Theran looked at Talon, whose face was grim and sad. The old Warlord Prince had searched, and searched hard, to find the boy. But Talon didn’t find Gray soon enough.
Talon went down on one knee and put a hand on Gray’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go down there. You can stay up here in the mountains. You know how to fend for yourself. I taught you that. And there will be others staying up here. You don’t have to go back to Grayhaven.”
“He can’t go,” Gray whispered as he sagged against Theran. “Theran can’t go.”
“He has to,” Talon said. “That’s part of the bargain.”
Gray pulled away from both of them and walked over to a window.
What was he seeing? Theran wondered. The past? The present? Was he here with them in this cabin in the mountains or locked in some room in Grayhaven, waiting for the next bit of cruelty?
“I like growing things,” Gray said quietly, more to himself than to them. “The land was good, parched of what it needed, but still good. I could work outside.”
“Gray . . .”
“I wouldn’t have to live inside, would I?”
Shock kept Theran silent for a moment. He hadn’t expected Gray to consider leaving the mountains. Not really.
“No, you wouldn’t have to live inside,” Theran said. “There’s an old stone gardening shed.” He looked at Talon.
“Probably filled with broken tools and such,” Talon said, “but someone could live rough out there.”
“I could be a gardener,” Gray said. “I could take care of the land. But I couldn’t serve her.”
“No, you wouldn’t have to serve her,” Theran said. But if the new Queen showed any inclination toward playing with a damaged male, he’d have to explain a few things to the Lady.
“Then I’ll go.”
“Gray . . .”
“I’ll go.” Gray turned and looked at him—and Theran had never seen anything as bleak as the look in his cousin’s eyes. “I’m Theran’s blade.”
Oh, Gray.
Talon cleared his throat. “It’s settled, then. Tomorrow we’ll pack up and start getting Grayhaven ready for the new Queen.”
Gray bolted out of the cabin.
Theran got to his feet, feeling more exhausted than if he’d been in a fight.
“Do you think he’ll survive going back there?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Theran,” Talon replied. “I just don’t know.”
CHAPTER 9
Cassidy packed the last book and closed the lid of the small trunk. Just some favorites, things she read when she wanted the comfort of a familiar story.
She was as ready as she could be. Which wasn’t saying much, since there was precious little information about Dena Nehele. What she did know was that Dharo was on the eastern side of a mountain range and Dena Nehele was on the western side of a mountain range. Dena Nehele had a variety of seasons, so she’d packed all her clothes, figuring most would be useful.
As for the rest . . .
“Second thoughts?”
Twisting around, Cassidy looked at her mother, who was standing in the doorway. “I’m on my fourth or fifth set of thoughts about doing this, but I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Devra came into the bedroom and sat on the floor beside her daughter. “I’ve got something for you. I know it’s a bit more to carry, but you won’t be straining to carry all of it yourself, so . . .” She called in an open-topped wooden box filled with glass jars. “A bit of home to take with you.”
Cassidy lifted one jar and read the neat label. Then picked up another. “Mother, these are your seeds for the garden.”
“I divided what I had between us,” Devra said. “You’ll need to be careful. Some of these might not be healthy to give to a different land. But most, I think, will be similar enough to what is there. So you can turn over a small patch of ground, plant a few seeds—and know we’re with you in heart.”
“Mother.” Cassidy blinked back tears as she ran her fingers over the tops of the jars. “Thank you.”
Devra brushed a hand lightly over Cassidy’s hair. “You’re still set on going after the midday meal?”
Cassidy nodded. “I’d like some time to settle before I meet the Warlord Prince from Dena Nehele. Prince Sadi and Lady Angelline arranged for us all to have dinner at the Keep so there would be an opportunity to talk with him a bit before making a final decision.” A formality, really. Unless he was some kind of fearsome male, she would give his people a year of her life. Besides, she’d spent four months in the Dark Court and had slammed into Lucivar Yaslana on occasion, and there was no male more fearsome than Yaslana when he was in a mood.
Except Prince Sadi. Or so she’d heard.
“Is Poppi coming home to see me off?” Cassidy asked.
“Your father is in the sitting room, brooding. Has been for the past hour.”
“He didn’t have to leave his work so early.”
“He hit his thumb with a hammer twice because he was busy brooding.” Devra shook her head. “After that, old Lord Wittier tottered your father over to the Healer’s to make sure nothing was broken, and refused to let him come back to finish the work until you were off.”
She could picture old Lord Wittier clinging to Burle’s arm to keep his balance while insisting that he was taking Burle to the Healer—and telling everyone why Burle needed a Healer.
Smacked himself with a hammer, the fool. Too busy thinking about his girl to tell the difference between a nail and a thumbnail. Gotta take him to the Healer’s, make sure he didn’t mash any bones. Who would have thought Burle would smack himself with a hammer?
“Oh, dear,” she said, wishing she’d been in a shop where she could have watched that procession without being seen.
“Don’t tease your father, Cassidy. He’s already had a difficult day.”
Taking the wooden box from her mother, Cassidy set it next to the trunk of books. “Shall we go downstairs? There’s nothing more to do.”
“If you go down now, he’ll have an extra hour to fuss about you leaving and to take you through the checklist he made in order to check the checklist he’d previously made.”
Cassidy smiled. “I know. But he’ll feel better for it, don’t you think?”
Despite the unmistakable psychic scent that identified his caste, the thing that had always amazed Cassidy was how a man as powerful as the High Lord of Hell could feel like a Steward—like a man who didn’t find the tedium of paperwork tedious, like a benign clerk who simply wanted to be helpful. Like a strict and yet indulgent honorary uncle to the most powerful Queens and Warlord Princes in Kaeleer.
Kind. Courteous. Indulgent.
Unless you made him angry. Then there would be the lightning-fast change from benign clerk into predator. She’d never been the cause of that change in the few months she’d served in the Dark Court, but she’d seen it, felt the cold punch of temper that had flashed through the Hall, warning everyone that the High Lord was not pleased.
Right now she wasn’t sure if his mood was benign clerk or honorary uncle, but after the past few days with her father, Cassidy recognized the look of a man who had his own checklist and wasn’t about to let her walk away until they’d gone over every single item.
“Your trunks are all packed?” Saetan asked.
“Yes, and they’ve already been taken to the Keep in Terreille and stored in the Coach,” Cassidy replied.
“You’ve brought some personal things with you? Books? Music?”