Heir to the Shadows

protected and respected the gentler, but somehow deeper, feminine strength.
    Males weren't slaves or pets or tools to be used without regard to feelings. They were valuable, and valued,
    partners.
    That, Lucivar had decided that day, was the leash the Queens used in Kaeleer—control so gentle and sweet a man had no reason to fight against it and every reason to fiercely protect it.
    Loyalty, on both sides. Respect, on both sides. Honor, on both sides. Pride, on both sides.
    This was the place he now proudly called home.
    "Lucivar."
    Lucivar shot to his feet, cursing silently. Considering the tension he felt in her, he was lucky she hadn't taken off without him.
    "Something’s’ wrong," she said in her midnight voice.
    He immediately probed the area. "Where? I don't sense anything."
    "Not right here. To the east."
    The only thing east of them was a landen village under the protection of Agio, the Blood village at the northern end of Ebon Rih.
    "There's something wrong there, but it's elusive," Jaenelle said, her eyes narrowed as she stared eastward. "And it feels twisted somehow, like a snare filled with poison bait. But it slips away from me every time I try to focus on it." She snarled, frustrated. "Maybe the drugs are messing up my ability to sense things."
    He thought about the Queen who had ensnared eleven young men before being killed. "Or maybe you're just the wrong gender for the bait." Keeping his inner barriers tightly shielded, he sent a delicate psychic probe eastward. A minute later, swearing viciously, he snapped the link and clung to Jaenelle, letting her clean, dark strength wash away the foulness he'd brushed against.
    He pressed his forehead against hers. "It's bad, Cat. A lot of desperation and pain surrounded by . . ." He searched for some way to describe what he'd felt.
    Carrion.
    Shuddering, he wondered why the word came to mind.
    He could fly over the village and take a quick look. If the landens were fighting off a Jhinka raiding party, he was strong enough to give them whatever help they needed. If it was one of those spring fevers that sometimes ran through a village, it would be better to know that before sending a message to Agio since the Healers would be needed.
    His main concern was finding a safe—
    "Don't even think it, Lucivar," Jaenelle warned softly. "I'm going with you."
    Lucivar eyed her, trying to judge just how far he could push her this time. "You know, the Ring of Honor you had made for me won't stop me the way the Restraining Ring would have."
    She muttered an Eyrien curse that was quite explicit.
    He smiled grimly. That pretty much answered the question of how far he could push. He looked toward the east. "All right, you're going with me. But we'll do this my way, Cat."
    Jaenelle nodded. "You're the one with fighting experience. But . . ." She pressed her right palm against the Ebon-gray Jewel resting on his chest. "Spread your wings."
    As he opened his wings to their full span, he felt a hot-cold tingle from the Ring of Honor.
    She stepped back, satisfied. "This shield is braided into the protective shield already contained in the Ring. You could drain your Jewels to the breaking point, and it will still hold around you. It's fixed about a foot out from your
    body and will mesh with mine so we can stay tight without endangering each other. But make sure you keep clear of anything else you don't want to damage."
    Having made regular circuits to all the villages in Ebon Rih, Lucivar knew the landen village and surrounding land fairly well. Plenty of low hills and woodland within striking distance of the village—perfect hiding places for a Jhinka raiding party.
    The Jhinka were a fierce, winged people made up of patriarchal clans loosely joined together by a dozen tribal chiefs. Like the Eyriens, they were native to Askavi, but they were smaller and had a fraction of the life span of the long-lived Eyriens. The two races had hated each other for as long as either of them could remember.
    While Eyriens had the advantage of Craft, the Jhinka had the advantage of numbers. Once drained of his psychic power and the reserves in the Jewels, an Eyrien warrior was as vulnerable as any other man when fighting against overwhelming odds. So, accepting the slaughter required to bring down an enemy, the Jhinka had always been willing to meet an Eyrien in battle.
    With two exceptions. One walked among the dead, the other among the living. Both wore Ebon-gray Jewels.
    "All right,"