home.*

*Are you hurt?*

*No. Marian . . .* Pain. Grief.

Mother Night. *I’ll be there as soon as I can.*

He rushed into the adjoining bedroom to dress. Jaenelle rushed in right behind him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He pulled on trousers and a shirt that he didn’t bother to button. He grabbed a jacket, shoes, and socks, then vanished them. “Something about Marian.”

“May the Darkness have mercy.” Jaenelle ran back to her bedroom, hollering as she went, “Get one of the Coaches. I’m going with you.”

He hesitated, even considered arguing with her. She was still in the days of her moontime when she couldn’t use more than basic Craft without causing herself excruciating pain. But she was a Healer, the best Healer in the whole damn Realm, and she was Lucivar’s sister and Queen. If Marian needed more help than the Eyrien Healer could provide, Jaenelle would step in, no matter the cost.

And this time, as long as her own life wasn’t at risk, he wouldn’t try to stop her.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He was out of the room and running through the Hall to reach the outer door closest to the stables and the building that housed the carriages and Coaches. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">