by Anne Bishop
Lucivar turned back to him. "Do you understand how good I am with the Eyrien sticks?" he asked quietly.
"I've seen you."
"Jaenelle can put me in the dirt." Lucivar grinned when Daemon's jaw dropped. "Not often, I grant you, but she's done it."
Daemon thought about that little nugget of information while Lucivar talked with the Eyrien males. He thought hard. When Lucivar returned, giving him a questioning look, he stripped off his jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and growled, "Where are the damn boots?"
4 / Kaeleer
Pulling her shawl more tightly around her, Alexandra Angelline wrapped her arms around her waist as she stared out the streaked inn window that overlooked the service fairgrounds. The rain that had started falling an hour earlier was more of a drizzle that only managed to smear the dirt that covered everything rather than a downpour that would wash it away.
This is Kaeleer?she thought bleakly. This is the Shadow Realm that so many were so desperate to reach? Oh, it was probably unfair to judge an entire Realm by ground that had been scraped bare by the hundreds of people who had waited there, hoping to be chosen for a service contract. But she knew that, no matter what else she saw, this is what she would always picture whenever someone mentioned Kaeleer.
She felt someone approach, but didn't turn when her daughter, Leland, joined her at the window.
"Why would Wilhelmina have wanted to come to this place?" Leland murmured. "I'll be glad when we can leave here."
"You don't have to stay, Leland. Especially now that Vania and Nyselle have so graciously insisted on accompanying me."
"They didn't come with us out of loyalty," Leland said quietly but bitterly. "They just wanted a chance to see the Shadow Realm and knew they might not get in any other way."
Alexandra clenched her teeth while the truth of Leland's remark gnawed at her. Vania and Nyselle, the two Province Queens who grudgingly had accompanied her to Hayll, had become sickening in their solicitousness as soon as she announced she was going to Kaeleer to look for Wilhelmina. So they and their Consorts had come with her, along with Philip and Leland and a five-man escort. Four of the escorts had come with her from Chaillot. The other one, chosen by Dorothea SaDiablo, had been "borrowed" from one of Dorothea's pet Queens in another Territory. The man made her skin crawl, but Dorothea had assured her that he would be able to slip Wilhelmina away from her "captors" and deliver her to another loyal group of males already in position in Kaeleer.
It pains me to say it, Dorothea had said, but if you can free only one of your granddaughters from the High Lord's control, it must be Jaenelle. She is the danger to Terreille.
Alexandra didn't believe for a moment that Jaenelle was anything more than a stalking-horse being used to hide whoever—or whatever—was the real threat to Terreille. But, sweet Darkness, she hoped she wouldn't have to make a choice between Wilhelmina and Jaenelle—because she knew in her heart which child would be left behind.
"Besides," Leland added softly, "I need to stay. She was always such a strange child, but Jaenelle was ... is ... my daughter. To think she's been under that monster's control all this time..." Leland shuddered. "There's no telling what he's done to her."
And no way to tell what had been done to her in Briarwood. Had she really been mentally fragile or had that place made her so? No, she decided firmly. Jaenelle's stays at Briarwood might have weakened an already fragile stability, but the child's eccentricities had been the reason why she had decided to send the girl to Briarwood in the first place.
"What are we going to do?" Leland asked quietly.
Alexandra looked over her shoulder at the other people restlessly waiting for her decision. Philip, whose self-control had broken several times while he'd given her Lord Jorval's information, would go with her, not only because he had married Leland, but also because he genuinely cared for Wilhelmina and Jaenelle. Vania and Nyselle would go in order to see more of Kaeleer than this dirty piece of barren ground. The Consorts and escorts would follow the Queens out of duty. Would curiosity and duty be enough against something like the High Lord?
It didn't matter. She would take whatever help she could get.
As she turned back to the window, she said, "Prince Alexander, please arrange passage on a Coach as soon as possible. We're going to SaDiablo Hall."
5 / Kaeleer
Certain that he had more muscle aches than muscles, Daemon slowly made his way to the great hall where, Beale had informed him, the High Lord was waiting.
