THE PRINCE OF EBON RIH
This story takes place after the events in Heir to the Shadows
ONE
Lucivar Yaslana stood at the far end of the flagstone courtyard of his new home, enjoying the early morning sunlight that had begun warming the stones beneath his feet. The mountain air felt chilly against his bare skin, and the freshly made coffee he sipped from a plain white mug tasted rough enough to make him wince. Didn’t matter. The coffee might not have the smooth potency that Mrs. Beale produced for his father’s table, but it wasn’t any worse than what he made when he went hunting and spent a night out on the land. Couldn’t be any worse, since he’d made it the same way.
He looked over his shoulder at the open door that led into the warren of rooms that made up the eyrie. Some of the rooms had been carved out of the living mountain; others had been built from the extracted stone. The result would have been a nightmare for any race that needed predictable lines and angles in a structure, but for anyone born of the Eyrien race, it was perfect.
And this particular eyrie was now his.
Smiling, he closed his gold eyes and tipped his head back to feel the sun on his face. Slowly opening his dark, membranous wings, he savored the feel of sunlight and chilly air playing over his wings and light-brown skin.
In all of his seventeen hundred years, he’d never had a home until three years ago when he’d been reunited with his father—the man who, through the machinations of Dorothea, Hayll’s High Priestess, had had his two younger sons taken from him. The man who had never forgotten or forgiven the betrayals that had left scars on all of them.
He’d been happy living in the suite of rooms at SaDiablo Hall, but the Hall was still his father’s house. This place was his. Exclusively, totally his.
*Yas?*
Well, maybe not exclusively his.
Sipping his coffee, Lucivar watched the adolescent wolf trot toward him. The youngster had been ready to leave the pack that lived in the north woods of his father’s estate but hadn’t wanted to go back to the Territory most of the kindred wolves called home. Tassle had grown up near humans and wanted to learn more about them, but there still weren’t many places where the wild kindred could safely live in human Territories—and there still weren’t many humans beyond Jaenelle Angelline’s court who felt easy about living around an animal who had the same power as the human Blood. Since he now had plenty of land for a wolf to roam in, it was easy enough to share the space.
Tassle, Lucivar thought, raising the mug to hide his smile. What kind of name was Tassle for a Warlord wolf? “Good morning. Smell anything interesting?”
*Yes. Yas, you aren’t wearing your cow skin.*
“It’s called leather.” Which Tassle knew perfectly well. Humans had prejudices, but so did the kindred. If something could be described by referring to the animal it came from, they ignored the human word for the end result. They viewed the world from their own furry perspective, which was fair, he supposed, since no two people, let alone two species, would view the world around them in quite the same way. “I don’t need clothes right now. It’s a fine morning, we’re alone up here, and it’s not like anyone living in the valley is going to see me.”
*But, Yas—*
He sensed it then. Someone coming up the stone stairs from the landing area below had passed through the perimeter shield he’d placed around the eyrie. The shield wasn’t meant to keep anyone out, just to alert him if someone approached his home.
As he turned toward the intruder, Helene, his father’s housekeeper, hurried up the last few steps, then stopped abruptly when she reached the flagstones and saw him.
“Good morning, Prince Yaslana,” she said politely.
“Helene,” he replied with equal, if forced, politeness—especially when a dozen maids who worked at the Hall came up the stairs and gave him a quick, and approving, glance before going into the eyrie.
Well, Lucivar thought sourly, they all got an eyeful to perk up their morning. “What brings you here, Helene?”
“Now that all the workmen are done with the renovations the High Lord felt were necessary to make Prince Andulvar’s old eyrie livable again, we’ve come to give it a good cleaning.”
“I’ve already cleaned the place.”
She made a sound that told him what she thought of his ability to clean anything. But that was a hearth witch for you. If it didn’t sparkle, shine, or gleam, it wasn’t clean. Never mind that stone walls weren’t supposed to sparkle, shine, or gleam.
“Fine,” Lucivar said, knowing he was cornered and arguing was a waste of breath. “I’ll get dressed and show you—”
Helene waved her hand dismissively. “You were obviously enjoying a fine morning. There’s no reason why you should do otherwise. I’m sure we can find everything. What there is of it,” she added under her breath.
He bared his teeth in what he hoped would be mistaken as a smile. “I wouldn’t want to be a distraction.”