Most mornings this past week, he’d loaded the horse and gear into the two-horse livestock Coach and headed out to one of the other Shalador reserves to ride through a village or two. He’d listened to the elders and Tradition Keepers, answered questions about things they had heard about the Rose Queen—and assured them that he, Shalador’s only adult Warlord Prince, had heard Cassidy give Shalador’s heart back to the people.

Today, he’d been assigned the ride through Eyota. It lifted his heart to see the people he’d grown up with smile and raise a hand in greeting when a member of a Queen’s court rode by. That had never happened before in anyone’s memory. He would never admit it, but every day he gave silent thanks to Theran Grayhaven for being enough of an ass to send Cassidy running so that she ended up here, among the people who needed her the most.

A quick psychic probe told him the only people in the house were Powell, Talon, and Vae, which meant Cassidy and Gray weren’t back from their planned ride, and Shira wasn’t back from her inspection of the nearby cottages. She wanted a Healer’s House—a place where she could take care of people without intruding on Cassidy’s privacy. There was only one other fully qualified Healer in Eyota, so even though Shira was supposed to be the court’s Healer, she and Cassidy agreed to expand that to the court and their families.

He flicked an “I’m home” thought along a psychic thread aimed at Shira’s sharp, loving—and sometimes dangerous—mind.

*Almost done myself,* Shira replied.

*Find anything?*

*Maybe.*

But she sounded more resigned than excited, so he didn’t press her. Besides, the sound of another horse had him turning, his temper instinctively sharpening as Shaddo rode up to the Queen’s Residence.

It was a Warlord Prince’s nature to rise to the killing edge. Since coming to Eyota, all of them had discovered that their instincts were more keenly honed when they were around their Queen or her home. Even with each other, there was still a bristling moment when temper was poised between predatory instinct and conscious loyalty to the Queen and their Brothers in the court.

Watching Shaddo, who made no move, Ranon nodded to acknowledge that he had his temper leashed.

“Anything?” he asked. Shaddo had spent the day in the western Province where his wife and boys had lived, riding through a couple of villages to see who might want to talk to a member of Cassidy’s First Circle.

“Lots of circling around questions no one was brave enough to ask,” Shaddo replied, dismounting. “But everyone is interested in the special magic Queens can do to help the harvest. And I ran into a handful of Warlord Princes. I had the feeling they hadn’t met up in that particular village by chance.”

“Does that mean trouble for us?”

Shaddo shook his head. “I think . . . Hell’s fire, Ranon, remember when Cassidy first talked about having the Warlord Princes step up and rule on behalf of the Territory Queen because there weren’t many Queens left in Dena Nehele?”

“At least not many living in the open or having a visible court,” Ranon said. In the past few days, Powell had received tentative messages from men in a dozen villages, all asking if they could see this special magic. Reading between the lines, there were Queens out there who wanted to learn but weren’t willing to trust their lives and what little structure was left in Dena Nehele to a Queen who was still unknown. But men who served those Queens would come to watch and learn—and report back to their Ladies.

“Basically, they wanted to know how Cassidy would respond if they divided a Province based on who was available ‘to rule on behalf of the Queen.’ ”

“I think she’d be relieved to have the Warlord Princes rule whatever the surviving Queens couldn’t handle,” Ranon said. Or didn’t want to handle because it would call attention to themselves.

“I told them the Steward was trying to figure out how to divide the Provinces into Districts, but he was working blind because he didn’t know how many of the Warlord Princes were willing to step up to the line and help their people.”

Ranon winced. “Those words must have stung.”

Shaddo shook his head. “They didn’t, and that surprised me too since I’d meant them to sting. But word is spreading about what Cassidy did for the Shaladorans—and about her going into landen villages as well as Blood to do that special magic. Every man who had fought in the uprisings wanted to know how we could let her do something that dangerous.”

“I hope you told them we don’t let her do anything,” Ranon grumbled.

Wasn’t much of a grumble. Cassie might chafe at the boundaries the First Circle set for her protection, but the men were smart enough to keep expanding those boundaries as they settled down to a life here in Eyota. Besides, according to the Protocol Powell was studying every night, even the First Circle’s right to protect the Queen had some limits.

