Breathing a sigh of relief, Daemon walked across the flagstones and stopped in front of his brother. “I’d like to speak to Daemonar, if you’ll give your consent.”
He recognized the wariness in Lucivar’s eyes. He’d seen it enough times before when Yaslana had brushed against the Sadist. It stung to see that look now, even if it was deserved.
“Not alone,” Lucivar finally said.
“Not alone,” he agreed.
Lucivar didn’t step out of the doorway to give him room to enter the eyrie. “I told him who, and what, you are. And some—enough—of the why.”
He nodded. Lucivar’s choice wasn’t unexpected, but the boy’s response? He had no way to gauge what Daemonar might think about him being the High Lord of Hell—or the Sadist.
Lucivar stepped back. “We’ll talk in my study.”
Daemon followed his brother. He could sense the presence of Marian and the children, but no one came out to greet him.
Once they were in the study, Daemon settled in one of the visitors’ chairs. Lucivar leaned against the front of the blackwood desk, leaving the other chair for Daemonar.
A minute later, the boy joined them.
“Your uncle would like to talk to you,” Lucivar said.
Daemonar nodded and took the other chair.
Daemon wondered what the boy was looking for in that careful study of his face.
Then Daemonar said, “You don’t feel strange anymore. At the Keep today, you felt strange. Not like you.”
“Not like you know me, but that is also who I am,” Daemon replied. “Your father has told you who, and what, I am.”
“Yes. But that’s not always who you are.”
“You’re wrong, boyo. It’s always who I am. It’s just not the part of me that is usually seen.”
The boy pressed his hands between his knees and seemed to be thinking hard. “Like Papa always being the Demon Prince now, but not always being the Demon Prince?”
“Like that, but . . . more.”
“So that’s why you stay with Auntie J. at the Keep? Not just for healing, but because you can be all that you are when you’re with her?”
“Yes.”
“And she isn’t scared of you when you’re all that you are because she can be even scarier?”
Daemon blinked, not sure how to answer that. “Well . . .”
“The scars on your arm. I didn’t understand until today that Auntie J. gave them to you.”
“Yes, well . . .”
Daemonar leaned forward. “How much stupid did you have to do to get her that mad at you?”
Lucivar coughed and looked away.
Daemon stared at the boy, speechless.
“It’s just . . . I get a whack upside the head sometimes for being stupid, but it would be good to know how much stupid I’d have to do to get her that mad at me.”
“Probably more than you would ever think to do,” Daemon finally said, not daring to look at Lucivar. “I argued when I should have listened and got her very riled.”
Daemonar nodded. “She gets That Look when you don’t listen. Mother has that look, too, but not like Auntie J.”
The boy was taking this better than he’d hoped, accepting so much that so many others couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
Daemonar didn’t say anything for almost too long. Then the boy called in a book and held it out. “It’s old and fragile, and I have to bring it back to the Keep’s library.”
Lucivar straightened. “You aren’t supposed to take the books that belong to the Keep.”
“Auntie J. told me to take it home.”
Daemon opened the book to the page marked with a ribbon.
“These are the scenarios,” Daemonar said, looking at both men. “The ‘if you saw this happen, or if someone did this to you, what would you do?’ exercises.”
“Yes,” Daemon replied. “We’ve talked about some of these.”
“I go to the Keep before my lessons in order to read that book.” Daemonar pointed to the book, in case everyone else couldn’t figure out which book was under discussion. “And maybe my being there for extra time today bothered you. But if I had a copy of the book to keep at home, then I could read it here. It’s a really good book, Uncle Daemon. And useful. And not just for me. Titian and Andulvar would learn from it too. And Jaenelle Saetien when she came to visit.”
“You gave this some thought, didn’t you, boyo?” Daemon murmured.
“Yes, sir.”
Daemon carefully closed the book and gave it back to Daemonar. “Let me ask around and see if there are other books like this that might already be available in another Territory. If not, we’ll see about getting copies of this one made.”
“Okay.”
“Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
Lucivar tipped his head toward the door. “Go on.”
Giving them a big smile, Daemonar left the study.
Daemon looked at Lucivar. Lucivar looked at him and said, “A Sceltie couldn’t have boxed you in better. What are you going to do if that kind of book of lessons isn’t available anymore?”
It probably wasn’t. Or if there were similar books out there, they didn’t have the exercises that Witch specifically wanted Daemonar to consider.
Daemon pushed out of the chair. “It looks like Marcus and Holt are going to investigate the availability of a publishing house that might be for sale or figure out what I’ll need to do to create a new one.”
“You feeling that guilty about this afternoon?”
“How is Titian getting on with the artist’s primer?”
“She’s excited about it, talks about what she’s learned.” Lucivar laughed. “I guess the boy isn’t the only one who has boxed you in. I doubt there is a publisher in Dhemlan who wouldn’t publish one book as a favor to the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. But publishing art primers and long-forgotten books that won’t make a profit?”
“Yeah.” Daemon smiled wryly. “One way or another, I’m going to include a publishing house in the family holdings. Something small and eclectic, so Marcus doesn’t shake his head and look mournful every quarter when we review the accounts or sigh too much if the endeavor doesn’t at least pay for itself.” He growled. “It’s not like I can’t afford to take a financial loss on one business when I’m adding it to the holdings to gain another kind of profit.”
“Well, you have my total support, Bastard.”
“But not your help.”
“Hell’s fire, no. Now, if you want to talk about establishing a shop for finely made weapons . . .”
“Take a piss in the wind, Prick.”
Lucivar laughed again, then rested a hand on Daemon’s shoulder. “You all right now? This afternoon . . . Hell’s fire, Daemon. The cold rage in you . . . I thought we were preparing for war.”
“We are. I am.” Daemon looked into Lucivar’s eyes. “I don’t remember what I saw in a tangled web. Once I felt calmer, I wasn’t permitted to go back into the sitting room and look again. But the Sadist’s response to what had been seen . . .”
“When?” Lucivar asked.
“I don’t know. But Daemonar will be part of it.”
“On which side of the line?”
“Hopefully ours.” Daemon rested his forehead against Lucivar’s. “I’m sorry I frightened him this afternoon, but I’m glad you told him about me. He needs to know. More than the other children, he needs to know. As a young male, he needs to be careful around me, especially when he’s at the Keep.”
“Nothing we can do until the storm is on the horizon.”
“Be vigilant.”
“Yeah. We can do that.” Lucivar eased back. “You staying at the Keep tonight?”