to the Coach’s outer wall, shutting them all out, holding himself separate from the rest of them.
It was a shame that Cassie and Theran were back to strained tolerance with each other. The tentative peace that had begun between them after she found Lia’s treasure broke under the strain of her draining her power into the land. They were all back to enduring Theran’s undisguised unhappiness with the Queen he had brought from Kaeleer.
He was sorry that Theran was unhappy, but everyone else at Grayhaven—including the servants—was pleased to be serving Cassie, so Theran was the one who needed to accept the way she ruled. Hopefully once Theran saw how her understanding of the Queen’s connection to the land would help all their people, he would be able to accept her as the Lady who could restore Dena Nehele.
“Do you play chess?” Cassidy asked Shira as they walked from the landing web up to the Grayhaven mansion.
“Yes, I do,” Shira replied at the same time Ranon said, “No, she doesn’t.”
Cassidy laughed. “I was told chess is not a game that should be played between genders. Our style of playing is too different to be compatible.”
“Style of playing?” Ranon muttered. “Being irrational is not a ‘style.’ ”
“In the Dark Court, if a male couldn’t behave himself when playing chess with a female, he was required to play a game of cradle with her as compensation.”
“Cradle?” Shira asked.
“A card game Jaenelle played when she was young and then expanded on later. Well, she and the coven expanded on the basic game. The men loathed playing it because their thinking just wasn’t flexible enough.”
Gray snorted. Ranon growled.
Cassidy looked at Shira, who winked at her but otherwise kept a straight face.
She felt good. Rested. Ready for the next challenge. Tomorrow she would write a general letter to all the Queens in Dena Nehele, gently reminding them of the basic ritual for enriching the land with power. If they, like the Shalador Queens, no longer remembered that ritual, they would be welcome to come to Grayhaven where she would teach them.
She would ask Powell to help her smooth out the writing—or find someone who had skill with words.
There had to be a wordsmith or two in a town this size.
As she pondered that, the door opened and Dryden, the butler, stared at her with a peculiar look of relief.
For a moment, she thought he was going to lift her off her feet and hug her. Since she was almost as tall as he and had a bit more muscle, the intensity of his psychic scent and expression made her shift her weight and take a step back, bumping into Gray.
“Lady,” Dryden said.
One word. Gray stiffened, but she felt the change in Ranon and knew the Shalador Warlord Prince was rising to the killing edge in response to Dryden’s voice. She reached back and planted her hand against Ranon’s chest, her touch a light chain that was the only thing holding him back.
The other men, who had been loitering to stretch their legs after the Coach ride, moved with purpose now, and the Warlord Princes among them were all rising to the killing edge. As Talon’s second-in-command, if Ranon’s temper snapped the leash, the others would go with him.
And she sensed nothing that would explain the reaction of any of the men—until she began to probe the mansion and picked up psychic scents that were familiar . . . and painful.
“You have visitors, Lady,” Dryden said. “From Dharo. They arrived two days ago. I did inform the Lady that you were not at home, but she said she was a friend and insisted that you were expecting her. Her Consort and escorts confirmed the invitation.”
There was a pleading look in Dryden’s eyes, but it was a struggle just to breathe, and whatever he was trying to tell her was beyond her ability to comprehend.
“Cassie?”
The violence that vibrated in Gray’s voice woke her up, snapped her out of her own bog of disbelief. If he, who was still learning to
It was a shame that Cassie and Theran were back to strained tolerance with each other. The tentative peace that had begun between them after she found Lia’s treasure broke under the strain of her draining her power into the land. They were all back to enduring Theran’s undisguised unhappiness with the Queen he had brought from Kaeleer.
He was sorry that Theran was unhappy, but everyone else at Grayhaven—including the servants—was pleased to be serving Cassie, so Theran was the one who needed to accept the way she ruled. Hopefully once Theran saw how her understanding of the Queen’s connection to the land would help all their people, he would be able to accept her as the Lady who could restore Dena Nehele.
“Do you play chess?” Cassidy asked Shira as they walked from the landing web up to the Grayhaven mansion.
“Yes, I do,” Shira replied at the same time Ranon said, “No, she doesn’t.”
Cassidy laughed. “I was told chess is not a game that should be played between genders. Our style of playing is too different to be compatible.”
“Style of playing?” Ranon muttered. “Being irrational is not a ‘style.’ ”
“In the Dark Court, if a male couldn’t behave himself when playing chess with a female, he was required to play a game of cradle with her as compensation.”
“Cradle?” Shira asked.
“A card game Jaenelle played when she was young and then expanded on later. Well, she and the coven expanded on the basic game. The men loathed playing it because their thinking just wasn’t flexible enough.”
Gray snorted. Ranon growled.
Cassidy looked at Shira, who winked at her but otherwise kept a straight face.
She felt good. Rested. Ready for the next challenge. Tomorrow she would write a general letter to all the Queens in Dena Nehele, gently reminding them of the basic ritual for enriching the land with power. If they, like the Shalador Queens, no longer remembered that ritual, they would be welcome to come to Grayhaven where she would teach them.
She would ask Powell to help her smooth out the writing—or find someone who had skill with words.
There had to be a wordsmith or two in a town this size.
As she pondered that, the door opened and Dryden, the butler, stared at her with a peculiar look of relief.
For a moment, she thought he was going to lift her off her feet and hug her. Since she was almost as tall as he and had a bit more muscle, the intensity of his psychic scent and expression made her shift her weight and take a step back, bumping into Gray.
“Lady,” Dryden said.
One word. Gray stiffened, but she felt the change in Ranon and knew the Shalador Warlord Prince was rising to the killing edge in response to Dryden’s voice. She reached back and planted her hand against Ranon’s chest, her touch a light chain that was the only thing holding him back.
The other men, who had been loitering to stretch their legs after the Coach ride, moved with purpose now, and the Warlord Princes among them were all rising to the killing edge. As Talon’s second-in-command, if Ranon’s temper snapped the leash, the others would go with him.
And she sensed nothing that would explain the reaction of any of the men—until she began to probe the mansion and picked up psychic scents that were familiar . . . and painful.
“You have visitors, Lady,” Dryden said. “From Dharo. They arrived two days ago. I did inform the Lady that you were not at home, but she said she was a friend and insisted that you were expecting her. Her Consort and escorts confirmed the invitation.”
There was a pleading look in Dryden’s eyes, but it was a struggle just to breathe, and whatever he was trying to tell her was beyond her ability to comprehend.
“Cassie?”
The violence that vibrated in Gray’s voice woke her up, snapped her out of her own bog of disbelief. If he, who was still learning to
Similar Books