Never again. Never never never. He should have remembered what "I'll start you off easy" meant, should have remembered that other kinds of exercise didn't prepare the body for Eyrien weapons drills. Oh, if he wanted to be fair—and he had no intention of being fair in the foreseeable future—Lucivar had started him with the basic warmup drills. But even moving at the practice pace, when you had Lucivar as a working partner, you worked.
Then he opened a door at the far end of the great hall and forgot about his aching muscles when he saw Saetan brush the hair away from the face of an attractive Dhemlan witch. There was tenderness in that action, and affection as well. Wondering if he was reading things correctly, he moved forward as quietly as possible.
The witch noticed him first. Looking flustered, she took a long step back and watched him tensely. But it was the flash of anger he picked up from his father that made him wary.
Then Saetan turned, saw him, and relaxed for a moment before hurrying toward him.
"What happened to you?" Saetan demanded. "Are you hurt?"
"Lucivar happened to me," Daemon replied through gritted teeth.
"Why were you and Lucivar tangling?" Saetan asked in a deceptively neutral voice that had a strong undertone of parental disapproval.
"We weren't tangling, we were drilling. But I'm delighted that someone besides me has trouble understanding the distinction."
The witch turned away from them and started making funny noises. When she turned back, her gold eyes were bright with laughter. "I'm sorry," she said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Having been on the receiving end of Lucivar's instruction, I understand how you feel."
"Why were you doing weapons drills with Lucivar?" Saetan asked.
"Because I'm an idiot." Daemon raised his hand to brush the hair off his forehead. His arm froze halfway through the motion, stuck. He slowly lowered his arm, grateful it would go back down. "I really want to be there the next time Jaenelle puts him in the dirt."
"Who doesn't?" the witch murmured.
Saetan let out an exasperated sigh. "Sylvia, this is Daemon Sadi. Daemon, this is Lady Sylvia, the Queen of Halaway."
Sylvia's eyes widened. "This is the boy?"
Daemon bristled until Saetan gave him a sharp mental jab.
" 'Boy' is a relative term," Saetan said.
"I'm sure it is," Sylvia replied, trying to school her face into an appropriate expression.
Saetan just looked at her.
"Well," Sylvia said too brightly, "I'll just go say hello to the coven and let the two of you sort this out."
"Are you going to lend me that book?" Saetan asked, his lips curving in a knowing, malicious smile.
"What book is that, High Lord?" Sylvia asked, attempting to look innocent while blushing furiously.
"The one you won't admit to reading."
"Oh, I don't think it would interest you," Sylvia mumbled.
"Considering your reaction every time I've mentioned it, I think I would find it very interesting reading."
"You could buy your own copy."
"I would prefer to borrow yours."
Sylvia glared at him. "I'll lend it to you on the condition that you admit to the coven that you're reading it."
Saetan said nothing. A faint blush colored his cheeks.
Satisfied, Sylvia smiled warmly at Daemon. "Welcome to Kaeleer, Prince Sadi."
"Thank you, Lady," Daemon replied courteously. "Meeting you has been highly instructive."
Saetan
hissed. Sylvia didn't waste any time removing herself from their company.
As soon as she left, Saetan raked his fingers through his hair, then inspected the empty hand. "I understand perfectly why her father's hair fell out," he growled. "Mine just keeps getting grayer, for which, I suppose, I should be thankful."
"She's a friend?" Daemon asked blandly.
"Yes, she's a friend," Saetan snapped, putting too much emphasis on the last word. He gave Daemon a sour look. "Come on, puppy. You'd better sit down before you fall down."
Daemon obediently followed his father into the official study, amused by and intensely curious about the edgy, defensive tone in Saetan's voice.
By the time he'd gotten his rebelling muscles to yield enough to let him sit down, Andulvar Yaslana had joined him and Saetan.
"You didn't do too badly for a novice," Andulvar said.
"As soon as I can move again, I'm going to flatten his head," Daemon growled.
