That was so sad. “But you have your grandfather.”
Zoey’s smile warmed. “Yes, I do. And my grandmother. And Weston.”
Jaenelle Saetien hesitated, but only for a moment. “And my papa. He’ll read your reports—and he’ll help you if you need help.”
The horses snorted.
“I think they’re bored with walking.” She gave Zoey a mischievous look. “We can—”
“Canter, not gallop,” Papa said, his deep voice rolling over the distance between them.
Zoey’s eyes widened. “How did he know?”
Jaenelle Saetien focused on the space between her horse’s ears. “The horses are kindred. I think Papa was telling them, not us.”
“Oh.” Zoey looked at the mare she was riding. “Kindred? I didn’t realize. How . . . ?”
That was as far as Zoey got before the horses lifted into a canter.
Daemon watched the two girls and resisted the temptation to ask the horses what they were discussing. If the mare and stallion he’d asked to be the girls’ mounts had decided the human chatter wasn’t interesting, he didn’t want to give them a reason to pay attention. Keeping anything private in a household with Scelties was a near impossibility, but the dogs eventually learned that they didn’t have to tell him everything that his daughter was doing or saying—just the things that might threaten her well-being in one way or another. Since he resisted crossing that line with the Scelties, he wasn’t going to smudge the line with the horses.
“So serious,” he murmured.
“Your invitation to ride this morning means a great deal to Lady Zoela,” Weston said. “She was excited enough to enlist her maid, her grandmother’s maid, and her grandmother into helping her select a riding outfit.” A beat of silence. “She even asked for my opinion.”
Daemon swallowed a laugh. “Hell’s fire, man. It’s just a ride in the park.”
“To Zoey, it’s more than that.”
After a quick psychic probe to assure himself that nothing was amiss around them, he gave his attention to the other man.
“You know about Lady Zhara’s family,” Weston said.
“Some things,” he replied. “I know her daughter is a Black Widow lost in a tangled web and, so far, even the most skilled Sisters of the Hourglass haven’t been able to bring her back.”
When he’d first heard about Zhara’s daughter, he’d considered if his being a natural Black Widow who wore the Black could help their family. In the end, he admitted he didn’t have the skill—and he couldn’t risk his own fragile sanity. He could weave a tangled web and see the dreams and visions, but he was always careful not to look too deeply into a vision—or step too far into the Twisted Kingdom. He’d climbed out of madness once with Witch’s help. And having a mother who always lived on the border of the Twisted Kingdom was a daily reminder of the price she’d chosen to pay in order to regain some of her Craft.
But times had changed. There were two skilled Black Widows residing at the Keep now. Their knowledge hadn’t been available to him when Zoey’s mother slipped into the visions. Maybe there was something he could do now.
At what price? Zoey’s mother wasn’t the only Black Widow to be trapped in a tangled web. If he convinced Karla and Witch to help one woman, how many more would want the same help?
Slippery choices. He was whole and sane because Witch had intervened to heal him when he needed her the most. She had come back for him. Not only for him, since she had maintained contact with Daemonar because she was the boy’s Queen, but she had returned enough to be a presence at the Keep for him, Daemonar, and Lucivar—and for Karla, who had informed them all that she wasn’t going to put up with dealing with so much wiggle-waggle unless she had someone sensible to talk to.
Since she was Lucivar’s administrative second-in-command, no one had dared to argue.
“Even girls from aristo families will fawn over a girl who is a Queen,” Weston said. “But when the girl’s mother is . . . lost . . . and her father is something of a scandal . . . Children can be cruel. Maybe that was a reflection of what they picked up from the adults around them, but the end result was the same. Zoey had become more and more isolated living at Lady Zhara’s country estate, even though there were a lot of things she enjoyed about country life. Bringing her here to live in Amdarh . . . I think Lady Zhara hoped to give Zoey a fresh start at a new school.”
Daemon hadn’t detected loneliness in the girl when he’d met her at the art supplies shop, but he’d been so much on edge, he’d responded to the Queen. Now he wondered how much her delight in assisting him had covered other feelings.
“Jaenelle Saetien faces similar challenges,” Daemon said. “A girl with an unusual Jewel who comes from the family that has ruled Dhemlan for thousands of years. Sometimes it’s hard for her to maintain her balance.”
“But there are a few who accept the girl for who she is.”
“A few.” Most of them were either family or had fur, but he didn’t tell Weston that part.
Then he had a thought. Zhara would try to skin him alive if he made that introduction, but the girl, as girl and Queen, might benefit from having a special friend.
Another quick check on the girls. Still so serious.
“Is this your assignment in Zhara’s court? To be Zoey’s primary guard?” he asked.
Weston nodded. “Zoey’s paternal grandfather and mine are cousins. I was already serving in Lady Zhara’s court when Zoey’s father decided to stay in his current lover’s bed instead of attending his daughter’s Birthright Ceremony. The day after the ceremony, I asked to be assigned to Zoey.”
“Family.” That explained some things about the casual give-and-take between girl and guard.
*We are bored.* That from the Warlord who was Jaenelle Saetien’s mount. *Our little humans are done talking about sad things and need to run to be happy.*
Daemon saw the look on his daughter’s face and let his voice roll through the park. “Canter, not gallop.”
The horses didn’t wait. They lifted into a canter as the girls’ delighted laughter floated back to the two men.
*We are not running. Why aren’t we running?* The stallion carrying Daemon had recently made the Offering to the Darkness and was now a Sapphire-Jeweled Warlord Prince. Not a male who was inclined to put up with nonsense from his rider—no matter who was on his back.
Besides, the girls were getting a bit too far ahead of their escorts.
“Shall we join the girls?” he said.
“Is that your way of telling me our mounts will be joining the girls whether we’re still on them or not?”
Daemon nodded a moment before both horses shot forward like they’d reached the starting line for a race. Once the men were riding alongside the girls, the horses slowed to a walk and headed back to the SaDiablo town house, where the riders were encouraged to dismount so that the horses could return to the stables and enjoy a snack.
Having never been encouraged to dismount in quite that way—having a horse use Craft to shove him out of the saddle when he didn’t move quickly enough on his own—Weston looked a little dazed as he stood on the sidewalk and watched the horses trot away. Zoey, on the other hand . . .
Even at the risk of raising Zhara’s ire, Daemon thought Zoey would benefit from some personal experience with the kindred.