“Yes,” Holt said. “And more demanding because they’re living under the hand of a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who has seen the best—and the worst—of what Queens and their courts can do. Everyone who works at the Hall is part of the training because aristos aren’t the only people who will live in a Queen’s territory, and a Queen and those who serve in her First Circle need to learn how to interact with all her people.”
“Including the kindred,” Daemonar added.
Weston set his glass on the table. “I’ll check on Lady Zoela. I’m sure she has questions about what happened. Allis will have told her what she knows from a Sceltie’s point of view, and I’ll tell her what happened on the other side of the door.”
Holt turned his head, as if listening to something. Then he sighed. “Messenger bag coming in from one of the estates. I’d better go down and sort through what was sent, in case there is something that requires the High Lord’s attention before he leaves in the morning.”
Raine and Daemonar left the sitting room and went out to the open courtyard that made the square’s interior space.
“Not what you expected when my uncle offered you this job, is it?” Daemonar asked quietly.
“No,” Raine replied just as quietly. “But it occurs to me that this was Prince Rainier’s life. From the things my father and aunt told me about our family’s history, Rainier’s close family members were uncomfortable around him because he was a dark-Jeweled Warlord Prince. I think some of them felt guilty about that, but they couldn’t put aside their gut-level fear and he became this . . . blank. An empty chair at family gatherings. The name unspoken. And yet he knew, really knew, some of the most powerful Territory Queens who ruled in Kaeleer.”
“He more than knew those Queens, Raine. He was a friend. He became part of this family. You should talk to Holt. Rainier was Uncle Daemon’s secretary before Holt took on the job.” Daemonar looked up at the night sky. “Weston’s right. This is a training ground—and it’s very important to pay attention to the lessons that aren’t in the books as well as the lessons that are.”
Zoey and the other five girls listened to Weston’s report. Concise and factual—and very unsatisfying.
“Why did Liath attack that way?” When she was younger, she’d had a Sceltie Prince who had been her special friend, and now there was Allis, and she’d never thought a Sceltie would attack a human. She’d gotten only a glimpse of Alvita, but Arlene, who had sent one message on a psychic thread before Lady Nadene began the healing, said the damage to Alvita’s arm was very bad.
“Liath believed she was a threat to Allis and Breen,” Weston replied. “He dealt with the threat.”
“You wear Sapphire,” Titian said. “You could have stopped him.”
“Ladies, Warlord Princes are a law unto themselves, and Liath is a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince who has been trained to defend, to protect, and to fight. He could have torn out her throat. He could have hit her with a blast of Green power that would have exploded her chest and splattered her all over the corridor. He didn’t do that. But it’s my opinion that Liath’s attack spared Alvita from whatever the High Lord’s response would have been to her outrageous behavior.”
He’s angry, Zoey thought. At Alvita? Or at us for not understanding something about Liath’s response? “What happens now?”
“She crossed a line, Lady Zoela,” Weston replied. “Lady Nadene will do the healing tonight to repair the damage, and tomorrow Alvita will be taken home—and I doubt she will ever be welcome in this house again. And I think there will be several young men who will feel grateful for that decision.”
Zoey winced. She had noticed that all the boys who weren’t friends with Dinah and her coven avoided Alvita as much as possible without being scolded for being discourteous or flat-out rude. “Thank you for explaining things, Lord Weston. We’ll be staying in this evening.”
Jhett made a soothing brew, and Titian sent a request to the apprentice cooks who were tending the auxiliary kitchen. When they had steaming mugs in front of them, and plates of pastries, cheeses, crackers, and grapes to nibble on, Zoey ventured onto what felt like dangerous ground. She was friendly with the other four Queens in residence, but it did seem like the girls had separated into distinct groups while the boys mostly flowed in and around the groups, not displaying more loyalty to one Queen than to the others. Even Daemonar didn’t show a preference. Well, maybe he showed a little preference for her, but that was because she and Titian were close and he treated her like another sister instead of a Queen.
“Dinah is going to be upset about this,” Zoey said. “Alvita was one of her friends.”
“Do you think Dinah will be blamed?” Laureen asked. “Alvita did brag about flirting with some of the boys and didn’t care who overheard her, but flirting isn’t bad. It’s hard not to flirt a little when you like someone and would like him to pay some attention to you.”
“Flirting with words isn’t the same as lifting your skirt and showing off your ‘womanly parts’ to tease the boys,” Jhett said. “Especially when you’re years away from safely having your Virgin Night, and your taunting them could end with them being executed for trying something they’re forbidden to do.”
“Flirting with words also doesn’t break any of Uncle Daemon’s rules,” Titian pointed out. “We all signed an agreement with him that spelled out the rules of living at the Hall and the consequences of breaking them. Especially the rules about sex.”
Banishment being at the top of the list of possible consequences for breaking the rules.
Titian slipped her hand into Zoey’s and squeezed lightly. She looked worried about Zoey’s reaction to Liath’s actions.
“Warlord Princes are born to stand on killing fields,” Zoey said. “They are fighters. Predators. That is what they are. Even when they’re relaxed and friendly, that doesn’t change their nature.”
There were five Warlord Princes in residence. Seven if she counted Prince Sadi and Prince Liath. Predators. Killers. Her grandmother Zhara, who was the Queen of Amdarh, often said that Warlord Princes were dangerous assets in a court, and holding the leash on one of them required great skill—and great care.
Zoey had known Prince Sadi was dangerous. Everyone knew he was dangerous. But that hadn’t stopped Alvita from trying to sneak into his suite and . . . do what?
“Should I have done something? Said something about Alvita’s flirting?” Zoey whispered.
“Would she have listened to you?” Jhett asked. “She had been given two warnings already for inappropriate behavior. We all thought her actions were minor things, stupid things. But showing up at Prince Sadi’s door dressed like that would have earned her banishment even if she had done nothing else. For one thing, he’s married, and nobody who wants to stay alive propositions a married Warlord Prince. Hell’s fire, girls our age should know that.”
“You’re right. She shouldn’t have tried to get into his private suite—unless she’d done something else and was hoping to use her state of undress to convince him to ignore her other indiscretion,” Zoey said. Or intended to use being alone with him as a way to compromise his honor?
Titian shuddered. “If Alvita intended to claim he’d invited her to his suite and then accuse him of being inappropriate unless he did what she wanted, she wouldn’t be going home now. She’d be going to Hell—or to Ebon Askavi to answer to his Queen.”