Lia’s eyes held Thera’s. “Something my grandmother taught me.”
Talon’s eyes narrowed as he studied the two of them.
Since Talon had the most fighting experience, Jared waited for the Warlord Prince to say something, but he wasn’t surprised when Talon remained silent and thoughtful.
Yarek cleared his throat again. “Meaning no disrespect for your grandmother, Lady, but I doubt anything’s going to get us through an attack from that many warriors.”
“This will. If everyone does what he’s supposed to do, this will.”
“Is there enough time for us to prepare?” Talon asked respectfully.
“There’s time,” Lia said, as Thera nodded slowly.
Talon rose to his feet. “Then I’ll tell my men.”
“No,” Thera said, her voice taking on an eerie quality that made Jared shiver. “Go with Blaed and Jared and tell the others who came with us from Raej.” Her mouth curved in a malevolent smile. “Tellall of them. Yarek, inform your people. They’ll need some time to accept having to face another battle. But do it quietly.”
With some effort, Yarek got to his feet. “Doesn’t matter if they have time or not. They’ll accept it. What choice do they have?”
Thera looked up at him. “None.”
Not sure if he wanted to give reassurance or get some, Jared leaned toward Lia.
She leaned away from him, avoiding even that much contact.
It didn’t matter, Jared told himself as he and the other men left the Coach. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to be near him. Hewouldn’t blame her for not feeling for him even half of what he felt for her. It wouldn’t have come to anything anyway.
But, Mother Night, how he wished she’d let him hold her once more.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Leaning back against the bales of straw his men had arranged into a tolerably comfortable seat, Krelis delicately tested the knife’s edge against the ball of his thumb.
“What is it?” Krelis growled at the Warlord who kept shaking his head as he stepped into the stable.
“One of the villagers came down the road a minute ago.”
Satisfied with the edge, Krelis sheathed the knife. “I’m expecting one of them. Did you put him in the Coach station?”
“No, Lord Krelis.” The Warlord’s mouth curled in a vicious grin. “And it’s not likely you were expecting this one. He came around the curve in the road, saw us, and stopped. I thought he might be trying to spy on us, but he started grinning like a half-wit, unbuttoned his trousers, and watered the road. Then he turned around and headed back to the village. Didn’t even tuck himself in.”
Krelis leaned forward. “What did he look like?”
The Warlord shrugged. “Big male. Pale skin. Short hair. He wasn’t close enough to see anything else.”
Krelis snorted. “We don’t have to worry about that one. The High Priestess already took care of him. I’m surprised he still has brains enough to unbutton his trousers in the first place.” He stood up and stretched. “No, we don’t have to worry about that one. But keep an eye out for my pet. He should be here anytime now.”
Once the Warlord had returned to his position, Krelis slipped his hand into his coat pocket. His fingers curled around the brass button.
He gave the psychic leash another yank.
His pet still needed one or two lessons in obedience.
Teaching him would pass the time—until it was the Shalador Warlord’s turn.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jared studied the people gathered in the tavern’s small back room.
Eryk and Corry stood on either side of little Cathryn. Each of them held one of her hands.
Thayne, looking exhausted and obviously still suffering from the witchfire burns, leaned against the back wall, close to Blaed.
Brock leaned against the opposite wall, near the door, which was casually blocked by Talon. His face had that pained look of a man who badly needs to answer a call of nature but doesn’t want to miss anything.
Pale and sweating heavily, Randolf restlessly paced the width of the small room, staying on the far side of the round table and chairs that were the room’s only furniture.
Thera had said to tell all of them, but they hadn’t been able to find Garth, and Jared decided not to waste time looking for him.
“We’re going to fight,” Jared said.
Brock muffled a groan.
Thayne nodded once.
Randolf swore fiercely. “We’re slaves. Slaves don’t fight.”
Jared watched Randolf closely. “You fought during the ambush.”
“There wasn’t much sense in sitting back when the rest of you were tearing the place apart, was there?”
“There isn’t much sense in sitting back now, either.”
Randolf slapped his hands down on the table hard enough to make it rock. “Yes, there is. Do you know what happens to slaves who fight? What they’ll do to any of the villagers who survive the first strike will be a slap on the wrist compared to what they’ll do to us.”
