Twilight's Dawn

That smile made him choose words that would act as a fast, clean break. “Besides the Eyriens who came to Ebon Rih last summer, there are a couple of you who still have time to serve on the contracts you signed with me. The rest of you have fulfilled the emigration requirement of service and no longer have to serve me in order to remain in Kaeleer. You are free to seek service in a Queen’s court or find another kind of work. If you stay in Ebon Rih, you will be required to pay the tithe in both labor and coin the same as anyone else who lives here. If that is not acceptable to you, you’re free to leave. You have seventy-two hours to tell me if you’re staying in the valley I rule.”



“What about wages?” one of the men from the northern camps asked.



“You’ll receive what is due to you up to today,” Lucivar replied. “After that, my financial duty to you is done. From now on, I only pay the people who work for me. That’s all. You’re dismissed.”



Stunned silence.



“What in the name of Hell are you doing?” Falonar finally asked with lethal control.



“What every other ruler in Kaeleer has already done,” Lucivar replied. “What I didn’t do and should have—released everyone who has fulfilled their emigration contract.”



“You kept us on to have cheap labor,” one of the men shouted.



“I kept you on because I’d mistakenly thought you were content to live here,” Lucivar snapped. “Since that’s not the case, there is no reason for you to stay—and there is no reason for me to continue to support you. And since you all did damn little to earn your keep, I wouldn’t call you cheap labor.”



“You should have paid us more,” the man argued. “We’re Eyriens, not some Rihlander drudges.”



“Ebon Rih belongs to the Keep, and it tithes to the Keep. As the ruler of Ebon Rih, I receive part of that tithe, which I distributed to all of you equally. What you got is the same as what I kept for myself. Are we clear on that? I shared with you what came to me from this valley. Since what I can give you isn’t enough, you need to look elsewhere.”



“Look where?” Falonar asked hotly. “Do you know how many Eyriens are struggling to survive because the Queens severed those contracts ?”



“Probably every Eyrien who had refused to see that the Shadow Realm is not Terreille, who refused to see that the Queens are not going to bend for a race that is coming in from another Realm. If you want to live here, you adapt to the way the Queens rule Kaeleer—or you end up dead. The bitches you all ran from are gone, purged from the Realms. If you don’t like it here, go back to Terreille. If you don’t like the way I rule Ebon Rih, then leave.”



Lucivar paused, tightened the leash on his temper. “I’ve said all I have to say. Now you all need to decide what you’re going to do.”



“I’m not going to pay a tithe to that half-breed bastard,” a rough voice said.



Lucivar focused on the sound. The man thought he was hidden well enough by the crowd? Fool.



“Pay him to live here?” the man continued, laughing harshly. “He should have been grateful that any of us were willing to take a shit in his little valley.”



“That’s enough!” Hallevar shouted.



No room to maneuver for a one-on-one fight, and there were women in the room who could get hurt. Not that there weren’t other ways to kill a man. One blast of Ebon-gray power would burn out the bastard’s mind. But that wasn’t the Eyrien way of meeting a challenger.



Lucivar whistled sharply. “Yes, that’s enough.” He pointed at the man. “You. Get out of my territory. And take everyone who feels the same way with you.”



The man looked around at his comrades. “You think you can take all of us?”



Lucivar laughed and noticed that the men who had seen him fight turned pale. Falonar, on the other hand, looked thoughtful, which was something he wouldn’t forget.



His gold eyes swept from one end of the room to the other, and he nodded as he saw what some of those men no longer bothered to hide.



“I’ve marked you,” he said softly. “You’re no longer welcome here. If you try to stay in Ebon Rih, then you’re nothing but walking carrion—and you won’t be walking long. Now. All of you. You’re dismissed.”



The women from the settlement fled. So did the men from the northern camps. Hallevar and some of the other men who lived around Riada lingered until a sharp look from Falonar made them retreat, taking Nurian with them.



“Don’t you care at all for the Eyrien people?” Falonar asked as soon as they were alone.



