“May the Darkness be merciful,” Lucivar muttered. Then he laughed, long and loud.
After escorting Dillon to Nurian’s eyrie, Rothvar remained in the kitchen while Jillian led Dillon to the sitting room. Khary abandoned the bone he’d been gnawing, faced the other Opal-Jeweled Warlord, and growled.
٭He’s a guest, Khary,٭ she said on a psychic thread. ٭No biting.٭
٭No touching,٭ Khary replied.
She couldn’t argue with that, but she thought it was better for everyone if she didn’t agree with the Sceltie, since Khary had a strict interpretation of “touching.”
“Would you like to sit down?” Jillian said, waving a hand at the furniture.
“No. Thank you.” Dillon tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I used that spell on you. I’m not sorry I used it on the other girls. They would have done the same to me without a second thought. But I’m sorry I used it on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked you. I wanted you to be impressed so that you would love me, at least for a little while, so I used that stupid spell instead of courting you properly.”
“Prince Yaslana wouldn’t have allowed a courtship,” Jillian said.
“Maybe not, but he might have allowed us to be friends.” Dillon sighed. “I wanted to stay in a place without feeling hunted. I wanted to repair my honor. I think I said things that hurt you, things that might have made you feel small so that I could feel important. I wasn’t like that before I met Blyte. You have no reason to believe me, but I wasn’t like that.”
She did believe him. Dillon looked . . . younger, less sophisticated. Maybe she was seeing him without any posturing for the first time. She wasn’t sure she would have seen him as a romantic figure, but she thought she could have been friends with this boy.
Jillian looked at the fading bruise on Dillon’s face. “I’m sorry I hit you.” She wasn’t in the least bit sorry, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.
He smiled. “Don’t be. I deserved it.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s all I came to say.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated. “Jillian? One more thing.”
“What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Just that Prince Yaslana is more of a father to you than my own father ever was to me. I think, in a way, I was a little bit jealous.”
Jillian remained in the sitting room for a while after Dillon left. Khary returned to the rug by her chair and gave his attention to the bone.
Mixed feelings and a bruised heart. Maybe that was what a first love was in the end. Maybe her memory of Dillon and that first love would fade over the years, but that other love—that fierce father’s love—would stay with her forever.
Karla walked into the Queen’s sitting room and waited.
“There’s no point in you pretending you don’t know I’m here. There’s no point in me pretending that I don’t know some part of you still exists here at the Keep. And there’s no point in either of us pretending that you can maintain the solitude that has kept loneliness at bay when it’s constantly being shattered by what the boyos need from you. Especially Sadi.”
٭So what is the point?٭
Words rising from deep in the abyss. Rising.
“The point is you asked me to stay if I could. I did, and here I am, helping Lucivar now that everyone in Askavi knows that he’s scary.”
٭He was always scary.٭
Rising. “Yes, but now they all know it, and it’s going to scare a few Queens pissless to realize his administrative second-in-command is a demon-dead Black Widow Queen who wears Gray Jewels.”
٭Which you’ll find entertaining.٭
That was beside the point. “I should receive compensation for this.”
Silence. Then a whisper of midnight in the voice rising out of the abyss. ٭Such as?٭
“Having someone sensible to talk to. Meaning someone who doesn’t have a wiggle-waggle.”
A different kind of silence. ٭Please tell me you didn’t use that term around Lucivar.٭
“Of course not,” Karla replied primly. “I said it to Sadi.”
Jaenelle’s silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the sitting room. And then she was there. Witch. Myth and dreams and the extraordinary friendship that had changed the lives of a generation of Queens.
Witch gave Karla a wickedly gleeful smile and said, “Kiss kiss.”
FORTY-FOUR
Surreal felt Black power roll softly through the Hall and knew Daemon had returned.
She’d had a few days without his presence clouding her mind and swamping her with lust for his body. She’d had a few days to think about everything that had happened between them.
She still loved him. She still wanted to be married to him, still wanted him to be her husband in every way. She figured the best way to show him that she was willing to do that was to treat him as if the past few months hadn’t happened.
She paced and waited and waited and paced, listening for any movement in his bedroom. Then she walked over to the section of the Hall that held the suite Saetan had occupied until he withdrew from the living Realms to make room for Daemon to take his place as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. But the only person she found in the suite was Helene. The housekeeper gave the sitting room one more critical look before nodding to Surreal.
“Is he staying here?” Surreal asked. No point pretending with the senior staff, since they’d probably know where Daemon was sleeping on any given night before she did.
“I don’t know,” Helene replied. “He handed off his trunk to Jazen so that the clothes could be sorted and cleaned, but I don’t think he’s gotten farther than his study since he returned.” She waited a moment before adding, “The bedroom adjoining yours is also clean and ready for his return. Is there anything special you would like me to add to that room?”
Was that Helene’s way of offering assistance in coaxing the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan to stay close to his wife?
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” Surreal said. “Thank you, Helene.”
“It’s my pleasure, Lady Surreal.”
Wanting to send the right message to the rest of the staff, Surreal moved briskly through the corridors of the Hall, heading for the rooms where visitors were met, which included Daemon’s study.
“Holt?” she called when she spotted Sadi’s secretary walking toward the door that led to the senior staff’s work area and his office.
Holt reversed direction, passing the open study door as he approached her. He offered Surreal an amused smile and tipped his head toward the door. “Important affairs to discuss.”
“Oh? Whose?” She nodded when Holt’s smile widened. “Of course. I should have known she’d pounce on him the moment he walked through the door.”
“Actually, I got to pounce first and point out the stacks of paperwork that Lord Marcus and I agreed most urgently required the Prince’s attention. The young Lady had to run down from the playroom in order to see him.”
“Since you’ve both had a chance at him, now it’s my turn.”
Holt bowed and, once again, headed for his office.
Surreal approached the study door. Since no one else was in the front hall at that moment, she wrapped herself in a sight shield. It wouldn’t prevent Daemon from knowing she was there, but she wanted a moment to see him with Jaenelle Saetien without the girl spotting her.
“I did them the way you asked,” Jaenelle Saetien said.