Shalador’s Lady (The Black Jewels #8)(129)
Author: Anne Bishop

He sighed. “I love you, Kermilla. Everything I am wants to surrender to you. If my life was the only one at stake, I would give it to you. But I’m the last of the Grayhaven line, and I have a duty to the land and the people of Dena Nehele, and what Dena Nehele needs is more important than what I want for myself as a man or a Warlord Prince.”

“What does that have to do with the other Warlord Princes leaving before I could choose my court?”

“There isn’t going to be a court.”

Kermilla rolled her eyes. “I can’t rule Dena Nehele without a formal court.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I am so very sorry.”

It took her a moment, but when she realized what he was saying she drew back a little.

“There isn’t going to be a court,” Theran said quietly, just to make sure she understood. “You aren’t going to rule Dena Nehele.”

“Why?” she wailed. “Is it because you’re mad at me for breaking that old pot?”

“In a way, it is about the wish pot. Not because you broke it, but because all you see is an old pot that has no value to you. And what that tells me is that in all the months you’ve been here, you haven’t listened to anything I said about Dena Nehele. You’ve haven’t listened to anything I said about the people or our history or what we need from a Queen.”

“Well, I don’t need the Warlord Princes,” Kermilla said. “I’ll just fill a First Circle with Warlords and—”

“If you try to form a court here, the Warlord Princes will kill you,” Theran said harshly.

The color drained from her face. “Theythreatened me?”

“When one Warlord Prince makes that kind of statement, it’s a threat. When twenty-seven of them say that, it’s a declaration of war.”

She swayed, and he wondered if she was going to be sick.

“Who’s going to rule Dena Nehele?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is it can’t be you. And that’s why you have to leave.”Before they come back to kill you. He could feel his heart tearing into pieces.

“Leave?” She looked so young and so lost . . . and so lovely. “Why can’t I stay with you? You love me. You said so!”

“You said it yourself the other day,” he replied gently. “You’re a Queen. If you stayed, you would want to rule. As much as I would want that for you, I would have to oppose you for the good of the people. We would destroy each other, Kermilla. And we would destroy what was left of Dena Nehele in the process.”

She stared at him, and he wasn’t sure she understood anything.

For a moment, sly calculation filled her eyes and then was gone. But he saw it, and in that moment, he saw what the other Warlord Princes had seen in her—and understood why they never would have served her.

Then the moment was gone, and she was the young woman who had dazzled him when he’d first met her. She was lovely Kermilla, the Queen whose will could no longer be his life.

She leaned forward, her lips curved in a sexy smile. “Why don’t we go upstairs for a proper good-bye?” She laughed a little. “That could take a day or two.”

He wanted to yield. Mother Night, how he wanted to yield!

Gone before sunrise—or dead by tomorrow’s sunset. That was all the time she had left if she stayed in Dena Nehele. He shook his head. “No.”

“When am I supposed to leave that we can’t take that little time?”

“Now.”

Shock.

*Julien?* Theran called on a spear thread.

*It’s done. I’m ready,* Julien replied.

“All your things are packed and in the Coach,” Theran said. “I’m going to take you to the Keep now.”

“You can’t do this!” Kermilla sprang away from him.

He threw a Green shield around the desk, mostly to protect the wish pot and book.

Sensing the shield, she whirled toward him, her face filled with hurt and a growing rage.

“I gave up everything for you!” she screamed. “Everything, Theran!”

He wished he could still believe her.

“I’m sorry.” What else was there to say? He stood up. “It’s time to go.”

The hurt and rage disappeared. She was back to sexy pout. “Ican’t go to the Keep dressed likethis. ”

“They won’t mind.” He walked over to her and reached out to take her arm.

Another change of mood. Watching her eyes, he knew the moment when she considered raking his face with her nails—and knew the moment when she realized he was wearing a Green shield to prevent her from doing just that.

Taking a firm grip on her arm, he escorted her out of his family’s home to the Coach waiting at the landing web.

Kermilla huddled in the passenger compartment of the Coach with no one for company but that horrid Julien, who was giving her a smothering kind of attention while Theran, who turned out to have no spine or balls at all, hid with the driver in the locked front compartment.

She had lost. Instead of ruling a Territory for a few years and being admired, she was being sent home tonothing . No court, no men, no income. Nothing. Her mother was being stingy, so if she went back to her parents’ house, her father wouldn’t give her anything. Besides, running back home was what old Freckledy had done, and she wasnever going to be like Cassidy in any way. Never.

But she had to do something. How long would they let her stay at the Keep? Were there any interesting men who worked there? Men who could be coaxed into helping a young, pretty Queen who had been misled by a nasty Warlord Prince whose honor was, at best, questionable?

That much decided, she settled in more comfortably, had Julien bring her a plate of food and some coffee, and spent the rest of the journey considering how to turn this loss to her advantage.

EBON ASKAVI

Theran breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he walked out of the Coach and stepped on the landing web in one of the Keep’s courtyards. He’d kept away from Kermilla for the whole journey, afraid that if he stayed in that small compartment with her he would give in to her demands or his own desires.

But here at the Keep, the tug and pull of her presence faded, unable to compete with the mountain and its inhabitants.

Better that way for both of them.

He held out his left hand to her as she left the Coach. She ignored it and marched to the door. She rang the bell before he could join her, then stood there with her arms crossed and one foot tapping.

The man who opened the door had black eyes, black hair with a prominent widow’s peak,white skin, and sensuous bloodred lips. Geoffrey, the Keep’s historian/librarian.