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voidtreckermods) wrote2020-08-03 08:14 pm
voidtreckermods) wrote2020-08-03 08:14 pm
Memory Shares
An archive of the memories used in the Healing Waters Event.
Please note the content warnings at the top of each set of memories!
Please note the content warnings at the top of each set of memories!
memory two
It is fine by him. You don’t mind travelling with her, and protecting her if need be. Something about the young Queen, just a few years younger than you draws you. You aren’t sure what it was, but it means that you are happy to serve as Escort, even though you are too young to really be an Escort and she is too young to rule.
At least, in theory you were happy. The actuality... The young woman's mood is like a third person in the sitting compartment of their coach. A person with the ability to change on a dime, but one who always filled the space with presence. Throughout the ride she had been moody, depressed, angry, anxious.
You are doing your best not to hold her crankyness and mood shifts against her. Jaenelle is a good friend to each of you separately, though the three rarely played together as a group. Jaenelle was an odd girl, but sweet and kind and funny and fun. You adored her not just because she had somehow found you at your lowest and helped you find yourself again. She wss confusing and curious and wonderful. She taught you so much and you tried to return the favor.
Her visits were always brief, but they were filled with fun and joy. Except for those times you could tell sometimes that something was wrong. But she never wanted to talk about it, and when you asked, she just got sad, so you would make a joke to make her laugh again
.
And then one day she didn't show up when you expected her. Morghann had been the only other friend of Jaenelle's that you knew outside of your family and you had reached out to her.
And then out of nowhere, a few days ago an invitation arrived at your house from SaDiablo Hall in Dhelman. You hadn’t recognised the handwriting, and you didn't recall her ever having mentioned knowing anyone in Dhelman. And given she was fair skinned with blue eyes and long blond hair, she wasn't from Dhelman herself, or at least, her parents weren't. You had checked with Morghann to learn she had received the same invitation. And now…
"We're almost there," you say.
The coach pulls up to the landing web outside a huge imposing stone building. "Mother Night," you whisper, staring up at it, running a hand through your curls. "A whole village could live in that building."
"Maybe one already does," she says. Then she takes a deep breath, grabs her bag from the coach and heads up the long walk from the landing web to the front door. You take another look at the building, then rush to catch up with her. You had planned to knock politely on the door. Morghann has... Other ideas. You jump at the sound her small fist made when she added craft to her one loud knock. It sounds like an explosion.
The door opens, and the man who stood aside quickly is clearly a butler by uniform, bearing, and the expedient of having been the one who opened the door. You’ve never seen a servant who wore a Jewel as dark as the Red before. Morghann seems less impressed and strides into the hall. It occurs to you that she is pretty… You blame the dress.
Still, she cuts an imposing figure, a hint of the woman she will one day be, her dark red hair flowing down her back, green eyes flashing with all the tension that had shared the coach with tyou, and her gown which had just looked brown and gold and patchy in the coach looked like the autumn woods in motion as she entered the Hall.
You approach the adults, specifically the man at the front and center of the small group. You’ve never met the High Lord before, but even without seeing the man's Black Jewels, you would have guessed that was who he was. Something tickles inside you, and he found your lips twitching in amusement. For the man in front of you might be dead, might be the High Lord, might outrank you in both Jewel Rank and Caste to say nothing of age or wealth, but Mother Night do you know that expression. You’ve seen it in the mirror tons of times when Jaenelle used to visit.
She’s here. She has to be. No one has an expression like that without having met her. The man looks like the horse he had been riding had just ran him over and he was trying to figure out when he had wound up under the animal instead of astride it.
You are emboldened by this and offer a hand in greeting, it is clasped, and you see long black tinted nails against your own pale wrist.
"You must be the High Lord," you say with a smile. "I'm Khardeen, from the isle of Scelt." You a thumb toward the door that had closed. "That's Morghann."
Just as you finish speaking, the door opens. The girl who approaches you hesitantly is older than she had been, but then so was he. But still you'd know her anywhere. You'd know those eyes anywhere, to say nothing of her scent. Something settles within you. She really is alive. She is okay. You’ll consider tearing into her later for scaring you so badly for so many years, but then again, Morghann probably already did. So you’ll just have to figure something else out.
She holds out both hands timidly in a formal greeting, you realise your revenge is nearer at, well, at hand, than you had expected. Because after years of missing her, no way was she getting away with a formal greeting. So pretending to ignore her, you turn back to the High Lord.
"Did Jaenelle ever tell you about her adventure with my uncle's stone - "
"Khary," she gasps. You are surprised she had let you get that far. You catch her glancing nervously at the High Lord and filed that away for later.
"Hmmm?" you smile at her, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did you know that a proper hug can toss a thought right out of a man's head?" You ask her. "It's a well known fact. I'm surprised you hadn't heard of it."
She had been balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to bolt. Now her heels come down and her sapphire eyes narrow. "Really." Mother Night you missed her.