“Papa! Papa!”

Ranon felt Shaddo’s fierce joy as his two boys came running toward them, but he also saw the stern face and the hand quickly raised to stop them.

“What did I tell you about running toward horses?” Shaddo said.

“Don’t do it.” Eliot, the younger one, scuffed one shoe on the street.

“Can we walk the horses to the stables?” Eryk asked. “We’ll be careful.”

Saying nothing, Ranon handed his reins to Shaddo.

“You can walk them,” Shaddo said. “And then we’ll all take care of them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hearing an odd whistle on the “s,” Ranon studied Eliot. “Someone lost a tooth.”

Eliot grinned, showing off the gap. “Mother is making a special tooth treat.”

Eryk muttered something and looked sulky.

Eliot scowled. “She made special treats for you when you lost a tooth.” “I didn’t knock one out to get a treat,” Eryk said, just loud enough to assure the men heard him.

“I did not knock it out,” Eliot said.

“Did to.”

“Did not!”

“Did—”

“Boys,” Shaddo said.

They obeyed the tone instantly.

*I’m impressed,* Ranon said, trying not to grin.

*Yeah, well, having me around all the time is still new to them,* Shaddo replied. *I figure the pissing contests will start soon enough.*

He watched Shaddo and the boys until they went into the stables. Then he smiled.

Tomorrow was a rest day, thank the Darkness. No work, no traveling, nothing but his woman and a sweet summer day. Maybe Cassidy and Gray would be interested in riding over to Mariel’s Pond to swim and have a picnic. Or maybe he and Shira would go alone so they could have long talks and sweet kisses before coming back to their room for a different kind of talking and kisses that were hot instead of sweet.

With those thoughts in mind, he turned to go into the Residence to get a glass of ale and see if there was anything in the larder.

*Ranon, I’m at the northern landing web. We’ve got company, and they’re heading for the Queen’s Residence.*

Ranon tensed in response to the sharp edge in Archerr’s voice. *How many?*

An odd hesitation. *Depends on who you’re counting.*

What? *Shaddo, someone’s coming. Keep your boys out of sight.* As soon as Shaddo acknowledged the order, Ranon sent a command to Gray. *Keep Cassidy away from the Residence until you hear from me.*

He stepped out into the middle of the street, made a quick descent to the level of his Opal Jewel, and waited a heartbeat away from the killing edge for their “guests” to come into sight.

Then Vae raced out of the Residence, her joy sending out an almost staggering punch.

*They’re here!* Vae shouted along a common psychic thread that could be heard by anyone within range—which was probably half the village. She raced down the street toward the northern landing web. *They’re here!*

Who’s here? Ranon wondered.

The answer to that question turned a corner and came down the street a few minutes later. One man, wearing a vest and jacket over a shirt—too many clothes for the season and the weather. A Sceltie trotted beside him on his right. A few paces ahead of him, Vae bounced and danced with so much excitement it made Ranon tired just to watch her. And behind the man . . .

Twelve of them, spread out in a V that covered the whole street—and gave every one of them a clear line of sight. Scelties. If men had been coming toward him in a fighting V, he’d know what to do. Faced with dogs, he wasn’t sure how to respond—but a sudden memory of Vae pulling down a full-grown man in a fight had him creating a skintight shield around himself. Just in case.

Three of the Scelties spotted him and broke their position, dashing toward him. A barked order—literally—from the Sceltie trotting beside the man had them wheeling round, tails down in response to the reprimand, and returning to their position.

“Good afternoon to you,” the man called.

Curly brown hair, handsome face, lean body. Not much of a fighter, since he was approaching a stranger with his hands in his trouser pockets as if he were taking a simple stroll in his home village. But the stew of power Ranon was sensing from that group couldn’t be dismissed, and there was something in the man’s blue eyes that said this Warlord knew how to stop trouble—and how to make trouble.

“Good afternoon,” Ranon replied.

*They’re here!* Vae bounced and danced, but the men ignored her.

