She paced her bedroom, feeling more misused with every circuit she made. She’d wasted the whole summer, when she should have been enjoying picnics and parties instead of being criticized for not working in the damn garden. And despite her pointed hints, Theran remained oblivious to what she’d given up to stay here and wait until he could make her the Queen of Dena Nehele.

There was nothing to do in this dung-heap town. Nothing! She could visit a couple of aristo girls she’d become acquainted with, but they had no interesting conversation, so there wasn’t much point. Besides, about the only things they could do during these visits were walk around the village or drive around the village. And if they did that, the girls wanted to browse in the shops, and what was the point of going into shops if you couldn’t buy anything? She’d written three letters to her Steward, Lord Gallard, telling him to double the forthcoming autumn tithes because she needed the income, and also commanding him to send her some marks from the village treasury to hold her over.

His single answer had been vague about the autumn tithes and totally lacking in the required marks.

She could summon her Consort, but there had been a change over the summer in Jhorma’s attitude that made her feel like she was alone in bed even when he was pumping inside her.

She could work. That would make Theran happy. But she saw no reason to exert herself when her efforts would benefit someone else’s purse instead of her own.

So there was nothing, nothing, nothing to do around here until spring when she would rule the whole of Dena Nehele and not be stuck in this town.

And she didn’t have the status symbol that had captured the fancy of the Blood in this land.

She didn’t have a Sceltie.

She’d written to Morghann, the Queen of Scelt, indicating she would be amenable to having one of the dogs as a companion, but Morghann had shown a distinct lack of manners and had not replied.

And now Correne’s letter this morning.

Why did old Freckledy need a whole pack of them? The bitch was just trying to secure her position. She knew she couldn’t retain the title of Territory Queen after the year’s contract was done unless she did something to catch the Blood’s interest.

Theran had explained about the contract that gave Cassidy and the people of Dena Nehele one year to decide if Cassidy would become the fully acknowledged Queen of Dena Nehele.

She didn’t have access to Cassidy’s court here, so she couldn’t use her skills to coax the men into believing she was the better choice. That meant she didn’t have an already formed court to claim, and that meant she was going to have to entice twelve males here to serve in her First Circle, and that meant she couldn’t be seen as lacking in any way.

Which meant getting a Sceltie.

*Laska, please attend.*

He hadn’t been with her when she first arrived in Grayhaven. Cassidy’s First Circle wouldn’t recognize him, so Cassidy would be the only person he’d have to avoid. He’d be able to slip in and out of that stupid Shalador village, fetching her a special little friend in exchange for being allowed to go home, which was the only thing her First Circle seemed to want to do anymore.

And once she had a Sceltie to help her entertain the men Theran brought here to meet her, no one would remember old Freckledy’s name.

One of the men looked toward the landing web as Laska arrived. After a moment’s study of the area, the man returned his attention to the card game, and Laska snuck away, feeling more confident that he would remain undetected long enough to complete his assignment and return to Grayhaven.

As he slipped along the village streets, looking for the required prize, he wondered why he couldn’t approach one of Cassidy’s First Circle and just ask for a dog. Why had Kermilla emphasized the need for stealth? Had she already asked Cassidy and the request had been refused? Or was Kermilla using this as a pissing contest to prove her court was better than the court Cassidy now ruled? That a member of her court, a Summer-sky Warlord, could slip in and out of a village that several Warlord Princes regarded as their personal territory?

He didn’t care anymore what Kermilla wanted. Her appeal had soured at a devastating speed once she had control of a court, and despite having months left in his contract, he was already counting the days until he wasn’t hers to command.

A dog barked. Laska hurried toward the sound. Then he turned a corner, stopped, and swore under his breath.

There were Scelties here all right, the first ones he’d seen. But he was on the main street of the damn village, and there were an awful lot of people out and about.

Maybe that would work to his advantage. With so many people milling about, who would notice him in a crowd? And he wouldn’t have to go all the way back to the landing web. Courtesy and formality dictated that landing webs be used when arriving or leaving a village, but people could catch or drop from the Winds anywhere along the way. He didn’t even need to catch the Summer-sky Wind. Any of the lighter Webs would do. There wasn’t a thread of any Wind he could access running over the main street, but he’d be able to find something between here and the landing web.

He could grab a Sceltie and be gone from this village before anyone realized the dog was missing. And once Kermilla had a special little friend, he would be allowed to go home.

With that in mind, Laska retreated and circled round to approach the main street from the other direction.