You just smile, waiting for your hug. When it fails to come, you turned back to the High Lord. "You see my-" you are cut off again. "You don't have to hug all the air out of me," you tease and carefully wrap your arms around her to return the hug.
"Now, what were you going to say?" she asks, ominously.
"About what?" you reply sweetly.
Laughing, the hug shifts as she throws her arms around your neck. "I'm glad you came, Khardeen. I've missed you."
Any anger you had any hurt you had, over how long she'd been gone melted away. At least for the moment. You gently untangled youtself from her arms. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up on things," You have a letter from your uncle after all, giving you permission to stay the whole summer if the High Lord allowed. "Right now you'd better get back to your sisters or I'll get the sharp side of Morghann's tongue for the rest of the day."
"Compared to Karla, Morghann's tongue doesn't have a sharp side," she informs you.
Your lips twitch. "All the more reason, then."
Jaenelle shoots the High Lord another nervous glance, then bolts for the room where the other girls were. Just as she gets there, there was a knock on the front door. After Morghann's bang, this one seems polite.
The people who enter when the door is opened clearly didn't come from the same place. There are two Satyrs, a small girl with iridescent wings that sat on the shoulder of the male Satyr. There was a boy about you own age with black hair and grey eyes who, from his clothes, probably came from Dharo. Behind here were two tawny-skinned kids with dark stripes, you guess they were from Tigrelan and
a girl who looks closer to your age, or maybe even a little older who introduces herself to the High Lord as Kalush from Nharkhava.
The butler starts to close the door, but it is pulled back open. The High Lord pushes Kalush towards one of the other adults, an Eyrian male with wings as black as his hair, and tenses. You follow his line of sight, and found himself looking at centaurs. The girl is too far off for you to get a scent to tell her Caste, but the male, a Warlord Prince, approaches. You are still standing near the High Lord. No one has asked you to move yet, and it seems the spot with the best view.
"High Lord," the male Centaur says making the title sound like a challenge.
"Prince Sceron," the High Lord replies firmly. Not challenging, but also not backing down or ignoring the challenge. An interesting trick, you wonder if you could learn it.
Sceron's eyes blaze with suppressed rage. He isn't on the Killing Edge or things would be bloody already, but there is clearly anger there, all the same.
Before things can get ugly, while you desperately cast about for a joke to make to ease the tension, Jaenelle stalks over and punches Sceron in the upper arm. Given the difference in their sizes, the blow must be a joke at best, even if she had put all her strength into it - which you doubt she did.
The Centaur grabs her and lifts her up so he could look in her eyes.
"That's for not saying hello," Jaenelle said as if she os picked up like that all the time and it isn't even worth mentioning.
Sceron studies her face a long moment, then smiles "You are well?"
"I was better before you rumpled me," Jaenelle says, tartly. You grin. Sceron laughs and sets her down gently. Someone gasps and you turn.
If the Tigrelan are creatures of myth, the two who stand in the door were something worse. Everyone in Kaleer knew the Dea al Mon were real. And that few if any who trespassed in their Territory were ever seen again. Alive, at any rate. And the Dea al Mon almost never left their Territory. They are a secretive and insular race. These two had the look of their people with the silvery hair, pointed ears, and over large eyes. The male came over to the High Lord.
You can see the change in both this new comer and the High Lord. Anyone who grows up around a Warlord Prince recognises the signs if they had any survival instincts at all. It is the eyes. The sleepy glazed look filling both pairs of eyes. They were both rising to the killing edge. With Sceron it had been amusing, because it hadn't been as deadly. As serious. You are trying to figure out who you can shield and how to get people clear of the explosion that was about to happen when a familiar and haunting voice spoke.
"Chaosti," Jaenelle speaks, not in the voice she'd been using all along, but in that voice he heard only rarely when she used to visit. Her midnight voice. Witch's voice.
The Dea al Mon boy slowly turned to face her.
"He is my father, Chaosti. By my choice," she tells him.
It took a long moment, and you aren’t sure if there won't be bloodshed anyway. A Queen's will was the leash that held a male's temper in check. Especially a Warlord Prince. But not just any Queen could do it. There had to be a bond there. You don’t know if her words, her voice, her hand on the leash would be enough. After a long moment, it is clear that it is. Even if just. Chaosti places a hand over his heart. "By your choice, cousin," he replied.
Jaenelle and the other girls leave the room as Chaosti turns to face the High Lord. "She's been away so long and has been deeply missed. Titian said you weren't to blame, but - "
"But I'm the High Lord," the High Lord says with a trace of bitterness.
"No Chaosti says, smiling cooly as he shakes his head. "You are not Dea al Mon."
The High Lord relaxes. "Why do you call her cousin?"
"Gabrielle and I belong to the same clan. Grandmammy Teele is the matriarch. She also adopted Jaenelle." Chaosti's smile turns feral. "So you are kin of my kin - which makes you Titian's kin as well."
