The Invisible Ring

private training in how to do just that. He should be able to charm a Queen.
    Even a Gray-Jeweled Queen.
    Maybe even charm her enough to coax her into making a detour to Ranon’s Wood, if he couldn’t find a way to slip the control of the Invisible Ring.
    Taking a deep breath, Jared opened his eyes and studied the posts. Today it seemed so obvious, so easy. He traced the symbols for wind, water, and fire, then walked down the path until he reached the lane. After putting the wooden pole back on its posts to hide the way into the clearing, he walked across the lane and stood in front of the moss-covered boulders.
    Wind, water, fire . . .
    He caressed the face of the woman rising from the stones—and through the stone, felt the protection spells around the clearing rekey.
    . . . and earth.
    Because a Queen wasn’t just the heart of a court, she was the heart of the land.
    Slipping his hands into his coat pockets, Jared hurried to catch up with the others.

“Hand it over, you stupid turd!”
    Jared broke into a run. Randolf never had that edge in his voice with anyone except Garth.
    Rounding a curve where the lane fed into another road, Jared slowed to a cautious walk.
    Garth held one hand behind his back, dodging and circling while Randolf tried to grab that arm.
    Jared wouldn’t have been amused if he’d found Eryk and Corry playing “gimme.” And he was less than amused to find Randolf baiting Garth, and not just because Garth was broken. Every man had his flash point, that inner line he wouldn’t be pushed beyond without striking back. Garth stood a head taller than most of them, even topping Brock by a few inches, and outweighed all of them—and all that weight was bone and hard muscle. It was easy to forget what a man his size could do because he always had that confused, kicked-puppy look on his face.
    That look wasn’t on Garth’s face now. He moved with a warrior’s assurance, and his pale blue eyes glittered with malevolence.
    “Randolf!” Jared shouted.
    Randolf lunged at Garth.
    Garth dodged and gave Randolf a shove that sent the man flying.
    “Jared!”‘ Garth bellowed, striding toward him.
    “Pull him down!” Randolf yelled as he got to his feet.
    Jared backed away. Shields weren’t considered permissible Craft for slaves, so a smart man tried to frighten his victim into shielding without using Craft himself. That way, the witch who owned them, alerted by her controlling ring to a forbidden use of power, punished the offender—the victim—with pain sent through the Ring of Obedience.
    A man made helpless by a Ring was an easy man to kill.
    Jared didn’t think Garth had that much cunning left, which really didn’t matter since Garth wouldn’t need Craft to snap him in half, and he wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight without it.
    Jared dodged, slipped, tried to scramble out of reach.
    Garth grabbed the back of Jared’s coat and set him on his feet hard enough to make his teeth rattle.
    “Jared,” Garth said, holding out his huge, clenched hand.
    Swallowing hard, Jared held out his hand. He shuddered with revulsion as the brass button Garth had been holding dropped into his palm. The button had the same slimy feel as Garth’s psychic scent.
    Anger washed through Jared. All this over a button ?
    He looked up just in time to see the knife leave Randolf’s hand, aimed straight for Garth’s back. “NO!”
    Garth spun around, knocking the knife away with his forearm.
    Randolf looked shocked.
    Jared stared at Garth and wondered what the man had been before he’d ended up on the auction block at Raej.
    Cold fury filled Garth’s face as he walked over to where the knife lay in the road. He stepped on the blade, grabbed the hilt, and snapped the knife in half. Returning to Jared, he pointed at Jared’s hand. Sweat ran down his face and his hand shook as if he were fiercely struggling against something.
    “Jared,” Garth said. The glitter faded from his eyes, replaced by the confused, imploring, familiar look.
    “It’s a button. Garth.”
    Garth made a frustrated sound.
    Jared waited, but he could see Garth was losing the inner battle.
    Garth raised his arms and let them fall, his big hands slapping his thighs in a gesture of defeat. Shaking his head, he walked away.
    Randolf didn’t move until Garth was well past him. Then he turned on Jared. “Now do you understand why I don’t like him?”
    Jared looked at the brass button. Holding a handful of phlegm wouldn’t make his stomach any queasier.
    His face twisting with