Heir to the Shadows (54 page)

Because he wasn't sure if he could stand another bedside vigil.

Because he didn't know if she'd succeeded enough to make her suffering worth it.

4 / The Twisted Kingdom

He learned as he climbed.

She had left small resting places next to the glittering trail: violets nestled against a boulder; sweet, clean water trickling down stone to a quiet pool that soothed the spirit; a patch of thick, green grass large enough to stretch out on; a plump, brown bunny watching him while it stuffed its face with clover; a cheerful fire that melted the first layer of ice around his heart.

At first, he'd tried to ignore the resting places. He learned he could pass one, maybe two, while he fought against the weight that made each step more difficult. If he tried to pass a third, he found the trail blocked. Instinct always warned him that if he stepped off the glittering trail to go around the obstruction, he might never find his way back. So he'd backtrack and rest until he absorbed the weight and found it comfortable to go on.

He slowly realized the weight had a name: body. This confused him for a while. Didn't he already have a body? He walked, he breathed, he heard, he saw. He felt tired. He felt pain. This other body felt different, heavy, solid. He wasn't sure he liked absorbing its essence into himself— or, perhaps, having it absorb him.

But the body was part of the same delicate web as the violets, the water, the sky, and the fire—reminders of a place beyond the shattered landscape—so he resigned himself to becoming reacquainted with it.

After a while, each resting place held an intangible gift, too: a Craft puzzle piece, one small aspect of a spell. Gradually the pieces began to make a whole and he learned the basics of the Black Widows' Craft, learned how to build simple webs, learned how to be what he was.

So he rested and treasured her little gifts and puzzles.

And he climbed to where she had promised to be waiting.

1 / Kaeleer

C6rT"'he first part of our plan is coming along nicely," .L Hekatah said. "Little Terreille is, at last, justly represented in the Dark Council."

Lord Jorval smiled tightly. Since slightly more than half of the Council members now came from Little Terreille, he could agree that the Territory that had always felt wary of the rest of the Shadow Realm was, at last, "justly" represented. "With all the injuries and illnesses that have caused members to resign in the past two years, the Blood in Little Terreille were the only ones willing to accept such a heavy responsibility for the good of the Realm." He sighed, but his eyes glittered with malicious approval.

"We've been accused of favoritism because so many voices come from the same Territory, but when the other men and women who were judged worthy of the task refused to accept, what were we to do? The Council seats must be filled."

"So they must," Hekatah agreed. "And since so many of those new members, who owe their current rise in status to your supporting their appointment to the Council, wouldn't want to find themselves distressed because they didn't heed your wisdom when it came time to vote, it's time to implement the second part of our plan."

"And that is?" Jorval wished she would take off that deep-hooded cloak. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her before. And why had she chosen to meet in a seedy little inn in Goth's slums?

"To broaden Little Terreille's influence in the Shadow Realm. You're going to have to convince the Council to be I more lenient in their immigration requirements. There are | plenty of Blood aristos here already. You need to let in the lesser Blood—workers, craftsmen, farmers, hearth-witches, servants, lighter-Jeweled warriors. Stop deciding who can come in by whether or not they can pay the bribes."

"If the Terreillean Queens and the aristo males want servants, let them use the landens," Jorval said in a sulky voice. The bribes, as she well knew, had become an important source of income for a number of Blood aristos in Goth, Little Terreille's capital.

"Landens are demon fodder," Hekatah snapped. "Landens have no magic. Landens have no Craft.

Landens are about as useful as Jhin—" She paused. She tugged her hood forward. "Accept Terreillean landens for immigration, too. Promise them privileges and a settlement after service. But bring in the lesser Terreillean Blood as well."

Jorval spread his hands. "And what are we supposed to do with all these immigrants? At the twice-yearly immigration fairs, the other Territories altogether only take a couple dozen people, if that.

The courts in Little Terreille are already swelled and there are complaints about the Terreillean aristos always whining about serving in the lower Circles and not having land to rule like they expected. And none of the ones already here have fulfilled their immigration requirement."

