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sadly, shaking her head. Blessed Lady, forgive me for failing you.
    Sadness and guilt, regret and heartache,
another brick stacked on her heart, another weight she had to carry. So many
deaths lay along her path to the Rose Crown and the High Throne of the Green
Lands, only to be mistrusted, doubted, and betrayed. The unfairness of it
strangled her.
    Without another glance, she turned away
and strode toward the door. Dharman glided at her back, Sal and Jorah each at
her side without a single command from her. They knew her thoughts before she
did. Two Blood proceeded her; the rest trailed to protect her back from the
roomful of outlanders they knew would eliminate her without a second glance.
    “Your Majesty! Your Crown!”
    Bitterly, she replied over her shoulder,
“Wear it if you dare.”
    Her threat carried little weight. No one
would touch it. Legends said that any man who dared lay a single finger on Our
Blessed Lady’s Rose Crown would instantly fall dead. If only her enemies would
dare such a foolhardy attempt then they’d all be eliminated effortlessly.
    * * *
    BY THE PALE, TIGHT LOOK on her face,
Rhaekhar knew her meeting had not gone well. He suppressed a sigh. If she felt
his impatience to return to the Plains, then she would only feel more guilt and
frustration that she kept him from his duties as Khul.
    Muttering, Varne shook his head. “Why
doesn’t Dharman simply gut them all?”
    Amused, Rhaekhar agreed, noting the grim
slant to her First Blood’s mouth and his white-knuckled grip on his rahke . Each of her Blood glowered at any
and all outlanders, frustrated by their inability to punish those who didn’t
support their Khul’lanna wholeheartedly. That so many of them plotted to murder
her infuriated them all.
    Even when Khul approached his mate they
were slow to make way and allow him to touch her. As soon as she stepped foot
on Green Land soil, the assassins attacked each and every day. Rhaekhar could
forgive her Blood much as long as they kept her alive and well.
    “A tough kae’don , my heart?” Rhaekhar cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking
his thumb tenderly over her lip. “May I challenge any of your Council this
day?”
    “No,” she grumbled, burying her face
against him. He felt her breathe deeply and immediately some of the tension
eased from her shoulders. “If I let you kill everyone who disagreed with me,
they’d all be dead.”
    “Perhaps you need a change in strategy.”
    She raised her face, her gaze narrowed
in thought.
    “You have tried well-reasoned arguments
and bargains with men who have no honor.” Rhaekhar couldn’t keep the distaste
out of his voice and didn’t try to hide it. She knew very well what each trip
to the Green Lands meant to him, to her Blood, to any warrior used to wearing
his honor and pride for all to see. These people had no understanding of honor.
How could they, when they wished their own Queen dead? “You are a warrior at
heart, Shannari dal’Dainari. Challenge them in a way they don’t expect.”
    “I can’t whip out my rahke and cut them into agreeing with
me.” Mouth quirked, she shook her head. “They’re not warriors. They wouldn’t
understand it, and certainly couldn’t meet me likewise.”
    “I didn’t mean a kae’rahke , na’lanna ,
although I admit I find the thought amusing.” His warrior woman was fierce with
a blade. He proudly bore many scars from her rahke , as did her Blood. “You attempt a Market Day with curs who
simply shred and gnaw your hides, oblivious to the goods you offer.”
    “When you bargain with Shadow, all are
compromised.” At Rhaekhar’s surprised glance, Varne flushed. His nearest Blood
had always been most vocal in his disapproval of an outlander Khul’lanna, so
any word of wisdom was most unexpected. “Toss a bone among them, and they tear
each other apart. It’s folly to linger among them.”
    Dharman gave Khul’s nearest Blood a
gruff nod. “I agree. Give us the word, Khul’lanna, and