The High Lord wheezed as if he had been hit in the gut. You decide that this is a good time to step in.
"If we want anything to eat, I think we're going to have to fight for it," you tell Chaosti.
"I'll accept any challenge a male wants to make," Chaosti snaps.
You are really coming to like the guy. Which is why giving him the bad news was going to be so much fun. "The girls are between us and the food."
Chaosti sighs and seemed to deflate some. "Challenging another male would be easier."
"Safer, too," You agree.
"Gentlemen," the butler speaks. "Refreshments are also being served in the formal drawing room."
"Have you ever heard that red-haired witches have hot tempers?" You ask Chaosti as you follow the group of males into the formal drawing room. So long as it had food, you don't much care what it was called, really.
"There are no red haired witches among the Dea al Mon," Chaosti replies. "And they all have hot tempers."
You laugh. "Ah. Well then."
memory two part 2
Somehow, you have a feeling that you have finally found the place he belonged. "Ah, but if we damage each other too much we'll tick off the ladies…"
"Dinner will be served later," the butler informs them then left with as much haste as dignity allowed.
"That's that then," Khary say. "Shall we?" The others nod and drift to the food table. Before long you are milling around in small clusters with plates of food and cups of tea or water or juice. There was milk on offer, with a chill spell on the bottle. None of you take any but you all find ways to get at least fourths of the amazing nutcakes piled up on a tray at the center of the table.
"So, how long are you staying?" You ask Chaosti around a mouthful of nut cake. "I didn't think your people left your territory often, or for long."
"We don't," Chaosti growls "I mean, we usually..." He looks momentarily at a loss. You burst out laughing and only a quickly cast shield keep Chaosti and Aaron from getting sprayed with half chewed food.
"What?" Chaosti growls.
You swallow before answering, both to avoid spitting more, and because it amuses you to draw it out.
"The expression on your face," you explain. "My uncle calls it the Jaenelle effect. I saw it on the High Lord earlier."
"So did I," another male says before introducing himself as Morton from Glacia, Karla's cousin. "I always thought it was something that Karla and Jaenelle had in common."
"Three of them?" Aaron asks with a groan. "I'm not sure one realm can handle three of them."
"Three?" You ask.
"Jaenelle, apparently Karla, and Sabrina."
You laugh. "I rode here with Morghann. No way Sabrina is worse."
"If we are really going to play this game, I assure you, I will win," Chaosti says, glaring at all of you
.
"Pretty sure we're all going to lose, actually," Aaron puts in. You all laugh.
"Hey, it looks like someone has a chess set over there," Morton says as the laughter dies down. "Do any of you play?"
Most of them nodded, You grin. "That depends who is asking."
"Oh?" Chaosti asks, curious.
You nod. "Oh yes, my uncle told me that if a woman ever asks if I play chess I should tell her about my horses to change the subject." That triggers a whole new round of laughter.
"I am no longer allowed to play chess with Grandmammy Teele," Chaosti admita. "I yelled at her for being reckless, and she refused to deal with that again."
"So you're never allowed to play chess with her again?" Morton asks, a bit wide eyed.
"Oh I am, if I can promise to play without losing my temper and keep that promise."
"So never allowed to play chess with her again, then?" You ask.
"Pretty much," he agrees.
"My father always said it was a game that shouldn't be played across gender lines, except possibly by siblings, since they're usually ready to kill each other all the time anyway," Aaron adds.
More chuckles and a break for some more chewing before Chaosti breaks the silence. "Three months, give or take."
"Three months what?" Sceron asks, trotting over to join them.
"Khary asked how long Gabrielle and I are staying. We are staying here until the autumn harvests begin."
"You as well?" Sceron asks.
You glance at Moron. "Hobart doesn't care what we do, so he wrote a letter that basically says the High Lord can keep us," he says a bit bitterly.
You consider that a moment, then borrow a trick from Jaenelle and step up onto the air like there is a chair there for you to stand on. You use Craft to enhance your voice to be heard by the room. "Show of hands, who has a letter from home saying that they can stay at least until autumn?" Every hand goes up. You chuckle "Give them to me, I'll deliver them all at once." Your uncle had been right after all.
Soon you have an envelope for each male, as well as a few of the girls.
"I'll be back in a bit," you say, cheerfully and slip through the entry hall to knock on the door where the girls are. After a long moment it opens slowly and you are staring at a sea of female faces, some wary some ticked, some overjoyed. "Quick question ladies, anyone have a letter for the High Lord they want me to drop off?"
Wary changes to grins, some kind some - like Gabrielle and the girl with the spiky white hair that must be Karla - almost feral. Soon you have the rest of the envelopes.
"When you come back, we can all go out and see the wolves, and you can meet Kaetien," Jaenelle says. Kaetien is a name you know from her stories. A unicorn. You are going to get to meet a unicorn. It takes all your self control to smile and nod and not make a fool of yourself. You salute and close the door, leaving the ladies their peace.