They had done so much. The businesses owned by Daemon Sadi were in operation. The Lady’s Pleasure—named, he’d been told, for Lady Angelline’s enjoyment of the beverage—served coffee imported from Kaeleer, which was much smoother than the rough drink he’d always known as coffee. They also served small cups of thick hot chocolate—frightfully expensive, but a drink a young man bought a lady he wanted to impress. Small sandwiches and pastries were also served.

The coffee shop provided a playroom and a fenced outdoor play area for young children so that mothers could have a quiet moment to visit with friends. The shop had hired two young witches to watch the children, as well as Kharr and Bryant, two Warlord Scelties with a no-nonsense attitude when it came to herding anything.

The shop had been open a week, and it already was an important gathering place, as was Whistler’s Tavern. The tavern also served food—mostly sandwiches in the warm weather, but it would serve soups, stews, and meat pies once the season turned colder.

Merchants, the variety shop managed by Lord Careth, had received its first shipment of practical goods from Kaeleer, along with a crate of books that would have made Gray whimper in lust if four crates of books for the loaning library hadn’t arrived at the same time. Gray had spent an evening helping the newly hired librarian sort the books just so he could look at them.

And then there was Heartbeat, the music shop, where Ranon was meeting his grandfather to look over the instruments. Yairen wanted to hear the Scelt whistle, an instrument similar enough to the Shalador flute. Being made of metal instead of wood, the Scelt whistles were less expensive, and Yairen wanted to consider if they could be used as a beginning instrument for youngsters here.

“I’m going up the street to see Yairen,” Ranon told Khollie. “You’re going to stay here for story time?”

*Yes.* Khollie wagged his tail. *Wynne is here, and Vae and Darcy are here, and Mist is coming soon.*

“All right. If I’m not at the music shop when story time is done, I’ll be nearby.”

Shaking his head in amusement, Ranon continued up the street. Next month, when the weather turned colder, the weekly afternoon story time would move to the room in Heartbeat where performances and lessons would be held. Indoors or outdoors, hearing Shalador stories told in public was a strange experience for the whole village.

Having Scelties in the audience who wouldn’t tolerate children misbehaving and interrupting the storyteller was also a strange experience. Not that there was much misbehavior but, somehow, it was more shaming to be nipped by a Sceltie than cuffed by an adult.

Hurt more, too.

He entered the shop and nodded to the Shaladoran couple who had been hired to run the shop and teach music. Laithan taught Shalador flute and the fiddle. He had been one of Yairen’s students—one of the last to learn from the Tradition Keeper before the old man’s hands were broken for good. Jade had a lovely voice and ran two classes to teach the traditional Shalador songs. Mostly, though, Jade ran the business end of the shop.

And Lizzie, the Sceltie who had claimed the music shop as her place, ran everyone.

“There you are, grandson,” Yairen said. “Laithan has given me some of his time to hear the drum that came from the Isle of Scelt. Now it is your turn so I can hear the metal flute.”

“I don’t think our traditional songs sound right on the Scelt whistle,” Laithan said, “but Dena Nehele folk songs suit the instrument’s range. Jade has sorted out most of the music that arrived. I’ll see if there is anything that was written specifically for these whistles.”

Ranon picked up a whistle. It was shorter and half the circumference of a Shalador flute, but the finger holes were the same. Setting his fingers, he blew a note.

A different sound than the wooden flute. A sharper sound. But pleasing all the same. He tried a piece of a traditional Shalador song and then a folk song from Dena Nehele. Laithan was right; the folk songs sounded better than the music of Shalador.

“Here,” Laithan said, returning with several sheets of music. “Try one of these.”

Ranon looked over the music. Folk songs, he guessed. One had a lively pace; the other was slower. He chose the slower piece—and he understood why the Shalador people might find common ground with the music of Scelt.

Bright and yet bittersweet. A sound that slipped past the mind and spoke to the heart.

“It’s good,” he said a few minutes later, setting the whistle on the counter.

“A gift,” Laithan said, “along with this music.”

“Laithan . . .”

“In exchange for you coming to play here once or twice a month.” Laithan laughed. “Don’t make such a face, Ranon. You won’t have to perform alone. I’ve kept one of these whistles for myself because I want to become acquainted with this music too. One night of Shalador music and one night of Scelt to teach and entertain our people through the winter months.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

Ranon shook hands. “Deal.” Then he vanished whistle and music and looked at his grandfather. “Would you like to—”

The dog sounded panicked. *Khollie? What’s wrong?* By the time Ranon turned away from the counter and took the first step, Lizzie had passed through the door and charged down the street.

