“I’ll explain things to Lucivar,” Daemon said. “Now, Prince Stefan, I believe I have something else to discuss with Lady Jillian.”
Stefan bowed to Daemon, smiled at Jillian, and left the room.
“Are you concerned about Saetien wanting to go to Scelt?” Jillian asked.
“Yes, but we’re here to discuss your Virgin Night.”
“Why? Lady Surreal is making the arrangements.”
“I’m delighted to hear that. However, Lucivar and I will be at the town house in Amdarh that night. This is too important to him for Lucivar to keep his distance—just as it’s important to you to have it done safely.”
She should tell him now, before the arrangements went any further. Sadi wouldn’t bounce off the ceiling like Lucivar would. He would . . . quietly shred whoever had helped her do it without informing the High Lord and Demon Prince.
Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
“But . . . Lucivar will get so exercised while it’s happening that he’ll scare every man in the city into impotence.” She waited—and, when Sadi didn’t disagree with her, felt a weird vindication about her decision to withhold information.
Daemon looked uncomfortable. “Before he became Marian’s husband, Lucivar saw a witch through her Virgin Night. Would it help if you talked to her? Not about the sexual details, of course, but maybe it would help you understand why this is so important to him?”
Hearing Daemon Sadi stumble over any discussion about sex was like watching a mountain fall down. Hell’s fire, when she’d asked him to explain oral sex a few years ago, he hadn’t even blinked before calmly describing that particular act from both sides of the give-and-take. But he was stumbling now?
“Yes,” Jillian breathed. “That would help.” If nothing else, the woman wouldn’t be family and, maybe, could offer advice about how to explain her decision—because Daemon and Lucivar had to be told before she had this second Virgin Night.
“Then I’ll ask her to drop by your cottage one evening very soon.”
He abruptly changed the subject—another sign of nerves—and asked about the cottage and how she was settling in. After reassuring him that she wasn’t doing without anything she truly needed, he made his farewells, returned to the Coach, and caught the Winds, explaining that he had some business in Amdarh.
SIXTEEN
Surreal felt the presence of the Black as soon as the SaDiablo carriage approached the town house, but when she entered the residence, there was a noticeable absence of Sadi’s psychic scent and sexual heat. There was also a noticeable absence of Helton, the town house’s butler.
Shaking her head at the footman who wanted to take her lightweight coat, she walked into Sadi’s study—and stared at the empty room. Furniture, carpet, books—everything gone.
She rushed up the stairs and into his bedroom, not giving herself time to think about the dangers of being in his private space. The bed was stripped down to the mattress. No clothes in the wardrobe or dresser. No toiletries in the bathroom.
And yet she felt the Black.
She rushed back down the stairs, almost plowing into Helton.
“Where is Prince Sadi?” she asked.
Helton looked uncomfortable and yet relieved. “The Prince is on the other side of the town house.”
She didn’t wait for further explanation. Out the front door on this side of the town house, in through the front door on the other side. She charged into the study, because where else would he be?
“Sadi, what in the name of Hell is going on?”
Daemon turned away from the bookshelves and smiled at her. “Ah.”
“Ah? Try again.”
He took a few steps toward her, then leaned against the front of the blackwood desk. His blackwood desk.
“You hadn’t found a residence of your own, and the town house in Amdarh has always been more your home than mine, so I moved my things over to this side, giving you the other side as your residence here in the city. Lucivar doesn’t care about me using this side when I’m in Amdarh, and since both sides share the staff and they can retreat to your side, my heat won’t be as difficult for everyone to endure.” He smiled dryly. “Besides, if you purchased a town house of your own, Helton would give his notice and go with you, and butlers of his caliber are hard to find.”
It made her heart ache a little that he would do this for her so that she didn’t have to give up a place that felt like home.
Surreal nodded. “Makes sense, and I appreciate not having to fight with you over who gets to keep Helton. But tell me, sugar. What happens when your wife would like her husband’s company? Are you going to walk out of your town house and knock on the door of mine? Or use one of the connecting doors in the staff’s part of the building to sneak up to my bedroom?”
“I could always go out to the back garden and climb over the wall.”
Surreal hooted. “Yes, that would be subtle.”
Daemon gave her a wicked smile. “It would certainly give our neighbors something to talk about. Should I give it a try?”
SEVENTEEN
“Hell’s fire,” Daemonar grumbled to the other Warlord Princes as they headed away from the square that housed four of the Queens and their covens. “If this is what Queens are usually like when there are more than two of them in the same place, I’m beginning to understand why my father used to toss females in the lake whenever they annoyed him.”
“He tossed . . . her?” Trent asked, sounding scandalized.
“He tossed anyone and everyone.” Maybe he should find out just how pissed off Uncle Daemon would be if he used Lucivar’s solution to dealing with spats involving Queens and the friends who made up their current covens. He wouldn’t have to drop any girls in the lake. He could just throw a big bucket of very cold water on them. Shrieking would replace quarreling, but he’d be okay with that.
“It wasn’t fair to gang up on Zoey during classes today,” Raeth said. “It wasn’t her fault that Alvita was sent home.”
“Yeah, that made no sense, since she didn’t have anything to do with it,” Daemonar agreed. He made a note of which girls were making spiteful remarks or displaying outright bitchiness toward Zoey or her friends. He didn’t think Weston and Beale were aware of the bitchiness, since the girls were careful not to cross that line when an adult was present. Then again, Beale was aware of a great many things at the Hall. Maybe not as many as Uncle Daemon, but very little got past the Hall’s Red-Jeweled butler. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Dinah. She’s a Queen, and she should have told her friend to stop doing things that were bound to cause trouble.”
“Maybe Dinah wanted to see how far one of them could go before being tossed out the door,” Trent said.
“Well, now they all know.”
“Daemonar!” Zoey called.
Daemonar stopped and took a breath before he turned to face Zoey and deal with her distress. The other four boys stepped aside, giving the young Queen a clear path to the darkest-Jeweled Warlord Prince.
Sometimes being the strongest and oldest sucked rotten eggs—a phrase he’d learned from the Dharo Boy and would never ever say in front of his mother. Or Mrs. Beale. He was beginning to appreciate why in a court there was always a room set aside for the males so they could have some peace and time away from daily female drama.
“Zoey,” Daemonar said.
A flicker of something approaching the Hall. Someone just arriving at the landing web and now walking up to the front door?