He take a long moment once the door was closed to get your giddiness under control. All you have to do is drop these off, then round up the other males, and then you can go meet a unicorn and a pack of wolves!
"Now... Where do I find..." You don’t even finish the sentence before the butler strides into the hall. That works. "I am looking for the High Lord, please."
The butler leads you to a door near the back of the hall. "Thank you," you say, then hesitate. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"I am Beale."
"Thank you, Lord Beale," you say with a bow and was about to let the man leave, then considered. "I think that we'll all be staying for the summer," you tell him.
"Lady Helene and I shall take care of the arraignments," he said.
"Thank you," You say with a grin. When it is clear there is nothing else, the man leaves presumably to see about rooms. You call in all the envelopes, take a deep breath, then tap on the door.
"Come," the High Lord's deep voice sounds muffled by more than just a door.
You let yourself in the impressive room. It is shaped like a reverse L with the long side being an informal area with a sofa, a love seat, some other large chairs, and a low table, and the formal sider having Blackwood desk and visitor chairs. And throughout the whole thing are books. Cases and cases of books. The High Lord is all but slumped in one of the large chairs on the informal side, sipping something that smells of both blood and alcohol. The Eyrian who had been closest to him at the reception is there, but no one else.
You smile at them both and set the envelopes down on the table. "I told Jaenelle I'd drop these off to you. We're going out to meet the wolves and the unicorn."
"Finished devouring the kitchen already?" The High Lord asks as he picks up one of the envelopes.
"At least until dinner," You say, grinning, you start to turn for the door.
"Plant your feet, Warlord," the High Lord says. He breaks the formal seal, calls in his half moon glasses and reads. You are bursting with impatience, but stand and wait. "This is from Lady Duana," the High Lord says, seeming surprised.
"Mmmm," You agree. "Morghann's grandmother."
"The Queen of Scelt is Morghann's grandmother?" The High Lord asks, seeming a bit under the horse again.
It is on the tip of your tongue to say something like 'well someone has to be', but you want to be done so he could go meet the unicorn. So you stuff your hands in your pockets as if that would help you keep from making a smart alec remark. "Mmmm," is all you trust yourself to say.
The High Lord places his glasses carefully on the table. "Let's skip the hunt and just tree the prey. Do all these letters say the same thing?"
You can’t help yourself. You can’t... "What's that, High Lord?" you ask, sounding as innocent as you can.
"All of these letters give permission for an extended visit?" The High Lord asks, his voice sounding oddly thin.
"So I gathered,"
"Define extended visit."
"Not long. Just the rest of the summer," You grin. You see the under the horse look has gotten worse, so you try to soothe the man, which is hard to do when you are fighting a huge smile. "Everything is being taken care of," you say as soothingly as you can. "Lord Beale and Lady Helene are taking care of the room assignments right now, so there is nothing for you to worry about."
"Noth -" The High Lord's voice cracks and he can’t finish the word, poor thing.
"And it is a reasonable compromise, High Lord" you are warming to the topic now that this is so amusing. You never thought someone like the famed High Lord could be so... Well... Familiar. "You get to spend time with her and we get to spend time with her. Besides, the Hall is the only place big enough for all of us. And, as my uncle pointed out, having all of us in one place would surely drive a man to drink, and that being the case, he'd rather it be you than him."
You take the weak gesture the High Lord makes as a dismissal and head out to go meet a unicorn!
memory three
Invitation wasn't quite the right word, he mused. Summons might be better. Jaenelle officially stepped down as Queen after the war. But then she'd been ruling unofficially since they were all teenagers. She was the only one who actually thought she was the Former Queen of Kaleer. Froim the summons however, she was giving up - at least for now - the pretense of having retired. The wording was precise. It was protocol. The Queen was calling for a Queen and a Lord who served her to attend. It had given a tate and time, so it wasn't an emergency, but it had arrived with just enough time for them to verify that it was a legitimate summons - after the Spooky House they ALL double checked any abnormal requests that gave so little time tom respond - get a sitter, get changed, and make it to the Keep.
The Keep. The Dark Mountain. Ebon Askavi. The lair of Witch. Morghann parked the coach just beside the landing web. They recognized the one already there, and the man coming out of it. Aaron. One of his two best friends.