More than panic now. All he heard was terror.

Ranon burst out of Heartbeat and headed down the street, not quite running as he shaped a tight, double layer of Opal shields around himself—the kind of shielding a Warlord Prince used on a killing field.

Not quite running toward the commotion near Elders’ Park, but aware of everything around him. Aware of confused feelings edging toward anger that created a psychic buzz so thick and harsh it was almost a sound. Aware of Wynne and Kharr herding the children who had come for story time into a tight flock that could be defended. Aware of Vae, Darcy, and Lizzie snapping and snarling as they circled around something that kept trying to move away from Elders’ Park and all the people.

*Ranon?* Archerr called. *What in the name of Hell is going on?*

*I don’t know.* Ranon slowed down as he scanned the street. *The Scelties are all acting strange. Maybe a piglet or chicken got loose and they’re making a game of herding it.* But he’d see or hear an animal if it was caught between the three dogs. And that didn’t explain Wynne and Kharr’s behavior—or why he couldn’t spot Khollie.

Then Vae charged the empty space within the Sceltie triangle and hit something with a blast of Purple Dusk power.

A sight shield broke, revealing an unknown Warlord.

Ranon froze for just a moment as he remembered the day the Scelties arrived in Eyota and how one of them had located Archerr by scent, despite the Warlord Prince being sight shielded.

That was when he saw the rest, and a cold rage burned through him as he strode down the street.

The bastard had a hand around Khollie’s neck, holding the dog off the ground that way. Not by the scruff, by the neck.

The Scelties looked at him and hesitated a moment, then resumed their attack, hitting the defensive shields the stranger threw around himself.

At first Ranon wondered why Vae and the others were throwing themselves against the stranger’s shields. That tactic was draining the Scelties’ power as well as the Warlord’s, and Ranon thought it a waste of their strength until he realized the brilliance of their fight. The dumb, two-legged sheep was caught in a snapping triangle, unable to run away—and too harried to notice the enraged Warlord Princes closing in on him.

As he moved toward the fight, Ranon’s eyes flicked from one side of the street to the other. Kharr and Wynne had the children and elders well shielded. Shaddo and Archerr were coming up the street to flank the bastard. Vae, Darcy, and Lizzie continued their relentless attack, wearing down the Warlord’s power and shields.

And Khollie . . .

Khollie hung limp and unmoving in the bastard’s grasp.

Ranon called in his fighting knife and used Craft to create a flash of light on the blade, deliberately forcing the Warlord’s attention on himself now.

“Let him go,” Ranon snarled.

The Warlord shifted his arm to use Khollie’s hanging body as a shield. “You’ve got plenty of them.” He sounding desperate. “We only want one. We’ll take this one. He’s already damaged.”

“How dare you?” Ranon’s voice sounded barely human. “Let my little brother go!”

No way for the man to catch the Winds from this part of the street. No way for the Warlord to get away, not with the three Scelties keeping him pinned. No chance of the bastard winning a fight, not with three Warlord Princes standing on this killing field ready to rip him apart.

Then Darkmist charged up the street, heading straight for the Warlord.

Perfect. If Darkmist hit the Warlord in the back, that would be the distraction Ranon needed to strike without endangering Khollie.

*Vae,* Ranon said. *As soon as I break that bastard’s shields, you grab Khollie and run.*

*We will catch Khollie,* she replied, continuing to keep the Warlord in position for the best strike.

He kept his eyes on the stranger, but he could feel Darkmist and knew the moment he needed to unleash a punch of Opal power and break the man’s shields so the dog could strike.

A second after the shields broke, Darkmist leaped . . . and missed. The man’s open coat flapped as the dog sailed past.

An odd look flashed over the Warlord’s face as he staggered a step and dropped Khollie. At the same time, Vae leaped, grabbed one of Khollie’s front legs, and kept going, running on air and pulling Khollie with her as Darcy and Lizzie scattered.

Then Ranon noticed the blood on Darkmist’s muzzle. Saw the thing in Darkmist’s jaws beat once, twice. And once more before those jaws closed on a still-beating heart.

Darkmist whirled to face the Warlord. Ranon felt the punch of furious Opal power—and saw the man’s head puff for a moment before he fell to the ground.

The dog hadn’t missed. Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. The dog hadn’t missed. He’d passed through the man’s body and snatched the heart right out of the man’s chest.

The thought of the skill and training it took to do something like that knocked Ranon back from the killing edge.

