"Fine," Jaenelle snarled. "When do I get to pound him?"
Tersa tsked. "They're males. They're allowed to fuss and pet." Then she smiled and patted Jaenelle's cheek. "Warlord Princes especially need physical contact with their Queen."
"Oh," Jaenelle said sourly. "Well, that's just fine then."
Tersa stretched out on the couch.
"All right, grumpy little cat, you have a choice," Lucivar said.
"Not one of your choices," Jaenelle groaned, sagging against him.
"Does either of those choices include food and sleep?" Saetan asked.
"And a bath?" Jaenelle added, wrinkling her nose.
"One does," Lucivar said, releasing her.
"Then I don't want to know what the other one is." Jaenelle rubbed her back. "Your belt buckle bites."
"So do you."
Saetan rubbed his temples. "Enough, children."
Amazingly, they both stopped. Gold and sapphire eyes studied him for a moment before they left the room, arms about each other's waists.
"You did well, Saetan," Tersa said quietly.
Picking up a blanket draped over a chair, Saetan tucked it around Tersa and smoothed back her hair. "I had help," he replied, then laughed softly when she batted at his hand. "Males are allowed to fuss and pet, remember?"
"I'm not a Queen."
Saetan watched her until she fell asleep. "No, but you are a very gifted, very extraordinary Lady."
Telling himself he wasn't nervous, despite the pounding heart and sweaty palms, Saetan entered the large stone chamber that Draca had indicated was the place where the invited guests were to wait until they were summoned to the Dark Throne. Except for the blackwood pillars that contained the candle-lights and a few long tables against the walls that held assorted beverages, the room was bare of furniture.
Which was just as well since threading their way through seating designed for humans would have made the kindred more tense than they already were, and some species—like the small dragons from the Fyreborn Islands—needed a generous amount of space. Saetan noticed, with growing uneasiness, that all the kindred, not just the ones who had had little or no contact with people, weren't mingling with the human Blood, even though most of the humans present were friends—or had been before the slaughters. That they were in this closed, confined space at all said a great deal for their devotion to Jaenelle.
That was one worry. Ebon Rih was the Keep's Territory in Kaeleer—Jaenelle's Territory now. Ruling Ebon Rih wouldn't help the kindred or keep the human invaders out of their Territories. Traditionally, the Queen of Ebon Askavi had considerable influence in all the Realms, but would that influence and the innate caution within the Blood not to antagonize a mature dark power be enough? Would any of the fools in Kaeleer's Dark Council even recognize who they were challenging?
Another worry was who was going to make up Jaenelle's court. He'd always assumed that the coven and Jaenelle's male friends would form the First Circle. It wasn't unprecedented for Queens to serve in a stronger Queen's court since District Queens served Province Queens who, in their turn, served the Territory Queen. That was the web of power that kept a Territory united.
But Queens who ruled a Territory didn't serve in other courts. They were the final law of their land and yielded to no one.
In the past week, while Jaenelle rested after making the Offering, her coven, Queens all, had also made the Offering. And every one of them had been chosen as the new Queen of their respective Territories, the former Queens stepping aside and accepting positions in the newly formed courts.
The boys, too, had come to power. Chaosti was now the Warlord Prince of Dea al Mon and Gabrielle's Consort. Khardeen, Morghann's Consort, was the ruling Warlord of Maghre, his home village. After accepting Kalush's Consort ring, Aaron had become the Warlord Prince of Tajrana, the capital of Nharkhava. Sceron and Elan were the Warlord Princes of Centauran and Tigrelan, serving in the First Circles of Astar's and Grezande's courts. Jonah now served as First Escort for his sister, Zylona, and Morton served as First Escort for his cousin Karla.
As feminine voices drifted down the corridor behind him, Saetan headed for the table where Lucivar, Aaron, Khary, and Chaosti were gathered. Geoffrey and Andulvar nodded in greeting but didn't break away from their conversation with Mephis and Prothvar. Sceron, Elan, Morton, and Jonah were talking to a diminutive Warlord Prince Saetan hadn't seen before. Little Katrine's First Escort or Consort?
"The tailor did an excellent job," Saetan told Lucivar, accepting the glass of warmed yarbarah.
"Uh-huh." The reply sounded sour, but after a moment Lucivar shook his head and laughed. He put his hand over his heart. "I represent a challenge worthy of good Lord Aldric who, as he happily informed me while he was sticking pins everywhere, had never designed formal attire that had to accommodate wings."
"Well, now that he has your measurements—" Saetan began.
"Oh, no." Lucivar shook his head, wearing an expression Saetan recognized all too well from his own dealings with good Lord Aldric. " 'Each fabric has a character of its own, Prince Yaslana,'" Lucivar said, mimicking the tailor's mournful voice. " 'We must learn how each one will flow around these marvelous additions to your physique.' "
Khary, Aaron, and Chaosti coughed in unison.
"Maybe he just wants to stroke your wings," Karla said as she joined them. She slid her hand over Saetan's shoulder and leaned against his back, her sharp chin digging into his other shoulder. "They are impressive. Is it true that the length of your"—her ice-blue eyes flicked to Lucivar's groin—"is in direct proportion to your wings?"
Lucivar made a very crude sexual gesture.
"Touchy, isn't he? But not touchable? Ah, well. Kiss kiss."
"Stuff yourself, Karla," Lucivar said, baring his teeth in a smile.
Karla laughed. "It's so good to be back among the surly. A few days ago I said 'kiss kiss' and everyone tried to." She shuddered dramatically, then ruffled Saetan's hair, cheerfully ignoring the accompanying snarl. "You know what, Uncle Saetan?"
"What?" Saetan replied warily, sipping his yarbarah.
Karla's wicked smile bloomed. "Since you're the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and rule that Territory, and I'm the Queen of Glacia and rule that Territory, now whenever Dhemlan has to deal with Glacia, you get to deal with me."
Saetan choked.
"Appalling thought, isn't it, that you're going to have to deal with all the things you taught me."
"Mother Night," Saetan gasped as Karla plucked the glass out of his hand and thumped his back.
"What'd you do to Uncle Saetan?" Morghann asked, accepting a glass of wine from Khary.
"Just reminded him that we're now the Queens he has to deal with."
"How unfair, Karla," Kalush said, joining them. "You should have eased into it instead of springing it on him."
"How?" Karla frowned. "Besides, he knew it already. Didn't you?"
Saetan retrieved his glass and drained it to avoid answering. After all the hours he, Geoffrey, Andulvar, and Mephis had spent chewing over the implications of having this particular group of Queens coming into power at this time, none of them had thought of the obvious—that he was going to have to deal with them as Territory Queens.
A gong sounded throughout the Keep. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, after a pause, a fourth time.
Four times for the four sides of a Blood triangle, the fourth side being what was held within the other three. Like the three males—Steward, Master of the Guard, and Consort—who formed a strong, intimate triangle around a Queen.