“Would you be Gray?” the man asked.

“I’m Ranon, First Circle in Lady Cassidy’s court and the Master’s second-in-command.”

“Ah. Well, since you were the second man I was asked to see, I think you’ll do as well for both.”

“I’m Khardeen, Warlord of Maghre. And this is Lord Ladvarian.” Khardeen held out a hand.

Ranon clasped the hand—and felt a quiver of fear when he saw the Sapphire ring on Khardeen’s right hand. This man could rip through his Opal shields and tear him apart with a single thought.

Then he glanced down and got another shock. The dog staring up at him wore a gold chain around its neck. A Red Jewel shone against the white ruff.

The human wasn’t the most dangerous Warlord to walk into their village.

Ladvarian looked at Vae.

*Ranon? Ladvarian wants to see the yard.*

“Uh . . . sure.” Since she’d been bouncing a minute before, he was uneasy about Vae sounding so subdued—and cautious.

Khardeen took a step to the side as Vae came around to position herself on Ladvarian’s left—the subordinate position. That done, fourteen Scelties trotted off and disappeared behind the Queen’s Residence.

“They aren’t going to dig, are they?” Ranon asked. “Gray will have a fit if they start digging in the gardens he’s been restoring back there. So will Cassidy.”

“No, they’ll be all right,” Khardeen replied. “Ladvarian was First Circle in the Dark Court. He knows about not digging in a Queen’s garden. Of course, some of the youngsters will need to have it explained to them more than once, but they’ll understand it sooner or later.”

Khardeen’s blue eyes twinkled. Ranon’s stomach sank in response.

“I gather Vae didn’t tell you about this?” Khardeen asked.

“About what?”

“Ah. Well, having been here long enough to assess the situation, Vae didn’t think she could take care of all the humans who needed a Sceltie’s help.”

“Really?” Mother Night.

“She talked to Ladvarian about helping her find other Scelties to take care of the other humans while she took care of the court. Then those two talked to Morghann and Jaenelle, and there you are—twelve youngsters who wanted the challenge of taking care of humans who have no kindred of their own.”

No. Oooh, no. “Who’s Morghann?” He’d heard the name before, somewhere, but it was the only question Ranon could think to ask. The only safe question, anyway.

“Morghann is the Queen of Scelt.”

Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. Now he remembered. Cassie had mentioned Morghann when she was explaining court living arrangements in Kaeleer. And she’d mentioned Morghann’s husband, Khardeen.

The Queen of Scelt and the former Queen of Ebon Askavi had hand-picked these dogs to live here? How was he going to convince Khardeen to take them back? No matter what Vae thought, she was all the humans could handle.

“What are they supposed to do?” Ranon asked.

“Oh, they’ll figure that out,” Khardeen said with a breeziness that was a bit terrifying. “They’re good at herding, and they’ll herd anything—sheep, ducks, goats, cows, children . . . stubborn males.”

“Can you take them back?”

“I can,” Khardeen said. “But you’ll be the one who will have to explain it to the Ladies, and any man who knows either of those Queens isn’t going to get within a mile of you while you do it.”

Shit.

A wave of fur came around the Residence and spread out, tails wagging while they busily sniffed their surroundings.

Then one of the Scelties raced up to him and began dancing on its hind legs.

*My human! This is my human!*

It was the homeliest little dog Ranon had ever seen. He—because Ranon had picked up the caste of Warlord—had the Sceltie face and the Sceltie body, but the fur looked like it had been taken from the leftovers of a dozen different dogs and patched together any which way. There was white, tan, brown, black, and three shades of gray. Hodgepodge dog.

*I will take good care of him. I am going to live with him!*

“No, you’re not.” The words were honest and out before Ranon thought about it.

The dog stared at him for a moment, those brown eyes full of heart-breaking woe. Then the whimpering started, turning to whines and keening and . . .

*My human doesn’t want me!*

Ranon glanced at Khardeen. There was still some amusement and sympathy in those blue eyes, but underneath was the bite of anger.

*Can’t you do something*? Ranon asked Khardeen.