Well, that explained part of it. Possibly. Either the whole First Circle of the Dark Court had been summoned or this was about Aaron's cousin, Cassidy. A number of them were connected to Cassie by this point. Aaron by being her cousin. Jaenelle because of visions of the future seen in a Tangled Web. Jaenelle's husband was connected to Cassie both through Jaenelle and through the man, Theran Greyhaven, who had come to Kaleer desperate for a Queen willing to come back to his territory to help lead his people. Theran was the last descendant of an old friend of Sadi's from almost a thousand years back. Khary himself and his wife were involved because Vae, a Sceltie that had been living in their home village had attached herself to Cassidy and Theran when they were both at the Hall and had since decided that one Sceltie was not enough to take care of the humans in the court and had come to Scelt. And he and Ladvarian, one of their oldest Sceltie friends, had helped choose a dozen youngsters ready for their first mission. Lucivar was connected to Cassidy and her court because he was the liaison between the SaDiablo family - Daemon, Lucivar, Uncle Saetan, Surreal, and Jaenelle who was both adopted and married into it - and the territory of Dena Nehele where Cassidy was ruling to help Theran rebuild his land and aid his people. Karla was involved because when Cassidy had been an idiot and nearly killed herself, Karla had been at the Keep, so she had gone to serve as healer. And Lucivar had gone as Escort for her, as had Surreal. Since, Surreal and Rainer, their former dance instructor who now worked for Daemon as a secretary, had helped Lucivar as liaisons. Sabrina was involved because Cassidy had ruled in her territory of Dharo before going to Terrielle.
The more he thought of it, the more and more tangled Jaenelle's court was becoming with Cassidy's. Which made him wonder what had happened now, and which other friends would be there.
Aaron waited for them as he handed his wife gently out, and Aaron took her hand to help. She snarled at the both of them that she didn't need help getting out of a coach. And they both knew she didn't need the help. But that was never the point.
They walked in together and found that they weren't the first to arrive. That uncle Saetan was there before them wasn't a surprise. Since he started withdrawing from the living realms, he had moved to the Keep, splitting his time between the Keep in Kaleer, the one in ****, and the one in Terrielle, since the Keep was one of the few places to exist in all three realms.
Jaenelle and Daemon were there already as well. If the invitation hadn't been warning enough, her appearance was. Her short hair didn't look shaggy. Her too thin frame didn't look thin, it looked lean. She woe a cobwebby black spidersilk dress. Her Widow's weeds. Her Jewel shone darkly over her chest. She was not there as Jaenelle, she was there as Queen. As Witch. Daemon's face was blank, impassive. His eyes weren't glazed, at least not yet. But Khary knew the man well enough to be wary.
Lucivar Yaslana was there as well. Where his half brother Daemon looked just like their father, Saetan SaDiablo with black hair, gold eyes, and sun kissed golden skin, Lucivar matched them only in colouring. He had a warrior's build, his black hair kept long for his race and pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His Ebon Grey Jewel left him as the fourth strongest power in the room, which was not something generally said about the second darkest Jewel. What made him stand out even more than his long hair, his build and the fact that unlike his father and brother who wore suits where he wore something far more casual and easy to move in, was his wings. His other bloodline was Eyrian, the winged warriors that were for Terrielle what the Dea Al Mon were in Kaleer - the dominant warrior race. That Lucivar was pacing wasn't concerning. Like all Eyrians Khary had ever met, he was a very physical person who always felt the need to be moving when he could. What stood out to Khary, however, was the fact that he was never turning his back on his brother.
Were memories of Daemon having to pretend to be an enemy to buy Jaenelle the time she needed to end the war riding Lucivar, or did he know something that Khary didn't yet? The first would work itself out over time. The second....
There was one more person in the room. Sabrina. Like Aaron she came from Dharo, and they both had the look of their people, with their dark hair and fair skin, though her eyes were hazel to his grey. She had just been helping herself to a seat and paused, torn between greeting and sitting. Glancing at Jaenelle, who could have been a statue for how still she was, she kept her greetings brief, then sat. Khary glanced at a seat, and rather than argue with him, Morghann sat in it. Khary and Aaron remained standing, though Kahry chose to lean lightly against the seat his wife sat in, breathing in her scent. There was something about her scent and Jaenelle's that just soothed him, calmed him. He knew it wasn't just him. Oh, he was the only boyo in the Dark court who felt it with Morghann, but they all felt it with Jaenelle and each of them felt it with exactly one other Queen. The one who they directly served.
He was shaken from his thoughts by a familiar sound. Rhythmic. He glanced up as Karla walked into the room. She always sounded distinctive when she walked now as she always needed either one or two canes to walk, depending on how hard she had pushed her body. What was left of her legs had trouble supporting her after the poison that should have killed her had been drained through them. Her ice white hair stuck up in sharp peaks over her pale forehead, her ice blue eyes sharp as ever, glaring out at the world from a face that looked a decade older than she actually was. Most people would not have guessed she was the same age, more or less, as himself, his wife, Aaron, and Sabrina. Daemon looked closer in age to them, and he was over fifteen hundred to their paltry twenty something years.
"Kiss kiss," Karla said, seeming oblivious to the tension in the room. "Sorry I'm late." She picked the chair closest to Uncle Saetan and sat. "I was trying to undo an... Incident... That turned a large white cat into a bright pink and blue cat."
For the first time Jaenelle seemed to come alive a s a warm flash of humor filled the cold stone room. "Did you fix it?"
"When I left KaeAskavi was an evenly tinted mauve cat - and he was not happy."
