by Anne Bishop
He polished off the eggs. “I don’t have any trouble with your rules or holding that line for any of the children—including Mikal.”
“And Beron?”
Daemon shook his head. “Beron has his own residence and is apprenticing in his chosen profession, so he’s old enough to choose his own company.” But it wouldn’t hurt to remind the young Warlord that being given that much independence didn’t mean the family patriarch wasn’t aware of all of his activities.
“The theater group he belongs to is performing a play in Riada next month. We’re looking forward to seeing him.”
And Uncle Lucivar will keep an eye on him while Beron is in Ebon Rih, Daemon thought, working to hide a smile.
“You want more coffee?” Lucivar asked. “I’ll make another pot.”
“Sure. Where is Marian?”
“Sleeping in.”
Something in the tone, in the way Lucivar moved around the kitchen. “Is she all right?”
“Just slow coming back from this birthing. It’s taking longer for her to regain her strength and energy. She’ll be fine.”
“But . . . ?” Daemon asked gently.
Lucivar filled the coffeepot and put it on the stove to heat before replying. “Nurian is an excellent Healer, and I trust what she says. But I wish Jaenelle Angelline was still here to tell me Marian will be fine. I’d feel a lot easier if she was still here to tell me that.”
Daemon walked into his study and found Surreal waiting for him, comfortably settled on the long leather sofa. She had a book in her lap and a crossbow aimed at his groin.
“Is that necessary?” he asked politely.
“You tell me.” Her tone was a few steps short of polite.
He slipped his hands in his trousers pockets and waited. When Surreal began a discussion by pointing a weapon at a man, it was wise to yield as much as possible.
“I upset Jaenelle.” The crossbow didn’t waver, so he considered the other half of his offense. “And I left you to deal with it without giving you any idea of what you were facing.”
“Which is something you won’t do again. Agreed?”
Was there a choice? “Agreed.”
Surreal vanished the crossbow, then shifted so that he could sit beside her.
“Jaenelle Saetien is very sorry that she forgot to tell you about Uncle Lucivar’s new rules—which you will explain to me in detail by the end of the day,” she said. “A new friend showed up early this morning, and she needed to tell you about him before she totally broke the rules instead of just bending the rules by waiting for you to wake up before she told you about her new friend, since he was in her room, but you didn’t wake up, which is why she woke you, but then she mentioned the boy parts, which Uncle Lucivar had also told her to tell you about, and before she could explain, you cat-puffed, kicked her out of the room, and left to yell at Lucivar.”
“I what? Cat-puffed? What in the name of Hell is that?”
“I’m guessing it’s what a pissed-off feline does.”
“Well, that makes me sound scary.”
“No, it makes you sound like a rolly ball of fur. Regardless ...” Surreal grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer. “I’ll give you a choice. You can go up there and settle things with your daughter and her new friends, or you can take the second part of the discussion about why boy parts wiggle.”
He felt all the blood drain out of his head. “Why would there be a second part if the two of you already discussed this?”
“Because with Jaenelle Saetien, there is always a second part to a discussion.”
That was a frightening truth. “All right. I’ll meet these new friends.”
“One of them is in her room. The other is in the stables.”
“I take it these new friends have boy parts?”
Surreal released his shirt and leaned back. “Trust me, Sadi. Their boy parts are the least of your problems.”
Once Daemon was on his way to meet his daughter’s new friends, Surreal breathed out a shuddery sigh. No sign or scent of blood or wounds, so it wasn’t likely that he and Lucivar had done more than yell at each other.
If it had been anyone other than Lucivar, even if the man’s actions had been innocent or unintentional . . .
Sadi hadn’t looked like a man who had shattered the family by maiming or killing his brother. No, her sense of him when he’d walked into the study was that of a man who knew it would take some work to clean up the emotional mess he’d left behind when he’d thundered out of the Hall.
She called in her favorite stiletto and studied its edge.
She’d been twelve when she was raped, but the man hadn’t been strong enough to take more than her virginity. She’d come away from that bed with her Birthright Green Jewels and her power still intact.
Jaenelle Angelline had been twelve when she was raped. No one could have taken away Witch’s power—she stood too deep in the abyss for anyone to do that—but she had abandoned her body for almost two years, traveling roads in the Twisted Kingdom, and maybe even the Darkness itself, that no one else could walk. And what had been done to her in Briarwood had left emotional scars that had haunted her all her life.
Daemon had married two women who had been scarred by rape, and he wasn’t without scars himself—not with what she guessed had been done to him as a child and what he’d endured as a pleasure slave. So any hint that his daughter might be at risk of having the same kind of scars was enough to have his temper turn cold and brutal and committed to slaughter.
That was the mess Daemon had left her with this morning—trying to find a way to explain to a frightened girl why her darling papa had been so angry about the boy parts. Jaenelle Saetien had been more worried about getting Uncle Lucivar into trouble than whatever punishment she might face for failing to tell her father about the incident at the pool—and she’d been worried that she had somehow hurt her papa’s heart.
