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The only person who seemed to come away with negligible cost was Jaenelle Saetien SaDiablo. Some change in her Jewel, yes. The same unnatural sleep as the other girls, yes. But she hadn’t suffered in the same way, and some of the Queens suspected the girl deserved far more than she’d received. So did the families of the girls who had been harmed.

Well, all that was about to change—and may the Darkness have mercy on Kaeleer.

Karla followed the Steward to a sitting room. Not the formal sitting room where Amdarh’s Queen attended to some of the business of her court and not the sitting room where family and close friends gathered. This was a room in between, and Karla suspected it had been chosen for Zoey’s sake.

The girl still looked ill, jumpy. Karla wasn’t surprised to find Zhara’s husband in the room. As Consort, he was the official witness. As husband and grandfather, he was a furious man barely controlling his anger.

Karla didn’t bother with the niceties. She simply called in a folded document and held it out to Zhara. “This is for you. By tomorrow, the rest of the District and Province Queens in Dhemlan will have received a copy.”

The document had no wax seal to hold it closed. Good paper, with a black border. Very little was printed on the paper. A list naming the girls who were, in one way or another, part of the coven of malice. Below the names were the words: To each was given what she gave. Each experienced the harm she caused. The debts have been paid in full.

Below the words, pressed into black wax, was a seal that hadn’t been seen in centuries. An unmistakable command—and warning.

Zhara dropped the document, sucked in a breath, and stared at Karla. “She’s . . . But . . . how? When?

“For centuries,” Karla replied. “Kaeleer needs Daemon Sadi, and she is the only one who could heal him and hold the leash. She found a way to be anchored to the Keep. But make no mistake, Zhara. She might stay at the Keep, but she has a very long reach, and when provoked, she is more . . . feral . . . than she used to be.”

Zhara looked stunned. Then she whispered, “Song in the Darkness. But more than that? For some?”

“For a few,” Karla agreed. She called in a velvet pouch and held it out to Zoey, who had been staring at the document. Mostly at the seal in the black wax. “These are for you.”

Zoey took the pouch, opened it, and poured six gold coins into her hand. “These look like Titian’s good-luck charm.”

“Marks of safe passage. Each of those represents a two-hour audience with the Queen. You may discuss anything you want with her, whether it’s about Craft or being a Queen or dealing with Warlord Princes or about the weight of scars. You should select a few dates for each audience, since the trip there and back, along with the audience, will take up a full day, and no one will be granted an audience when the High Lord is in residence. He requires solitary time with his Queen.”

“I would be traveling . . . ?” Zoey said the words as if she were feeling each careful step on shaky ground.

“To Ebon Askavi.” Karla saw excitement leap into the girl’s eyes.

“And I would have lessons with . . . ?”

“The Queen of Ebon Askavi. Witch.”

Watching Zoey stare at the coins, Karla felt the crackle of possibilities in the air. She turned her attention back to Zhara, whose face was wet with tears.

“I’ll bid you good night,” Karla said.

“I’ll walk you out.” Zhara called in a handkerchief and wiped her face. She waited until they were away from the sitting room. “The Lady doesn’t have to do this. Whatever she is now, it must be hard for her to deal with the living. Easier perhaps with the demon-dead who were old friends?”

“When did Jaenelle Angelline back away from anything because it was hard?”

“True. Still.” Zhara slowed her steps and gave her butler a tiny signal to retreat so that they would continue to speak privately.

Karla didn’t point out that psychic communication was possible with the demon-dead. Zhara knew that, but was cautious enough not to attempt it. This time.

“Zoey will appreciate the lessons,” Zhara said. “She still needs schooling and careful study of Craft and a number of other things in order to become a good Queen, but she’s afraid to go to another school. She believes Prince Sadi eliminated the current threat, but other girls might have managed to hide that same kind of malice and haven’t come to his attention yet.”

Hell’s fire, Jaenelle. You were right about this too.

“A traditional school, even a private school, isn’t the only place where a young Queen could receive an education,” Karla said casually. “It is possible for certain young witches and exceptional males to receive an exclusive education that would cover a broad range of subjects. You, meaning the Dhemlan Queens, would need to be careful about who you presented to receive this education, but if you kept the numbers to something reasonable for long-term guests in a private house, and if a Queen who had a girl in need of such an education were to present the idea, I think the patriarch of the house could be persuaded to accommodate you.”

“Is that how you did it?” Zhara asked, keeping her voice just as casual.

“Oh, Hell’s fire, no. We just piled in on Uncle Saetan and never gave him a chance to refuse. We were settled in with our trunks unpacked before he knew what hit him. That won’t work with Sadi, but I’m sure mentioning Zoey and Titian would undermine his resistance to the idea.”

“There would be a problem with Zoey being there.”

“The Lady knows that.” Karla stopped at the front door, her ice-blue eyes taking in the measure of this other Queen. “Did you really think the loss of some of her power was the only price Jaenelle Saetien would have to pay?”

“The Prince’s daughter won’t be the only one who has to pay.”

“No,” Karla said regretfully. “She won’t.”

FORTY-NINE

Daemon prowled the sitting room across from Witch’s suite at the Keep while his Queen and Karla stood side by side and watched him pace back and forth, back and forth.

“Not a school, as such,” he growled. “Zhara was quite specific about that, although I don’t see how what she’s proposing is different from a school.”

“What is Zhara asking you to do?” Witch asked.

“Provide a place where the young Queens and Black Widows who are most at risk of being targeted by another coven of malice would receive an exclusive education, and where young men whose potential indicates they need a firm hand on the leash would receive the education and training they need.”

“The Hall is a large place,” Witch ventured.

“The first number that was suggested was thirty-six girls and twenty-four boys.” Daemon knew damn well the Hall could accommodate the number. That wasn’t the point. “I told Zhara she was out of her mind, that I was not going to spend decades trying to herd sixty adolescents with the boys thinking with their cocks and the girls thinking with whatever you think with during those years. I was not going to do that.”

“He’s more excitable than Uncle Saetan was,” Karla said.

“Well, he is much younger,” Witch replied.