*I’m not the one who hurt his feelings.*

That anger made him uneasy, although Khardeen made no overt threat. Then he discovered he had a lot more reasons to worry.

He hadn’t seen them, hadn’t sensed them coming toward him. One moment he had one whining Sceltie sitting in front of him; the next he was surrounded—and the thirteen pairs of brown eyes staring at him held more than a bite of anger.

*Of course he wants you,* Vae said. *But he is male and human, and sometimes he gets confused. Don’t you?*

Ranon glanced at Khardeen.

*There is only one correct answer,* Khardeen said. *So take the kick in the balls, apologize to your little brother, and assure him that he can live with you.*

*Is there any other choice?*

*Not if you want to stay healthy. Darkmist is a year older than his little brother and isn’t someone you want to tangle with,* Khardeen said.

Darkmist? Ranon scanned the Sceltie faces. The dogs were a variety of colors, but there were three that might fit the name—if the name was meant to fit. Two were a silver-gray and white, and the third . . .

Pewter and white with black speckles on the face. And an Opal Jewel.

Warlord Prince. Ranon stared at the dog who matched him, caste and rank. Then he swallowed hard and went down on one knee, aware he was putting his throat a lot closer to all those sets of teeth.

“What’s your name?” he asked, tentatively extending a hand to the homely little dog.

Woeful brown eyes looked at him, but the tip of the tail gave a hopeful little wag. *Khollie.*

“Well, Khollie, Vae is right. I am confused. I’ve never seen so many Scelties, and I guess I didn’t realize . . .” What? Then inspiration struck, and with a silent apology to his beloved, he added, “You can help me take care of my mate.”

More tail wagging. Woeful began to lighten to happy as Khollie slipped his head under Ranon’s hand for a pat.

*You have a mate? I will help you!*

Suddenly his arms were full of chin-licking, tail-wagging dog—and he really hoped Shira was going to forgive him for siccing a Sceltie on her.

“Vae, why don’t you show Ladvarian and Khollie where Khollie will be staying,” Khardeen said. The mild tone didn’t make the words any less of a command.

Crisis over, the Scelties scattered to continue their sniffing exploration of the cottages and vegetation near the Queen’s Residence, leaving the two humans alone.

Khardeen said nothing, giving Ranon time to regain some balance and think.

“It won’t be that bad,” Khardeen finally said. “A month from now, you won’t remember what it was like to live in a village without Scelties.”

What a terrifying thought. But it was remembering the look in Darkmist’s eyes and the feel of the dog that had Ranon watching the way they moved, spreading out from the Residence. Too orderly. More like a troop of warriors spreading out to get the most information about a place in the least amount of time. Which made him wonder about the twelve dogs that were going to be living among his people—and made him remember a comment that almost passed by his notice.

“You said Ladvarian was First Circle in the Dark Court?”

“Yes,” Khardeen replied. “He was one of Lady Angelline’s escorts.”

Ranon looked Khardeen in the eyes. “He was trained to fight?”

“By Lucivar Yaslana, the Demon Prince, and the High Lord, among others,” Khardeen said softly. “In turn, Ladvarian trained each of the youngsters who have come here. Don’t underestimate Darkmist, Ranon. A Warlord Prince is a Warlord Prince, whether he stands on two legs or four, and Mist has received the best education when it comes to knowing what to do in a fight.”

Mother Night.

“And they’re all going to live . . . ?” Ranon looked at the Queen’s Residence.

“Oh, they’ll work that out. I suspect most of them will come back here for the first few days. Then they’ll find their own place in the village—as well as their special humans.”

Thank the Darkness.

He was not a coward. He knew that about himself. But the thought of living in the same house with more than two Scelties made his knees weak.

“About Khollie,” Khardeen said. “Do you have any brothers?”

“One. Younger by ten years.” Could he extend Khollie’s “help” to Janos as well?

“Do you remember what it’s like to talk to a four-year-old boy?”

Ranon nodded.

“Then you should have no trouble.” Khardeen gave him a sharp smile. “Just think of Khollie as a bright four-year-old boy, and you’re the older brother who needs to explain things to him so that his behavior doesn’t cause trouble for him or the people around him.”