Vanishing the knife, he rushed over to the spot where Vae guarded Khollie. He dropped to his knees and reached for the little dog—and snatched his hand back in time to keep from losing a finger as Mist, still riding the killing edge, dropped the heart and snapped at him.

“Let me help him, Mist,” Ranon said. “He’s your brother, but he’s my friend. Step back now. Step back.”

There were sounds all around him now, people all around now, but the only thing that mattered was the other Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

Mist took a step back. His eyes were still glazed and he still growled. Probably wasn’t even aware of it.

Watching Mist, Ranon placed a hand on Khollie. “Khollie?” He felt the dog’s heart beat, felt the lungs rise and fall with each breath. “Khollie?” He began a careful exploration, hesitating when he got to the neck. Was it damaged?

The dark eyes, usually filled with joy, were closed.

“Hell’s fire, Ranon,” Shaddo said, approaching carefully since there were two Opal Warlord Princes whose tempers were unpredictable right now. “Is he all right?”

“I don’t know.” Ranon stripped off his shirt and wrapped Khollie in it before he stood up and looked around. “I need to get him to Shira, but I . . . we . . . walked over.”

“Prince Ranon, here.” Guard Jaego hurried up with his horse.

Ranon took a step, then looked at Shaddo and Archerr.

“We’ll find a place to store the carrion until Talon rises and can get a look at the bastard,” Archerr said.

“Go on,” Shaddo said. “We’ll take care of things here.”

Freed of any duties beyond the dog in his arms, Ranon mounted Jaego’s horse and galloped back to the Queen’s Residence with Darkmist racing after him.

One of the Scelties must have alerted the silver twins because Lloyd was waiting for him when he reached the Residence. He dismounted and tossed a rein to the Sceltie, who led the horse to the stables.

“Shira!” Ranon roared as he entered the house. Sweet Darkness, let her be here. He took Khollie into the parlor the court used and laid the dog on the sofa.

“Hell’s fire, Ranon,” Shira said, rushing into the room. “What are you—” Seeing Khollie, she shoved him aside so hard she knocked him on his ass.

He snarled at her, still too furious and too close to the killing edge to tolerate the shove, even from her.

“Prince Ranon, attend.”

Cassidy’s voice. Strong. Demanding. A leash that held his fury.

Breathing hard, he rose and walked out of the parlor.

“Report,” Cassidy said, then held up a hand and led him to the meeting room.

Powell came into the room, followed by Spere, Burne, and Cayle. A moment later, Gray, dirt-streaked and panting, rushed into the room.

“Report, Ranon,” Cassidy said.

He told them everything from the moment he had left Khollie at Elders’ Park for story time to the moment he had wrapped the Sceltie in his shirt and ridden back to the Residence to get help.

Almost everything. Watching Cassidy’s increasingly pale face, he couldn’t tell her how Darkmist had killed the bastard, couldn’t tell her about seeing the still-beating heart in the dog’s jaws.

“Hell’s fire,” Spere said when Ranon stopped talking. “I’m not going to wonder why the fool thought he could get away with it, but why did he do it in the first place?”

*He belongs to the other Queen.* Vae stood in the doorway. Ranon couldn’t tell if she quivered with anger or fear. *I remember her smells. She is on his clothes.*

Cassidy swayed. Gray wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Kermilla did this?” Cassidy asked.

*Her smells are on him.* Vae left the room.

“Did you recognize him, Ranon?” Burne asked.

Ranon shook his head.

Cassidy swallowed hard. “If he belongs to her First Circle, I could identify—”

“No,” Ranon said. After Darkmist unleashed that punch of Opal power, the man’s head had looked wrong. Until he figured out why it looked wrong, he wasn’t letting Cassidy near the body. Wasn’t letting Shira near it either.

“Archerr and Shaddo are going to find a place to store the body until Talon rises,” Ranon said. “As Master of the Guard, this falls to him now, Lady.”

“Ranon is correct,” Powell said. “And as Talon’s second-in-command, the decisions of what to do with the enemy are Ranon’s to make, Lady, not yours.”

Maybe she would have argued, but just then Shira appeared in the doorway, hugging herself.

“I don’t know,” Shira said, coming into the room. “He’s alive. His heart is beating and he’s breathing. His neck may be bruised, but I have no sense of anything broken. But he’s not there. I can’t wake him up, not with healing Craft or the Hourglass’s Craft. Vae says . . .” Her voice broke, and Ranon watched her pull on all the strength inside her to continue. “Vae says sometimes humans try to force kindred to live with them. It’s almost impossible to control the cats once they start growing up because they’re wild and so big. The wolves, like the cats, are too wild, and the horses, unicorns, and dragons are big. But Scelties are small, so sometimes humans try to take them. And s-sometimes a Sceltie goes away to a place deep inside himself, where humans can’t find him. Where humans can’t follow.”