Khary wasn't coward, but he was just as glad this wasn't his problem. Still a kitten, KaeAskavi was already a few hundred pounds of feline muscle and was learning to fight from his father, and from Lucivar. He found himself chuckling with the others at the mental image of the white on white Arcinian cat being mauve. But the humour in the room faded quickly. He focused on Jaenelle and knew the others had as well.
“I received a letter from Cassidy yesterday,” she said. “I felt you should all know what happened and that we should come to an agreement about what will—and will not—be done.”
She called in the letter and handed it to Daemon. Lucivar immediately came around to the back of the sofa to read over his brother’s shoulder. Daemon read the letter and handed it to Khardeen. Khary felt the room grow cold as he read the letter, but he didn't know if it was his fury or someone else's. Certain words jumped out at him, making it hard to focus on the rest. He got enough. Someone tried to abduct Khollie, one of the young Scelties he had helped settle into the village in Dena Nehele where Cassidy was residing. He had his doubts about sending Khollie in the first place, unsure if the small dog could handle it as well as his older brother could. But Darkmist and Khollie had wanted to stay together, so he had yielded. And now the poor puppy had gotten hurt and might not recover.
As the letter got passed around the room filled with emotions. Hot anger. Cold fury. He passed the letter to someone, not even aware od who took it. By the time Karla was handing it to the High Lord some of the haze around his vision was fading. None of the women gave any indication they'd let the males off their leashes, so he fought to push his temper down. Arguing with Jaenelle when he was angry never did much good. Not that he got angry often. He disliked being angry and tried to find humour in most things instead. There was nothing funny here.
He waited while Uncle Saetan called in his half moon glasses and read the letter. Official or not, Jaenelle ruled; however she often looked to Saetan for advice both as her adopted father and her Steward. His fifty thousand years of experience gave him a perspective that the rest of them - most of whom were from the shorter lived races and might see a century, possibly - lacked.
Once Saetan finished reading,. Khary let his temper slip the leash enough to speak. “What in the name of **** is going on there?” he asked.
“This wasn’t Cassie’s fault,” Aaron snapped, instantly ready to defend his cousin.
“I didn’t say it was,” Khary snapped back. “But something should be done.”
“Nothing will be done,” Jaenelle said quietly. “At least, not by us.”
Khary glanced at her sharply, but it was Sabrina who replied. “What is Kermilla still doing in Dena Nehele anyway?” Sabrina snarled.
“You were aware she had gone to visit Cassidy?” Jaenelle asked.
“And aware of her mistreatment of a servant while she was a guest there. Believe me, that will weigh heavily in my decision about whether she’s going to continue ruling anything in my Territory.” Sabrina got up and paced back and forth behind the chairs. “But that happened in early summer. We’re into the autumn harvest now. What’s she still doing there?”
“Causing more trouble?” Khary suggested, bitterly. He wasn't a Warlord Prince. He did not easily rise to the Killing Edge, he did not easily want to harm anyone else, let alone kill them. But harming Kindred - especially Kindred horses or Scelties was a button for him. Just as harming anyone he loved would be. And Khollie... He had agreed to let the little dog go. Pain twisted in his gut, making him sharper than he usually was.
“Khary,” Morghann said in quiet warning.
“Don’t hush him, Morghann, he’s right,” Sabrina said. “Kermilla has no business being there, and it’s past time to go to Dena Nehele and haul the ****’s **** home.”
memory three part 2
“Cassidy’s too polite,” Sabrina snapped at him, then turned to Jaenelle. “They have a history. You know that.”
Jaenelle’s sapphire eyes held Sabrina. A moment passed. Two. Khary could tell they were communicating psychically, but it was a distaff thread and he had no idea what was being said. It was little comfort that the other males had also been excluded. He wasn't sure if the other women had been included or if the conversation was just between Jaenelle and Sabrina. Whatever it was, something surprised Sabrina enough to drain the Dharo Queen’s temper.
“Are you asking me to be blind to what’s happening?” Sabrina asked, out loud.
“Outside of your own borders, yes,” Jaenelle replied. Then her lips curved in a sharp, chilly smile.
“Would I ask you to be blind to what’s happening within your own borders? Never.” She considered. “Almost never.”
“The Warlord who acted on Kermilla’s orders came from Dharo?” Sabrina asked thoughtfully after a long moment. Khary sensed some of the tempers had eased, but he didn't know why. His hadn't.
“That’s the assumption, since he didn’t come from Dena Nehele,” Jaenelle replied.
“And the body was brought back to Kaeleer,” Saetan said. When they all stared at him, he lifted an eyebrow. “Draca opened the Gate for them. If you think anyone is more qualified to decide who may use the Gate here at the Keep, then you can take it up with her.”
Jaenelle was the only person who might be able to challenge Draca’s decision and overrule the Seneschal about who could or couldn’t use the Gate. Since she seemed to have no objection, the rest of them backed away from any criticism they might have had.
“How many men are in Kermilla’s First Circle?” Karla asked.
