“Ranon’s Wood is a fair-sized village, but there weren’tthat many boys within that age group, so we all had a little piece of the walkway on either side of the street staked out as our territory. At the time, I thought we’d just been clever enough not to draw the notice of the older youths. I learned much later that they’d been asked to stay in the background unless specifically summoned.”

“If your father wasn’t there, who’d have that much influence?”

“My mother. She’s a Healer.” Warmed by the memory that was now as bittersweet as all of his memories of Reyna, Jared’s voice swelled with unmistakable pride.

Brock nodded, silently respectful.

“My father’s eyes glazed when the carriage reached the beginning of the main street and he saw all of us spread out like that. But the Queen ordered the carriage to stop and said she wanted to walk a bit. And walk she did. I was the first one on that side of the street, and my father, may the Darkness embrace him, never said a word. I don’t know what the Queen was thinking, but I saw her glance at the street and immediately offered to escort her across so she wouldn’t get run over by another carriage—not that there were any carriages moving on the street. She accepted my hand, and I led her across. Except then her official escort was on one side of the street and she was on the other. Naturally, the nearest boy offered to escort her back across.

“She never laughed at us, never gave us the slightest impression that there was something odd about being shepherded back and forth as she slowly made her way up the street. The last boy at the top of the street handed her back to my father, who had been keeping pace, and he took her into the coffeehouse.

“To this day, I have no idea where he was supposed to have taken her or if she got any refreshment before he slipped her out the back door to avoid more assistance.” Jared smiled.

“Did he tell your mother?” Brock asked.

The mud and the rain—what did they matter compared to this?

“My mother and several other witches dined with the Queen that evening. Since it was Ladies only, my father stayed home with my brothers and me. For several days after that, every so often my mother would glance at him and giggle while his face turned red.”

They walked for a minute in companionable silence.

Then Brock said, “Corry and Cathryn are walking up ahead. Randolf s keeping an eye on them, and keeping Eryk away from them.” He paused. “They’re holding hands.”

Jared and Brock grinned at each other.

“Go on,” Brock said, hitching a thumb toward the wagon. “Go warm up for a bit and make yourself useful. You might tell her that story. I think Thera would like it, too.”

More than willing to get out of the rain and give his legs a rest, Jared waited until the wagon caught up to him. Then he let it pass. He stared at the back of it, turning the thought over and over in his mind, testing it against instincts sharpened by the cruelty he’d seen, and endured, over the past nine years.

Then he hurried to catch up, suddenly wanting the warmth, wanting something to eat, wanting to see if he could read anything in those hard gray eyes when he told her the story.

He wasn’t sure he trusted the Gray Lady. Yet he felt certain that in some other village on some other street, she, too, had allowed herself to be needlessly shepherded so that a few young boys could proudly say they had served.

Chapter Eight

Krelis stared at the spelled brass button in his hand and then at the uneasy guard. “Are you sure?”

The guard’s face tightened. “I made no mistake, Lord Krelis.”

Krelis waved his hand, an oblique apology for insulting the man’s skill. His voice thickened with frustration. “What in the name of Hell is shedoing ?”

The guard shrugged. “There’s a Coach station less than a mile from that inn—but there’s a better inn right next to the station if she’d intended to buy passage and go on to the Tamanara Mountains.”

Which is precisely what the bitchshould have done.

“The innkeeper was sure it was the Gray Lady?”

“An old Queen dressed in gray with twelve slaves. I found that button in the guest servants’ quarters because the slave quarters weren’t ‘comfortable’ enough for her new toys. Maybe she’s trying to tame the Queen killer with sugar instead of the lash.”

Krelis felt his blood chill. “What Queen killer?”

“The Shalador pleasure slave who showed his temper a couple of weeks ago. He would have gone to the salt mines of Pruul, but she fancied him.”

Krelis let his breath out slowly. Fool! He’d already seen the list of slaves, and the Sadist wasn’t on it. Besides, the High Priestess only sold Daemon Sadi’s services. She’d never sell him outright—and she’d never let a dangerous enemy have any kind of control over a male that deadly.

