Silence.
Then Karla asked sweetly, “So how many are moving in with you?”
He glared at them as he glided past. They arranged their expressions to look dutifully sympathetic.
That look must have had his father bouncing off the ceilings. Assuming they used it on Saetan. And if they didn’t, why use it on him?
Damned annoying. All of it. Especially since he had the feeling that Zhara had received a little coaching on how to corner him and get an agreement.
Karla cocked her head and lifted a hand to one ear, as if to help her hear something. “How many?”
“Thirty-six in total,” Daemon grumbled. “Twenty-two girls and fourteen boys.” May the Darkness have mercy on him. “Plus the instructors I’ll have to hire, and the Scelties who have decided I need their help to herd the humans.”
“Which you do,” Karla said.
He paced. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. On his sixth pass, Witch said, “Have you discussed this with the staff? What did Beale say about this?”
Daemon stopped pacing and stared at her. “Oh, Beale is thrilled.” Damn traitor. “Apparently, the Hall is considered one of the premier places where youngsters can receive training in domestic service. If your references say you were trained at SaDiablo Hall or worked at the family’s town house to polish the training received elsewhere, you can find work in any aristo household in Dhemlan—or any other part of the Realm. Which is why Beale and Helene have not reduced the staff working at the Hall despite only having three family members in residence. Regrettably, Surreal and I don’t provide enough for them to do in terms of personal service, so actual experience has been a bit . . . thin.” That also explained why he’d seen new people working in the family wing every month. The youngsters were rotated in order to have something to do. “With thirty-six students plus instructors—”
“And Scelties,” Karla added.
“—there will be plenty for maids and footmen to do. And Mrs. Beale! She informed me that the main kitchen is too far from where the young people will be residing and an auxiliary kitchen will need to be put in at once to her specifications. She will, of course, continue to make the meals for the family and those invited to dine at our table—she phrased it that way—but the youngsters can make do with hearty but simpler meals that the Dharo Boy and some of her other cooks-in-training can prepare after submitting those dishes for her approval.”
“Who gets invited to your table?” Witch wondered.
“They’ve got that worked out.” Daemon began pacing again. “Surreal and I will enjoy private dinners a couple of evenings each week. The rest of the time we’re in residence, we’ll share the table with any instructors who choose to join us, and a couple of times each week, some of the youngsters will join us to practice their social skills. And occasionally all of them will have their feet under the table.”
Witch and Karla nodded. “That sounds reasonable,” Witch said.
Daemon snorted. “Mikal has decided he’s going to work for me in a revolving position. He’s going to be the Scelties’ teacher—reading, sums, Protocol, whatever it is he’s doing. He’s also going to be helping Holt with the secretarial work, specifically working with Beale on the engagement calendar to know who is dining where and when and accommodating actual guests. And he’s going to work with Marcus, learning the first level of the business side of running estates or dealing with court finances, or husbanding the kind of family wealth that could buy entire villages and not feel pinched.” Even though there was a firm of financial advisors who oversaw the day-to-day management of the finances that involved Dhemlan, Marcus, as his personal man of business, was thrilled to have additional help from a young member of the SaDiablo family. “I haven’t been informed yet what salary I’m going to pay Mikal for the privilege of having him underfoot.”
“Mikal’s been underfoot for decades,” Karla said, looking at Witch.
“Yes, but Daemon is finally noticing that, so it feels new.”
Daemon made a rude sound.
The two Queens resumed their expressions of dutiful sympathy.
“Don’t bother,” he grumbled.
This wasn’t what he’d planned to talk about, but he’d been ambushed by Zhara first thing that morning with her request that he use part of the Hall to provide a protected place for a few adolescent Queens and other young Blood to receive a full and proper education. She’d been politely ruthless about mentioning, more than once, how Zoey kept asking to return to the Hall because it was a safe place.
He didn’t know who had let the idea slip, but by the time he sat down for the midday meal, Beale, Helene, and Mrs. Beale had everything planned for how this would work. Mikal’s plan was independent of this schooling idea, but the boy had pointed out that he could explore several kinds of work and still be able to live with Tersa and the journeymaid Sceltie Black Widow, who had strong opinions, even for a Sceltie, and was devoted to looking after Tersa.
Since Surreal had agreed to rent her house in Halaway to the Hourglass as a residence for the Black Widows who were adjusting to daily life after being lost in dreams and visions for so long, and since Zoey’s mother was one of the residents, having the girl living at the Hall and the mother living in the adjoining village would be a good way for them to connect again after so many years.
“We have a present for you,” Witch said.
Karla called in a small packing box secured with red ribbon that ended with an elaborate Craft-shaped bow. She held it out.
He took the box and touched the bow to remove it.
The damn bow leaped like a crazed little animal, hit the carpet, and hopped across the room before it was stopped by the door.
“Hmm,” Karla said.
Witch nodded. “That spell needs some adjusting.”
Daemon opened the box and removed one of the two objects. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at the women.
“Stout locks,” Witch said brightly.
“For your study door,” Karla added. “Uncle Saetan had stout locks.”
“Did they work?” Daemon asked. He didn’t remember ever seeing multiple locks on the study door.
“When we remembered to pay attention to them,” Witch said.
“Which wasn’t often.” Karla looked at Witch. “I think he stopped using them the third time you missed the signal that the locks were engaged and turned the study door into sawdust by channeling enough power from your Black Jewels to pass through the wood and all the shields.”
Witch gave Daemon an unsure but game smile. “But the locks should work for you.”
“I’m delighted,” he said dryly.
He put the lock back in the box and vanished the present. He ignored the red bow that had resumed its hopping and looked like a puppy desperate to go outside.
“I’m going to my room to rest for a while.” His eyes met his Queen’s. “We need to talk later.”
Her amusement faded. “Whenever you wish.”
He returned to the Consort’s suite and set the box on the desk. After removing his black jacket, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
She probably thought he wanted to talk about Jaenelle Saetien. He didn’t. He wanted to talk about Witch—and what he’d finally understood was possible for their future.
Standing beside Jillian, Lucivar studied the house and felt a weird little twinge in his chest when he accepted that this child really wasn’t coming home in the foreseeable future—if ever.
“So you’re looking to purchase this house?”
“Yes,” Jillian said. “I’ve been talking to Lady Surreal about working at her sanctuary for broken girls. Since I’m close to the same age, Surreal thinks the girls would feel more comfortable talking to me about some things, and it would give me some wages while I work on my next book. And I wanted a place of my own,” she finished softly. “I’m ready for a place of my own.”