Shalador's Lady

“I’ll walk down with you and stand outside. It isn’t suitable for me to go into a tavern.”
    “You went into the tavern back home,” Trae said.
    Kermilla stiffened. “I never did. That was an aristo establishment for fine wines and conversation.”
    “As the Lady pleases,” Trae replied.
    As good as calling her a liar without saying anything that could justify discipline.
    They walked to the tavern, and Trae stepped inside the doorway. Moments later he stepped out with a young Warlord. “This is a friend of Garth’s.”
    “Please tell Lords Garth and Brok that I’m waiting.” Kermilla put a little chill in her voice.
    “Can’t,” the Warlord replied. “They’re gone.”
    She frowned. “Gone? Gone where?”
    The Warlord shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at Trae instead of her. “They weren’t supposed to go into the landen part of town. Queen’s command.”
    Kermilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, la. I countermanded that order.”
    “Well, you should have told that to the Master of the Guard,” the Warlord said hotly. “Talon came for them last night, and now they’re gone. ”
    She forgot how to breathe. That fierce, maimed old Warlord Prince had come for her boys? “He exiled them?”
    “Don’t know. The courtesy fingers weren’t on their father’s doorstep this morning, so maybe they were just sent away.”
    “Courtesy fingers?” Trae asked.
    The Warlord shook his head and backed away. “I’ve said enough. You want to know anything more, you ask Prince Grayhaven.”
    “I will,” Kermilla huffed as the Warlord hurried away. “I certainly will.”
    “Lady,” Trae said quietly. “I think it would be better if Jhorma and I asked about the fingers. I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”
    “Let’s go back to the mansion,” Kermilla said. “That’s not the only answer I want from Prince Grayhaven.”
    The biggest one being where he had gone so early this morning. And why Correne had gone with him.

    When he got back from his discussions with all the merchants, Theran found another package on his desk: a small, plain wooden box.
    He knew what that box meant. Anyone who lived in Dena Nehele knew what it meant.
    Using a psychic thread, he summoned Julien, his new butler. He picked up the folded and wax-sealed paper that had been on top of the box, but he didn’t break the seal or open the paper.
    “Prince Grayhaven?” Julien took one step into the room and came no farther until he looked around and confirmed there were no females present. Then he approached the desk.
    Julien was a Warlord who had a handsome face and a cold temper. Like Gray, his body had been tortured—and scarred. When he applied for the butler’s position, he’d told Theran straight out that he would gut any woman who tried to ride him, but as long as Theran kept the Ladies away from him, he’d be pleased to have the job.
    After seeing Julien sharpen the cook’s knives one afternoon, Theran made sure the man was never alone with Kermilla or Correne.
    “When did this arrive?” Theran asked.
    “I found it early this morning on the table where visitors’ calling cards are left,” Julien replied. “You were already gone, so I put it in the butler’s pantry to avoid upsetting the other servants. I meant to give it to you when you returned this morning, but you left so soon after . . .”
    So Talon had been here last night. Had he still been home, or had he been riding the Winds to return one problem to her home village?
    If he’d been home, if Talon had slipped in and out of here without even trying to talk to him . . . that was as much a warning as the box.
    “Is Lady Kermilla in?” Theran asked.
    “She’s in her room. She seemed distressed when she returned from the village. She wants to speak with you, but Lords Trae and Jhorma have requested an audience before you talk to the Lady.”
    “Send them in.”
    He waited until Julien was out of the room before breaking the seal and opening the paper. Simple words with nothing wasted—and an unflinching and unforgiving judgment.
Garth and Brok disobeyed the Queen and went into the landen part of town. For that alone, they would have been exiled, as the Queen commanded. But they went to the weaver’s home intending to rape the wife and little girl. This I know as fact.
They are forfeit.
    No signature. There never was a signature on a note like this, but he recognized Talon’s writing.
    A quick knock on the