“Twelve.” Sabrina stared at Karla. “She had the same twelve men who had been Cassidy’s First Circle.”
Karla’s lips curved in a wicked smile. “Then Kermilla’s court is broken, isn’t it?”
“Technically, yes,” Saetan said. “But no court that’s sound breaks because of a death, even when there aren’t more than twelve males in the First Circle. The court continues for a few days, sometimes even weeks, while the Queen considers the men in the Second Circle and decides who will be invited to fill the opening in the First Circle.”
“I don’t think she has a Second Circle, Uncle Saetan,” Sabrina said. “The First and Second Circles are paid with the Queen’s tithes. Cassidy didn’t need more than her First Circle to work exclusively on the court’s behalf, so she didn’t have anyone in her Second Circle except youngsters who were with her for training and court polish. I know she paid them because Darlena, the Province Queen who rules that part of Dharo, had been impressed by Cassidy’s generosity as well as by the number of requests she received from youngsters of all castes who were willing to serve in a small village court because of that generosity. Darlena also noticed how many of those youngsters retracted their requests when they learned that Kermilla now ruled Bhak instead of Cassidy. So I don’t think the current Queen of Bhak has anyone who can fill the vacant place in her court.”
“Which means the court is broken,” Aaron said.
“Not yet,” Jaenelle said quietly, looking at Sabrina.
Sabrina tipped her head. “If her court doesn’t tell me, I can pretend not to know.”
Aaron swore but did nothing else because he, like the rest of them, knew there was a reason Jaenelle wanted some things to be ignored. Khary just wished he knew what it was.
“There was an interesting miscalculation when the summer tithes for Bhak and Woolskin were sent to Darlena’s Steward,” Sabrina continued. “It was swiftly corrected, but Gallard had never made that kind of miscalculation when he served Cassidy.”
“Tried to short the Province Queen of her rightful share of the tithes?” Khary asked, making a guess.
Sabrina’s smile was sufficient answer. “I think my Steward and Darlena’s should personally collect the autumn tithes from a few of the District Queens and review their court accounts.” She looked at Jaenelle. “Don’t you think? That would be a fair warning to a Queen who had been granted a provisional year to prove herself—especially if she truly wanted to retain those villages as her territory.”
“Who gives a **** about being fair?” Lucivar growled.
Daemon said mildly, “We all give a **** about being fair when it buys needed time.”
Lucivar stopped prowling and stared at Daemon. “Oh. That kind of being fair. All right, fine. But someone should still go to Dena Nehele and explain to that **** that a young Warlord can’t be snatched off the street just because he has four legs and fur.”
“That’s been taken care of,” Jaenelle said.
“By who?” Lucivar demanded.
“By someone who can explain things even better than you.” Jaenelle smiled at Lucivar.
Lucivar took a step back and resumed his prowling.
Khary tried to turn over in his head who that could be. Lucivar could be ***** scary when he wanted to be. Having been in the practice circle with the man, having been trained by him, Khary was well aware how much of an impression he could make. Daemon might make more of one, but only if the person was smart enough to recognize death when it glared out of them through sleepy glazed eyes in a mask of civility. But it didn't seem to be him, or the High Lord. Surreal? Possibly, given her history as an assassin though he suspected she wouldn't stop at just explaining, so then who?
His eyes wandered the room and settled on Karla. And remembered why she had been late. Mother Night, ****'s fire and may the darkness have mercy. Kaelas. KaeAskavi's sire was nearly a ton of Arcenian muscle. Khary had seen Kaelas execute humans before. Yes, he could certainly make an impression, could certainly make it clear that Kindred are protected.
Protected. Except that Khollie hadn't been. Not as much as he should have been. After a few moments of uneasy silence, Khary said, “There might not be much we can do about Kermilla right now, but I can go to Eyota tomorrow and bring Khollie home.”
“I don’t think you can take Khollie anywhere without a fight,” Jaenelle said.
Khary gave Jaenelle, then Morghann, a hard stare. “He’s delicate. You both know that. And Ranon didn’t want him in the first place.”
“What was true then isn’t true now. Ranon needed some time to gain clarity in his feelings.”
He had seen Ranon's reaction when Khollie has picked him. He might have had some sympathy for the man if not for how much his rejection had hurt the small dog. Khary made a rude noise. “He’s—”
“One of us,” Jaenelle said quietly.
Khary swallowed what he was about to say, turning that over in his mind. Jaenelle was saying that Ranon could have served in the Dark Court, could have served alongside them. Was the kind of male who could become a friend. Who could be trusted. His eyes snapped to Jaenelle. Former Queen his ***. There had always been one way to know if someone could serve in the Dark Court. If they could look at Jaenelle and realized that they were looking at Witch. If they could see both the Queen and the woman. And if they had felt the pull to serve her. Ranon would serve Jaenelle if offered the chance? That... Did change things.
“What Circle?” Khary finally asked.
“Second,” Jaenelle replied.
