Valley of Silence
Page 3
It had been good strategy, he thought now, for Moira to ask him along with Blair and Larkin to hunt down the two vampires who’d killed her mother, the queen. Moira had understood the importance, the value of having vampires brought back alive so the people could see them for what they were. And see Moira herself fight and end one, proving herself a warrior.
She would, in a matter of weeks, lead her people to war. When a land had been at peace as long as Geall was reputed to have been, it would take a strong leader, a forceful one, to whip farmers and merchants, ladies-in-waiting and creaky advisors into soldiers.
He wasn’t sure she was up to the task. Brave enough, he mused as he slipped out of the castle, crossed a courtyard toward the stables. More than bright enough. And it was true she’d honed considerable fighting skills over the past two months. No doubt she’d been trained since birth in matters of state and protocol, and her mind was clever and open.
In peace, he imagined she’d rule her pretty little world quite well. But in wartime, a ruler was general as well as figurehead.
If it had been up to him, he would have left Riddock, her uncle, in charge. But little of this business was up to him.
He heard her before he saw her, and scented her before that. Cian very nearly turned around to go back the way he’d come. It was just another annoyance to come across the woman when he’d been thinking of her.
The problem was, he thought of her entirely too often.
Avoiding her wasn’t an option as they were inexorably bound together in this war. Slipping away now unseen was easily done. And cowardly. Pride, as always, refused to let him take the easy way.
They’d housed his stallion at the far end of the stables, two stalls away from any of the other horses. He understood and tolerated the fact that the grooms and farriers were wary of tending to the horse of a demon. Just as he was aware either Larkin or Hoyt groomed and fed his temperamental Vlad in the mornings.
Now it seemed Moira had taken it upon herself to spoil the animal. She had carrots, Cian saw, and was balancing one on her shoulder, cajoling Vlad to nip it off.
“You know you want it,” she murmured. “It’s so tasty. All you have to do is take it.”
He’d thought the same about the woman, Cian mused.
She was gowned, her dress draped over a plain linen kirtle, so he assumed whatever training she’d done that day was complete. Still, she dressed simply for a princess, in quiet blue with only a hint of lace at the bodice. She wore the silver cross, one of nine Hoyt and Glenna had conjured. Her hair was loose, all that glossy brown falling down her back to her waist, and crowned with the thin circlet of her office.
She wasn’t beautiful. He reminded himself of that often, nearly as often as he thought of her. She was, at best, a pretty thing. Slender and small-framed, small of feature as well. But for the eyes. They were long and dominant in that face of hers. Dove gray when she was quiet, pensive, listening. Hell smoke when she was roused.
He’d had his choice of great beauties in his time—as a man with any sense and skill would given a few centuries. She wasn’t beautiful, but he couldn’t, for all the effort, lock her out of his mind.
He knew he could have her if he put any of that effort into a seduction. She was young and innocent and curious, and therefore, very susceptible. Which was why, above all else, he knew he’d be better off seducing one of her ladies if he wanted the entertainment, the companionship, the release.
He’d had his fill of innocence long ago, just as he’d had his fill of human blood.
His horse, however, appeared to have less willpower. It took only moments before Vlad dipped his head and nipped the carrot from Moira’s shoulder.
She laughed, stroked the stallion’s ears as he chomped. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? We’re friends, you and I. And I know you get lonely from time to time. Don’t we all?”
She was lifting another carrot when Cian stepped out of the shadows. “You’ll make a puppy out of him, then what sort of war horse will he be come Samhain?”
Her body jerked, then stiffened. But when she turned toward Cian, her face was composed. “Sure you don’t really mind, do you? He so enjoys a bit of a treat now and then.”
“Don’t we all,” he murmured.
Only the faintest flush of heat along her cheekbones betrayed any embarrassment at being overheard. “The training went well today. People are coming in from all over Geall. So many willing to fight we’ve decided we’ll be setting up a second training area on my uncle’s land. We’ll have Tynan and Niall working there.”
“Lodging?”
“Aye, that’s becoming a bit of a thing. We’ll house as many here as we can manage, and at my uncle’s as well. There’s the inn, and many of the farmers and crofters nearby are sheltering family and friends already. No one will be turned off. We’ll find a way.”
She fiddled with her cross as she spoke. Not, Cian thought, out of fear of him, but out of nervous habit. “There’s food as well to think of. So many had to leave their crops and cattle behind to come here. But we’ll manage. Have you eaten?”
She flushed a little deeper as soon as the words were out. “What I meant is there’d be supper in the parlor if—”
“I know what you meant. No. I thought to see to the horse first, but he appears well groomed and fed.” On the heels of the words, Vlad bumped his head against Moira’s shoulder. “And spoiled,” Cian added.
Her brows drew together as they did, he knew, when she was annoyed or thoughtful. “It’s only carrots, and they’re good for him.”
“Speaking of food, I’ll need blood in another week. You might make certain the next pigs that are slaughtered, their blood isn’t wasted.”
“Of course.”
“Aren’t you the cool one.”
Now the faintest sign of irritation crossed her face. “You take what you need from the pig. I’m not after turning my nose up at a slab of bacon, am I?” She shoved the last carrot into Cian’s hand and started to sweep out.
She stopped herself, “I don’t know why you fire me up so easily. If you mean to or not. And no.” She held up a hand. “I don’t think I want to know the answer to that. But I would like to speak to you for a moment or two about another matter.”