"They will have land to rule. They'll establish small, new territories on behalf of the Queens they're serving. That will increase the influence the Queens in Little Terreille have in Kaeleer as well as providing them with an additional source of income. Some of that land is obscenely rich in precious metals and precious gems. In a few years, Little Terreille's Queens will be the strongest force in the Realm, and the other Territories will have to submit to their dominance."

"What land?" Jorval said, failing to hide his exasperation.

"The unclaimed land, of course," Hekatah replied I sharply. She called in a map of Kaeleer, unrolled it, and I

used Craft to keep it flat. One bony finger brushed against large areas of the map.

"That's not unclaimed land," Jorval protested. "Those are closed Territories. The so-called kindred Territories."

"Exactly,Lord Jorval," Hekatah said, tapping the map. "The
so-called kindred
Territories."

Jorval looked at the map and sat up straighter. "But the kindred are supposed to be Blood. Aren't they?"

"Are they?" Hekatah countered with venomous sweetness.

"What about the human Territories, like Dharo and Nharkhava and Scelt? Their Queens might file a protest on the kindred's behalf."

"They can't. Their lands aren't being interfered with. By Blood Law, Territory Queens
can't
interfere outside their own borders."

"The High Lord . . ."

Hekatah waved a hand dismissively. "He has always lived by a strict code of honor. He'll viciously defend his own Territory, but he won't step one toe outside of it. If anything, he'll stand
against
those other Territories if they step outside the Law."

Jorval rubbed his lower lip. "So the Queens of Little Terreille would eventually rule all of Kaeleer."

"And those Queens would be consolidated under one wise, experienced individual who would be able to guide them properly."

Jorval preened.

"Not you, idiot," Hekatah hissed. "A male can't rule a Territory."

"The High Lord does!"

The silence went on so long Jorval began to sweat.

"Don't forget who he is or what he is, Lord Jorval. Don't forget about his particular code of honor.

You're the wrong gender. If
you
tried to stand against him, he would tear you apart. / will rule Kaeleer."

Her voice sweetened. "You will be my Steward, and as my trusted right hand and most valued adviser, you will be so influential there won't be a woman in the Realm who would dare refuse you."

Heat filled Jorval's groin as he thought of Jaenelle Angelline.

The map rolled up with a snap, startling him.

"I think we've postponed the amenities long enough, don't you?" Hekatah pushed back the cloak's hood.

Jorval let out a faint scream. Leaping up, he knocked over his chair, then tripped over it when he turned to get away from the table.

As Hekatah slowly walked around the table, Jorval scrambled to his feet. He kept backing away until he ended up pressed against the wall.

"Just a sip," Hekatah said as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Just a taste. And maybe next time you'll remember to provide refreshments."

Jorval felt his bowels turn to water.

She'd changed in the last two years. Before, she'd looked

like an attractive woman past her prime. Now she looked

like someone had squeezed all the juice out of her flesh.

And the liberally applied perfume didn't mask the smell

of decay.

"There's one other very important reason why
I'm
going to rule Kaeleer," Hekatah murmured as her lips brushed his throat. "Something you shouldn't forget."

"Yes, P-Priestess?" Jorval clenched his hands.

"With me ruling, the Realm of Terreille will support

our efforts."

"It will?" Jorval said faintly, trying to take shallow

breaths.

"I guarantee it," Hekatah replied just before her teeth

sank into his throat.

2 / Kaeleer

The new two-wheeled buggy rolled smartly down the middle of the wide dirt road that ran northeast out of the village of Maghre.

Saetan tried—again—to tell Daffodil that he should keep the buggy on the right-hand side of the road.

And Daffodil replied—again—that if he did that, Yaslana and Sundance: wouldn't be able to trot alongside. He would move over if

another wagon came down the road. He knew how to pull a buggy. The High Lord worried too much.

Sitting beside him, Jaenelle glanced at his clenched hands and smiled with sympathetic amusement.