Meaning, if the Dark Court still officially existed, Ranon would have been accepted into the Second Circle. Not as intimate a companion as someone in the First Circle, but those who served in the Second were still close enough—and trusted enough—for confidential assignments and direct service to the Queen.
“And Gray?” Daemon asked of the mentally scarred young man who was starting to grow up years after his body did, so that he could serve Cassidy. So that he could love her.
“Second Circle,” she said.
Anger still smeared the room, but it no longer had heat or teeth. The chill that was not a normal part of the Keep faded.
“So that’s it then,” Aaron said.
“Not quite. I received this letter from Cassidy a couple of days ago, before the attempted abduction,” Jaenelle said. She called in another letter and handed it to Khary.
Khary took the letter and started reading. At once the differences jumped out at him. The last letter, while clearly written by the same hand, had been writing in tight small letters, an abundance of control. The writing here was looser, more open. The words were more casual. More like a letter to a friend, than a report to the Queen Cassidy had served during her training.
As for what the letter said... He almost dropped it several times. By the time Khary got halfway through the first page, his mouth was hanging open. “Payment for work? They’re getting paid to herd sheep?” The Scelties... Were getting wages. For herding. Mother Night. The implications of Scelties with money... Mother Night... It didn't bear thinking about. Except that apparently they were going to have to do just that. He was starting to understand how Saetan had felt when he realized that the youths he had trained were now the adults he had to negotiate with.
“Three coppers a day,” Jaenelle said cheerfully. “Wynne and Duffy are also maintaining the spells on the cold boxes and hot water tanks for the landen community and get three coppers a week for each household.”
Aaron snagged the second page. “Oh, Mother Night. Two of them are working in a children’s play area.”
Sabrina snorted, then had to call in a handkerchief to blow her nose.
Morghann twisted in her chair so she could read the other side of the page. “They call Lloyd and Kief the silver twins. And the boys are working in the stables. That’s good. They like horses.”
“I guess I understand the Scelties wanting to learn about being paid for work, but what are they going to do with the money?” Daemon said. “Save up their coppers to buy their own little steading and a small flock of sheep?”
Morghann and Jaenelle looked at Daemon. Just looked at him. And then they smiled. Seeing those smiles, Khary felt like his legs had lost all their bones. Lucivar caught him before he landed on the floor, Daemon turned pale. Probably at the thought of someday having to negotiate a business deal with a Sceltie.
“It’s not that bizarre,” Jaenelle said. “Ladvarian and I own the little cottage and acreage where he trains other Scelties.”
“What?” Khary yelped.
“What?” Daemon whispered.
Jaenelle looked at Khary. “I thought you knew that. Morghann, didn’t you know that?”
“I did, yes,” Morghann replied. “But it seemed best not to mention that bit of paperwork.”
Jaenelle patted Daemon’s thigh. “Ladvarian and I have owned that property since before you and I got married, so I never thought to mention it. Besides, having that place is so much better than having a dozen Scelties living with us whenever we’re in Maghre.”
“Yes, that’s so much better.” Daemon looked a little woozy.
“The relationship between Scelties and humans is too well established in Scelt,” Morghann said. “And not all Scelties want to change the relationship they already have with humans. But in a new land, there would be opportunities the Scelties couldn’t explore as easily here.”
Everyone looked around the room without quite looking at one another.
“Are we done?” Karla asked Jaenelle. “Because if we’re done, I’d like some help in figuring out how to turn a mauve cat back into a white cat.”
“Draca is serving a late supper in about an hour,” Saetan said.
“That should be enough time,” Jaenelle said.
For what? Khary noticed from the looks on the faces of the other men that he wasn't the only one wanting to know. But like him, none of them asked.
The Ladies left the room, leaving the men to collapse into chairs, not sure if they should be scared or **** off, or should laugh like fools.
The room held nothing but a blissful, and exhausted, silence for several minutes.
“Can you stay for supper?” Daemon asked Lucivar.
“No choice,” Lucivar growled. “Marian said if I want to stay married, I’m going to stay out for the whole evening.”
“You have been a bit too possessive lately.”
“Maybe. She says she’s fine.”
“What does the Healer say?”
“Nurian also says Marian is fine, so she’s fine. Everyone is supposed to be fine. Well, I’m not fine. She scared the **** out of me with that miscarriage.” Lucivar snarled. “Next thing she’ll be wanting **** again.”
“They do that,” Aaron said sympathetically while Khary nodded. “They do.”
“Well, then . . .” Saetan began.
Bang!
They all straightened up and looked toward the door.
“What was that?” Daemon asked.
“Sounded like something blew up,” Lucivar replied. “What kind of spell were the girls trying to fix?”
They all looked at Saetan.
“No,” Saetan said firmly. “If you want to find out, you go ahead. I am not leaving this room.”
The other four men looked at one another.
Daemon held out his hand. “We’ve got some time before supper. Let me see that letter again.”