Saetan and Andulvar exchanged an amused look.
"Ah," Saetan said, "the centuries may pass, but the sentiment remains the same."
"You said much the same thing the first time you and Lucivar pounded on each other," Andulvar said.
Daemon studied the two men through narrowed eyes.
"The two of you were only a couple of years older than Daemonar," Saetan said. "You found a long pole that was the right diameter for a child's hand, cut it in half, and then Lucivar set out to show you the drills he'd been practicing."
"He's always had a natural talent for weapons," Andulvar said, "but at that age, he wasn't good at explaining the drills."
"So," Saetan said, "he got in a couple of good whacks, and you, by luck or temper, got in a couple of whacks yourself. At which point, the two of you tossed aside the sticks and started using your fists. Manny put an end to it by dumping a bucket of cold water over both of you."
Daemon had to make a conscious effort not to squirm. "Are you going to do this every time?" he growled at Saetan.
"Do what?" Saetan asked blandly.
"Trot out embarrassing stories from my childhood."
Saetan just smiled.
"Come on, puppy," Andulvar said. "You need a hot bath, a rubdown, and something to eat. The morning's still young, and you've got the rest of the day ahead of you."
Daemon's snarl turned into a yelp when Andulvar grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.
"One moment," Saetan said quietly.
Sensing the change in mood, Daemon turned to face Saetan squarely. "You sent for me."
Saetan studied Daemon for a minute. "I've received a request.Whether you want to honor it is totally your choice. If you decide you're not ready, or don't want to at all, I'll try to explain."
Daemon felt ice rush through his veins, but he resisted the urge to give in to the cold rage. He had a lot to learn about the give-and-take between males and females in Kaeleer. He shouldn't assume that a request made here meant the same thing as a request made in Terreille.
"What's the request?"
Saetan said gently, "Your mother would like to see you."
6 / Kaeleer
Sipping a cup of herbal tea, Karla wandered around the inner garden, hoping the sound of the fountain would soothe her. She looked up once, apprehensively, at the second floor windows on the south side of the courtyard. Was Sadi up there right now, watching her from behind the sheer curtains?
Hell's fire, I shouldn't have blurted out that he is a Black Widow. She'd realized that the moment she saw the cold fury in his eyes. But she'd been disturbed by the tangled web she'd woven a couple of days ago and so preoccupied with trying to understand the cryptic images she'd seen... Well, seeing Daemon Sadi certainly explained a lot of those images. She'd seen the High Lord looking into a mirror, but the reflection wasn't him. She'd seen truths protected by lies. She'd seen a Black-Jeweled Black Widow who became an enemy in order to remain a friend. And she'd seen death held back by a ring. Her death.
Troubled by her inability to interpret the vision of the High Lord, she had begun to wonder if she'd misread the tangled web somehow. Now there were no more doubts.
She drained the cup and sighed. There was one more thing she'd better get straightened out before Jaenelle returned—for all their sakes.
Daemon reached for the black jacket he had laid on his bed, then paused when he heard the tapping again, a little louder this time. Someone was outside the glass balcony door of his sitting room.
Leaving the jacket, he went into the sitting room, pulled aside the curtain, and stared at the spiky-haired witch standing on the balcony. His first impulse was to release the curtain and ignore her. He didn't want her physical presence or her psychic scent in his rooms. He didn't want anyone wondering why he was entertaining another woman before he'd had a chance to be formally accepted by the Queen.
He didn't give a damn that she was a Territory Queen. But the fact that she was in the First Circle of Jaenelle's court did matter.
Reluctantly, he opened the door and stepped back to let her enter.
"I have an appointment in a few minutes," he said coldly.
"I came to apologize," Karla said. "It won't take long. I'm not very good at them, so I tend to keep them short."
Daemon slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and waited.
Karla took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have announced your belonging to the Hourglass so publicly. The First Circle would have been told in any case, but I shouldn't have blurted it out like that. I was thinking about something else that had been puzzling me, and when I saw you..." She shrugged.
