The Queen's Weapons

by Anne Bishop

  “Only if there’s coffee.”

  She laughed. “I’ll see about getting you some before we throw you off the mountain.”

  “I can fly, you know,” he called as she left the room.

  She didn’t know what Witch had said to him in her absence, but Daemonar looked a little less hollow by the time she returned with the large tray that had appeared at the metal gate that marked the Queen’s part of the Keep.

  She warmed and drank a glass of yarbarah while she and Witch watched Daemonar consume a staggering amount of food. When he couldn’t find a single thing left to eat, he let out a sigh, sounding content. Not full, but content.

  “What?” he said when they stared at him. “I was hungry.”

  “And now it’s time for you to go, boyo,” Witch said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  Daemonar wasn’t the only person who needed to feel that hand made out of illusions and Craft, and Karla wondered how soon Daemon Sadi would be arriving at the Keep, equally raw from what Tersa had done and the price she had demanded that neither man had been willing to pay.

  Karla escorted Daemonar to one of the courtyards that had a stone landing web and watched him leave before she returned to the Queen’s part of the Keep.

  “Tersa broke the tangled webs to prevent anyone else from seeing the visions,” Karla said. “She did it so that Sadi won’t know what’s coming, won’t know the shape of the knife that is going to nick his heart.” She studied the Queen who had been her friend since they were children. “But you know what’s coming.”

  “Tersa doesn’t walk any roads in the Twisted Kingdom that I haven’t seen.”

  “Sadi won’t thank you for not telling him and giving him time to prepare.”

  Witch’s sapphire eyes were filled with sorrow and icy determination. “Yes, he will.”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Daemon pressed a hand over his heart and studied the tangled web he’d spun in an attempt to find some answers.

  It was impossible to re-create a tangled web. If even the smallest thread was missing or out of place, it wouldn’t be the same web, wouldn’t reveal the same vision. He’d hoped that, using the warning Tersa had distilled from her webs as his starting point, this web would show him some of what his mother had seen.

  This web had shown him entirely different truths about his heart.

  The first truth, a bitter one, was that he couldn’t save his daughter from whatever was coming because of choices she had made. The only thing he could do now was shake her willful blindness to the consequences of her own actions by responding to her in the same way he would to any witch who continuously undermined his trust until there was no trust at all.

  The second truth confirmed something Witch had told him centuries ago. Most men probably would feel sorrow or regret. All he felt was relief.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Jaenelle Saetien vanished her books and marched toward the exercise field where Daemonar usually held the morning workouts for a dozen girls and a handful of boys, plus Prince Raine. Everyone thought a tutor joining the workout was a little weird and was bound to get Raine in trouble with Lady Fharra sooner or later. Since the participants all worked up a sweat—her cousin didn’t think a workout was successful unless you sweated—they all had to rush to take showers and put on fresh clothes before hurrying to their first class.

  Fine for the boys, with their short hair, but what about the girls? Did Daemonar even consider how long it took to dry and style long hair, especially in the winter, even if you used Craft to help with the drying and styling?

  That wasn’t the point. Not today. The point was he’d missed a day of classes, and when he’d returned early this morning, the only thing he’d told her was to expect Shelby to confiscate something of hers that the puppy could smell when she wasn’t around. But when she’d pushed, because something about the visit to the Hall and Halaway had upset her cousin a lot and had kept him away from Amdarh overnight, he’d just said Tersa wasn’t well and needed some quiet time to recover.

  Puppies at the cottage wouldn’t help Tersa have quiet time. Which made her wonder if the puppies—Shelby at least—should be relocated to the town house, where she could play with him and work with him every day after her classes. It sounded reasonable, didn’t it? Of course, that would leave the staff at the town house to deal with the puppy’s potty training since she wouldn’t be around that much—and she wouldn’t be around at night, although Daemonar was living at the town house, so he might be talked around to taking care of the middle-of-the-night piddle if she . . .

  “Are you avoiding me?” Delora asked.

  She spun around, surprised to find the girl just a couple of steps behind her. “No.”

  “I called your name half a dozen times. I thought I’d done something to upset you and you were ignoring me.”

  She didn’t recall hearing Delora say her name—or say anything else for that matter. Had she been that lost in thought? “My grandmother isn’t well. It’s worrying.” That was true enough, but she felt a bit guilty, as she always did, about not mentioning Shelby. Delora might really enjoy hearing about the puppy’s progress. Except then she might want to see the puppy, and Shelby was still too impressionable to be exposed to too many humans.

  Yes, that was it. She wasn’t keeping Delora away from Shelby. She was keeping everyone away from the puppy. Even Zoey and Titian, who knew about the puppy.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Delora said. “Any illness is a concern when someone is elderly, but she’s not too ill, is she?”

  During their late-night talks, had she given Delora the impression that Tersa was elderly? She didn’t think so. And not being well wasn’t the same as being ill.

  “No, she’ll be fine in a day or two. She just needs rest.”