"Being the passenger when you're used to having control isn't an easy adjustment to make. Khary thinks kindred-drawn conveyances should have a set of reins attached to the front of the buggy to give the passenger something to hold on to, just to feel more secure."

"Sedatives would be more helpful," Saetan growled. He forced his hands open and pressed them firmly on his thighs, ignoring Lucivar's low chuckle and trying hard not to resent the reins attached to the headstall Sundancer wore.

Much to the humans' chagrin, the kindred had insisted that reins be kept as part of the riding equipment because humans needed something to hold on to when kindred ran and jumped. Fortunately, after the initial shock three years ago when the Scelt people had learned how many Blood races inhabited their island, the humans there had enthusiastically embraced their kindred Brothers and Sisters.

"Aren't we stopping at Morghann and Khary's house?" Jaenelle asked, clapping a hand on top of her head to keep the wide-brimmed straw hat from blowing away.

"They wanted to show us something and said they'd meet us," Lucivar replied. "Sundancer and I will go on ahead and see if they're waiting." He and the Warlord Prince stallion took off cross-country.

Daffodil made a wistful sound but kept trotting down the road. A few minutes later, he turned off the main road and trotted smartly down a long, tree-lined drive.

Jaenelle's eyes lit up. "We're going to see Duana's country house? Oh, it's such a lovely place. Khary mentioned that someone had taken a lease on it and was fixing it up a bit."

Saetan breathed a sigh of relief. Trust Khary to know just how much to say to pique her interest and still not give it away.

It had taken her six months to heal after she went into the Twisted Kingdom to save Daemon two years ago. She

had remained at the Keep for the first two months, too ill to be moved. After he and Lucivar brought her back to the Hall, it had taken her another four months to get her" physical strength back. During that time, her friends had once again taken up residence at the Hall, resigning from the courts they were serving in so that they could be with her. She had welcomed the coven's presence but had shied away from the boys seeing her—the first show of feminine vanity she had ever displayed.

Bewildered by her refusal to see them, they had settled in to care from a distance and had channeled their energy into looking after the coven. During that time, under his watchful but blind eye, some friendships had bloomed into love: Morghann and Khardeen, Gabrielle and Chaosti, Grezande and Elan, Kalush and Aaron. He'd watched the girls and had wondered if Jaenelle's eyes would ever shine like that for a man. Even if that man was Daemon Sadi.

When Daemon and Surreal didn't show up at the Terreille Keep, he had tried to locate them. After a few weeks, he stopped because there were indications that he wasn't the only one looking for them, and he had decided that failure was preferable to leading an enemy to a vulnerable man. Besides, Surreal was Titian's daughter. Wherever she had chosen to go to ground, she had hidden her tracks well.

And there was another reason he didn't want to stir things up. Hekatah had never returned to the Dark Realm. He suspected she was well hidden in Hayll. As long as she stayed there, she and Dorothea could rot together, but she would also latch on to any sign of his renewed interest in Terreille and hunt down the cause.

"Lucivar and Sundancer made better time than we did," Jaenelle noted as they pulled up in front of the well-proportioned sandstone manor house.

Daffodil snorted.

"No," Saetan said sternly as he helped Jaenelle out of the buggy. "Buggies
do not
go over fences."

"Especially when the human riding in it doesn't know he's responsible for getting his half over," Jaenelle murmured. She shook out the folds of her sapphire skirt and

straightened the matching jacket, too busy to look him in the eye.

Which was just as well.

Jaenelle looked up at the manor house and sighed. "I hope the new tenants will give this place the love it deserves. Oh, I know Duana's busy and prefers living in her country house near Tuathal, but this land needs to be sung awake. The gardens here could be so lovely."

Acknowledging Lucivar's pleased smile, Saetan pulled a flat, rectangular box out of his pocket and handed it to Jaenelle. "Happy birthday, witch-child. From the whole family."

Jaenelle accepted the box but didn't open it. "If it's from the whole family, shouldn't I wait until we're back home to open it?"

Saetan shook his head. "We agreed you should open that here."

Jaenelle opened the box and frowned at the large brass key.