The Invisible Ring

“Why should he take orders any better than you do?” the Gray Lady muttered against his back.



Jared set her down too hard next to the bay gelding. Her gasp of pain hurt him, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it as he tossed her into the saddle and swung up behind her.



There wasn’t time to think about anything.



As soon as Blaed swung up behind Corry, they kicked the horses into a gallop and raced across the field, angling toward the road.



How much time did they have? And how would the spell unleash? Would it radiate from a central point or just fan out on this side of the creek? The damage a psychic unleashing could do would depend on the strength of the person who had fed the spell. His and the Gray Lady’s inner barriers should be able to hold against that kind of unleashing, but the others might not survive it. If the spell manifested in some physical way . . .



Wind? Water?



They reached the road at the same moment the spell unleashed.



Jared glanced over his shoulder and saw a mature tree explode skyward like a burning arrow released from a bow.



The muscles in his chest locked. He couldn’t breathe.



Behind them, a huge ball of witchfire consumed the trees around the creek and expanded outward at a fierce speed.



Jared urged the gelding on, trying to wring a little more speed out of the animal.



Witchfire had a radius. It had a limit that depended on the amount of power that had been used to create it. It could heat and it could burn—sweet Darkness, how it could burn!—but it couldn’t continue expanding after the power was exhausted. With all the rain they’d had over the past few days, it wasn’t likely that the witchfire would spark a natural fire. They should be safe enough ... if they could outrun it.



He saw the wagon rattling down the road ahead of them.



He heard the witchfire roaring behind him.



Too slow. Too slow!



Jared pressed against the Gray Lady. If the witchfire caught up to them, he’d risk the working distance of that twisting spell and throw a Red shield behind them. Even if that spell turned his own strength against him, the shield might buy her enough time to escape the witchfire.



They were gaining on the wagon.



The witchfire was gaining on them.



The roan mare Blaed was riding squealed and shot ahead of them.



Jared felt the heat on his back.



He raised his hand at the same moment the Gray Lady raised hers.



Swearing when he saw the Green Jewel in her ring, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down before she could throw up a shield. He’d risk the range of the twisting spell and having his own power turned against him, but he’d be damned if he’d lether risk it.



Fire roared behind them.



The wagon was too close now. Too close.



The gelding raced past a tree a second before the fire consumed it.



“We made it!” Blaed shouted. “Mother Night, we made it!”



Jared glanced back.



A wall of witchfire filled the road behind them, but it wasn’t moving forward anymore.



“Thank the Darkness.” Jared pressed his cheek against the Gray Lady’s head as he reined in the laboring horse. When the gelding slowed to a stumbling walk, he slid off its back. He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him, but they couldn’t afford to ruin the horses. “Come on, boy,” he soothed, sliding the reins over the gelding’s lowered head so he could lead it. “A little farther and you can rest.”



He looked at the Gray Lady slumped in the saddle, her face hidden by her wet, tangled hair. His eyes narrowed.



Funny. He wouldn’t have thought gray hair would look that dark when it was wet.



“Jared!” Brock shouted.



The wagon had slowed to a walk, too. Brock swung off the driving seat and jumped to the ground.



Jared waved at him. “Keep them walking.”



Brock started toward him, looked behind Jared at the Gray Lady, and hesitated. Then he waved an acknowledgment and turned around.



The wagon door opened. Looking pale, Thera braced herself in the opening. Her green eyes swept over Blaed, who was leading the mare, and Corry, who was still in the saddle, pale and shaking. They lingered for a moment on the Gray Lady, and finally settled on him.



Jared had the uneasy feeling she was looking for some kind of answer. Problem was, he didn’t know the question.



Before he could say anything, she stepped back and closed the door.



Jared looked at Blaed and frowned. “I told you to go.”



Blaed shrugged. “Thera told me to bring you back. If I had to fight with someone about it, better you than her.”



Jared grunted. Then he slanted another look at the young Warlord Prince. “You like her.”



“She’s got a Harpy’s temper,” Blaed snapped as his face colored.



Jared grinned. “You like her.” The grin faded. Slaves couldn’t afford those kinds of feelings.



They walked for several minutes before Jared whistled sharply and raised his hand, calling a halt. The horses were cool enough to stand for a few minutes while they changed into dry clothes and got the Gray Lady settled into the wagon. She hadn’t said anything since he’d tossed her onto the gelding’s back. She had to be in pain. Her enduring it in silence reminded him why he was so furious with her.