“I care as much for them as they care for me,” Lucivar replied.



“I don’t want to stomach being your second-in-command if you’re going to rape Eyrien traditions and then ignore what Eyriens need on top of it.”



“Fine. You’re no longer my second-in-command.”



He saw the shock in Falonar’s eyes. Why the surprise? Falonar should know him well enough not to call his bluff. He’d let the other Warlord Prince assume the role of second-in-command because it was a duty worthy of Falonar’s power and caste. And while it had often been useful, he hadn’t needed someone to help him rule the valley.



But if you accept the other duties Andulvar left on your shoulders when he returned to the Darkness, you do need someone you can trust to look after things here when you have to be elsewhere—when you have to stand as the Warlord Prince of Askavi.



Not something he would say to Falonar. Not something he wanted to think about right now. And nothing he wanted said out loud. Not yet. The day he acknowledged that he was the Warlord Prince of Askavi, that Andulvar had made it clear to the Queens in Askavi that the Demon Prince had a successor, that the Ebon-gray would continue to defend not just the Keep’s territory but all of Askavi . . . The day he acknowledged that, there would be nowhere in Askavi for the Eyriens who didn’t like him to go.



“Well?” Falonar said. “Will you release me from my contract?”



“If you want to return to Terreille, I can release you from the contract,” Lucivar said. “If you want to remain in Kaeleer, you have three more years to serve.”



“With you.”



“A Queen who wears darker Jewels than you could take the rest of the contract. There is one Rihlander Queen who wears the Red. She’s the only other choice if you want to stay in Askavi.” She had always been gracious to him when he’d visited, but the Eyriens she had allowed to serve in her court to fulfill emigration requirements had tested her tolerance and her authority once too often.



And judging by the look on his face, Falonar already knew enough about that Queen to know she wasn’t going to offer another contract to any Eyrien.



“You’re going to destroy us,” Falonar said.



“I didn’t ask you to come here. I just offered you a place that was as close to the land you left behind as you’ll find in Kaeleer. I told you two years ago that if serving me was going to be a bone in your throat, you should take one of the other offers you’d received. Sounds like you’re choking on that bone, Falonar, but at this point you don’t have many choices besides me. Not if you want to stay in Kaeleer.”



Giving Lucivar a look filled with bitter anger, Falonar turned and walked away.



Lucivar waited a minute to make sure he was alone and would be alone for a little while. Then he rubbed his hands over his face. *Bastard?*



*Prick? Are you okay?*



Everything he needed was in his brother’s voice—love, acceptance, and a willingness to kick him in the ass when he needed a kick.



*Yeah, I’m okay. It went as well as you’d expect. And there are a few Eyriens who may be seeing Hell soon if they don’t get out of Ebon Rih.*



*If it comes to that, I’ll go with you to deal with them,* Daemon said. *I’d suggest taking Surreal to watch your back, but I think she’s a little too eager to use a knife right now.*



*You felt that too?*



*Yes. I’m just not sure why. I’ll ask Rainier. He might know.*



*Unless she attacks someone, let it go for a day or two. I’ve already stirred up enough people.*



*All right. I’ll be at the Keep if you need me.*



Lucivar broke the link between them. He’d stay at the communal eyrie for another hour so he would be easy to find—if there was an Eyrien anywhere in Ebon Rih who wanted to find him.



Falonar found Nurian in her workroom. The ingredients and tools were set out on the large table in preparation for making more of that damn tonic, but she just stared at them.



“Do you see now?” Falonar snarled. “Do you see what he’s really like? He doesn’t care about the Eyrien people. He doesn’t care about our traditions. He doesn’t care about anything but himself !”



“He cares about the people in Ebon Rih,” Nurian said. “All of them. He doesn’t divide people between those who have wings and those who don’t, like most of you do.”



Falonar took a step back. “Like most of us do? You’re Eyrien too.”



She looked him in the eyes. “But not like you, Falonar. I don’t think I’m the same kind of Eyrien as you or those men who spoke out today.”



“They said a few things that needed to be said,” he snapped.



