The Invisible Ring (The Black Jewels #4)(90)
Author: Anne Bishop

Was that why he’d felt sure he’d heard of it before? Was it the echo of something Belarr had said that had kept him from doubting its existence? On one of their rambles through the woods, perhaps. Maybe it had been the kind of comment an adult made in passing and then forgot, but a child never did.

Belarr had known he’d wear the Silver and had hoped he’d have a chance to wear the Gold.

Jared paused at the greenhouse door.

Looking a little guilty, Lia wandered through the herb garden, touching each plant as she passed.

Shaking his head, Jared went to join her.

He’d pretend not to see the drops of blood on the leaves.

This time.

But he wouldn’t pretend the Invisible Ring didn’t exist. It didn’t matter if she denied it with every breath. He wasn’t going to give up this last tie to his father.

Lia stuck her fingers in her mouth as soon as she saw him.

“Prick yourself?” Jared asked.

She pulled her fingers out of her mouth, and mumbled, “Yes.”

Jared put his arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the lane, ignoring her attempts to slow down and touch another plant. “The letter was from my mother.”

That distracted her long enough for them to reach the lane.

“I thought it might be.” Lia studied his face. “She knew you wanted to take the words back.”

“Yes, she knew.” He helped her mount the gelding and then swung up behind her. “It’s time we got back to the village. My mother left a message for Thera.”

It did his heart good to have her pester him all the way back to the village to explain what he’d meant.

Chapter Twenty-two

Krelis stared at the bloody, quivering thing kneeling in front of him. Three days ago, it had been a man. One of his guards.

Now it was missing so many pieces, he couldn’t identify it.

It looked at him without really seeing him and made harsh, pleading sounds. Bloody spittle leaked from one corner of its mouth.

Krelis swallowed hard.

It was better this way. It would have hurt to recognize it enough to be able to call it by name.

Krelis turned away. The blood-streaked white feather that was inserted into the stub of flesh kept moving with each jerky breath, as if it were waving at him.

Or mocking him.

This was why the witches called it the Brotherhood of the Quill.

Dorothea came out of the adjoining room, slowly rolling the handle of a curved, thin-bladed knife between her hands. She spared him one withering glance before going to the table that held the rest of her sharp, bloody toys. She set the knife gently in its place.

“Lord Krelis.”

The way she said his name told him that he’d done nothing but disappoint her lately, and she didn’t expect this report to be any different.

Cold-blooded, malevolent bitch, Krelis thought fiercely.

A moment after the thought formed, marrow-freezing fear swept through him.

He hadn’t meant it, would never think it again. She was the answer to everything he wanted, the answer to centuries of work and sweat. As her Master of the Guard, he was one of the most powerful men in Hayll. Respected. Feared.

He turned that thought over and over. He’d worked hard to gain enough status to keep the fear at bay. Now he was in the position of being feared.

Krelis felt some of the tension ease.

Now he was one of the males the witches couldn’t strike against, couldn’t Ring. Unless they, too, served in Dorothea’s court, they had no safety from him.

He smiled. His smile widened when he caught Dorothea’s sudden, arrested look.

“There’s something you wish to say to me, Krelis?”

Her voice had gone a little breathy, like a woman at the beginning of arousal.

“I’ve found them, Priestess,” Krelis said. “They’ve gone to ground in a Shalador village called Ranon’s Wood.”

“All of them?”

Krelis clenched his teeth. “The Shalador bastard disappeared with the little bitch-Queen, but they’re supposed to meet the others there.”

Selecting a short-bladed knife, Dorothea glided over to one of the large, potted, flowering bushes that sat near her playroom windows and cut off two overblown yellow flowers. “There’s no reason to assume he’ll take her to that village. He could just as easily take her to Dena Nehele and claim whatever rewards he can for his brave service,” she added with a sneer.

Krelis had thought of that, had sweated over that. It pleased him that he’d worked out an answer he felt sure would suit her. ”Ranon’s Wood is his home village. It had been softened this spring when the new Shalador Queens wisely decided to bring the Territory into Hayll’s shadow. He’ll find little help there, whereas we’ll have an entire village of hostages.“

“Tell me more,” Dorothea purred as she cut the flower stems until they were barely an inch long.

“We’ll offer a trade. His village for the little bitch Queen. If she’s turned over to us, we’ll let everyone else go.”

Dorothea looked up from her stem trimming. “Will we?”

Krelis smiled, feeling more sure of himself than he’d felt in days. “No, Priestess. The useful ones will be taken as slaves. The rest will be eliminated.”

“All well and good if the bitch is there.”

“We’ll also have the slaves she bought at Raej. They must have some bargaining value for her to be so determined to get them to Dena Nehele. There’s no reason Hayll can’t bargain more keenly and get further concessions from the Queens or aristo families in the slaves’ Territories.” He wanted to laugh. His pet could tell his fellow travelers a good many things about being part of a bargain with Hayll. “If she’s not there, we can demand a trade— the slaves for the bitch-Queen. Some of them aren’t worth much, true, but if the children are aristo, their families are going to think hard about believing any promises the Gray Lady makes if she doesn’t trade her kin for theirs since it was her buying them that put them in this danger. And the Shalador Warlord isn’t willingly going to sacrifice his family for a witch he’s only known for a short time.”

Walking up to the quivering thing, Dorothea tucked the flowers into the holes where its ears had been. “What are your plans?”

“I’ll take a thousand Hayllian guards to Ranon’s Wood and—”

“So many?” Annoyance crept back into Dorothea’s voice. “Surely there can’t bethat many Jeweled Blood left in that privy hole of a village. You’ll have the courts thinking the Gray Lady’s an enemy to be respected, even feared, if you need that many Hayllian warriors to subdue the little bitch who serves her.”