The moment the wagon stopped, Thera threw the door open and scrambled down the steps, almost falling in her haste.



Wondering why she seemed so tense now that the danger was over—itwas over, wasn’t it?—Jared reached up to help the Gray Lady dismount.



And found himself reaching for a gray-eyed, dark-haired,young witch dressed in the Gray Lady’s clothes.



She frowned at him. and said, “What’s wrong?” at the same moment Thera said, “I’m sorry.”



Fury blinded him. Hell’s fire, he hadhated witches who hadn’t made him this furious.



Snarling, he clamped his hands around her waist and hauled her out of the saddle. As she fell forward, the Green Jewel hanging from a gold chain around her neck slipped out of the torn coat and tunic. Her gasp of pain and surprise—and the bruises already darkening on her shoulders and chest where she must have struck submerged rocks— stopped him from letting go of her until she had time to grab the gelding’s saddle to keep her balance. Then he stepped back, not trusting himself not to strike out.



“Who are you?” he said roughly.



“I’m sorry,” Thera said again.



Looking puzzled, the witch’s gray eyes flicked to the men Jared could feel gathering behind him, to the children who had emerged from the wagon, to Thera, and, finally, to him.



She started to raise her hand to brush back her tangled hair, but didn’t complete the gesture. Pulling what was left of her braid over her shoulder, she studied the dark hair, and then muttered, “Hell’s fire.”



“Who are you?” Jared roared. He didn’t know which made him more furious: that his mind had been tricked into believing this was the Gray Lady or that his body hadn’t been fooled.



She wobbled a little when the gelding shifted nervously, but she squared her shoulders and raised her chin.



The admiration he felt for the strength and pride he saw in her eyes only fueled his temper, and the wild stranger inside him started howling at him to protect, protect, protect. He tried to push it away by reminding himself that he was a Ringed slave, but instincts that had been bred into Blood males over dozens of generations weren’t easily banished by a Ring or a word.



In a commanding voice, she said, “I am Lady Arabella Ardelia. On the Gray Lady’s behalf, I’m taking you to Dena Nehele.”



Behind him, Brock and Randolf swore quietly.



Jared ground his teeth. Arrogant, stubborn, courageous, feather-brained little fool! Did she really think men like Brock and Randolf would just shrug and continue to obey her unless she used the Ring of Obedience and brutally revived their fear of the kind of pain it inflicted? Especially once they realized she was handicapped right now by more than physical injuries?



He took a step toward her.



“Stay back,”‘ she said, her body tensing.



Jared bared his teeth in a savage smile. “You want me to stay back?Use the Ring .”



Her eyes widened.



Jared held his breath, waiting. Shehad to use the Invisible Ring now. She had to. She’d been able to avoid using it when he’d challenged her a short while ago, but she couldn’t now that he’d challenged her in front of the others. His Jewels outranked hers. He was a danger to her. If she didn’t use the Ring to pull him down, he could smash through her inner barriers and tear her mind apart. Damn her, shehad to use it to protect herself, to reassert her control over all of them. Shehad to hurt him to prove that she could still brutally control the strongest male among them—and would inflict the same kind of pain on the others if the males didn’t continue to obey her.



Instead, she let go of the saddle and tried to brace herself for a fight.



Swearing, Jared closed the distance between them and scooped her up in his arms. “You don’t need a pleasure slave.” he snarled as he stomped to the wagon, “you need a keeper.”



“I do not—”



“Shut up.”



“Jared,” Thera warned as he brushed past her and the children. “She needs attention and—”



“In a minute.” He shouldered the door open and kicked it closed in Thera’s face. After setting his bundle of wet, bedraggled witch on the bench, he stepped back and leaned against the door, preventing anyone from interrupting them.



One of the shutters behind the driving seat had fallen open during the wild ride. Using Craft, he closed it and created a ball of witchlight, floating it near the bench so he could take a good look at her.



She wasn’t pretty—he'd always associated pretty with delicate—but there was a kind of strength in her face that would ripen into beauty in a few more years—a beauty that was a reflection of the deep inner strength strong Blood males found more arousing than a lush body.



Sadi had once said strength attracted strength, that a strong witch’s psychic scent acted like a catnip on strong Blood males. Even if the attraction wasn’t sexual, they’d still want to touch her, smell her, cuddle up next to her. It was part of a witch’s power over the males, something that soothed her chosen as well as filling them with possessive savagery.