“What happens then?” Cassidy asked.

Tears filled Shira’s eyes. “He either comes back . . . or he dies.”

“What can we do?” Ranon’s voice was rough. “Shira, what can we do?”

She shook her head. “We wait. Vae and Darkmist said to leave him wrapped in your shirt because it has your smells. They think that’s a good thing for him right now.”

She walked out of the room.

*Ranon?* Archerr called softly.

*Yeah?*

*We didn’t know where else to put it, so we brought the body to the Healing House.* Archerr hesitated. *Keep Shira away from here. Shaddo and I have had a closer look at what Darkmist did to this bastard and . . . Keep Shira away from here. Cassidy too.*

*Can you put a shield around the Healing House to keep everyone out?*

*I can. I have, in fact. I’d rather not be inside with . . . that . . . more than I have to.*

“Why would Kermilla do that?” Cassidy asked. “Why?”

“Come on, Cassie,” Gray said gently. “Come away now.”

Ranon watched Gray lead Cassie out of the room.

*Ranon?* Janos called.

Mother Night. *Where are you? Are you okay?*

*We’re fine. Reyhana and I got back from a ride and . . . Could you tell Kief to let us go? He’s got us trapped in a stall, and he says we can’t leave until you say it’s safe.*

On another day, that would have been funny. *We’ve had some trouble, Prince Janos. Khollie’s been hurt.*

*How bad?*

*Don’t know yet. Here are my orders for you and Kief: Both of you escort Reyhana back to the Residence. I want all three of you shielded, you hear me?*

*Yes, sir. I hear you.*

And he heard the Warlord Prince in his brother’s voice.

“I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Powell touched his arm—a gesture full of understanding—before following Cassidy and Gray out of the room.

“Burne and I will head over to Main Street and see what needs to be done,” Spere said.

Ranon nodded. “Jaego was on the street and probably already alerted Rogir, but pull in everyone you can to ride circuits. Make sure the landen community is put on alert, too. I don’t know what kind of game that bitch was trying to play, but we’re not giving her a second chance at it.”

“I’ll do that,” Cayle said.

“And you, Ranon?” Spere asked.

“Shaddo, Archerr, and I will hold the Queen’s square. Once Talon rises . . .”

Hours yet. It would be hours yet. And all any of them could do was wait.

Felt like pebbles in a bag of mush. It would have been less disturbing if the head had exploded from the blast of power. They’d all done that on a killing field at one time or other. But having the ability to explode bone and brains and still leave the skin intact indicated a frightening level of skill in the use of Craft and power.

More than frightening since that level of skill belonged to a dog who wore Birthright Opal and was still growing into his full strength.

“Have you seen anything like this, Talon?” Archerr asked.

The First Circle—and Gray—had gathered at the Healing House to look at this corpse. Talon scanned their faces. Wasn’t one of them who wasn’t sickly pale. Not that he blamed them for that. He was demon-dead, and even he was finding it hard to be in this room.

“No, I haven’t,” Talon replied. “Passing flesh through flesh is dangerous to the point of stupidity. Healers do it, sinking their hands into a person to heal injuries inside the body, but that’s a controlled, steady movement, and they spend years training to do it so they don’t lose parts of themselves within the other flesh.”

“This was fast,” Ranon said, his voice oddly hushed. “So damn fast. I thought he missed. Until I saw the blood on Darkmist’s muzzle and the heart, I thought he missed the bastard.”

“Shaddo and I were behind this one,” Archerr said, tipping his head to indicate the corpse. “Damned queer feeling, seeing the dog disappear like that. We weren’t even sure what we’d seen.”

“No hesitation,” Shaddo said. “The Scelties. Before we had time to figure out something was wrong, they’d decided who among them was fighting and who was defending. Fast. Hell’s fire, they were fast.”

“Wasn’t just the Scelties on the street either,” Spere said. “Duffy knew. He told Moore there was an attack in the village, then left Moore to defend the people working in the landen community while he went out for the shepherds and livestock. And Keely herded every child in the Queen’s square who was playing outside into the nearest house.”

Talon listened to them all. Strong men. Good men. And every one of them, himself included, hadn’t really understood what lived inside those small furry bodies. Despite being around Vae, they really hadn’t understood that these dogs were Blood who had been given exceptional training in Craft—and in fighting.