“If you ruled this valley, would you divide the tithe evenly among every adult Eyrien?” she asked.



Of course he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But Yaslana’s family had more wealth than even an aristo like him could imagine. Lucivar could afford to be generous. Could have afforded to give them all a bit more, even if it had meant tapping into the SaDiablo family’s pockets.



“There’s no proof he shared as much as he got,” Falonar argued.



“He said it. No other proof is required.”



“You’re being a fool, Nurian. We could be the dominating presence in this valley, the same as we were in Terreille, but Yaslana keeps hamstringing us with every decision he makes.”



“The Rihlanders were here before us,” Nurian said. “You’re talking about doing the same things we hated in Terreille, about becoming the same kind of monster as Prythian and the Queens who fawned over her.”



“How dare you?” Remembering what it was like in Prythian’s court, he swung. He tried to pull it back, and that took some of the force out of the blow, but the flat of his hand cracked across Nurian’s face.



They stared at each other.



“Nurian . . .”



“Get out of my home,” she said quietly, “and don’t ever come back. You’re not welcome here. Not in my home, and not in my bed.”



“Nurian . . .”



“Stay away from me and my sister. You stay away from us, Falonar.”



“Is that what this is really about? That I strapped a little sense into your sister for her own good?”



Nurian looked sick.



Hell’s fire. It had been only a couple of light blows. Just a warning. He’d told the little bitch to keep silent. Looked like she had.



“Stay away from us!” Nurian screamed.



“Nurian?” Jillian hovered in the doorway, with Dorian behind her.



He left. Wasn’t anything he could do until Nurian calmed down enough to listen.



Lucivar had hoped Hallevar would return, but the first person to storm back into the communal eyrie was Nurian.



He felt her anger and distress as she strode toward him, and figured he was the cause of both. Then he saw the mark on her face, and the heat of fury burned over his skin. He swung around the table and headed for the door to explain a couple of things to Falonar. Maybe the bastard wouldn’t feel so much contempt for the Rihlanders when he had to ask one of their Healers to set the broken bones in his hand.



“No!” Nurian made a grab for him as he passed her, then skipped back a step.



Stung by that instinctive move of fear, he stopped and waited.



“You’re not going to do anything about this,” she said, waving her hand at her face.



“That will be true when the sun shines in Hell,” he replied, trying not to snarl. A woman who had been hit by a man didn’t need another one snarling at her.



“I didn’t come here for that. Let it go, Prince.”



He’d hit women, and he’d killed women. But he’d never raised a hand to one unless she’d hurt someone else first.



“Was this the only time?” he asked.



She nodded. “And it will be the last.”



He studied her. Something there in her eyes. She might have forgiven Falonar for one slap, especially today, but not more than one. And not . . .



“Jillian?” he asked.



There it was, that flash of anger that told him what had pushed this woman to draw the line.



“Strapped for her own good,” Nurian said bitterly.



Maybe it’s the first time here, he thought, but you’ve both felt the kiss of leather at some point, haven’t you?



“You say what you want to say, Nurian. Then I want Jillian to report to me here. Is that understood?”



He saw her anger crumbling. Not surprising. Healers didn’t look for a fight unless they were fighting for someone they were healing.



“I knew my service contract expired, and I should have said something.” Nurian’s voice sped up so the words tumbled over one another. “But I thought, since you didn’t say anything, that you were satisfied with my work and the contract could just continue. All right, I know contracts don’t just continue, but I wanted it to. I want to live here, Prince. I want to work here. I can be the Healer for the Eyriens in Ebon Rih and help the Riada Healers so that I do enough work to earn my keep. And I want Jillian to live here. She can fly around these mountains or go down to the village on her own and be safe. You don’t know how much that means to me. How much that means to her. And I know it’s because of the way you rule this valley. I don’t much care about Eyrien traditions. I want what is here for my sister. I want it for me. And I want Jillian to have the weapons training. She’s always been intrigued by weapons, she’s always tried to imitate the moves she saw the men performing—”