Free Shalador's Lady by Anne Bishop Page A

hour to work in the garden while she answered some of Reyhana’s questions. “Yes, Vae. I’m allowed to do this. I’m fine. ”
    *Gray? Is Cassie allowed to do that?*
    “Isn’t she supposed to listen to you?” Reyhana whispered.
    “She’s a Sceltie,” Cassidy grumped. “She doesn’t listen to anyone.”
    “She listens to Prince Gray,” Reyhana pointed out.
    And that particular alliance of Warlord Prince and Sceltie had been an unrelenting pain in the ass ever since Lucivar, Karla, and the rest of the Blood from Kaeleer left two days ago. The biggest difference between dog and man was that Vae never stopped yapping at her unless she was sitting or sleeping, and Gray wouldn’t speak to her. Hadn’t said one single word to her after Karla said she was well enough to leave her room in the boardinghouse. But he was always nearby, watching everything she did. Judging everything she did.
    *Gray? Should I nip?*
    “No,” Cassidy said, dropping the weeding claw and rising from the spot she and Reyhana had been weeding. “You should not nip. Gray, tell her!”
    There was a wild look in Gray’s green eyes, a look that hadn’t been there before she collapsed. This wasn’t the boy who had been damaged by torture and frozen emotionally and mentally. And it was more than the man Gray had been becoming since she’d met him. This was a sharp-tempered stranger who was pissed off with her but refused to discuss the reason for his anger.
    Well, fine.
    No, not fine.
    “Gray, I’d like a word with you,” Cassidy said, heading away from the rest of the men who were hovering in the garden, standing guard over her. When he didn’t move, she snarled, “Jared Blaed, attend !”
    That got his attention. His eyes blazed hot as he strode to where she waited, and it took everything in her not to back down in the face of what was heading toward her.
    Warlord Prince. Most of the time it was easy to forget Gray belonged to that caste of males. She never forgot what kind of man she was dealing with when she was around Theran or Talon or Ranon, but caste hadn’t been the dominant psychic scent when she was with Gray. Until now.
    “Do you think using my real name is going to intimidate me into doing what you want?” Gray snapped. “I’m not a child, Cassidy.”
    She glanced at the other men. They were all paying attention to this little drama, so she kept her voice low. “I made a mistake, an error in judgment. It happens. I’m sorry it upset you—”
    “An error in judgment.” His voice was hard as stone. “You almost kill yourself for no reason , and you think it’s nothing more than an error?”
    He started to walk away. She grabbed his arm—then jerked her hand away in shock when he snarled at her.
    “Gray, talk to me,” she pleaded.
    “I have nothing to say.”
    Her temper snapped. She could feel the heat of it rising through her body until she was sure her hair was going to stand on end like a fan of fire.
    “If you’re not going to talk to me, then you damn well better talk to somebody because I’ve had enough of your temper and your silence.”
    “Fine. I’ll do that.” As he walked away from her, Gray shouted, “Vae! You’re with me.”
    “At least that will get both of you out of my hair,” Cassidy muttered as she stomped back to the garden.
    Reyhana looked away, wrestled with a weed, and swore politely when the top of the plant broke off, leaving the tap root.
    “You can’t pull the tap roots of those weeds out unless you do it after a soaking rain,” Cassidy said, kneeling beside the younger woman. “But you can use Craft to create a slick shaft around the root so you can pull it out.”
    “Can you show me?” Reyhana asked.
    “I can show you,” Cassidy replied, then added silently, Without those two yapping at me.

    Ranon watched Gray head right for him. Prudence and training told him he should shield when another warrior came toward him in a way that screamed aggression. But this was Gray,