Brock and Randolf came out of one building, but neither of them stepped into the street to join him.

It was his uncle Yarek and Thayne—and Garth—and the Jeweled Warlords and witches who were left who formed a wall at his back.

The riders turned into the main street and rode forward slowly. Six pairs of Warlords behind a Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

The Warlords stopped.

The Warlord Prince kept coming. He reined in a few yards from Jared, dismounted, and closed the rest of the distance on foot until he stood a man’s length away.

“Warlord,” he said with deceptive pleasantness.

“Prince Talon,” Jared replied, keeping his face and voice neutral.

“We need to talk, Warlord. Privately.”

Jared jerked his head at the building to his left. “This will do.”

He barely got into the room before Talon slammed him into the wall.

“What in the name of Hell were you thinking—if you were thinking?” Talon roared as he jammed his tunic-filled fists under Jared’s chin. “You’ve been staggering around in a hostile Territory like a drunken landen! If we hadn’t come across that slaughter and followed the tracks, we’d still be searching.”

Jared bared his teeth. He clamped his hands around Talon’s wrists. “Maybe your tracking abilities are at fault.”

“I’m the best tracker around!”

“Then think how much trouble the second-best tracker has had.”

Talon’s eyes glazed with fury.

Remembering how easily a Warlord Prince rose to the killing edge, Jared leashed his own anger. “Talon—”

Talon just shook him and roared.

“What do you care?” Jared snarled. “You got your niece back. Lia’s not your concern.”

Talon slammed him into the wall again. “I’m the one who taught her to ride. I’m the one who taught her how to use a bow. I’m the one who taught her how to fight with Craft. Don’t you dare tell me she’s not my concern.”

Jared stared at Talon. Finally, he said, “Have you ever played chess with her?”

“What’s—” The glaze of fury slowly faded from Talon’s eyes. Releasing Jared, he stepped back. After a minute, he shook his head, and said dryly, “I think I just did.”

Now that Talon’s anger had passed, Jared felt the sting of the accusations. “If you were so concerned, why didn’t you stay to escort her to the Tamanara Mountains?”

There was no way to describe the look in Talon’s eyes. “Warlord,” he said quietly, “even a rogue knows when to yield to a Queen.”

Jared squirmed a little, like a boy chastised by an elder. “But you came back. You’ve been searching for her.”

“Well,” Talon said with a genuine smile, “I am a rogue.” He gave Jared a rough clap on the shoulder. “Let’s go see the witchling. She deserves a good scolding.”

“Can I watch?” Jared asked, falling into step beside Talon.