Queen of the Darkness

for something else very soon.
    It was the first time since Jaenelle had refused to allow Kaeleer to go to war that Karla had seen her. But even now, when Jaenelle had summoned her and Gabrielle, the Queen of Ebon Askavi was keeping her back to them, just staring out the window.
    "I need the two of you to keep the boyos leashed for another few days," Jaenelle said quietly. "It won't be easy, but it's necessary."
    "Why?" Gabrielle demanded. "Hell's fire, Jaenelle, we need to gather into armies and fight. Scattered the way we are now, we're barely holding our own and we aren't even fighting the armies that are bound to come in from Terreille, just the Terreilleans who were already in Kaeleer. The bastards. It's time to go to war. We have to go to war. It's not just the people who are dying. The land is being destroyed, too."
    "The Queens can heal the land," Jaenelle replied, still not looking at them. "That is the Queens' special gift. And not as many of our people have died as you seem to think."
    "No," Gabrielle said bitterly, "they're just dying of shame because they've been ordered to abandon their land."
    "They can survive a little shame."
    Karla laid a hand on Gabrielle's arm. Trying to keep her voice reasonable, she said, "I don't think there's any choice now, Jaenelle. If we don't stop retreating and start attacking, we aren't going to have a place to take a stand when the Terreillean armies do get here."
    "They won't receive orders to enter Kaeleer for a few more days. By then, it won't make any difference."
    "Because we'll be forced to surrender," Gabrielle snapped.
    Karla's hand tightened on Gabrielle's arm. She didn't have much strength, but the gesture was enough to leash the other Queen's temper—at least for the moment.
    "Is Kaeleer finally going to war with Terreille?" she asked.
    "No," Jaenelle said. "Kaeleer will not go to war with Terreille."
    It was the slight inflection that made ice run through Karla's body. The way Gabrielle's arm tensed under her hand, she knew the other woman had heard it, too.
    "Then who is going to war with Terreille?"
    Jaenelle turned around.
    Gabrielle sucked in her breath.
    For the first time, they were seeing the dream beneath the flesh.
    Karla stared at the pointed ears that had come from the Dea al Mon, the hands with sheathed claws that had come from the Tigre, the hooves peeking out from beneath the black gown that could have come from the centaurs or the horses or the unicorns. Most of all, she stared at the tiny spiral horn.
    The living myth. Dreams made flesh. But, oh, had any of them really thought about who the dreamers had been?
    No wonder the kindred love her. No wonder we've all loved her.
    Karla quietly cleared her throat to ask the question she suddenly hoped wouldn't be answered. "Who is going to war with Terreille?"
    "I am," Witch said.
----
    Chapter Fifteen
    1 / Terreille
    Half-blinded by the pain inflicted on him during the past two days, Saetan watched Hekatah approach and give him a long, slow study. Whenever the whim had struck either of them, she and Dorothea had used the Ring of Obedience on him, but more carefully now, stopping just before the moment when he would have fainted from the pain. Worse, for him, they had left him chained to the post through the daylight hours. Already weakened by pain, the afternoon sun had drained his psychic strength and stabbed at his eyes, producing a headache so violent even the pain from the Ring couldn't engulf it.
    Bit by bit, pain had chewed away all the revitalizing effects Jaenelle's tonics had produced in him, changing his body back to where it had been when he'd first met her— closer to the demon-dead than to the living.
    If he could have made a fast transition from Guardian to demon-dead, he might have considered it—the kind of transition Andulvar and Prothvar had made on the battlefield all those long centuries ago. They had both been so deep in battle fury, they hadn't even realized they had received deathblows. If he could have done it that way, he might have. It would be easy enough to slit a vein and bleed himself out, and there would be less pain. But he would be more vulnerable, and without a supply of fresh blood, the sunlight would weaken him to the point that, when Jaenelle finally came, he would be a liability to her instead of finding some way to fight with her.
    When Jaenelle finally came. If Jaenelle ever came. She should have reacted by now, should have been there by now—if she was