"How did you know? No one in Terreille realized what I am."
Her lips curved. "Well, I doubt any of them has spent the past ten years annoying Uncle Saetan. Those of us who have would notice the similarities in your psychic scents and reach the correct conclusion."
Daemon blinked. "Uncle Saetan?"
Her lips finished curving into that wicked smile. "He adopted Jaenelle, and the rest of us adopted him. We came to stay for a summer and never quite went home again. You can imagine how thrilled he was to discover he'd acquired ten adolescent witches instead of just one—and the boyos, too, of course."
"Of course," Daemon said, fighting not to smile. "Some surprise."
"Mmm. That first summer, when we all piled in on him, the coven became very adept at brewing soothing tonics. It was so distressing to hear him whimper."
Daemon choked on a laugh. Then his amusement faded. She was clever, this Queen with the ice-blue eyes and spiky white-blond hair. She must realize how much he wanted to hear stories of Jaenelle's youth.
Karla studied him. "If it would make you feel better, you can threaten to throttle me."
He was speechless for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"
"In this court, it's the acceptable way for a male to express annoyance with a witch."
"Threatening to throttle a woman is considered acceptable?" Daemon asked, sure that he had misunderstood something.
"As long as he says it calmly so you know he doesn't mean it."
A male who could remain calm in this place must have an amazing amount of self-control, Daemon thought. He rubbed his forehead and began to understand Lucivar's warning about having one of the coven explain things to him.
"Having Lucivar threaten you doesn't bother you?" Daemon asked. Since Lucivar usually sounded calm when he threatened someone, only a fool wouldn't take him seriously.
Karla twitched her shoulders. "Oh. Well. Lucivar. He rarely says anything if he's annoyed with you. He just picks you up and tosses you into the nearest body of water." She paused. "Although to be fair—"
"Who wants to be fair?" Daemon growled.
"Spent the morning with him, didn't you?" Karla said knowingly. "If it's a watering trough or a fountain, he dunks you rather than tosses you so that you don't get hurt. However, that's Lucivar. We strongly discourage other males from acquiring that particular habit."
"If you didn't,
you'd be wet most of the time," Daemon muttered.
Before Karla could respond to that comment, Morghann, the Queen of Scelt—the red-haired Queen he'd seen earlier that morning—and Gabrielle, the Queen of the Dea al Mon, gave the balcony door a token tap before walking in.
"The coven's rooms all face this inner garden, so it's quicker to use the balcony doors rather than walking all the way around inside," Morghann said at the same time Karla said, "Where's Surreal?"
Gabrielle hooked her silver-blond hair behind her pointed ears and grinned. "Chaosti claimed her on the pretense of giving her a tour of the Hall. She was still snarling about having to apologize to Graysfang for sounding like she meant it when she threatened to smack him."
"I was explaining some of the rules to Daemon," Karla said.
"I really do have an appointment," Daemon muttered, then said, "Come in,"—loudly—when someone knocked on the sitting room door.
Saetan walked in, took one look at the three women, and stopped.
"Kiss kiss," Karla said.
"We were going to explain the rules to Daemon," Morghann said.
"May the Darkness have mercy on Daemon," Saetan said dryly.
"I'll get my jacket," Daemon said, not about to ignore a chance to retreat. Pride kept him from bolting into his bedroom. Common sense made him linger far longer than necessary, so that when he finally walked back into his sitting room, Saetan was the only one waiting for him.
"Have they gone off to plague someone else?" Daemon asked sourly as they left his suite and started walking through the corridors.
Saetan chuckled. "For the moment."
Daemon hesitated. "Maybe you'd better explain those rules to me."
"I'll give you a book of court Protocol to review."
"No, I meant the rules that are peculiar to this court. Like—"
"I don't want to know," Saetan said quietly but firmly.
"You have to know. You're the Steward."
"Exactly. And if this court has some rules that I have been blissfully ignorant of for the five years that I've been the Steward, I do not want to know about them now."