Jared’s control snapped. “We’re not slaves!” he roared. “We haven’t been slaves since we left Raej.”
Randolf stared at him.
Brock tried to suppress a pained laugh.
“We’re not slaves,” Jared said, struggling to leash his temper. “That’s why the Gray Lady’s so dangerous, even if that bitch Dorothea hasn’t realized it. For the past few years, she’s bought slaves at the auction andset them free . They go home, Randolf. Or they make a new home, a new life for themselves in Dena Nehele.”
Randolf groped for a chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Jared’s face. “Why didn’t Lady Lia tell us? Why this game?” He shook his head. “You’re wrong. You have to be wrong. We’reRinged .”
“The Rings don’t work,” Blaed said. “Just enough power was put into them to make us think they were still connected to a controlling ring. But they aren’t. Besides, Lia has no idea how to use one.”
Randolf rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Why didn’t she tell us?”
Jared felt two light psychic touches. Talon’s and Blaed’s signals that they were descending to their full strength— and ready to rise to the killing edge.
“Because,” Jared said quietly, “once she brought us all together, Lia sensed something was wrong, but she couldn’t find the source. So she continued the pretense of bringing slaves to Dena Nehele, and she made things as difficult as she could for whichever one of us serves the High Priestess of Hayll while trying to get the rest to safety.”
“One of us serves that bitch?” Randolf’s hands curled into fists.
Jared rested his hands on the table. “If Lia had told you in the beginning that you were free, that you could catch the Winds and go home, would you have gone?”
Randolf’s head moved slightly before he stopped himself from looking at the children.
“No,” Randolf said after a thoughtful silence. “No, I wouldn’t have. I’ve got too much pride as a Warlord and a guard to let a young Queen wander around without an escort.” A dangerous gleam filled his eyes. “Do you know who it is?”
“It’s Garth,” Brock said, wincing as he straightened to his full height and tucked his thumbs into his wide leather belt. “It’s Garth.”
Jared turned to face Brock at the same moment Randolf exploded out of his chair.
“I warned you!” Randolf shouted, throwing himself at Jared with enough force to send them both to the floor. “I told you that bastard was tainted! Damn you, why didn’t you listen to me? We might have gotten her home if you’d listened to me!”
Randolf threw a couple of punches before Blaed and Talon pulled him off Jared.
By the time Jared got to his feet, Brock had disappeared.
“Hold him,” Jared said as he rushed out of the tavern.
Spotting Brock walking purposefully down the road in the direction of the landing place, Jared ran to catch up to him. “Brock! Brock!”
When Brock turned around, Jared stopped abruptly, stunned by the bitterness in the other man’s face.
“Even now, when he’s barely half of what he used to be, you choose to believe him, to trust him,” Brock said. “Even now.”
Regret cut deep into Jared’s bones. “I trusted you.”
“Not enough to be useful,” Brock snapped. “You trusted the Warlord Prince whelp and the Black Widow enough to tell them we weren’t slaves, but not me. It might have been different if you’d trusted me.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Jared said coldly. “You’d already chosen whom you serve.”
“It might have,” Brock insisted. His face twisted with conflicting emotions. “Do you know how I came to be a slave? MyQueen sold me to Hayll. The Territory Queen is getting old, and the bitch I served wants to rule more than a small Province. So she traded twenty of her best males for Hayll’s influence in choosing the next Territory Queen. She sold our freedom, ourlives for ambition.”
“When a male serves, he puts his life into his Queen’s hands,” Jared said. “It’s hers to do with as she pleases. That’s the risk we all take, Brock.” Remembering Talon, he added, “His life, but not his honor. You had that much choice.”
“Who are you to talk about honor? You’re a pleasure slave, a nonman pretending to be a Warlord.A Queen killer . Where were you hiding your honor when you butcheredher ?”
“I was owned by her. I didn’t serve her.” But the verbal thrust hurt as much as a knife in the gut.
“You’re splitting hairs, Jared,” Brock said harshly. “But if that’s how you want to split it, then as far as I knew, I was owned by the Gray Lady. What’s the difference between you killing the bitch who owned you and me buying some kind of freedom for myself by helping the High Priestess get rid of a rival? All I had to do was lead the marauders to her if she escaped the trap at the Coach station.”