The Shadow Queen

power, and one might be a dominant male, while the other is better as a follower. If Gray hadn’t been captured twelve years ago, if we’d both grown up as we should have, he would have been my defender. He would have stood in front of me. Overshadowed me. Because he’s a Warlord Prince like they are—like Sadi and Yaslana—or he would have been. I could almost see him changing, hour by hour, as he talked with them. The High Lord said that even with his emotional scars, Gray won’t have any trouble settling in Kaeleer if that’s what he decides to do.”
    Theran drained his glass and poured himself another. “Gray remained a child all these years, so I had to become a man.”
    “You would have become a man no matter what,” Talon said. He shifted in his chair, a restless movement that wasn’t like him. “So you don’t fit in with Sadi and Yaslana. There aren’t many who could.”
    “Guess not.”
    “Go to bed,” Talon said. “Things will look different after some sleep.”
    Theran rose and lifted his glass in a salute. “I’ll do that.”

    Talon waited until Theran left the room before he got up to pour and warm a glass of yarbarah.
    . . . Jewels only measure one kind of power. . . . would have stood in front of me . . . Overshadowed me . . . he’s a Warlord Prince like they are....
    Talon raised the glass and studied the blood wine. “Theran, my boy, I’ll never say this to your face, but you’re right about Gray. He would have overshadowed you. Not deliberately. He’d been taught from the cradle on up that he was your sword and your shield. Had been raised to believe it was his duty to protect and defend the Grayhaven line. Men have followed you because of your name, but being a leader is still an ill-fitting coat on you. For Gray, being the dominant Warlord Prince of Dena Nehele would have been as natural as breathing.”
    He took a swallow of yarbarah. “You might have ended up hating him for being what everyone expected you to be. And as much as my heart aches to say it, and as much as I wish he’d never been harmed, maybe it’s just as well he’s waking up now when you’re old enough to hold your own.”
    Talon drank the rest of the yarbarah and sighed. “Maybe it’s just as well.”

    Gray leaned against the outside wall of the stone shed and studied the glow of witchlight coming from his window. Soft light, Daemon had said. Enough so nobody was stumbling around in the dark, but not so much to spotlight desire. It was easier to yield just a little more in the dark.
    And wasn’t that a wonder? he thought as he waited for Cassie. Talking to Daemon was like having an older friend who not only knew things about women but was willing to tell you things.
    Was willing to do more than tell.
    “Put your hands on her waist. Like this. She’ll be so concerned with apologizing for that damn illusion spell, she won’t even notice your hands until the warmth seeps through her clothes. That moment when she becomes aware is when the romance needs to begin. She’s feeling vulnerable tonight. She’ll try to shy away. This is the moment when you offer just enough to make her want more. Let her lose a few hours’ sleep because you’ve given her a reason to think about you. To wonder about you. To dream about you.”
    Then Daemon had shown him. . . .
    “Gray?” Cassie called softly. “Gray, are you in there?”
    “Back here,” he called.
    Realizing a tactical error, he shifted so his back was against the shed. That way, once she was standing in front of him, it would be easy to shift so she was in the soft light and he was in the shadows.
    She came around the corner, hesitated a moment, then hurried to reach him.
    “Is something wrong?” she asked, sounding like she was braced for bad news.
    “Why would something be wrong?”
    “You’re outside.”
    “It’s a soft night in early summer,” he replied, smiling. “The air is deliciously scented with all the things that are growing.” And I was waiting for you.
    “Gray, I’m sorry about the illusion spell. I didn’t know it would upset you. I just wanted to look . . .” She pressed her lips together.
    He shifted away from the wall and put his hands on her waist, holding her lightly. “How did you want to look?”
    “Pretty. Or as pretty as someone like me can look.”
    He heard pain and bitterness in her voice, and he suspected someone had inflicted a deep wound at some time in her life, but he didn’t understand what that wound had to do with her using that stupid illusion spell. “Why do you want