Once things calmed down, he was going to find out exactly what the Scelties could do.

“They weren’t waiting for me,” Ranon said quietly. “Vae could have taken that bastard. She wears Purple Dusk. He wore Summer-sky. She and Lizzie and Darcy were holding him in place, keeping him pinned, but she could have broken his defensive shields and attacked. I thought she was waiting for me to reach the fight.” He shook his head. “They were waiting for Darkmist.”

That bruises you, doesn’t it? Talon thought. It hurts your heart some to realize they weren’t sure they could count on you to defend one of them. Now you all know the answer.

Powell cleared his throat. “How did this man manage to get his hands on Khollie in the first place?”

“Snatched him,” Shaddo said. “According to Darcy, the three of them heard a man’s voice calling to them. Vae didn’t like something about the voice and stayed put, but it sounded friendly, and Khollie had no reason to think anyone in the village would hurt him, so he moved toward it. So did Darcy, but from another direction. That’s why he picked up the scent and realized the voice was coming from someone who was sight shielded. That made him wary, and he stopped. But Khollie was already close enough to grab. The moment he disappeared, Darcy and Vae warned the other Scelties and launched their attack. You know the rest.”

Talon didn’t know nearly enough, but he knew what had to be done next. “Archerr, Spere, and Haele are coming with me. Ranon—”

“I’m going with you.”

Talon shook his head. Ranon’s eyes were too bright, and he couldn’t tell if the Shaladoran’s temper was leaning toward hot or cold. Which meant Ranon was too unpredictable for this assignment.

“I’ll hold my tongue and my temper,” Ranon said. “You have my word on it. But if you’re taking this back to the mansion, I want to stand as witness. For Khollie’s sake.”

“I’m coming too,” Gray said.

“No, you’re not.” He’d give in for Ranon, but not for Gray. “You’re needed here, Gray. Cassie’s parents are home in Dharo. Even if we sent a message now, they couldn’t get back to Eyota until tomorrow. That means Cassie needs you to be here with her. Your duty is to your Queen, Prince.”

He watched Gray absorb the words—and felt relieved when Gray nodded.

“The rest of you split up. I want the landing webs, north and east, guarded at all times. Anyone can drop from the Winds anywhere along the thread, but from now on, we consider anyone a potential enemy who doesn’t arrive in the village at the landing webs or refuses to tell the guard on duty his business in our village.” Talon flipped the blanket over the corpse, glad to hide that head. “Let’s get this done.”

“Cassie.” He drew her against him, back to chest, and wrapped his arms around her.

“What am I supposed to tell Jaenelle?” Cassidy asked, her voice breaking. “She trusted me to look after the kindred. She wouldn’t have allowed them to come here otherwise. What am I supposed to tell her?”

He pressed his lips against her temple. “Nothing. Tonight, there is nothing to say. We’ll know more in the morning.”

She turned in his arms and held on to him while she wept.

He held on too and hoped with everything in him that Khollie would wake up because, better than Cassie ever could, he understood the seductive lure of going away from fear and pain and never coming back. Even if that meant dying.

Theran glanced at Kermilla as he set aside his book and rose. She’d become more and more agitated throughout the afternoon, although she’d refused to tell him why. Even Jhorma couldn’t get an answer from her. Now, hearing Talon’s name, she looked frightened.

“Bardoc, stay with the Lady,” Jhorma said as he pushed away from the card table and approached Theran.

Jhorma had no business assuming he could be part of this meeting, but Theran wasn’t going to argue. Jhorma was a rival for Kermilla’s affections—and her bed—but lately he’d shown himself to be a sensible man who had a fair amount of court polish. And right now, Theran wasn’t going to turn away anyone’s help. “Julien, tell Prince Talon—”

Talon walked into the room, brushing Julien aside. Ranon, Archerr, Spere, and Haele followed him, carrying a stretcher that held a blanket-wrapped bundle.

“Theran,” Talon said. “Lord Jhorma.” He looked at Kermilla, who was still sitting at the card table, and said nothing—a deliberate social cut.

“I think this belongs to your Lady,” Talon said, turning his attention back to Theran. Using Craft he pulled aside the blanket far enough to reveal the head.

“Mother Night,” Jhorma whispered. “That’s Laska.”

“Laska?” Kermilla squeaked.

“What happened to him?” Theran asked.

The look in Talon’s eyes. Hard. Unforgiving.

“This afternoon, this man came to the village of Eyota and tried to abduct a young Warlord,” Talon said. “The youngster’s brother, a Warlord Prince, eliminated the enemy. Afterwards, a member of the court identified the man as one of hers. So we have returned him.”

