“One of the reasons.” The main reason. Princes didn’t have the aggression and volatile temper of a Warlord Prince, but Trace’s driving desire to manage things, combined with a Sceltie’s passion for herding, had had the instructors at the Sceltie school pleading with Daemon to find the youngster a place where all that energy could be put to use. And since the youngster had come away with an Opal Jewel after the Birthright Ceremony and had the potential to wear the Red when he matured, finding work for that Prince had been a priority.
It wasn’t his fault that Trace and Zoey had adored each other at first sight.
Surreal folded Zhara’s letter and vanished it. After filling her plate, she gave his unread letters a pointed look.
Probably best if he read them before they discussed anything.
Daemon picked up the letter from Lord Weston and broke the seal.
Prince Sadi,
I am sure that Lady Zhara will appreciate your gesture after she’s had a few more days to adjust to the new member of her household. Until then, may I suggest, man to man, that you absent yourself from the city to avoid a vigorous discussion with Amdarh’s Queen. You should also be aware that the teachers at Zoey’s school may want to have an equally vigorous chat with you. It seems Prince Trace has firm opinions about proper education, and he has named you as his source for the Right Thing to Do.
Zoey meeting Trace is the best thing that has happened to her in quite some time, and you have my wholehearted thanks for bringing this about.
Sincerely,
Weston
Postscript: Please burn this letter after you’ve read it.
Daemon folded the letter, then called in a stone bowl. Holding the letter over the bowl, he created a tongue of witchfire and watched the paper swiftly burn to ash.
“What . . . ?” Surreal asked.
Daemon merely smiled and opened the next letter.
Dear Prince Sadi,
Trace is so smart! When we went to school yesterday—Weston too—my teacher said students weren’t allowed to bring pets to school, and Trace told her he was an escort just like Weston, only he was a Sceltie and a Prince, and he would wait for me in the room set aside for escorts. Except then he decided he should be learning too, but my studies would be too hard for him right now. So he found the classroom for the younger students and sat in an empty chair in the front and participated in the reading lesson. And he did as well as the other students! He was also quick to snarl at a couple of boys who weren’t paying attention to the teacher. At least, that’s what Weston told me after school. The teacher had called him after Trace cornered the boys and put up a shield to keep them in the corner and told them bad sheep had to stay in the pen until they learned how to behave. I guess Weston had to negotiate with the teacher and Trace about how much time bad sheep had to stay penned.
I’m not sure if anything else happened because Weston didn’t tell me, but there was a loud burst of laughter from the escorts’ room a couple of times yesterday.
At recess, some of the girls came over to talk to me. They really wanted to meet Trace, but they were nice to me too.
I think Grandmother is a little miffed because Trace wanted to know what time I should wake up and go to bed and go outside and play. He said you had taught him how to read clocks, so he should know these things in case my human family forgets to tell me. I don’t think Grandmother or Grandfather—or Weston—will forget, but it’s so much fun to have a friend like Trace, and I don’t feel so alone now.
Thank you, Prince. I’ll take good care of Trace, and he’ll take good care of me.
Sincerely,
Zoey (Lady Zoela)
Daemon folded Zoey’s letter and vanished it. Then he quietly cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing else, I think I’ll return to the Hall.”
“You might not want to be that easy to find,” Surreal suggested.
“It’s one Sceltie.” He had good reason to know that it was, at best, a feeble defense.
“Uh-huh. I seem to remember you lobbing that argument at Lucivar after a few of Jillian and Khary’s adventures. And look what happened in Little Weeble.”
He would rather not think about that. Really rather not.
Lucivar would forgive him for that misstep. Someday. Besides, Lucivar had agreed to the arrangement, so it wasn’t all his fault.
Being the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan meant he couldn’t tuck tail and run. At least, he couldn’t be obvious about it.
“I’ll return to the Hall,” he said. “I don’t want to leave Jaenelle Saetien on her own for too long.”
“I’ll stay here for a couple more days and provide a sympathetic ear.”
“Thank you.”
She laughed. “The sympathetic ear is not for you, Sadi.”
“It’s one Sceltie.” He imagined that someone kicking the pebble that starts an avalanche said much the same thing.
EIGHT
Tersa wandered the streets of Halaway, shivering. With effort, she focused on some of the people going in and out of shops. Coats. The significance of coats was . . . Couldn’t remember. Didn’t matter.
“Tersa.”
Her boy glided toward her, smiling. But the look in his gold eyes? Concern. Yes.
Did he know? No, someone in the village must have told him she was wandering. Had someone asked her something? Had she answered in a way that had caused enough concern for them to summon him?
Couldn’t remember. Couldn’t hear past that sound.
“Darling, put this on. It’s chilly today, and you’re not dressed warmly enough.” Her boy helped her into a coat. His coat by the scent rising from the material, warmed by his body and by warming spells that he must have added for her sake.
No amount of outside warmth could stop this shivering. Tersa turned and grabbed fistfuls of her boy’s white silk shirt. “You must tell the Queen.”
His hands closed over hers. “Tell her what?”
“I still hear them. The footsteps are getting closer.”
When he tried to question her, she shook her head and allowed him to lead her back to her cottage. She had given the answer and had to trust that he would deliver it.
Delora linked arms with Hespera as the two girls walked along the perimeter of the lawn where the afternoon party was taking place. She had dressed in her best party frock, not to impress her hosts—they were minor aristos who had recently moved to this part of Dhemlan and embraced country life—and certainly not to impress the girl who was the reason for this celebration. No, she’d worn it to please her father so that he could boast that she was the brightest and prettiest girl in the Province. She could do no wrong when he believed other men envied him for having such a daughter, and she liked to keep it that way.
“What do you think of Dahlia?” Hespera asked, indicating the girl who was talking to one of the older boys while cuddling the kitten that had been one of her gifts.
“She’s . . . adequate,” Delora replied. “But she has a selfish streak that I don’t think will suit us for being friends.”
“Selfish?”
“I admired the fancy comb in her hair and asked if I could borrow it. She said no.”
“It is a gift she just received today,” Hespera pointed out.
“So?”
“Is the comb going to fall out and go missing?”