Which was true.
Surreal vanished the stiletto, grabbed two fistfuls of hair, and pulled gently to ease some of the ache around her skull.
Old memories were bound to start surfacing now that they were this close to Jaenelle Saetien’s Birthright Ceremony.
But old memories weren’t the only things surfacing now, and she didn’t know what to think about that.
Jaenelle Saetien’s new friend was a half-grown Arcerian cat named Kaele. A Warlord Prince who wore a Green Birthright Jewel.
May the Darkness have mercy on me, Daemon thought as the cat put himself between man and girl.
Kaele looked at Daemon and snarled.
Daemon looked at Kaele and snarled—and let his Black power thunder softly through the room, leaving no doubt about who was the dominant male.
“No no no,” Jaenelle said, throwing herself on the cat and clamping both arms around his neck. “Do not snarl at Papa! He won’t let us play if you snarl at him.”
*Why are you here?* Daemon asked on a spear thread.
*To be friends with your kitten,* Kaele replied. *And with you. The Weavers said it was time.*
Mother Night.
There were rules for the wilder kindred to follow when they stayed at the Hall. He just couldn’t remember any of them.
Well, there was the most important one.
“Do not swat anyone or eat anyone without asking me first,” he said.
*I could ask the dogs,* Kaele said, clearly preferring to communicate with other kindred.
“No, you’ll ask me.” He trusted the Scelties for the most part, but the ones who lived at the Hall came from the Sceltie school Jaenelle Angelline and Ladvarian had begun and that he now co-owned with Ladvarian’s descendants. So these dogs were loyal to his family and very protective of his wife and daughter. Usually he was grateful for that, but with the presence of an Arcerian cat, he could see Morghann and Khary happily pointing out a human they didn’t like and putting the label of “dinner” on the fool.
“Are you mad at Uncle Lucivar?” Jaenell
e asked in a small voice.
Daemon shook his head. “No, we got that sorted out. But I wish you had told me about it when I was more awake to understand what had happened.”
“I know.” She hugged Kaele’s neck hard enough to produce a grunt from the cat.
Daemon went down on one knee. “Come here, witch-child.”
She released the cat and came to him. Of course, the cat, being a Warlord Prince, came too.
He rested his hands on her shoulders, giving Kaele time to accept that he could touch his own daughter.
“Uncle Lucivar is going to hold you to his rules—and so am I. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“I’ve seen too many bad things, Jaenelle, and I’m afraid of what I would do if someone hurt you.”
“That’s what Mama said.”
“Your mother is a very smart woman.”
Jaenelle smiled. “She said that too.”
He kissed her cheek and hugged her, as much to reassure her as to comfort himself. As he held her, he sent out a delicate psychic probe. It wouldn’t invade her mind or thoughts, but it would give him a sense of her emotions, of whether she was as easy about seeing a naked man as she seemed to be.
And found something he hadn’t expected.
His daughter was keeping secrets from him.
He eased back and looked at her. Nothing haunted those gold eyes, but something was there. Something, he suddenly realized, that had been there on and off for the past few years—and more so in the past year as she got closer to her Birthright Ceremony.
“I guess I should introduce myself to your other friend,” he said as he rose gracefully.
“You’ll like him.” She gave him an unsure but game smile that made him tremble.
He wasn’t sure he would like this friend, but unless he hated the male on sight, he’d let things slide. At least for today. But before he met this second friend, he wanted to have a word with his wife.
Surreal was still sitting on the sofa in his study, so he didn’t have to hunt for her.
“Hell’s fire,” she said, grinning. “If your father could see the look on your face, he’d laugh himself silly.”
He sank down beside her, feeling boneless. “There is an Arcerian cat in the Hall again.”
“I know. I met him. You need to put strengthening spells on Jaenelle’s bed—and think about getting her a bigger bed if he’s intending to be a frequent visitor.”
“Since he’s in the stables, I’m assuming her other friend has fur and boy parts?”
“He does. He also has a spiral horn—and his name is Moondancer. He can trace his bloodlines back to a Warlord Prince named Kaetien.”
Daemon heard the wobble in her voice. He turned his head and studied her, seeing enough in her eyes before she looked away.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Talk to me, Surreal. What do you know?”
“About what?”
Shaky. Of course, this whole day must have stirred up memories for her too.
“Jaenelle Saetien is keeping secrets. Even if she had a reason for not telling me, she might have told you.”
“Let it go, Sadi.”
“I can’t. Not today.”
Surreal pulled away. He released her face but closed one hand around her wrist.
“Surreal,” he said gently. He could see her struggling to decide what to tell him.
“A special friend,” she finally said. “A secret friend. Someone she’s known ‘forever,’ which I take to mean these past few years.”
“How could someone have slipped into the Hall without our being aware of it?”
“No one could. But she doesn’t see this friend here at home. She meets this friend in dreams.”
Daemon forgot how to breathe. “Have you asked . . . ?”
