He waited until the midday meal. Surreal and Rainier had . . . fled, to be accurate, leaving him to ask what seemed a simple question.
“Do you know Lady Kermilla?” he asked as he cut into his beef.
“Why do you ask?”
Her voice—that midnight, sepulchral, lightning-filled voice—ripped icy claws down his spine.
And not just his spine, Daemon thought as he put down his knife and fork. There were ice crystals on his food, and the water in the glass was frozen solid. And when he looked up, the sapphire eyes staring at him were filled with cold rage.
Mother Night.
“I asked a simple question, Lady,” he said, keeping his own voice quiet and respectful.
“She is someone who will never be a guest in this house if you want me to continue living here,” Witch replied.
Had Surreal guessed this would be Jaenelle’s reaction? A little more warning would have been appreciated.
“Hell’s fire, Jaenelle, who is she?”
“She’s the Queen who took Cassie’s court.”
“Then . . .” Oh, shit.
“Why are you asking about Kermilla, Prince?”
The look in her eyes and the lethal purr in her voice made him put a double Black shield around himself before he said, “She’s in Dena Nehele, staying at the Grayhaven estate.”
Daemon removed his shoes and socks. He checked one foot, then the other. He didn’t respond to the knock on his study door, but the door opened anyway. Jaenelle walked in, carrying a large tray.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding contrite.
“Counting my toes.”
A pause. “They’re all there, aren’t they?”
“Yes.” Thank the Darkness.
She set the tray down on the low table in front of the sofa, then sat close to him. But not next to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually lose my temper like that.”
No, she didn’t. Her response was so fast and so fierce . . . Well, even a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince can have the shit scared out of him—especially when one moment he was sitting at a large blackwood dining table and the next he was surrounded by a table, chairs, dishes, silverware, glasses, and food that had all been reduced to a pile of uniform pieces no bigger than grains of rice.
It wasn’t the table exploding that upset him. It was the uniformity of the debris that was proof of the depth of her rage. And that rage, and whatever blend of power she had been channeling through Twilight’s Dawn at that moment, had been strong enough to crack his outermost Black shield.
That was something he needed to talk to Lucivar about. Soon.
“You were wrapped in a double Black shield,” Jaenelle said. “I didn’t think you would get hurt.”
“That’s not the point.” Now that he’d gotten over the shock of it, her slash of temper was starting to piss him off. But he leashed that because there had to be a reason for this. Jaenelle didn’t explode like that as some kind of twisted entertainment. And the strength of her reaction got him thinking.
He rubbed his forehead to ease the headache building behind his eyes, then shifted and turned so he was close to her.
“Queens lose men or courts to rivals all the time. And even though Cassidy is a friend and losing her court did leave her bruised, that doesn’t equal your rage. If Cassidy doesn’t have enough spine to tell Kermilla to take a piss in the wind, then she’d better acquire some. From everything Surreal and Rainier told me, her court is becoming a solid team committed to their Queen.”
“All of them?” Jaenelle asked softly.
“Except Theran Grayhaven.” He brushed fingertips over her shoulder. “Jaenelle, what aren’t you telling me?”
Those sapphire eyes studied him. “There is nothing you can do about this. Neither of us have any right to interfere in this. Is that understood?”
Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe.”
“I spun a tangled web after Cassidy discovered the treasure in the Grayhaven attics. I wasn’t going to share what I saw with anyone, but I owe you that as an explanation for how I reacted.”
Sweet Darkness. A tangled web. Dreams and visions.
“All right.”
“Dena Nehele is going to fall.”
He closed his eyes. Why now, when they had survived everything Dorothea SaDiablo had done to them? “Because Kermilla went there?”
“More because Kermilla is still there.”
“I can bury the bitch,” he said too softly, opening his eyes to stare into hers. “I’ll go to Terreille, no matter the price, and bury the bitch if that’s what you want. Or I’ll let Surreal go. She’d be willing.”
“No.” Her fingers brushed through his hair, soothing. “It’s up to them now. Their decisions. Their choices. Sorrow and joy, Daemon. There is sorrow and joy in what I saw.”
How can there be joy? But he trusted her, and if she said there could be joy in Dena Nehele’s fall, he would believe her.
“So there is nothing we can do for them,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.
“We can’t interfere with another Queen’s Territory. That would violate Blood law and our code of honor. But that doesn’t mean there is nothing we can do. In fact, I’ve already helped make arrangements for a couple of things.”
“How is that different from interfering?”
“In the first instance, I gave only the help requested by someone living in Dena Nehele. In the second, I’m simply making available something I think Cassie and her court will find useful. What they do with the material is up to them.”
“That sounds intriguing.” He looked at the food on the tray. “Why don’t we eat the soup while it’s hot, and you can tell me all about it?”
CHAPTER 14
“Prince Theran,” Dryden said. “There are some Ladies here to see the Queen.”
Theran tried to relax his jaw. He’d spent the morning gritting his teeth as he waded through all the crap the Steward should be doing. He was going to have to hire someone to deal with the paperwork—and complaints—until he could get a new court established. Of course, hiring someone meant paying wages, and he still had to figure out how much income he would get from the tithe and what part of that was already committed to paying the guards who protected the town and its citizens. Now that Cassidy was no longer in residence, he also had to figure out if the servants could be paid out of the tithe or if he’d have to pay their wages out of the Grayhaven inheritance.
“What Ladies?” he growled. “Why are they here to see Kermilla?”
“They are Queens. They do not wish to offer their names or where they live, and as a courtesy to them, I did not press for that information. They said they received a letter from Lady Cassidy about some Craft the Queens can do to help increase the harvest. She offered to teach them.”
Hell’s fire. “Well, tell them . . .”
An opportunity. A chance for the other Queens to meet Kermilla—and a chance for Kermilla to show the Queens and, through them, the Warlord Princes that she had as much, if not more, to offer the people of Dena Nehele as Cassidy.
“Tell them Lady Kermilla and I will join them shortly.” Theran pushed away from the desk and the nagging paperwork.
He found Kermilla in the parlor, playing cards with Jhorma and two of the escorts.
“Oh, la. You must be cheating, Jhorma,” Kermilla said, throwing down her cards.
“I’m not cheating,” Jhorma replied with tight courtesy.
“You must be! I haven’t won anything in the last six hands!”
After playing cards with them a couple of times, Theran realized Jhorma cheated in order to ensure she did win a few hands. The man must not be in an accommodating mood today.