No, avoiding her wasn’t possible, he reminded himself. “I have a moment or two.”
She would, in a matter of weeks, lead her people to war. When a land had been at peace as long as Geall was reputed to have been, it would take a strong leader, a forceful one, to whip farmers and merchants, ladies-in-waiting and creaky advisors into soldiers.
He wasn’t sure she was up to the task. Brave enough, he mused as he slipped out of the castle, crossed a courtyard toward the stables. More than bright enough. And it was true she’d honed considerable fighting skills over the past two months. No doubt she’d been trained since birth in matters of state and protocol, and her mind was clever and open.
In peace, he imagined she’d rule her pretty little world quite well. But in wartime, a ruler was general as well as figurehead.
If it had been up to him, he would have left Riddock, her uncle, in charge. But little of this business was up to him.
He heard her before he saw her, and scented her before that. Cian very nearly turned around to go back the way he’d come. It was just another annoyance to come across the woman when he’d been thinking of her.
The problem was, he thought of her entirely too often.
Avoiding her wasn’t an option as they were inexorably bound together in this war. Slipping away now unseen was easily done. And cowardly. Pride, as always, refused to let him take the easy way.
They’d housed his stallion at the far end of the stables, two stalls away from any of the other horses. He understood and tolerated the fact that the grooms and farriers were wary of tending to the horse of a demon. Just as he was aware either Larkin or Hoyt groomed and fed his temperamental Vlad in the mornings.
Now it seemed Moira had taken it upon herself to spoil the animal. She had carrots, Cian saw, and was balancing one on her shoulder, cajoling Vlad to nip it off.
“You know you want it,” she murmured. “It’s so tasty. All you have to do is take it.”
He’d thought the same about the woman, Cian mused.
She was gowned, her dress draped over a plain linen kirtle, so he assumed whatever training she’d done that day was complete. Still, she dressed simply for a princess, in quiet blue with only a hint of lace at the bodice. She wore the silver cross, one of nine Hoyt and Glenna had conjured. Her hair was loose, all that glossy brown falling down her back to her waist, and crowned with the thin circlet of her office.
She wasn’t beautiful. He reminded himself of that often, nearly as often as he thought of her. She was, at best, a pretty thing. Slender and small-framed, small of feature as well. But for the eyes. They were long and dominant in that face of hers. Dove gray when she was quiet, pensive, listening. Hell smoke when she was roused.
He’d had his choice of great beauties in his time—as a man with any sense and skill would given a few centuries. She wasn’t beautiful, but he couldn’t, for all the effort, lock her out of his mind.
He knew he could have her if he put any of that effort into a seduction. She was young and innocent and curious, and therefore, very susceptible. Which was why, above all else, he knew he’d be better off seducing one of her ladies if he wanted the entertainment, the companionship, the release.
He’d had his fill of innocence long ago, just as he’d had his fill of human blood.
His horse, however, appeared to have less willpower. It took only moments before Vlad dipped his head and nipped the carrot from Moira’s shoulder.
She laughed, stroked the stallion’s ears as he chomped. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? We’re friends, you and I. And I know you get lonely from time to time. Don’t we all?”
She was lifting another carrot when Cian stepped out of the shadows. “You’ll make a puppy out of him, then what sort of war horse will he be come Samhain?”
Her body jerked, then stiffened. But when she turned toward Cian, her face was composed. “Sure you don’t really mind, do you? He so enjoys a bit of a treat now and then.”
“Don’t we all,” he murmured.
Only the faintest flush of heat along her cheekbones betrayed any embarrassment at being overheard. “The training went well today. People are coming in from all over Geall. So many willing to fight we’ve decided we’ll be setting up a second training area on my uncle’s land. We’ll have Tynan and Niall working there.”
“Lodging?”
“Aye, that’s becoming a bit of a thing. We’ll house as many here as we can manage, and at my uncle’s as well. There’s the inn, and many of the farmers and crofters nearby are sheltering family and friends already. No one will be turned off. We’ll find a way.”
She fiddled with her cross as she spoke. Not, Cian thought, out of fear of him, but out of nervous habit. “There’s food as well to think of. So many had to leave their crops and cattle behind to come here. But we’ll manage. Have you eaten?”
She flushed a little deeper as soon as the words were out. “What I meant is there’d be supper in the parlor if—”
“I know what you meant. No. I thought to see to the horse first, but he appears well groomed and fed.” On the heels of the words, Vlad bumped his head against Moira’s shoulder. “And spoiled,” Cian added.
Her brows drew together as they did, he knew, when she was annoyed or thoughtful. “It’s only carrots, and they’re good for him.”
“Speaking of food, I’ll need blood in another week. You might make certain the next pigs that are slaughtered, their blood isn’t wasted.”
“Of course.”
“Aren’t you the cool one.”
Now the faintest sign of irritation crossed her face. “You take what you need from the pig. I’m not after turning my nose up at a slab of bacon, am I?” She shoved the last carrot into Cian’s hand and started to sweep out.
She stopped herself, “I don’t know why you fire me up so easily. If you mean to or not. And no.” She held up a hand. “I don’t think I want to know the answer to that. But I would like to speak to you for a moment or two about another matter.”
No, avoiding her wasn’t possible, he reminded himself. “I have a moment or two.”
