“Oh, Hell’s fire.” Surreal raked her fingers through her hair, then caught the decorative comb before it fell to the ground. “How long can we stand out here taking the air?”
The study door opened. Jaenelle Saetien stormed out, spun around, and screamed, “You’re the meanest papa in the whole Realm! You ruined everything by making me do those stupid lessons! I never get to have fun!”
“This from the child who wasn’t killed flatter than dead for going over a waterfall on a raft,” Surreal murmured. She eyed the Hall’s butler. “I guess you heard about that.”
“We heard enough.”
Using a light psychic probe, Surreal followed her daughter’s vigorous journey to the family wing. The distance between the great hall and the family wing was such that she shouldn’t have been able to hear a door slam. But she did.
“I guess that’s one Craft lesson that took hold,” she said cheerfully as she stepped inside. “I’d better check on the other participant of this to-do.”
It unnerved her to walk into the study and see Daemon standing near his desk, a half-filled glass of brandy held in a hand that trembled.
“Sadi?” She kept her voice quiet—and she kept the study door open.
“I’m the meanest papa in the whole Realm.”
He sounded hurt. She wanted to smack him for that, so she walked up to him, took the brandy, and swallowed down half of it. “That’s today. Tomorrow it will be someone else’s turn.” She handed back the glass. “I take it the lessons went badly?”
“Oh, I think the lesson about being on time for lessons if one wants to go to a social activity made an impression,” he replied. “I’m sorry to leave you with this, but I have an appointment with a Province Queen that I need to keep, and I won’t be back in time for dinner.”
Odd time for Daemon to make an appointment, unless . . .
Ah. If he’d inconvenienced someone besides himself in order to accommodate Jaenelle Saetien, that explained some of his hurt over being called mean because she hadn’t lived up to her side of the agreement. “So what else have we learned from this?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned that there are days when I’m going to be wrong no matter what I do.”
“Hmm. In that case, I’ll postpone Jaenelle Saetien’s crossbow lessons a while longer.”
A huff of laughter before he said dryly, “Yes. Thank you for that.” He hesitated, then gave her a light kiss. “I’ll be back this evening.”
But you won’t ask to spend the night with me, she thought as he walked out of the study. After the fracas with Jaenelle Saetien, he wouldn’t feel easy about sleeping with her in case his temper took on too much of an edge.
At least she’d been able to quiet some of his emotional storm. Now she’d see what she could do to settle her daughter’s mood before the girl gave her father a reason to cancel the trip to Amdarh—and the ride in the park with Lady Zoela.
SIX
Surreal broke open a warm biscuit and added generous portions of butter and berry jam, as well as a dollop of fresh whipped cream, before taking a bite.
She didn’t know what had been said yesterday when Jaenelle Saetien had gone to Manny’s cottage, no doubt to complain about having the meanest papa in the Realm, but the girl had come home chastened to the point of apologizing to Daemon for saying mean things to him when it was her own fault that she hadn’t gone to the play with her friends. The apology had smoothed things over between man and girl, and the three of them had spent an enjoyable evening together after arriving in Amdarh.
Daemon finished his coffee, then pushed his chair away from the breakfast table. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’s a refreshing morning for a ride.”
Surreal gave him a sharp smile. “It rained last night, so refreshing means riding under drippy leaves. No, thank you. Besides, Zhara invited me to join her for coffee and pastries, served with a hefty side of information exchange and a dollop of gossip. That is my idea of refreshing.”
He laughed softly. “Well, aren’t you sassy?”
“I’m not the one who will spend the morning with two giggling girls.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Watch it, Sadi.”
Daemon walked around to her side of the table and gave her an affectionate kiss—a kiss that might have become warmer if Jaenelle Saetien hadn’t appeared in the doorway of the breakfast room and said, “Come on, Papa! We’re going to be late!”
“I guess someone has developed a new appreciation for being on time,” Surreal whispered.
“I guess someone has,” he whispered back. He gave her another quick kiss before he and Jaenelle Saetien left the town house.
Surreal poured herself another cup of coffee, then let it go cold.
How could she tell Daemon that she wanted to be his second-in-command and his occasional lover but not his wife?
Maybe she was putting too much emphasis on the word “wife.” Or the wrong emphasis. For a Warlord Prince, what was a wife, anyway? A buffer against the unwanted attention of other women. Oh, she could be other things as well, but a weapon that was always honed for war needed someone to keep bloody conflicts to a minimum. That buffer was usually a wife or a Queen—or both. Especially when the Warlord Prince wore a dark Jewel.
“Both,” she whispered. At the time of Witch’s return, she’d been so scared or angry, so desperately trying to survive the emotional storm caused by Daemon’s growing instability combined with his increased sexual heat, that she hadn’t appreciated what the Queen had meant about being a buffer between herself and Sadi. Hadn’t appreciated that her partnership with Sadi wasn’t her only partnership.
Leaving the breakfast room, she found Helton and requested a fresh pot of coffee, two mugs, and cream and sugar. An unusual request since she drank her coffee black, but Helton didn’t ask who might be joining her. She couldn’t have given him an answer even if he’d asked.
When he brought the tray to the morning room, where she took care of correspondence whenever she was in Amdarh, she thanked him and locked the door behind him—then put a Gray shield around the room.
She wasn’t sure how this worked, even though it had happened a few times. Wasn’t sure it would work with her being at the town house. But she fixed the two mugs of coffee, then held them and closed her eyes as she descended into the abyss to the level of the Gray.
*Lady. Sister. Can we talk?*
That moment of biting cold. When Surreal opened her eyes, she stood in the Misty Place.
A moment later, Witch appeared, wearing a sleeveless sapphire dress that reached midthigh. “Hello, Surreal.”
“Hello, sugar. It’s been a while.”
Witch smiled, but she looked puzzled. “You could come to the Keep if you want to talk. Most days, that would be safer.”
“No time to travel today.” And I want to do this before I lose my nerve. Surreal held out one mug. “I brought coffee.” She hesitated. “Can you drink coffee now?”
“No, but I appreciate the thought.” Witch took the mug. “What brings you here?”
“I don’t want to be a proper wife.”
“Well, thank the Darkness for that. I hope you smacked whoever said you needed to be.”
Surreal blinked. Then she tried again to explain something she wasn’t sure how to say. “Sadi needs a wife. We can agree on that.”
“Yes, he does, and yes, we can.”
“But I’m not suited to be a . . . a buffer. As a wife, Marian is a buffer between Lucivar and the rest of the Blood.”