“Because things are about to change for him. He’s going to shoulder all the weight that Andulvar carried. I hope that won’t change things for him here in the valley. I hope it won’t change things for either of us here, because Ebon Rih is our home. But it’s going to change who he is to the rest of the people in Askavi—to the rest of Kaeleer.”
Surreal felt a shiver of alarm. “Marian? What are you talking about? What’s going to change? Is this more than Lucivar becoming the Warlord Prince of Askavi?”
“He told you?”
“He said enough that I heard what wasn’t said.”
“I had more time to get to know Andulvar and Saetan than you did,” Marian said. “I had more time to see why they needed each other. You wear the Gray, and there aren’t many who do, but there are some. There are some who know what it feels like to stand where you do in the abyss. But wearing the Ebon-gray and Black, Andulvar and Saetan were alone, vessels of power so dark and deep they had no one but each other. Just like Lucivar and Daemon.” She looked around. “Well. You have people waiting for you. We’ll get Morghann to the Hall when we find her.”
Nothing more to say right now and only one thing to do. Surreal hurried out of the eyrie and down to the landing web, where the Coach waited to take them home.
Daemon met Lucivar in one of the Keep’s parlors.
“Is that your first or second breakfast?” Daemon asked as he watched Lucivar shovel in a mouthful of oatmeal.
“I wasn’t expected, so I think this is part of yours.” Lucivar filled the spoon with another mound of oatmeal and held it out. “Open up.”
Taking the spoon, Daemon ate the oatmeal, then handed back the spoon. “Now I can say I ate my oatmeal and won’t get scolded. You can have the rest and I’ll have . . .” He lifted the covers off the serving dishes. “Steak, eggs, and mushrooms.”
“If Daemonar picks up that ‘one spoonful is sufficient’ piss-ass excuse from you, you and I will have words.”
“Don’t be silly, Prick. A growing boy needs his oatmeal.” Daemon filled his plate. “Besides, the last time Daemonar visited the Hall, I caught him sharing his bowl of oatmeal with Khary.” He waited a beat. “Sharing the bowl and sharing the spoon.”
Lucivar sighed. “His mother doesn’t need to know that.”
“Well, I’m not going to tell her. I wouldn’t take any bets on your boy, though.”
With a grunt that might have been suppressed laughter, Lucivar finished the oatmeal, then poured mugs of coffee for both of them.
“You sure about this?” Daemon asked. There were shadows in Lucivar’s gold eyes that hadn’t been there a few days ago.
“I’m sure it needs to be done.”
“Tonight?”
Lucivar nodded. “I brought the papers. They just need to be witnessed.”
“Then I guess we should take care of the other business today.”
“Yeah, I guess we should.”
Confined to the room in the communal eyrie, Dillon had plenty of time to think about the girls who had used him and the girls he, in turn, had used. He had plenty of time to consider the choices he’d made—and he wasn’t proud of most of them.
He should have stopped pursuing Jillian after Yaslana choked him for nothing more than a kiss and a feel—which he shouldn’t have done in the first place. At least, not in a public place, where the actions showed a lack of respect for the girl. He should have backed away from her once he realized she was too young despite being centuries old.
He should have stayed away from Blyte when she said, “If you loved me,” and then broke his heart and ruined his reputation.
He should have done—and not done—a lot of things.
They clearly disliked him for using the spell on Jillian, but the Eyriens had not been unkind. Whichever one was on guard escorted him to the showers in the morning and to the toilet a few times each day. They fed him, not that he had much of an appetite, and provided him with books to read as a way to pass the time. But no one would talk to him or tell him what was going to happen to him. He was confined and awaiting judgment.
As the days dragged on, he wondered if the waiting was part of the punishment.
The door opened. Dillon turned away from the window, expecting to finally face Yaslana. But it wasn’t Yaslana who walked into the room and closed the door; it was Daemon Sadi.
“Lord Dillon.”
Sadi’s deep voice curled around him. Tightened around him as the man glided across the room. Dillon took a step back, then another until his back was pressed against the wall and there was nowhere to go.
Sadi merely raised one eyebrow and waited a beat. “A decision has been made, Warlord,” the Prince said.
Dillon pushed away from the wall and approached the small table, which was nothing more than a token barrier between them.
“There is something I’d like to say first.”
“Go ahead.”
Dillon let out a shaky breath. “I’ve made bad choices. Other people’s actions may have spurred those choices, but I’m the one who made them. I’ve used some girls in order to get money from their families, and I let myself become just like the girls who had used me, and that’s my fault and my shame. This isn’t who I wanted to be.”
“You wanted to be an escort and serve in a Queen’s court. You wanted to be a husband someday and live an honorable life,” Sadi said quietly.
“Yes. That’s what I wanted.” Dillon huffed out a bitter laugh. “No chance of having any of that now, is there?”
“There is a chance.” Sadi called in sheets of paper and laid them on the table. “Here are the names of six District Queens—two in Dharo, two in Nharkhava, and two in Scelt. As a favor to Yaslana, and to me, these Queens are willing to give you a place in their courts—most likely as a Third Circle escort, since you haven’t completed your formal training. You’ll receive that training in any court listed there. You’ll find information about the courts and the Territories where they’re located. Think carefully about what you want before you choose.”
“I can serve in a court?” District Queens meant small territories, a handful of villages at the most, in Territories far away from Askavi—places Rihlander aristo families wouldn’t know. Places that, and people who, wouldn’t know his past except for the Queen, her Steward, and her Master of the Guard. A fresh start. A real second chance.
“The Queen you choose will send me a report every quarter. If I’m satisfied that you are behaving honorably and being diligent in your training, I will supply you with a stipend to help with your expenses. I also want something in return—that you repay whatever unkindness you visited on the girls here in Askavi by being kind to girls who might be overlooked, whether it’s as small as giving someone a compliment that brightens her day or asking a girl for a dance because you noticed no one else has asked her.”
“Why are you doing this? Why isn’t Prince Yaslana here to grind my bones into the floor?”
“You helped a woman and her daughter. I think that choice was a reflection of who you had been before you met Lady Blyte—and, maybe, who you still are.” Then Sadi smiled. “Besides, Jillian settled things between you to everyone’s satisfaction—except, perhaps, yours. As much as Yaslana dislikes you right now, your arrival in Ebon Rih made him aware of a problem that can’t be allowed to continue, so he left your fate with me. As to why I’m doing this?” The smile faded. “I know how much a life can change when a man is given a second chance.”
Sadi walked to the door and stopped. “You’ll be escorted back to your cousin’s house in Riada. When you decide which Queen you would like to serve, inform Lord Rothvar. He’ll arrange for a Coach and driver to take you there.”