The Shadow Queen

of the damn things?
    *Theran!*
    And how was he supposed to shake free of this one? Maybe, once he was in the village, she’d get distracted by another of those damn smells and he could slip away, and she’d lose the trail, the scent, whatever. Maybe she’d latch on to some other unsuspecting man.
    Of course, there would be the little problem of going back to the Hall without her, but she’d find her way home, wouldn’t she? Eventually?
    *Theran!*
    When he got home, he was going to apologize to Talon for being such a whiny little prick about not having a pet. Sure, that was seventeen years ago and something Talon had shrugged off, but the man had raised him and now with the wisdom of maturity—and less than an hour’s worth of actual experience—he knew Talon’s decision had been the correct one.
    *Theran!*
    He caught sight of the village of Halaway and forgot about the dog.
    The road was the main street of a small, prosperous-looking village. Confident that he would go undetected at the depth of his Green Jewel, he sent out psychic tendrils to get a feel for the place. For a moment, he thought he detected a ripple of power under the strength of the Green, but it was gone before he could be certain.
    The village smelled clean. There was no underlying psychic odor of fear that was typical in Dena Nehele’s villages. These people were practically on the doorstep of SaDiablo Hall, but they weren’t afraid of the power that lived there.
    He wanted this for his own people, he thought as he strolled down the sidewalk, glancing into shop windows. He wanted this for the town of Grayhaven. He watched how the people moved, noticed the lack of wariness and tension when men and women passed one another on the sidewalks.
    Then a door opened a couple of shops up. The woman who was leaving said,“Yes, I’ll watch for that” to someone in the shop and didn’t notice him until she stepped right in front of him.
    He didn’t particularly like the gold eyes that were typical of the long-lived races, but she would have been an attractive woman if she hadn’t cropped her black hair so damn short. What was it about the women here that they tried to look unappealing? Sure, men served and women ruled the bed, but at least back home the women knew that arousing a man was the first step to their own pleasure.
    “Prince,” she said, sounding cautious—as she should when addressing a male of his caste, especially one who wore a dark Jewel.
    He frowned at her, not bothering to hide his disapproval of her appearance.
    Then he caught a whiff of her psychic scent and thought, Oh, shit, just before he was surrounded by hard-eyed, grim-faced men who seemed to come out of nowhere—including a Red-Jeweled Warlord who was holding a sledgehammer and was big enough to be a wall without any help.
    “Gentlemen,” the Queen said, tapping the Red-Jeweled wall on the shoulder.
    No clean psychic scent in the village now. These men were pissed off, insulted that he’d frowned at their Queen.
    “Gentlemen.”
    They didn’t yield, didn’t obey—and Theran recognized a fight he couldn’t win.
    Then . . .
    *Theran!* Annoyance rang through a broad psychic thread, followed by a muttered, *Stubborn sheep.*
    A vein of amusement suddenly flowed through the anger surrounding him. The circle shifted—and he didn’t need to see the Queen peer around the large Warlord and smile to know that the dog was standing next to him.
    “Lady Vae,” the Queen said.
    *Lady Sylvia,* Vae replied. *He is Theran. He is staying with Daemon and Jaenelle. I am taking him for walkies so he can see the village. We will get some food and he will sit and watch humans so he will learn how to behave.*
    Sylvia’s gold eyes sparkled. “Are you a stubborn sheep, Prince Theran?”
    Sensing the amount of temper still focused on him, he decided not to answer, since he didn’t think he could keep his voice sufficiently civil.
    *I am helping to train him,* Vae said. *I am allowed to bite. But not hard. Not the first time.*
    Hell’s fire.
    “I see.” Sylvia ducked behind the Warlord. That didn’t muffle the snorts and giggles.
    He felt the anger break around him, and he had a feeling that whatever was coming was a harder punishment than a beating would have been.
    “Well,” Sylvia said, struggling to maintain some dignity as she stepped clear of the large Warlord. “We shouldn’t delay your training any longer. Prince Theran, just tell any of the dining houses to put your meal on the Hall’s tab.”
    Did he look