Brock narrowed his eyes as if that would let him see farther in the pouring rain. “Jared—”
“NOW!”
Brock and Randolf looked at Garth, who was now standing in the middle of the road with his legs far enough apart for good balance and his huge hands clenched. Nodding grimly, they wrapped their hands around his thick-muscled arms and dragged him toward the wagon, leaving Jared alone on the road.
Jared raked one hand through his dark hair and swore when the rain squeezed out by the motion trickled down his back.
Thirteen men, all of them wearing Jewels. He’d pulled back the moment his psychic probe had touched the Sapphire shield and he realized it belonged to a Warlord Prince, so there hadn’t been time to discern how dark the other Jewels were. The Sapphire was probably the strongest among them, but that didn’t help much. If he were free to use the Red Jewels, he could take a Warlord wearing the Sapphire. But the Red were only one Jewel rank darker than the Sapphire. That wasn’t enough of an advantage against a man who was, by his very nature, a killer. A Warlord Prince wasn’t going to stand back and let anyone strike at his lighter-Jeweled followers. And if he was rogue, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain from a fast, vicious strike that would leave most of them helpless.
Except the Gray. If that Gray strength was unleashed . . .
Jared shuddered, his mind suddenly filled with the image of a chess piece scampering around the board, attacking, defending.
You’re a slave. Remember that! You’re a slave.
It should have mattered. It didn’t. He couldn’t stand by and watch the Gray Lady risk herself in a battle while there was one man among them who was still standing.
The Warlord Prince and his men came into sight a couple of minutes later. In the waning light and the rain, they were nothing more than dark, moving shapes, but he felt the power that swirled around them.
And the anger.
For a moment he just stood there, torn between his instincts to protect and the reality of his position. As a slave, he was forbidden to wear the Jewels, and without that reservoir of power, all he had was the strength that was always within him. Granted, it was a deeper well than most of the Blood had, but not enough against a Sapphire who could draw on his reserves and sustain the attack.
Jared turned away and kept a measured stride as he walked back to where the wagon had stopped. He felt a swift, light probe brush against his inner barriers and pushed back instinctively, letting the Warlord Prince know for certain that he would face one man who was a Jewel rank darker.
As he approached the wagon, he smiled grimly. Interesting how easily all the males had responded to the protective instinct. Brock and Randolf had placed themselves so they effectively blocked the narrow road. Ludicrous since they weren’t wearing Jewels and didn’t have any weapons. Then he caught the look in Brock’s blue eyes and wondered what hidden things the guard might be carrying.
Garth hovered near the wagon. The children and Polli were bunched next to the rear wheel. Thayne held the team of horses and anxiously watched Blaed, who was standing in the middle of the road, a peculiar, blank expression in his hazel eyes.
A jolt of realization swept through Jared, strong enough to take his breath away. Mother Night. Courteous, easygoing Blaed was a Warlord Prince.
As their eyes met, Jared felt some emotion—pain? regret?—flash through Blaed.
Knowing he’d have to talk to the younger man later—if there was a later—Jared nodded as he passed Blaed and continued to the wagon.
The shutters that gave access to the driving seat were wide-open. Shoulder to shoulder, Thera and the Gray Lady watched the road.
“Rogues or marauders?” Thera asked as Jared reached them.
Jared looked back. The thirteen men had stopped, barely visible in the rain.
He almost asked what difference it made, but his attention was caught by the quickly hidden look of relief in the Gray Lady’s eyes.
“Rogues,” she said quietly.
Thera narrowed her eyes and studied the Gray Lady. “They can be more vicious than marauders, and that’s a Warlord Prince leading them.”
Saying nothing, the Gray Lady backed away from the opening.
Thera gave Jared a puzzled look and followed.
A few seconds later, the shutters were slammed shut with enough force to startle the horses and the sharp, muffled voices told Jared a hot-tempered argument had started.
It ended just as abruptly.
Jared’s body tightened as his anger warred with his fear: anger because the two of them were indulging in a temper tantrum while all of them were at risk from an outside danger; and fear because the continued silence might mean one of them, namely Thera, was badly injured—or dead.
The door opened a few minutes later. The Gray Lady emerged, followed by Thera, who was carrying one of the cloth bags they used to store spare clothes.
Jared breathed a sigh of relief when Thera appeared, only then aware of how badly his legs were shaking.
“Polli, come with me,” the Gray Lady said quietly.
No one moved. No one made a sound.
“Polli, come with me,” she said again, holding out her hand.
Polli looked at the Gray Lady, then looked at the rogues whose features were obscured by the rain. She backed away from the Gray Lady, shaking her head. “No. It’s my moon-time. I don’t have to spread my legs when it’s my moon-time.” She continued backing away as the Gray Lady slowly advanced. When she bumped the front wheel, her hands closed fiercely around the spokes. “It’s my moon-time,” she wailed, slowly folding up until she was sitting on the muddy road, her hands still clutching the spokes.
Because he wanted to argue and didn’t dare, Jared stepped back until he bumped into Blaed. Betrayal burned his throat and stomach. Despite all of his experience during the past nine years, he’d begun to respect the Gray Lady. Now she was trading Polli—Polli!—to a pack of rogues so the rest of them could leave without a fight.
What made it even worse was that he understood her reasoning. Rogues tended to be more vicious because they had a price on their heads. They were either escaped slaves, or they’d broken their service contract with a Queen, or they’d refused to serve when a Queen had chosen them for her court. But they were still men, and any of them who hadn’t been castrated would enjoy having a female to mount.
And who else could she give them? Sharp-tongued Thera, who was intelligent and useful? Little Cathryn?
Bracing one hand on the wheel, the Gray Lady leaned over and spoke to Polli, her voice too low for Jared to hear. As she spoke, she brushed a hand over Polli’s head.
She must have used a calming spell, he concluded bitterly as the fear gradually left Polli’s face.
The Gray Lady straightened up slowly. Polli scrambled to her feet. Looking thoughtful, Thera hugged Polli and handed her the cloth sack. The Gray Lady linked her arm with Polli’s and, walking with care, led her toward the rogues.
Bitch, Jared thought as he watched the two women. What lies did you tell her to make her so accepting?
There was tightness in Brock’s expression and anger in Randolf’s eyes as the women passed them. Jared suspected that, if the trade didn’t work, both men would be able to suppress their instincts sufficiently to let the Gray bitch fight her own battles.
“What’s going on?” Blaed whispered.
Since the answer seemed obvious, Jared didn’t bother to reply.
The Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince urged his horse forward, meeting the two women halfway between his men and the wagon. He dismounted slowly, his eyes never leaving the Gray Lady. His lean, hard body moved with a warrior’s grace as he cautiously approached, one hand resting easily on the hilt of the knife attached to his belt.