“I’m glad Theran didn’t come with us,” she said, giving him a sideways glance through her lashes. “That way we can get to know each other better.”
She started to link her arm through his, but when she touched his jacket, the air turned so bitingly cold it burned her skin.
He said nothing about the cold or the way she jerked away from him. When he opened the sitting room’s door, she darted inside and went straight to the fireplace, hoping to warm up.
Her hands finally thawed enough to stop burning. She turned around and found him staring at her, his gold eyes glazed and sleepy.
“I was ordered to give you a gift,” he said. “It was created especially for you.”
“A gift?” That warmed her even better than the fire. She clapped her hands in delight and gave him a brilliant smile. “What is it?”
He stepped closer, raised his right hand, and pressed his fingers lightly against her chest.
At first it felt like a delicate necklace that rested on her skin in a web of fine metal. Then it melted into her skin, and threads of power flowed around her and through her, creating an odd flood of warmth that was there and gone.
Only moments passed before he raised his hand and stepped back to look at her.
“How appropriate,” he said in a singsong croon.
She placed a hand on her chest, but she felt nothing.
“Look,” he said. A turn of his hand, and a large gilt-framed mirror floated in the air nearby. “Look.”
She looked. Then she screamed.
And the High Lord of Hell laughed.
“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s only an illusion spell, but it’s a powerful one—and unbreakable. You’ll wear that face for a year and a day. Then the spell will fade gradually over the months that follow. Within two years, you’ll have your own face again and, hopefully, a great deal more.”
“Why?” Kermilla wailed as she stared at a face that was even more homely than Freckledy’s. Everyone would see this when they looked at her? “Why?”
“The tangled webs all said the same thing,” the High Lord replied. “If you continue to be nothing more than a greedy little girl, you will be dead within a year. While some of us welcomed that solution to a noxious problem, the Queen decided to give you a second chance. Your pretty face was the tool you used to get what you wanted, regardless of what it cost anyone else. Now you’ll have to earn what you want by proving your worth as a Queen. You’re being given a chance to grow up, Lady Kermilla, instead of dying young. I hope you eventually appreciate the gift. If you don’t, we’ll meet again soon in Hell.”
She trailed after him as he walked to the sitting room’s door. Then a gleam of silver caught her eye, drawing her toward one of the small tables scattered around the room. Plenty of expensive little nothings in this room. Who would notice if there were one or two less?
The silence turned heavy and cold and peculiar.
She looked at the High Lord, who studied her with those sleepy gold eyes.
“If you steal something from the Keep, what guards this place will let you take it,” he crooned. “But they will take your hand in exchange.”
He walked out of the room and closed the door.
Something moved in the wall. A shadow where there shouldn’t be a shadow.
Kermilla backed away from the table. Curling up in a chair, she remained there until Sabrina arrived to take her back to Dharo.
“Is it done?” Witch asked.
“It’s done,” the High Lord replied. “Will it make a difference?”
She rolled up the threads of her tangled web and dropped them in a shallow bowl of witchfire. “That’s up to Kermilla now.”
CHAPTER 48
Frustrated and heartsore, Theran sat at his desk, his head braced in his hands.
What was the point of the other Warlord Princes making him the ruler of Dena Nehele if they weren’t going to work with him, weren’t going to help him?
They didn’t trust him. That’s what it came down to. As far as they were concerned, his bond with Kermilla had not only fouled his judgment, it had ruined the opportunities they would have had to bring in needed help for their people. And every time his efforts to restore Dena Nehele failed, he lost a little more of their conditional support.
They wanted the same things people were receiving from Cassidy’s court, so he tried to approach Daemon Sadi about a loan similar to the one Gray had negotiated for Cassidy. Sadi’s coldly civil reply made it clear that Theran would get no help from the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan.
He tried to contact the Queens in Kaeleer to hire Protocol instructors to teach the courts in Dena Nehele. The Queens didn’t answer him at all.
He tried to talk to Cassidy, but her First Circle refused to grant him an audience. The only thing he received from that visit was an assurance from Talon that Lady Cassidy had no desire to start a war and no intention to seize any land. The Warlord Princes of Dena Nehele didn’t need to worry about having Lady Cassidy for a neighbor.
No one wanted to work for him. The people in the town barely spoke to him.
And too many nights lately, he wondered if the Warlord Princes were waiting for him to fail enough for them to justify using their knives.
Julien rushed into the study without knocking and thrust an envelope into Theran’s hand. “You have a visitor. Lady Rhahn from the Isle of Scelt. She said you should read the letter before you speak to her.”
Theran stared at Julien. The butler looked dazed, dazzled, almost giddy with excitement.
“Read it,” Julien said. “Hell’s fire, man, read.” He sprang for the door. “Refreshments! I should get the Lady some refreshments!”
He was gone as quickly as he’d come in.
“What in the name of Hell is wrong with him?” Theran muttered as he broke the black wax seal and removed the single sheet of paper.
Prince Grayhaven,
I am aware that you have become the Warlord Prince of Dena Nehele and have taken responsibility for ruling your people. I am also aware that you still need a Queen who can help your people remember Protocol and the Old Ways. Therefore, I have asked Lady Rhahn to stay with you for a year.
A second chance, Theran. If you turn away from this one, there will be no other.
Jaenelle Angelline
Theran folded the letter and vanished it.
Mother Night. Witch was giving him a second chance.
He straightened his clothes, ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to tidy it, and sprang to the study door much as Julien had. Then he paused. Would the Warlord Princes accept another Queen from Kaeleer if she was associated with him? Could they ever trust her with the well-being of their people?
He opened the study door.
The answer to those questions looked up at him and wagged her tail.
CHAPTER 49
“It was a lovely wedding, Daughter.” Devra lifted Cassidy’s left hand.
“And that is a beautiful ring.”
A lovely, dizzy warmth spread through Cassidy. “Yes, it is.” Not just the amber ring’s design, but what the ring stood for. Something she knew her mother understood.
She looked at the people milling around the backyard of the Residence and was glad her First Circle had declared the sitting area under the tree to be the Queen’s private spot—a place to catch her breath and a moment’s quiet before talking to the next group of well-wishers.