The Invisible Ring

A young, naked Hayllian witch was tied spread-eagle in the center of the bed. As Krelis stared at her, she struggled against the leather straps around her ankles, trying to close her legs. Since she was also gagged, she could only make muffled sounds of distress.



It took Krelis a moment to get past the blatant, if involuntary, invitation to mount, and recognize her. He couldn’t remember her name, just that he’d seen her a couple of times several years ago when a maternal second cousin of his had been courting her. That courtship had ended swiftly, and the only thing the cousin had said afterward publicly was that they weren’t as well suited as he had thought.



But one night, over a couple of bottles of brandy, his cousin had muttered some other things about her. Since she no longer had anything to do with him or his family, Krelis had paid no attention.



Now he wished he had, just as he wished he could remember what it was about her that had made him keep his distance during his cousin’s brief courtship.



“You know her?” Dorothea asked, a dangerous edge in her voice.



Sweat trickled down Krelis’s sides. “I’ve seen her before, Priestess, but we were never formally introduced.” That, thank the Darkness, was true.



Dorothea nodded as if satisfied. “She’s a minor Queen from one of the Hundred Families. Her tendency to voice questionable opinions has caused great embarrassment and distress for her family. The latest unfortunate incident forced them to conclude that having her Virgin Night is the only thing that will settle her down.”



Krelis’s hands curled into fists.Now he remembered. A mouthy little bitch who was always criticizing the High Priestess and talking about how a Territory shouldn’t be ruled by a witch who was less than a Queen. Always talking as if she, who only wore a Rose Jewel, could gather enough Jeweled strength among the Hundred Families and the rest of Hayll to oppose Dorothea.



Not even the Hundred Families were invulnerable if Hayll’s High Priestess decided to punish disloyalty. And since the Families had gained the most from Dorothea’s rule, why would they oppose her anyway?



“I want you to take care of her Virgin Night,” Dorothea said.



Panic knotted Krelis’s guts. “Me?” His voice cracked. “But—”



“Yes, Lord Krelis?” Dorothea said with quiet malevolence.



Krelis licked his dry lips. “Priestess, I’ve never . . .”



Her amusement deepened his panic. “You regularly make use of the whores at one of the better Red Moon houses in Draega, so I doubt that you’venever . . .” She let the words hang. He could almost see them becoming a noose around his neck. He should have realized Dorothea would make it her business to know aboutthat , especially where it concerned the males who were the closest to her— and whose loyalty had to be watched the most carefully.



“Wouldn’t a consort be better?” Krelis stammered. “They’re trained for this kind of thing.”



“I want you to do this, Krelis. As a favor to me.” She studied him for a moment. “You needn’t be concerned about filling her belly. This isn’t her fertile time, so she’ll still have that asset when her family contracts a marriage for her.” When he didn’t say anything, she turned to leave. “I think an hour should be more than sufficient, don’t you?”



Krelis found his voice just as she was closing the door. “But . . . Priestess . . . what if I break her?”



Dorothea gave him a queer look before saying with deadly softness, “Lord Krelis, I think the question you should be asking is what will happen if you don’t?” She closed the door.



Krelis heard the click of the physical lock. Then the Red lock snapped back into place, trapping him in the room. Using Craft, he could have destroyed the physical lock, could have destroyed the whole damn door for that matter. But his Sapphire Jewel, even though it was only one rank below the Red, wouldn’t get him through a Red lock.



Not in one piece anyway.



His bowels loosened. Afraid of soiling himself, Krelis looked around frantically and spotted two doors in the wall opposite the bed. The first one was the dressing room. The second was a small bathroom.



Fumbling with his clothing and not caring if the bitch in the other room heard his own sounds of distress, he managed to sit on the toilet before the foul-smelling waste poured out of him. Each time he thought he was empty, his belly cramped again. When it finally stopped, he flushed the stink away and just sat there, his elbows on his knees, his head braced in his hands.



To break a witch. Oh, he knew it was done all the time now. It settled down the troublesome ones all right, and it didn’t even take much effort. Make the sex rough, scare her while you’re handling her, and then one hard thrust to tear through the physical barrier. Ride her hard, each thrust driving her closer and closer to her inner web until she plunged through it, out of control. Descend quickly into the abyss, catch her before she fell so far that her mind shattered, and bring her back up. What was left was a witch closed off from her own strength, from the Jewels she had worn, from everything but basic Craft.



Simple enough.



But to break aQueen . Blood males were supposed to protect them.