  Delora looked relieved. “That’s good, because I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

  Wondering why Hespera and the other girls weren’t with Delora as usual, Jaenelle Saetien followed her friend to one of those shadowy places that Delora preferred when she watched the comings and goings on the green.

  “I’ve been thinking about Zoey and Titian and the other girls, and I feel awful,” Delora said. “The boys go too far sometimes, but Hespera and I were just teasing with the nicknames. We didn’t realize Zoey and Titian were taking the words seriously and were hurt by them.”

  “They were hurt enough that I wasn’t allowed to invite you to the Winsol party,” Jaenelle Saetien pointed out.

  “Exactly! And your calling Krellis and the other boys to task about some of the things they said made me see that we’ve really been unkind and need to make amends.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Calling me and my friends the coven of malice isn’t kind either, but I guess it was meant as retaliation, only I didn’t understand that.” Delora’s smile looked . . . too big. “So now I need your help.”

  Jaenelle Saetien blinked. “With what?” Delora should be able to work out what she wanted to say as an apology.

  “With getting Zoey’s friends and my friends together so that we can do something away from school and maybe start over.”

  “You want to have an afternoon party at the town house?” She’d definitely need her father’s permission to have more than a couple of friends spending an afternoon at the town house, but maybe he’d warm to Delora if he had a chance to talk to her and see that she wasn’t anything like that Dorothea woman who had hurt him when he was young.

  “Not at the town house. That’s so close to the school, all the students would be trying to get in to see the place and devour the food.” Delora looked so earnest. “I was thinking of an overnight house party at the Hall. You keep saying how big the place is, and no one except those who were invited would know where the gathering was being held, and even if ot
her students found out, they’re unlikely to come all that way. Oh, please say you’ll talk your father into letting us have a house party. I really want a chance to settle things with Zoey, and I can’t do that around the school.”

  There was Zoey’s group of friends and Delora’s group of friends, and everyone else at the school avoided both so they wouldn’t be forced to take sides. She was the only one who had tried to be friends with people in both groups. If she could help Zoey and Delora settle their differences . . . Well, she didn’t think they would ever be best friends, but they could show each other the courtesy of two leaders who didn’t want their differences to turn the school into a battleground. Almost like they were both Queens ruling neighboring villages.

  Of course, talking her father into letting Delora stay overnight at the Hall would be much harder than getting him to agree to having her as a guest at an afternoon party at the town house.

  As if anticipating the problem, Delora rushed to explain. “I know your father had that funny turn when he met me at the school. I don’t know why he took such a dislike to me. Maybe I reminded him of someone else?”

  Dorothea. Jaenelle Saetien swallowed the compulsion to explain her father’s reaction. No one would want to be compared to such a terrible person. “I don’t know. But his reaction will make it harder to invite you and Hespera and some of the others to an overnight party.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be specific about who is coming to the party. Everyone just invites friends, and no one’s father asks for names. Not when girls reach our age and come from aristo families. Parents know the guest list is . . . fluid. But definitely mention Zoey and your cousin, since your father knows them.”

  Jaenelle Saetien hesitated. She couldn’t remember there ever being a casual overnight party at the Hall. Family gatherings, yes. There were also formal gatherings where the invited Queens brought some family members along with a handful of people who served in their First Circles. Gatherings that included Queens required a detailed guest list.

  Official Queens with official courts. Surely her father wouldn’t require so much formality for a party just because Zoey would be there. Would he?

  “Just get him to agree to the party,” Delora said. “It’s so important, and it would be splendid to have it at the Hall.”

  And everyone wanted to see an end to this feud between Zoey and Delora.

  “Don’t say anything to the other girls until I talk to my father, but I’ll see what I can do,” Jaenelle Saetien said.

  “This week?” Delora looked pained. “The more time goes by, the more this misunderstanding with Zoey will fester. It will be awful to go through the rest of the school year this way.”

  “I’ll discuss this with my father as soon as I can, but we’ll have to settle for having the house party whenever he says we can have it.”

  “Of course,” Delora said brightly. “But . . . soon?”

  Jaenelle Saetien smiled. “Soon.”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  “Do you think she believed you?” Krellis asked once Jaenelle Saetien hurried off to her class. “You’re not at all convincing when you act contrite.”

  Delora gave him a sharp smile. “You don’t think so? She’s so eager to have everyone be friends and be the person who brings it about so that she doesn’t have to choose sides. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t have us for an overnight visit by the school’s next study day.”

  “Have you, you mean. She’s not likely to invite the boys.”

  “Then your showing up will be a surprise.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  The letters and visiting cards had been neatly stacked on the salver Helton held out to him, but Daemon noticed the town house’s butler had placed one letter across both stacks as if to emphasize its importance.

  Recognizing his daughter’s handwriting, he noted the blend of impatience and neatness that was typical when she wanted something and needed his answer an hour ago but knew an indecipherable scribble wouldn’t get any kind of answer from him. Most of the time, it amused him. They’d been having this push and pull since she was a little girl and was too excited about some adventure to remember that permission wasn’t granted if he was asked ten minutes before she wanted to dash out the door. They would go for months with her making requests in a timely manner, and then she’d . . . forget . . . for a few weeks before resigning herself to the fact that he didn’t forget his own rules and also didn’t break them.