“It took a lot of rage to do that,” Jhorma said, staring at Laska.

“There was a reason for the rage,” Talon replied, his eyes never leaving Theran.

Theran’s heart banged against his chest. “Is the youngster all right?”

“The Healer has done all she can. We don’t know if it will be enough,” Talon said.

Hard eyes. Unforgiving eyes. Accusing eyes.

*Hell’s fire, Talon, how bad is it?* Theran asked. *Why would Laska do it?*

*As for why, ask your Lady,* Talon replied. *As for how bad . . . We won’t know that until we know if the youngster will live.*

Theran looked at Ranon. Cold, black fury in those eyes. And pain.

Mother Night.

“I appreciate you returning the body to us,” Jhorma said. “I recognize the courtesy you have extended to us in doing so. I will take the body back to Dharo. Shame will shroud his family’s grief because there was no honor in how Laska died, but his family will still grieve.”

*Talon, I am so sorry,* Theran said.

*Laska’s family isn’t the only one who has a reason to feel shame because of this.* Talon walked out of the room.

After lowering the stretcher to the floor, Ranon and the other men followed Talon. Julien hurried out after them.

“I’ll leave as soon as I’m packed.” Jhorma vanished the body and stretcher.

“Let Bardoc give you a hand with the packing.”

Jhorma gave Theran a long look, then signaled Bardoc, who joined them with too much haste.

“I think Bardoc should accompany me to Dharo,” Jhorma said. “He and Laska came from the same village. He knows the family.”

Theran nodded. He didn’t care what Jhorma did, not when all his hopes for Dena Nehele were breaking around him.

He closed the door behind Jhorma and Bardoc—and put a Green lock on it. Then he turned to face Kermilla, who had left the card table and was now standing in the middle of the room, looking pale and scared.

“What was Laska doing in Eyota?” He moved toward her while his temper strained the leash. “He had no reason to be there. He had no business being there.”

“I don’t know,” Kermilla said.

“Don’t lie to me.” He stopped, not willing to tempt his control by getting too close to her. “He’s a member of your court. You have to know.”

“I don’t know!” Some anger in her voice and eyes now that he was challenging her.

“Hell’s fire, Kermilla. Do you know what this has done to your reputation? One of your First Circle tried to abduct a young Warlord. I can tell you two reasons the Warlord Princes are going to think of when they hear about this: torture and rape.”

“Laska wasn’t like that,” Kermilla snapped. “Laska wouldn’t do that. I would never have anyone in my court who would do that!”

He pushed that thought away and buried it deep.

“Then what was he doing in that village, and what was he doing with that boy that would piss off a brother enough to kill Laska that way?” Theran shouted.

“He wasn’t getting a boy!” she screamed. “He went there to get me a Sceltie!”

Theran took a step back, staggered by the foolishness that cost a man his life—and probably cost the rest of them in other ways.

“A Sceltie.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Hell’s fire, woman, have you lost your mind?”

“The Warlord Princes are all so impressed that Cassidy has some, and they’re not going to take me seriously until I have one too.” Tears filled her eyes and her lower lip trembled. “They wouldn’t have missed one in that stupid village. Besides, you sent Correne away, and that awful Talon killed Garth and Brok, and I wanted company. You’re always too busy to pay attention to me even though you say you love me.”

“So this is my fault because I’m working in every way I can to get this town through the coming winter?” He paced, circled, wanted to tear up the room and smash the furniture. But he couldn’t afford to replace whatever he destroyed, so he held his temper and circled. And paced.

“Even if Laska had managed to snatch one without being detected, how would you have held on to it?” he asked. “They’re kindred, Kermilla. Blood. Didn’t you notice anything while Vae was here? She’s a witch. She wears a Purple Dusk Jewel. Mother Night, woman, she outranks you.”

“How dare you!”

He stopped in front of her. “That’s fact, Kermilla. Vae’s Jewels outrank yours. So what were you going to do with this Warlord if he didn’t want to stay here? Chain him? Cage him? Beat him and torture him until he was too broken down in body and spirit to run?”

“He wouldn’t be of any use if he was like that.” She stamped her foot. “But he would have wanted to stay with me. Once he got here, he would have.”

“Doesn’t matter now.” Theran sank into the nearest chair, leaned back and closed his eyes.

Kermilla wasn’t like the Queen who had tortured Gray. She wasn’t. But she’d made an error in judgment that would not be fixed easily. If he could fix it at all.

