Anne Bishop - The Shadow Queen

Realizing he’d dropped the paper when he’d grabbed for the chair, Theran retrieved it and stared at the list of conditions.

“A year? She only stays a year ?”

“A year is enough time for both of you to know if your people can accept an outsider ruling over them—and if your people really want to go back to following the Old Ways of the Blood.”

“If we didn’t want to go back to living the way we did when the Gray Lady ruled, we would have settled for . . .” For one of the Queens we have—who would destroy what’s left of us as surely as one of Dorothea’s pet Queens would have done.

Theran slumped in the chair, his hands dangling between his knees. “Grayhaven is my family’s home—and my inheritance. What’s left of it. She can have the use of it. As for a tithe . . . Hell’s fire. We’re just trying to get enough food planted and harvested so that everyone has enough to eat this winter. The Queens who ruled bled the land and the people dry. I told Sadi that last night.”

“That doesn’t change what is needed for a Queen’s court,” Saetan said quietly. “She deserves something for her effort, and the court needs some way to pay for its expenses.”

“Couldn’t the tithe be paid in goods and services?” Theran asked.

“If the Queen and the First Circle are agreeable to that condition, yes, a high percentage of the tithe could be done that way.”

Hopeful that there might be more flexibility to these terms than he’d first thought, Theran looked at the sheet of paper again. “Inspections?”

“And weekly reports from the Queen.”

“Why does she have to answer to anyone? And why should my people be treated like children who get surprise tests to see if we’ve learned our manners?”

Saetan leaned back, steepled his fingers, and rested his forefingers against his chin. “Because you don’t have any manners. That’s one of the reasons you’re here. You want something you don’t remember, something your people don’t remember. The inspections aren’t to test you; they’re to appease the Warlord Princes from the Queen’s home. Since you belong to that caste, you shouldn’t be so dismissive of the power and temper that could land on your doorstep with the intention to kill. As for the Queen’s weekly reports, those, too, are to offer reassurance and are in place of having armed escorts living with her in Dena Nehele.” He paused. “I should say armed escorts from her home Territory. Providing sufficient escorts for her protection is your responsibility. Gathering the men and women who will form the First Circle is your responsibility. And assuring the Queen’s physical and emotional well-being is also your responsibility.”

Theran felt the blood drain from his face. He’d escaped all that. By living with Talon, by hiding in the mountains so the pet Queens couldn’t control the last male in the Grayhaven bloodline, he’d escaped that kind of service.

“Assess your skills, Prince,” Saetan said. “You will be one of the male triangle that serves the Queen most intimately.”

“Consort?” Theran choked on the word. “You expect me to service—”

Saetan laughed, and the undercurrent of violence in the sound made Theran shiver.

“You’re being presumptuous, puppy. No Kaeleer male is going to tolerate an assumption that any male in Terreille has a right to the Queen’s bed.”

“Then what . . . ?”

“First Escort,” Saetan said. “Same duties for the most part, up until you reach the bedroom door. As First Escort, you don’t cross the threshold. You don’t serve in bed. However, if being First Escort isn’t a service you can perform, you can stand as Master of the Guard or Steward—providing the other males in the First Circle will accept you in one of those positions.”

Relief shuddered through him.

“But if a Queen does agree to go back with you and rule your people, you will be held responsible for her care, Theran. Make no mistake about that. And if that care is found wanting, you will answer to Kaeleer. Make no mistake about that either. The Warlord Princes here may sympathize with what you want to do for your Territory. They may even be willing to help. But if they think you’re mistreating or endangering a Queen who comes from the Shadow Realm, they won’t hesitate to destroy you and your people. They will wipe you out of existence more thoroughly than Dorothea ever could. Do we understand one another?”

He had to swallow to get his heart out of his throat. “Yes, High Lord. We understand one another.”

“I’m delighted. Lady Angelline has gone to talk to a Queen who may be interested in helping your people. She’ll be back for dinner. Since you have the time, I suggest—” Saetan frowned at the door.

Theran turned his head to catch the sound. Yes, there it was again. Something scratching at the door.

Saetan raised one hand. The study door swung open, and a small brown and white dog trotted into the room and stopped near Theran’s chair.

He’d never had a dog. Always liked them, liked petting them when he was in a village, but the rogue camps in the mountains were hidden places, and while a dog might have alerted them to a stranger’s presence, its barking could also have revealed the location of the camp to an enemy.

The dog didn’t come quite close enough for a casual pat, but it did seem interested in him.

“Vae,” Saetan said.

Wondering why the High Lord sounded cautious, Theran looked at the dog more carefully. A glint of something in the ruff. A gold chain and . . .

His heart gave one hard bump before he recognized his mistake. For a moment, he thought someone had put a Purple Dusk Jewel on the dog, but it was just an amethyst, just someone thinking he was being clever by making it look like the dog wore a Jewel.

“Why don’t you and Lady Vae walk down to the village?” Saetan said. “Since the people in Halaway live by the Old Ways, spending a few hours there would give you a good idea of what would be expected from your people.”

*Walkies? I like walkies!*

The voice sounded like a young girl’s, but he didn’t actually hear it. It rang inside his head, just outside his inner barriers, as if someone had communicated on a psychic thread. But the only other being in the room besides him and the High Lord was . . .

*He does not talk? He is not trained?*

“His training has just started.” Saetan’s mouth curved in a maliciously amused smile. “Lady Vae is a kindred Sceltie. A Purple Dusk witch.”

Theran felt the blood draining out of his head. “Kindred? Witch?” That Jewel he’d seen was real ? This dog was the same rank as his Birthright Jewel?

“Yes,” Saetan crooned. “I think Vae will be the perfect escort for you.”

*He is male and foolish. I will protect him.*

“You do that.” A pause. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss right now, Prince Theran?”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one, but his legs felt like overstretched taffy and it took him a couple of tries to get out of the chair. He vanished the paper with the conditions his people would have to agree to, and as he walked toward the door, he realized the dog was waiting for him.

*I can pass through doors,* Vae said. *I know my Craft. But you are in training, so I will wait for you to open the door.*

As he stepped into the great hall and the study door closed behind him, he heard the High Lord of Hell laugh.

Cassidy stared at Jaenelle Angelline, then looked at her cousin Aaron, who was pacing the length of the sitting room in her parents’ house.

“You’re both teasing,” Cassidy said. “This is a joke.”

“I wish it were,” Aaron growled. “But she’s serious.”