Shalador's Lady

escorts weren’t needed to ensure Cassidy’s safety during this visit, but it didn’t hurt to remind the townspeople that the Queen was served and protected by strong men.
    Then Gray said, “Perhaps Lady Vae would be willing to join you.”
    “I don’t think any of us could stop her,” Cassidy said.
    Ranon snorted softly. Before Cassidy’s arrival, no one here had seen a Sceltie. Vae had been an education for all of them.
    Powell, the Prince who was the Steward of the court, pushed away from the table. “With your permission, Lady, we’ll leave you to begin the day’s work.”
    Cassidy nodded. “When I return, I’ll stop at your office to review anything that requires my attention.”
    “Certainly. Ranon? When you have a moment, I’d like to discuss the Lady’s visit to your home village.”
    “I’ll join you shortly,” Ranon replied.
    “Lady Shira and I will be ready in half an hour,” Cassidy told Archerr.
    “I’ll see you later,” Gray said, brushing a fingertip over the back of Cassidy’s hand.
    He’s come so far so fast, Ranon thought as Gray and the rest of the men left the dining room. Now he’s acting more like the Warlord Prince he should have been.
    When the last man left the room, he pushed aside the half-eaten bowl of porridge—and Cassidy pushed the full plate of food in front of him.
    “Lady,” he protested.
    “I ate,” Cassidy said. “But we’ve agreed to live lean and not cook more than we need for each meal. You were out with the honey pear trees, and I had a feeling that there might not be anything left by the time you got here.”
    Living lean. In the reserves, winter was called the Season of Hunger, so he knew about not wasting food. And he knew the unspoken rule of this court: Once everyone was served, what was left could be eaten by anyone who wanted more. The Blood’s bodies needed more fuel than landens’, and the darker the Jewel a person wore, the more food that person needed in order to remain a healthy vessel for the power that lived within. So everyone was willing to eat another helping when it was available.
    Because he’d been late, and because of Theran’s remarks, he hadn’t expected to get more than porridge that even hunger barely made tolerable.
    “If you have no objection to a solitary meal, Shira and I really should be going.”
    “I’ve no objection,” he said. He touched his fork to the edge of the plate. “Thanks for this.”
    He waited until Cassidy and Shira left. Then he began eating with enthusiasm. As he poured the last of the coffee from the pot, it occurred to him that Cassidy had not only saved some food for him, she had used a warming spell on the plate so the food wouldn’t get cold.
    A small thing, perhaps. A simple courtesy. But when simple courtesies came from a Queen, it said a great deal about how she would treat her people—and, hopefully, how she would treat his.

CHAPTER 2
    KAELEER
    L ying facedown on the large bed, Daemon Sadi groaned with relief as his wife’s skilled hands coaxed his back muscles to relax. The warming spell Jaenelle was using to ease the tightness didn’t hurt either.
    “Tell me again how you did this,” Jaenelle said.
    A typical wife question, particularly when said in that tone of voice.
    “Daemonar was stuck in a tree,” Daemon mumbled. Then, “Oh. Right there.”
    “Uh-huh. That is a very nasty knot.” She said nothing for a minute while she worked on that part of his back. “So we’re talking about Daemonar Yaslana. Your nephew.”
    “He’s your nephew too.”
    “Yes, he is. And he’s Eyrien. Which means he has wings.”
    “He’s just a little boy.”
    “Who has wings.”
    Damn. She was going to hold on to that little detail like a Sceltie herding a single sheep.
    “Since he is little,” Jaenelle continued. “How did he get up in the tree? He wouldn’t be able to reach the lower branches to climb up like you did.”
    Oh, no. He knew a trick question when he heard one.
    “He flew up, didn’t he?” Jaenelle said. “Using his wings.”
    “Darling, you’re starting to sound like a Harpy,” Daemon said. “Ow!” That because she dug her thumbs into his back—which he deserved for the Harpy comment.
    “Why don’t you just admit that climbing a tree in those shoes you usually wear instead of using Craft to float up to the branch where your erring nephew was waiting for you, and most likely giggling, was a dumb idea?”
    He wasn’t about to admit to anything.