Great. Just what he needed when there was already so much to do—a furry baby brother.

Khardeen called in a large metal trunk that immediately began to sweat in the heat, along with a large metal canister. “Here’s a cold box of meat for them. And that’s the oatmeal that is made into a gruel as part of their feed a couple of times a week.”

“Vae doesn’t eat that,” Ranon said. Although, now that he thought about it, some mornings the porridge bowls left on the table looked a little too clean. Like someone had licked them clean.

“Well,” Khardeen said, looking toward the house. “It’s time we were heading back. I’m expected for dinner at the Keep.”

Ladvarian, Vae, and Khollie came trotting out of the Residence—using Craft to pass through the door, Ranon noted. Which meant he wouldn’t need to get up in the middle of the night if the dog wanted to pee.

Ladvarian gave the two youngsters a lick on their muzzles. Khardeen tipped his head, said good-bye, and the two Warlords headed back up the street to the landing web.

Then Khardeen stopped and turned to face Ranon.

*There was that second thing to tell you,* he said. *Lady Cassidy’s report will go to the Keep three days from now?*

*Yes.*

*You’re to be the messenger.*

*Why?*

*Because the Queen wants to see you.*

No doubt about which Queen was commanding his presence. No doubt at all. And no question that he would obey that command.

*I’ll be there.* And may the Darkness have mercy on me.

He watched them until they were out of sight. Then he felt a flash of frustration and temper. He looked to his right and saw one of the Scelties—a witch by what he could sense—staring at empty air, gently wagging her tail.

A moment later, Archerr dropped the sight shield that should have kept him hidden and strode over to Ranon, quickly followed by Shaddo, who was trailed by his two boys.

“Hell’s fire,” Archerr said as the witch trotted away and a Warlord headed toward them. “What good is a sight shield if a dog is going to smell you and let everyone know you’re there?”

“Not much,” Ranon said. But damn useful if an enemy was trying to sight shield to get close enough to attack. With two Scelties living at the Residence, they were less likely to have any unwelcome company showing up to bother Cassidy.

*Boy puppies!* The black-and-white Warlord with a splash of white on his muzzle and tan markings on his face raced toward Shaddo’s boys.

Shaddo swore mildly but didn’t interfere with the meeting. Then he swore with more heat when his wife Soli stepped out of their cottage.

“Shaddo? What’s going on? Is it all right for the boys to be out?”

The Sceltie turned toward the sound of her voice and froze. Dog and woman stared at each other.

Soli smiled. “Aren’t you the sweetest boy?”

The human boys were abandoned in a heartbeat. The Sceltie launched himself into the air and ended up sitting in front of Soli, with one paw raised to shake—floating on air waist high.

“Hello, there,” Soli said, holding the paw while she petted and cooed. “What’s your name? Where did you come from?” She frowned a little. “You’re Darcy from the Isle of Scelt?” She looked up at Shaddo, her eyes full of wonder. “He talks?”

*I talk,* Darcy said proudly. *But only to my special humans.*

“Hell’s fire, Shaddo,” Archerr said, choking back a laugh. “That sure looks like love at first sight to me. I think you just adopted a furry boy-child.”

“Who is not going to be sleeping in our bed,” Shaddo growled. But there was resigned humor in his eyes as he watched Soli introduce the dog to the boys. “He’ll keep her company, so yeah, looks like I’ve got another boy.”

“Who is already trained to fight,” Ranon said quietly.

The humor drained out of the other two men.

He nodded in response to the unspoken question. “It’s one step removed, but some of that training is courtesy of Lucivar Yaslana—and one of the Scelties is an Opal-Jeweled Warlord Prince.”

“Mother Night,” Archerr said softly.

“Once Talon rises, we all need to talk about this. For now, you two pass along the all clear, especially to Gray so he knows it’s safe for Cassidy to come back to the Residence. I’ll try to explain this to the village elders.”

Shaddo said, “Who would send us a pack of warriors?”

Ranon felt a knot of tension ease as he answered the question. “The same person who understood why we needed Cassidy.”