Surreal shook her head. “She was upset about telling me. She didn’t want to break Lucivar’s rules, especially now that she knew how upset it would make you, but she didn’t want to tell me because it wasn’t time for us to know about this friend. So I told her it was all right to keep the secret for a while longer.”
She meets this friend in dreams.
He didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel.
“Daemon?” Surreal wrapped her hand around his other wrist. “Aren’t you wondering?”
He felt dizzy, off balance. “About something in particular? I’ve wondered about too much already today.”
“The wild kindred races withdrew from most human contact decades ago. Even most of the wolves don’t talk to us directly; they maintain contact with the two packs who have stayed connected to the family. Now there’s an Arcerian cat descended from Kaelas visiting here. There is a unicorn descended from Kaetien. The Scelties who live with us now are named Morghann and Khary, and we didn’t name them. Are a tiger and dragon going to show up in the next few weeks?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “You think this has something to do with Jaenelle’s special friend?”
“I don’t know, but what I’m wondering is this: What do the kindred know that we don’t?”
THIRTEEN
The Birthright Ceremony. A rite of passage. One of the most important days in a child’s life.
And in a father’s life.
A dozen aristo families gathered at a Sanctuary in a central Dhemlan Province to witness the children who would be gifted with their Birthright Jewels—and to witness the fathers who would be legally gifted with their children.
Because one of those children was the daughter of Prince Daemon Sadi and Lady Surreal SaDiablo, the Sanctuary grounds were packed with Queens, both District and Province, and aristos from every Province in Dhemlan as well as the whole SaDiablo family.
Surreal stood apart from the rest of the parents, ignoring the nervous glances being cast her way by the Queens and other adults. Sometimes several children went through the Birthright Ceremony on the same day. Sometimes only one child stood at the altar and resonated in the Darkness, drawing the particular Jewel that matched who and what she was.
They had decided to let Jaenelle Saetien participate at the same time as other children—which meant the second part of the Ceremony would also be public. That was the reason everyone was keeping their distance from her. There was one father who was a danger to them all if anything went wrong today.
“And they still brought their children here,” she growled.
“Did you really think they wouldn’t want to watch the spectacle?” Lucivar asked as he came up beside her.
“If I were them, I would stay far away from this place today.”
“Is that why we’re doing this at a Sanctuary near one of the family’s estates instead of in Halaway?”
“This was Sadi’s choice. I think . . .” Because it was Lucivar, she slipped an arm through his and voiced the worry that had gnawed at her ever since Daemon announced where the Birthright Ceremony would take place. “I think he chose this Sanctuary and this estate so that he would have someplace to run to if anything went wrong. There won’t be memories of this day at the Hall.”
“Is something going to go wrong?” Lucivar asked, giving her a sharp look.
Surreal shook her head. “No, I made my choice the first time I saw Daemon’s face when he looked at his daughter. I’m just not sure what his choice will be after today.” She tried to smile in response to Lucivar’s unspoken question. “After today, when his daughter is irrevocably his, he may not feel the need to stay married.”
“Is that your way of warning me that you’re leaving him?”
“No,” she said softly. “I’m not leaving him.” Don’t do this. Not today. “I did want to warn you about something else.”
“Oh?”
“Has Titian said anything about the incident this summer when you and the children were at the pool?”
“She said something to Marian.”
It was obvious he wasn’t thrilled about what was said, but he was accepting it—and ma
ybe even felt a little relieved.
“Do I need to call in my crossbow to get the details?” she asked.
“I overheard Titian tell Marian that the older girls had been making a fuss about boy stuff just so the younger girls would think they knew about something interesting, and it was all a big tease.”
“Oh, dear.” She bit her lower lip and told herself to behave. Then she thought, Ah, shit, he deserves this. “Jaenelle has been doing a lot of thinking about the day she saw your boy stuff.”
“Is she upset?” Lucivar asked with a hint of alarm.
“Noooo. But she did come to a different conclusion than Titian. Jaenelle Saetien has decided that, for the most part, boy stuff is not interesting and it looks funny when it wiggles.”
He made a pained sound, but since he was managing to keep a straight face, she went on. “However, she also concluded that when someone is special, his stuff becomes special too. Like, your stuff becomes special when you’re around Auntie Marian. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let you help her make the baby.”
She felt him shake. She wasn’t sure if he was about to start laughing hysterically or just become hysterical.
“Having come to that conclusion about her darling uncle Lucivar—”
He whimpered.
“—she has decided the same must be true of her darling papa. He’s shyer than you so she hasn’t been able to confirm that, but she’s certain it’s true because Daemon is her papa and he’s wonderful.”
“Mother Night.” Lucivar swallowed hard. “What did Daemon say?”
“He doesn’t know about this yet. She decided that he’s been so nervous about the party we’re having after the Ceremony it wasn’t the time to tell him about her conclusions regarding boy stuff.”
“Then why in the name of Hell did you tell me?”
“Because one of these days he’s going to be standing at your door looking like he’d gotten kicked in the head, and I thought you should have some idea about why so you can comfort him.”