Rising slowly, Talon left the dance ring. When he reached the top of the slope, he turned back. *You did well. Warlord.*

Resting his cheek on Lia’s head, Jared rocked her until her tears finally stopped. “So did you, Lady,” he whispered. “So did you.”

Chapter Forty

Dena Nehele. From the rogue camp that protected the middle pass through the Tamanara Mountains, Jared looked at the rolling hills, the sweeping forests, the rivers and lakes. He saw the cultivated fields, the pastures dotted with animals, the villages and towns.

This high up in the mountains, the autumn air already held the taste of winter. The change came more slowly to the land below him.

To the south, the trees were still holding on to the green of late summer. But as his gaze swung to the north, the green gave way to golds, oranges, and reds.

A beautiful land. A healthy land. A thriving people.

Jared looked back at the Coaches. Lia was still inside, still sleeping off exhaustion and the brew Talon had made for her.

It was better this way. During the hours it had taken to reach this camp, he’d made his choice and believed it was the right one—for both of them. But he felt grateful he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell her. And he hoped with all that was in him that he wouldn’t look back on this day and regret the decision.

After they finished the simple meal the camp had provided, the others would make the last leg of the journey. By sunset, they’d be in Grayhaven, the town that took its name from Lia’s family estate.

His uncle Yarek and the rest of the villagers would be all right. Shalador’s seeds would thrive in Dena Nehele’s soil.

What would the former slaves do? Most likely, Eryk and Corry would return home. Little Cathryn would remain, probably with Lia’s family. So would Garth—at least until a Black Widow helped untangle the rest of his mind. Randolf and Thayne might choose to return to their own people.

Blaed would not.

Like Thera, the young Warlord Prince had made his choice. He might send a message to his family, but he had chosen the land he would now call home—and he had chosen the Queen he would serve.

Jared blinked against the stinging in his eyes. Just the wind, he lied to himself.

But, sweet Darkness, he was going to miss those two.

They broke away from a group of villagers and joined him, almost on cue.

It was tempting—and worthy of an “older brother”—to tease Thera about leaning on a man, but it didn’t seem fair to rile her and spoil Blaed’s contentment.

“I’d like to ask a favor,” Jared said.

“Of course,” Blaed answered instantly.

Thera said nothing. Her eyes held a hint of anger.

“My youngest brother, Davin, now lives in one of the southern villages. I’d appreciate it if you’d locate him and give him the two honey pear trees our mother planted for him.”

Blaed nodded cautiously.

“The ones meant for Janos . . .” Grief for the boy he remembered jabbed at him. “I’d like you to have them. As a wedding gift.”

“We haven’t even handfasted yet,” Thera grumbled.

Jared smiled. “But you will.” His smile faded. “The ones she planted for me ... I want Lia to have them.”

Tensing, Blaed’s eyes flicked to the Coaches and back to Jared.

Thera just watched him. “You’re leaving.”

It was hard enough to tell Thera. He wasn’t sure he would have survived telling Lia.

“I’m going with Talon,” he said, his voice suddenly husky.

“Then what you said meant nothing?”

This time, when tears stung his eyes, he didn’t lie to himself. “It means everything.”

After a moment, Thera nodded. She stepped away from Blaed, put her hands on Jared’s shoulders, and kissed his cheek. “What should I tell Lia?” she asked quietly.

Hugging her, Jared pressed his cheek against hers and replied just as quietly, “Tell her I’ll be back in the spring.”

Chapter Forty-one

Jared stepped off the landing place. The abandoned traveler’s inn looked rougher than it had six months ago when he had brought Lia there to be healed. Yet the call that had been more subtle than a thought had come from there, as it had before.

He entered the inn. Coming farther into the room, he looked at the table tucked near the stairs, at the bottle of wine and the two glasses, at the beautiful, golden-eyed man who sat waiting for him.

“Will you join me for a drink, Lord Jared?” Daemon asked.

Jared smiled. Unbuttoning his heavy winter coat, he approached the table. “Thank you. I will.”

Daemon studied him for so long, Jared lifted a hand self-consciously to his hair. He’d shaved off the beard that had kept his face warm through the cold mountain winter, but he’d let his hair grow long enough to tie back and hadn’t decided to cut it yet. His clothes, by even the kindest stretching of the truth, couldn’t be called anything but sturdy and warm.