The name on the list had meant nothing to him, but he’d heard about that Shalador Warlord’s butchery. Would that work in his favor? A dark-Jeweled male turned vicious wouldn’t be tamed again easily. He might even hate the next witch holding the leash enough to strike a crippling blow with no provocation. Doubtful he’d survive if he tangled with the Gray—no loss if he didn’t—but if he weakened her, it would make it that much easier to finish the kill once they found the Gray Lady.

“There’s a Coach station in easy reach that would get her out of a Territory that stands in Hayll’s shadow. Instead of going there, she buys an old pedlar’s wagon, a team of horses, two saddle horses, and supplies.” Krelis’s voice rose. “To do what? What’s the bitch’s game?”

The guard shrugged again. “She set out on the road heading northeast, or so the innkeeper said. Lots of small roads branch off it, traveling west and northwest. She could have changed direction. Been lots of rain around there. She can’t be traveling fast, and she’s not traveling light. She packed that wagon with supplies.”

Krelis’s hand closed around the button. “Which still doesn’t explain what she’s doing!”

The guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe that attack in the spring was more successful than anybody thought. She’s an old woman.”

Krelis let the idea take root. “Itwas a vicious attack.” The Gray Lady had escaped last spring, but the violent unleashing of power might have left her mentally unstable. Could she be wandering aimlessly, all the time thinking she was heading for the Tamanara Mountains and safety?

Krelis slipped the brass button into his pocket. At least he had something to report. “Let the marauder bands know where she was last seen. They’ll know the land around there better than we do.”

After dismissing the guard, Krelis slumped in his chair. So far his plan was working. If his pet hadn’t left the spelled button, though, he would have had no idea where to start looking for her.

That Shalador Warlord troubled him a little. There had been no reason for her to go down to those slave pens and even less reason to buy him. She’d already bought a young pleasure slave. She didn’t need another, especially one who had turned savage.

Or had she bought him with the intention of giving him to a Shalador Queen in exchange for help reaching the Tamanara Mountains?

Krelis smiled grimly.

If getting help from Shalador had been her plan, she was already too late.

Much too late.

Chapter Nine

An hour after sunrise, Jared gave a final pat to the bay gelding and roan mare that were already saddled and tethered to the back of the wagon, and approached the door. They’d broken last night’s camp and were ready to move on, but courtesy and a healthy sense of self-preservation told him he should get the Gray Lady’s permission first—especially since he’d never consulted her yesterday afternoon when he had decided they’d all had enough of slogging through rain and mud and had given the order to make camp.

He raised his hand, but it froze before he could knock on the door. No matter what Jewels he wore, no man would willingly step into that cramped space while two witches were arguing in sharp, low voices that would have been raised to full volume if they hadn’t been trying to keep it private.

Jared stepped back, unsure what to do—and wished, again, that he hadn’t begun the sham yesterday of being the dominant male. HisJewels might outrank everyone else’s except the Gray Lady’s, but what difference did that make? He was aslave . He was hollow inside. He didn’t want to have authority over the other males. He didn’t want the responsibilities that came with that authority. But he’d let a moment’s temper make that choice for him, and now he was stuck with it.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t back away now and just wait untilshe gave the order to move on.

Before he could retreat, Tomas opened the door, looking flushed and angry.

No longer muffled, Thera’s voice had a dangerous edge.

“Youcan’t walk. That knee healed better than I thought it would overnight, but it’s not going to take that kind of exercise, and you know it.”

“Then I can ride one of the saddle horses, or sit on the driving seat. That will give others the opportunity to be inside—”

“It isn’t raining now,” Thera interrupted. “If you’re so concerned, let’s stay in this camp for a day and give everyone a rest. The animals certainly could use it.”

Jared winced. Thera sure knew how to twist a verbal knife. By the end of that first morning on the road, they’d all recognized the Gray Lady’s love for animals. If she could have figured out a way to tuck the horses into the wagon to give them a rest, he was sure she would have done it.

“No.” Was that physical or emotional pain in the Gray Lady’s voice? “We have to keep going. I can—”

Tomas had been looking at Jared. Now he twisted around. “You can just sit and get better like you’re supposed to,” he shouted. “What if you slip in the mud and hurt yourself bad?”