Then again, since it was his duty to destroy the Gray Lady, why should he flinch about breakingthis little bitch-Queen?



With that question whirling through his head, Krelis cleaned himself and returned to the bedchamber.



From the first day he began his training as a guard, his ambition had been to serve in the High Priestess of Hayll’s First Circle. Serving a strong Lady meant prestige and privileges. Even more important, it meant safety. No one toyed with Dorothea’s males. Except Dorothea.



He’d planned to marry in a year or two. He was tired of using the whores in the Red Moon house. He wanted a woman of his own, one who wouldn’t be spreading her legs for anyone but him, one he could breed every few years to give him the offspring he wanted. His family bloodlines were good, his Sapphire Jewels were impressive enough, and his promotion to Master of the Guard guaranteed he’d be able to pick almost any witch he pleased.



Now all his plans, all his dreams might end in this stinking bedchamber because an aristo bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Anger stirred in him as he stared at her pleading eyes, as he listened to the muffled sounds she kept making.



Stupid bitch. It was her own fault she was here. It washer faulthe was here. Always mouthing off as if that would change the reality of living in Hayll, as if anyone would thinkshe could rival Dorothea. Even if she actually had the strength to rule, would she really be any different than the others? No matter what she said, she’d soon be snap--ping her fingers and expecting the males to dance to her tune.



That’s the way it was among the Blood now—a game of predator and prey, played out on a constantly shifting landscape of power: who wore the darkest Jewels, who had the most social prestige, who controlled the strongest males, who was the most skilled in Craft, who was the most dangerous.



Predator and prey.



Krelis stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed.



The weaker became prey. It was as simple as that.



His fear of failure churned inside him until it became a hot, throbbing anger. Since he couldn’t turn that anger on the witch who frightened him, he unleashed it on the one who feared him.



And discovered why men enjoyed breaking witches so much.



Chapter Seven



“It’smy turn to sit in the wagon,” Tomas said angrily, refusing to yield when Eryk stepped in front of him.



“You’re just a half-Blood,” the older boy said, giving Tomas a shove. “You’re just a stupid slave who has to do what he’s told.”



“So are you!” Tomas returned the shove with interest.



“Am not!” Another shove.



Swiping his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes, Jared swore under his breath as he turned around and slogged through the mud, hoping he’d reach the boys before they ended up bloodying each other’s noses—or worse, since Eryk was strong enough to wear a Yellow Jewel and Tomas didn’t have any way to protect himself. Hell’s fire, didn’t they have enough problems without having to deal with childish squabbles?



The savage muttering behind him told him that Brock and Randolf had also turned back. Good. There was nothing like annoyed adult males to shrivel a boy’s temper.



Out of the corner of his eye, Jared noticed Blaed and Thayne scrambling to reach the horses pulling the pedlar’s wagon before the shoving match spooked them.



“You don’t have any rank,” Eryk shouted. “You don’t count for anything! My family’s aristo. My family’s important. You’re just a bastard some landen bitch had because a Warlord’s dangle got stiff. You don’t deserve to sit in the wagon. You don’t deserve to eat up our food. You don’t deserve tolive .”



Jared felt the emotional blows as if they had been directed at him. He was so intent on reaching the boys and letting that little prick-ass feel the lash of his temper, he didn’t see the Gray Lady until her hand connected with the back of Eryk’s head hard enough to make the boy stagger. The waves of fury coming from her hit the rest of them hard enough to make them freeze.



“How dare you?” she screamed at the cringing boy. “He has every right to his share of the supplies. He has every right to be treated with courtesy. He has every right to live, you selfish little prick!”



With a shriek of rage that had fear skittering up every male spine, she lunged at Eryk.



Jared lunged at her.



Their bodies hit with a thud. While he struggled to keep his footing in the slippery mud, she struggled to break free and reach the focus of her anger. They slid around in an ugly, fear-filled dance. Jared’s hands tightened on her upper arms hard enough to bruise, but that didn’t lessen her struggles or her venom-coated curses.



As she threw herself to the right, almost breaking his hold, her foot slipped and twisted. He saw pain beneath the fury in her eyes, felt the change in her body as she tried to ignore it.



Hell’s fire, what was he thinking of to slide around on a muddy road in the pouring rain, challenging a Gray-Jeweled Queen? The boy had no claims on him. Why should he care if she tore the little prick into pieces? All she had to do was send one bolt of power through the controlling ring and she’d have all of them rolling in the mud begging for mercy.