Compared to Daemon’s sleek elegance, he felt like a grubby child.

And resented it.

Daemon’s eyes filled with amusement.

Jared lowered his hand and sighed. Daemon knew, damn him.

“You’ve shed your slave skin,” Daemon said with quiet approval.

Jared sat down and poured a glass of wine for himself. It surprised him that the approval meant so much.

But wasn’t that one of the reasons he had come?

Daemon toyed, with his wineglass. “I’m glad you responded. I expect I’ll be kept on a short leash for quite some time, so it’s unlikely that we’ll meet again.”

Jared tensed. “Dorothea can’t link you to what happened.” Mother Night, he hoped not. He didn’t want to think about what Daemon’s life would be like if she did.

“Krelis did.” Daemon’s mouth curved in a vicious smile. “But I doubt he mentioned our little discussion.” He took a couple of swallows of wine. “No, she just wants to be sure I’m held in a Territory closer to Hayll. She has enough problems right now. It seems no one’s eager to be her new Master of the Guard. And the efforts to soften the Territories bordering those already under Hayll’s control have been seriously undermined by the stories that have spread about how a young Queen and a handful of former slaves defended an entire village against Dorothea’s Master of the Guard and five thousand Hayllian warriors.”

“There weren’t that many,” Jared mumbled.

Daemon shrugged. “Well, you know how stories grow with the telling. Especially with a little help.”

“You cut the ground out from under Dorothea in any way you can, don’t you?” Jared said.

“In every way I can,” Daemon agreed solemnly. “But there’s only so much I can do. And it’s not enough.”

Jared felt the sadness he’d been fighting all winter well up inside him. “Dena Nehele will fall, won’t it?”

“Not while a Gray-Jeweled Queen rules there. Not while the strongest and the best serve her and remain vigilant against Hayll’s subtle cultural poisoning. But, yes, eventually Dena Nehele will live in Hayll’s shadow.”

“Then all our efforts are pointless.”

“No, Jared, they’re not. Even in the most rotted Territories, there are still overlooked places where the Blood remember what it means to be Blood, what it means to honor the Darkness. Where males remember what it means to serve and witches remember that the bargain isn’t one-sided. Those who remember may lose control of their lands, may have to live careful, hidden lives, but they must survive in order to restore their people when the time comes.”

“When what time comes?” Jared asked, sitting forward.

Daemon hesitated. “When a Queen far more powerful than Dorothea can imagine walks the Realm. She’s coming. That much I know. That much I was promised,” he added quietly.

They drank in silence.

“Why did you call me here?” Jared finally asked.

“To say good-bye. And to tell you not to be a fool.”

“About what?” Jared waited. Hoped. All the talks he and Talon had had during the long winter nights hadn’t eased his doubts because Talon didn’t really understand what it meant to be a pleasure slave. But if there was anyone who could understand how deeply that kind of slavery wounded a man, it was Daemon Sadi.

“There are many shades and flavors of love, Jared,” Daemon said quietly. “Not all of them have the richness and the depth to be Gold. You have a chance at something many men only dream of. Don’t let the Gold slip through your fingers.”

Jared carefully refilled their glasses. “Is it fair to hinder a strong Queen with a Consort who has a degrading past?”

“Is it fair to deny the woman a man who loves her with everything that’s in him?” Daemon countered.

“I was a pleasure slave for nine years.”

“Nine years,” Daemon snarled impatiently. “What’s nine years compared tocenturies ?”

“Wouldyou ask a Queen to accept you as her husband?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Jared sat back, awed and a little frightened by the terrible yearning that filled Daemon’s eyes.

“You love someone,” he whispered. “Who?” He bit his tongue, instantly regretting the question.

Daemon’s smile was gentle and a little self-mocking. “I don’t know. She hasn’t been born yet. But I’ve loved, and served, her all my life. I’ll love no other. And I’ll serve no other willingly.” Reaching across the table, he laid his hand over Jared’s. “Don’t let the Gold slip away, Jared. Don’t spend the rest of your life regretting that you didn’t take the risk.”

Daemon drained his glass and rose. “I have to go.”

Jared stood, too. There were so many things he wanted to say, but words weren’t enough. Taking a deep breath, he gripped Daemon’s shoulders, opened his inner barriers, and let his feelings flow through his hands—his gratitude, his friendship, and the sincere hope that Daemon would someday find his Lady.