  He hadn’t seen much of her since she’d started attending that private school, and she hadn’t bothered with even a quick note to let him know how she was doing—unless she wanted something. Beale and Holt had confirmed that this wasn’t unusual behavior for an adolescent, but this communication, coming on the heels of a couple of heart-tearing days . . .

  “When did this arrive?” he asked Helton.

  “A short while ago,” Helton replied. “I was about to send it to the Hall since it was marked urgent.”

  “Does anything else in that stack look to be of importance?”

  “Messages from Ladies Titian and Zoey, as well as a letter from the Queen of Amdarh.” Helton indicated the three letters under Jaenelle Saetien’s missive.

  “I’ll take those to the study now. Hold the rest.” He hadn’t intended to do more than stop at the town house on his way to the Keep, but it looked like he might be staying overnight—depending on the content of the letters.

  “Have you eaten, Prince?” Helton asked. “I could have sandwiches brought to the study. Maybe a pot of coffee or a soothing mug of tea?”

  Food. Had he eaten today? “Did Prince Daemonar return to the town house last night?”

  Helton looked grim. “No. But Lord Weston informed the house that Prince Daemonar returned to the school early this morning. He seemed . . . emotionally raw . . . but otherwise unharmed. He led the morning workout and then cleaned up and went to his tutorial.” He hesitated. “Lady Tersa?”

  Of course Beale would have informed Helton that Tersa must have walked some dangerous roads in the Twisted Kingdom and that Daemonar had been the first to see the result and sound the alarm.

  “She’ll be fine,” Daemon replied. “She’s . . . regaining . . . the rhythm of her life. And she has some helpers now.” He wasn’t sure who had sent a message to Scelt, if any human had, but he’d been willing to agree to anything that would help Mikal cope with living with Tersa. He’d floated the idea of Mikal moving into a suite at the Hall. The boy had slapped the idea down, but had embraced the new helpers without hesitation.

  “Another Black Widow?” Helton asked.

  He nodded. “A journeymaid.” Of sorts. No, not of sorts. Having four feet and a tail, and practicing the Hourglass’s Craft a little differently, did not make that young witch any less a Black Widow. “A sandwich and coffee would be welcome. And I’ll need someone to deliver messages once I’ve found out what everyone wants.”

  Daemon retreated to his study and opened his daughter’s letter.

  Jaenelle Saetien needed to talk to him urgently. No hint of why, which reminded him of Titian’s request a few months ago when she wanted permission before action.

  Sweet Darkness, let it be that simple.

  No mention of her grandmother, which made him wonder if Daemonar had seen her yet.

  He wrote a quick reply, informing her that he was in Amdarh and would be available to talk later in the afternoon when she was done with her classes. He folded the paper and applied his personal seal in red wax before opening Titian’s and Zoey’s notes—and felt a stone of sorrow press on his heart.

  They had heard about Tersa, and the brief notes expressed concern for Tersa and the hope of a swift recovery. Zoey’s note included a restrained sympathy for him and the hope that his mother would find her way back to him just as Zoey’s mother had found the way home to her own family.


  It was possible that Jaenelle Saetien had spoken to Daemonar and now wanted to speak to him about Tersa, but somehow he didn’t think so. The girl she’d been before she’d entered this difficult transitional age would have cared. The girl she was now? He wasn’t sure.

  The letter from Lady Zhara requested a meeting at his earliest convenience and, in a postscript, expressed concern for Tersa and an offer to him of any assistance she could provide. Clearly she’d been just about to seal her letter when the news had arrived.

  He invited Zhara to join him for dinner and have time afterward to discuss her concerns. He hesitated, then added that his daughter might need his attention that evening. If so, he would reschedule the meeting as soon as he returned to Amdarh.

  One way or another, he needed a night at the Keep.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Jaenelle Saetien tried to consider all her father’s possible responses to her request, but realized everything depended on the degree of Tersa being “not well.” Her last encounter with her grandmother had made her uneasy. Tersa didn’t live at the Hall, but if she was slipping into a mental decline, Father might not want to deal with overnight guests. Of course, he wouldn’t have to do anything. She’d make the arrangements with Beale and Helene for the guest rooms that would be needed and present suggestions to Mrs. Beale for the food to be served.

  Better if she took care of the arrangements. Then she could put off telling him that Delora was one of the guests until the girls showed up on his doorstep. He wouldn’t mortally embarrass his daughter by refusing to allow some of her guests to enter the Hall.

  If he was too preoccupied with Tersa, would Father want that woman to chaperone the party like she’d done at Titian’s Winsol party? That would be humiliating, especially when everyone knew what she’d been. Well, Jaenelle Saetien would warn everyone to be civil to Father’s wife or they’d all be returned to the school before they could take the next breath.