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faint prick of his fangs. Then Nevin's teachings, which had always run counter
to his father, flashed through him with the revulsion of Troyes' touch, and
Isranon knocked the sa'necari aside with his shoulder under Troyes' chin.
Isranon kicked Troyes hard in the chest, landing him in the snow, and raised
the hammer.
"Touch me and die," Isranon growled.
"You will regret this," Troyes said, rising to his feet, black energy forming
around his fingers. "My brother had you. I'll have you. Willing or not."
"You'll have to kill me first."
"That can be arranged."
In the heat of the moment, they had not heard another rider approach.
"What happens here?" Nevin dismounted.
Troyes laughed, drew back the magic, and walked off.
Isranon found that he could suddenly breathe easier, and had not realized
that his breathing before had been anything but steady. "Nothing."
Nevin frowned deeply, which made his scarred face a hideous mask. He touched
Isranon's neck, bringing away a few drops of blood. "Nothing?"
Isranon's head came up and his shoulders straightened to a proud angle. "I
can handle it."
"Arrogant pup. What if you can't?"
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"I can handle it!" Isranon winced away from him as Nevin tried to turn him
about to see into his eyes.
"Sooner or later, pup, you're going to have to talk to me."
"When I'm ready." I am not going to endanger the clan by making this their
business. If Troyes forces a confrontation with them, it will not be because
of me. Merissa, what would they do if they knew you were sleeping with Troyes?
He picked up the other end of the rail and went back to nailing it in place.
* * * *
Nevin watched Troyes closely. Granted, with winter still socking the valley
in, there was little space in the Great House for Isranon to completely avoid
the sa'necari, but Nevin suspected far more was going on there than either of
them let on. He sat before the fire in the common sitting room, oiling his
blades with a soft cloth.
The clan had never been fond of the sa'necari who ruled Waejontor and, when
King Baaltrystan lost two-thirds of his kingdom to Shaurone in the aftermath
of the war, they had hoped that meant they would no longer have to deal with
them. However, that had not proven to be the case. Their valley had become one
of the first way stations that Baaltrystan established in the occupied
territories. The Waejontori had no intention of either allowing Shaurone to
retain possession of those lands or to cease in their attempts to take
Shaurone itself. They maintained an uneasy accommodation with Baaltrystan.
They did not want the Waejontori to come raging through their valley from
their citadels hidden deeper within the higher mountains, nor did they wish
for the Sharani to find their valley, which nestled in the rocky warrens of
the mountains. After all these years the Sharani were still exploring and
mapping. They had become cautious where the Lionhawk had been bold, slamming
through their lands with the fury of an autumn storm.
What fools they had been to exile that one. The Lionhawk would have found
this farm and many others, Nevin thought.
Nevin watched Merissa exclaiming over a bracelet Troyes had purchased for her
at the nearest village. Troyes smiled and his hand stole over hers. The
sa'necari seemed to be courting Merissa, and Nevin might have believed it had
he not seen the way that Troyes' eyes kept sliding across to Isranon.
Everything about Troyes set Nevin's neck hairs to standing. Mephistis had told
that male to move on, but he hadn't. Nevin was close to deciding to have a
talk with Claw about it.
Isranon had a book open on his lap, but seemed to be paying very little
attention to it. The youth was watching Merissa and Troyes over the edge of
it. Nevin could see the way his eyes moved. Finally he snapped it shut and
left. Nevin rose and followed him.
"Can I talk to you?" Nevin asked as Isranon started to close his sitting room
door.
Isranon had an odd look in his eyes, almost pained. He swept his hand at the
chairs around a small table. "Yes."
Nevin sat down and leaned forward on his elbows, studying the youth who took
a chair opposite him. An unlit branch of candles and a bottle of red wine with
a pair of glasses flanking it sat in the center of the table. Nevin wondered
who had been here last to drink with the youth, deciding after a moment's
consideration that he probably shared it with the nibari who sometimes spent
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the night with him. "May I?"
Isranon immediately poured them both a glass. "What did you want to discuss?"
Nevin rolled the wine around on his tongue. It was very good wine. Aisha had
given Isranon a bottle of her best vintage. "What I keep seeing in your face."
"Why are there no gods for me?"
Nevin had expected to have that delayed talk about Troyes and the question
caught him off guard. The boy had always stayed away from such subjects and
Nevin suspected it came from his father's teachings. Isranon was an odd mix of
experience and naiveté, of courage and vulnerability. Some things had changed
about him, but not nearly as much as Nevin had expected. "Are you asking me as
a lawgiver or as a friend?"
"Both."
Nevin heard the tiny catch in Isranon's voice. "Most lycans are neutrals, as
you know. We worship and pray to the ancestors to intervene on our behalf. I
have no personal knowledge of much that lies beyond this valley, but only such
records as we have kept. It may well be that some of our folk have turned to
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