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Well, that was one other thing he’d take care of when he got to that privy hole called Ranon’s Wood.

“Come in,” Krelis snapped in response to a knock on his office door.

Lord Maryk stepped into the room just far enough not to be noticeably still in the corridor. “All the supplies have been gathered, Lord Krelis. The guards from the last two southern Provinces are expected within the hour.”

“I’d thought my instructions were simple enough to be clear,” Krelis said, keeping his eyes on his Sapphire ring.

“We don’t need a lot of supplies. We’ll be back here by tomorrow night.”

“Our men will need to eat after a fight,” Maryk replied stiffly.

A fight, Krelis thought, resisting the urge to laugh in Maryk’s face. How much fight would a village that had already sustained an emotional belly wound have left?

“We’re not fighting other warriors,” Krelis said curtly. “Whoever is left in that village already lost a battle with their own people. How much of a challenge can they be to a thousand Hayllian warriors?”

“Closer to fifteen hundred.”

Krelis finally looked up.

Maryk shrugged. “Because this was a special request from the High Priestess’s court, every Master sent along a few more than we’d asked for.”

The other Masters had undoubtedly added a few to keep tempers from flaring as well—not only in the guards’ quarters but in the manor houses of the Hundred Families. What young, ambitious male serving in a lesser court wouldn’t resent being kept from an assignment that might bring him to the notice of the most powerful witch in Hayll?

He’d felt that way himself not all that long ago.

Some things, however, were best seen from a distance.

“We’ve already wasted enough time waiting for these young bucks to finish buttoning up their pants and shining their boots,” Krelis said. “We leave in one hour. If the southern guards aren’t here by then, they can stay behind or catch up to us.”

“I understand, Lord Krelis.” But Maryk didn’t leave. “Have you decided who will take command of the men?”

Krelis rounded the desk, opened a drawer, and took out a large, white feather. Tucking it inside his leather vest, he said, “I will.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Shivering, Jared gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Blaed handed him. The night air had a sharp bite to it, but worry seemed to bleed more heat from his body than the elements could.

“Everything’s packed,” Blaed said quietly. “We were ready to leave hours ago. Even riding the White Wind, it won’t take more than a few hours to reach the Tamanara Mountains. Couldn’t this have waited?”

Jared sipped his coffee and wondered the same thing— and tried not to resent that Lia had asked Thera to stay with her instead of him.

Talon silently came around the corner of the Sanctuary that was located a mile outside of Ranon’s Wood. He’d made a circle around the building every hour since Lia and Thera had entered it, getting personal reports from the men who were standing guard and rotating the watch often enough to make sure everyone had a chance to warm up by the fire and eat a bowl of stew. Four of his men had stayed in Ranon’s Wood to keep watch. The other eight had come with Talon, taking their turns in the rotation.

“Is there a problem?” Talon asked softly when he joined them.

“We’re ready to leave,” Blaed said, his voice ripe with impatience and nerves.

“The Queen isn’t,” Talon replied.

“Why is it taking so long?”

“The Offering to the Darkness takes from sunset to sunrise.”

Blaed’s jaw dropped. “She’s—” When Talon hissed in anger, he looked back at the men warming themselves around the fire and lowered his voice. “She’s making the Offering to the Darkness? Now?

“Sometimes you choose the time to make the Offering. Sometimes the time chooses you,” Talon said.

Blaed made a frustrated sound.

Jared understood exactly how Blaed felt.

“You’re free to go back to the village or go on to the mountains,” Talon said curtly.

Blaed glared at Talon before retreating to the fire.

“Don’t jab at him,” Jared said quietly. “You know Thera won’t leave without Lia, and Blaed won’t leave without Thera.”

“I know,” Talon said just as quietly. “But he needs to learn now that there are times when a man can, and should, argue about a Queen’s choice of action and there are times when he should keep silent and do what needs to be done. Lia understands the risks she’s taking by staying here to make the Offering. She must have felt the need outweighed the risks.”

“It would have been safer if she’d waited until we reached Dena Nehele, until she’d had time to recover from her Virgin Night.”

“Of course it would have been safer—if we can reach Dena Nehele without another fight. If we can’t . . . The Green Jewel is still vulnerable in a one-on-one attack by a darker Jewel, but there are only two Jewels that can overwhelm a Gray.”

The Ebon-gray and the Black. And only two Blood in the entire Realm of Terreille wore them: Lucivar Yaslana and Daemon Sadi.

Jared didn’t think Dorothea SaDiablo would be foolish enough to let either of them be part of a welcoming committee.

But thinking of Daemon reminded him of something else.

“Have you ever heard of the Invisible Ring?” Jared asked.

Talon looked startled, then thoughtful. He blew on his hands to warm them before slipping them into his coat pockets. “It’s been quite a few years since I’ve heard anyone mention the Invisible Ring,” he said a little sadly, a little bitterly. “Seems like once the Ring of Obedience starts being used in a Territory, men shy away from any mention of a Ring of any kind.”

Jared let his breath out slowly. “I wear the Silver.”

“I thought you did.” Talon looked at him and smiled. “So do I.”

Jared didn’t know what to say.

Talon looked up at the sky. It had been drizzling a couple of hours ago, making everyone uncomfortable. Now the clouds had passed, and the star-filled sky was clear.

Talon said quietly, “These two things a man may choose as long as stars shine up above. For the Silver Ring is Honor, and the Ring of Gold is Love.” He smiled ruefully. “Not good poetry, but that’s how I was taught it.”

Jared leaned against the Sanctuary. “Not a tangible Ring, then, but real all the same.”

Talon nodded. “Very real. And sometimes it weighs heavily enough on a man to almost feel tangible.”

“Yes,” Jared said softly.

Talon nodded again but continued to look at the stars. “I was about your age when I turned rogue. I still had two years left to the contract I’d signed to serve a Province Queen, but things started happening in the court. She started to change, started showing a little too much deference to the Hayllian ambassadors and aristos who visited the court. One day I realized that the only way I could continue to serve her was to give up the Silver Ring.” He paused. “I wasn’t willing to give it up. Not then. Not now. So I used the first excuse I could find to be away from the court for a couple of days . . . and I just kept going. I promised myself then that I’d never serve in another court, that I’d never put myself in the position of having to choose between breaking a solemn vow or giving up my honor.”

“That’s why you don’t formally serve the Gray Lady.”

“I made no vows, so I’ll break no vows. But make no mistake about it, Jared. In my own way, I do serve her.”

Thinking of a mistake made by the boy he had been, Jared sighed wearily. “How many men become ensnared by what they think is love and then find that they’ve sacrificed something precious?”