Anne Bishop - Shalador's Lady

“Is Cassidy going to be the Queen of Dena Nehele two months from now?”

“No, she is not!”

“Then this is the only answer that gives both sides a choice besides war.”

“Choice.” The word hooked its claws into him and left his heart bleeding. “You call this a choice? Kermilla will never accept this.”

“She isn’t the Queen yet.”

“She’s going to be.”

“But she isn’t the Queen yet. And I guess, right now, that makes you the unofficial ruler of Dena Nehele. So it’s up to you to accept this.”

Theran staggered back a step. No Queen. No female hand to guide them once it became known that Cassidy had turned away from the Provinces north of the Heartsblood River.

No Queen again. At least, not until Kermilla formed a court.

“I guess I’m no longer part of Cassidy’s court,” Theran said.

“You don’t serve the Queen of Shalador Nehele, so, no, you’re no longer part of the court.”

So much sadness in Talon’s eyes.

“Talon . . . are you really going to stand against me?”

“Let us go, Theran. We don’t want a war, but if you send men against us or our Queen, we will fight. And I tell you now, boy, if we meet on a killing field I will do everything I can to destroy you.”

Theran’s eyes stung. He blinked away the tears. “That’s it then.”

“Yes, that’s it.” Talon walked to the study door and opened it. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “May the Darkness embrace you, Theran.”

Theran said nothing until Talon left the room. Then he whispered, “And you, Talon. And you.”

Kermilla tapped on the study door and swallowed her resentment—again—about being locked out of Theran’s study. That would change once she was the Queen. Yes, that would certainly change. But for now, she couldn’t demand to know what had happened between Theran and that awful Prince Talon. Just looking at the man’s maimed hand and the way he walked because of the missing part of his right foot made her shudder. At least she wouldn’t have to consider him for her court, no matter how Theran felt about him.

She knocked on the door, louder this time. And this time it opened.

When she walked in, Theran was pacing, the restless movement of a man incapable of remaining still. And the look on his face . . .

“What happened?” she asked. “Did something happen to your cousin?” Not that she cared a finger snap about Gray since he’d been so rude to her, but Theran did care, so it was appropriate to show concern.

“He’s lost his mind, that’s what happened,” Theran snapped. “With help, I’m sure, from that Shalador bastard Ranon.”

That didn’t tell her anything. “Theran . . .”

He strode to his desk, grabbed a document, and thrust it into her hands.

She read—and felt a fury rise in her unlike anything she had felt before. “That bitch ! She’s taken whole Provinces ?”

“Everything south of the Heartsblood River is now ruled by Lady Cassidy, Queen of Shalador Nehele,” Theran said bitterly. “A third of Dena Nehele is gone because of a piece of paper!”

“No! Get them back. Theran, you have to get those Provinces back!” A third of Dena Nehele? A third of the income that should be hers? Unthinkable! “You can’t let her do this to us. To the land and the people who need our guidance,” she amended when she noticed the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Well, they don’t think they need anything from us.” Theran resumed his pacing.

“You have to stop this!” Kermilla sank into a chair. That bitch . Should have known better than to offer anything . She’d been willing to let Freckledy rule the Shalador reserves, hadn’t she? Wasn’t much there worth having anyway, but it had been a way to show how generous she could be by letting the Queen who had been dismissed remain in her little village and be useful. Of course Cassidy, being a fine draft horse of a Queen, was useful.

But no. The bitch got greedy and stole Provinces that should have been hers . And that was something she couldn’t allow.

That strange fury washed through her again. “You have to do something, Prince Grayhaven.”

He gave her an odd look—more appreciative of this show of temper than wary of it.

Finally he stopped pacing, rubbed his hands over his face, and sighed. “There’s nothing I can do, Kermilla. A copy of that document is already at the Keep. There is no way to deny it exists. They did this behind my back, not even giving me the chance to challenge the decision, but it’s done now.”

“Then change it,” Kermilla said.

“How? War? Do you know what another war would do to us right now?” He shook his head. “That’s not a consideration. I doubt there is a Warlord Prince on this side of the Heartsblood River who would be willing to step onto a killing field against Ranon or Talon . . . or Jared Blaed.”

“So you’re going to give up a third of Dena Nehele to Cassidy ?” Kermilla stared at him in disbelief. How could he give up her land so easily?

“I told you, it’s already done.” Retrieving the document, which she’d dropped beside her chair, Theran set it on his desk. “No point chewing on a battle that’s already been fought and lost. Not when we have to move fast to meet the next challenge.”

“And what would that be?” She was too upset to try her sexy pout or any other maneuver on him.

Another odd look. “Convincing eleven other men to stand with me and form your court.”

Why is that a challenge?

Before she could ask him, there was a quick knock followed by the bell that signaled that dinner was ready to be served.

Theran opened the study door and looked at her. “Shall we go?”

Wasn’t really a question, so she walked out of the room—and swallowed the resentment that bubbled up again when he put a Green lock on the door.

She needed to form a court, and she couldn’t do it without his help. But once she did, there would be more than one change in Dena Nehele.

Within three days, most of the people in Dena Nehele, Blood and landen alike, had heard some version of the news that Lady Cassidy had formed a new Territory out of the Shalador reserves and Dena Nehele’s five southern Provinces.

According to the Warlord Princes in the southern Provinces, Lady Cassidy had stepped up to the line Theran Grayhaven had drawn and showed her courage by forming a new Territory that would live by the Old Ways of the Blood instead of allowing herself to be forced out by the unscrupulous Queen who was Theran’s lover.

According to the Warlord Princes in the northernmost Provinces, Lady Cassidy had abandoned them without a second thought, splitting a land that had survived the landen uprisings as well as generations of Dorothea SaDiablo’s machinations.

The Warlord Princes who lived in the Province on the other side of the Heartsblood River—and could wave to the guards now keeping watch along the northern border of Shalador Nehele—said nothing.

Four days after Shalador Nehele came into being, most of the Warlord Princes who lived north of the Heartsblood River gathered at the Grayhaven estate.

Most, but not all , Theran thought as uneasiness soured his belly. Ferall hadn’t come, and because Kermilla had burned the one letter Ferall had sent to him weeks ago, Theran didn’t know if there was something he could have done to convince the Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince that he knew what was best for the people and the land.

He walked up the steps to the platform and faced the men. Less than a year ago, Cassidy had stood in this same room and selected the men who became her First Circle. Every man who was here now had been in the room that day—and they remembered. He saw it in their eyes.