“Theran?” Kermilla climbed into his lap and pressed against him. “Theran, I’m sorry about this little trouble.”

“One of your men died. That’s not a little trouble,” he said wearily. “Talon, the most respected man in this land, is against you. That’s not a little trouble. The fact that Talon isn’t making a distinction between kindred and human Blood in this instance . . .” He sighed. “In a couple of days, every Warlord Prince is going to know that you sent a man to Eyota to abduct a young Warlord, and no one is going to care if you intended to take a boy or a dog.”

She snuggled down and put her head on his shoulder. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He put his arms around her, unable to deny her whatever comfort he could give. “I really don’t know.”

A hesitant touch of a hand on his back. He turned and followed Shira to the healing room in the Residence. As soon as she closed the door, he pulled her into his arms and held on.

“I was ashamed that the least of them had chosen me,” he whispered into her hair. “I felt embarrassed when Ferall and the others saw him that day. And now . . .”

“Hush, Ranon, hush,” she said as she stroked his back.

“Is he coming back to us, Shira?”

“I don’t know, but I’m hopeful.”

He eased back enough to rest his forehead against hers. “Where is everyone?”

“Gray took Cassie upstairs. She’s distraught. Powell has been in his office since you left. The rest of the First Circle and the guards have been patrolling the village in shifts. I sent Reyhana and Janos to your grandfather for the night. They spent hours in the parlor this evening, taking turns reading Sceltie Saves the Day, and they both needed to be away for a while. Vae and Darkmist have been here all the time. The other Scelties come for an hour, then go out with one of the men to patrol.”

“Shira . . .”

“He’s hiding under your shirt.” She said the words quickly, as if she needed to silence any questions she couldn’t answer. “Vae thinks that’s a good sign because he’s been making tiny movements to get himself completely covered. You can’t see anything but the tip of his nose now.”

“I’m so tired, love. I was in a fight once that lasted a whole day. It was a relentless battle on a killing field, so we were all committed to winning or dying. Barely had time for a sip of water or a mouthful of food in the rare spaces between one enemy and the next. When I finally walked off that field, I didn’t feel this tired.”

“Come to bed,” Shira said, caressing his face. “We’ll take Khollie up with us. Maybe we’ll both get a little rest that way.”

He followed her back into the parlor and very carefully lifted the bundle hidden in his shirt. They went up to their room, and he tucked Khollie on the bed between them.

The last thing he remembered after stretching out on the bed was linking fingers with Shira.

A scared little whisper of a voice, but enough to have his eyes opening to stare at the bedroom ceiling.

*Ranon?*

Ranon turned his head to look at the bundle on the bed. *Khollie?*

Pinching a little of the shirt, he eased it back until he could see the dog’s head—and the dark eyes staring at him.

*Hey, little brother. We were worried about you.*

Khollie peered at his surroundings. *I am on the bed. I am not supposed to be on the bed. It is a Shira rule.*

*I know. But she said you were allowed this one time.*

*Ranon? I need a tree.*

*You want some food too?*

*Yes.*

*Come on, then. We’ll see what we can find.*

He helped Khollie untangle himself from the shirt, then eased out of bed.

Shira immediately woke up. “Ranon?”

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Khollie and I are going to get something to eat.”

She rolled over to look at Khollie, who gave her a quick lick on the chin before jumping off the bed.

“Oh,” she said. “All right.”

As Ranon let them out of the room, he heard her muffled sob.

He closed the door as quietly as he could, but he’d barely taken a step before Cassie’s door opened and Gray stood there.

He knew about Yaslana’s rules concerning Gray and Cassie’s physical relationship. Hell’s fire, everyone knew about Lucivar’s rules. But he wasn’t going to ask where Gray was sleeping tonight.

Gray looked down and smiled. “Hey, Khollie.”

Khollie wagged his tail and whined softly.

“We’re going downstairs,” Ranon said.

Gray nodded and closed the door.

When they reached the back door, Khollie stood in the doorway, trembling.

*Khollie?* Vae joined them. *Are you going outside? I have to go too. We will go together. Ranon will guard us.*

“Yes, I will.” He put an Opal shield around the backyard. Nothing would get in—or out—without him knowing about it.

He stood in the doorway, watching, and didn’t turn when Gray came up behind him.

“I told Cassie that Khollie woke up,” Gray said. “She wants to cry by herself for a little while.”

“Shira is crying too.” Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask, but there was no one else he could ask. “Will Khollie be all right, Gray?”

Those green eyes held too much knowledge. Then Gray said, “We’ll help him be all right.”