“What needs to be sorted out?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But Uncle Daemon said if any of the girls who were fluttering around me wanted more than first-stage romancing, he wanted to know—especially if any of them indicated that I could somehow be persuaded to break the rules. And he said if I overstepped the lines that were drawn, he’d have my skin—and he meant that. So I figure something is going on. The Halaway Queen’s court is . . . watchful . . . in a sharp kind of way.” He rolled his shoulders, as if shaking off a weight. “Anyway, come see the puppies.”
“I will.” She hesitated. She didn’t want to put his back up, but she really wanted to know. “Mikal? Do you ever want more than just living in Halaway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. So many skilled people live in this village or have a connection to the Hall, I could study a dozen different kinds of work right here. And I’ve been thinking of doing a kind of apprenticeship rotation, working with someone for a season to see if I fit the work.”
“You’re aristo. You don’t have to work.”
Mikal smiled. “Everyone has to work in one way or another, Jaenelle Saetien. An idle life gives nothing to anyone. And even if it doesn’t appear that they’re doing much, a Queen works the hardest of anyone in a village because the health of the village is in her hands.”
Krellis, Dhuran, and Clayton would sneer at such talk. Aristo families provided the means for others to have work and food and that was more than enough—and anyone who wasn’t grateful for that should be taught how to be grateful.
She couldn’t think of a single person in her family who would agree with that.
Manny’s and Tersa’s cottages were next to each other, so Jaenelle Saetien parted with Mikal at Manny’s front walk. The old woman invited her in with smiles and a hug.
“Quiet days after the big Winsol celebration,” Manny said. “The cold box is full of food, and the pantry shelves are bending under the weight of all the treats I prepared or was given, so there’s nothing for me to cook. I’ve got my feet up this afternoon, and I’m reading a book the boys would be embarrassed to see me reading—especially since I’m old enough that I can point to something in the story and ask them flat out if they do that with their wives.” She laughed. “Last time I did that, Lucivar blushed.”
So tempting to ask for the title of that book, but there were other answers she wanted today. “Could we talk in the kitchen?”
Manny’s good humor remained, but it was tempered by concern. “Sure we can. Do you want some tea?”
“Thanks.” Because she knew it would make things less grim, she added, “And maybe I could help reduce the weight on one of those groaning pantry shelves?”
Manny put the kettle on for the tea, then handed Jaenelle Saetien a plate and sent her into the pantry to select some treats. They worked without small talk. Jaenelle Saetien hadn’t come for small talk.
“What’s on your mind?” Manny asked when the tea had been poured and they’d each selected a couple of treats.
“Did you know my . . .” She choked, unable to say the word. “Did you know Surreal was a whore?”
Manny nodded. “I wasn’t comfortable with how she made her living, wasn’t always comfortable being around her when we were in Terreille. But she was a good friend to Daemon, and when he was lost in the Twisted Kingdom and finding his way back, she found a place where he would be safe and hidden from everyone who was hunting for him. She asked me to go with her to help look after him, and I did. He and I stayed hidden, and she went out and did what she had to do to keep us safe until he finally walked out of the Twisted Kingdom.”
Shocked, Jaenelle Saetien bobbled the tea cup. She set it on the saucer. “My father had been insane?” Was that different from whatever had made him ill when she was young? Was it different from the funny turns he still experienced?
“He was for a while. Unlike Tersa, he was able to cross the border and come all the way out. He had a reason to come out.”
“When he was my age . . .” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to know.
“He suffered.” Manny breathed in, an angry sound. “That evil woman put a Ring of Obedience on him and started training him to be her whore within hours of him making the Birthright Ceremony and her arranging for his father to be denied paternity.”
“What woman?” She grabbed the old woman’s hand. “Manny? What woman?”
“The High Priestess of Hayll. Dorothea.” Manny seemed to struggle to breathe. “Just saying that name makes me want to spit. A foul woman. She used him and abused him and raped him and tortured him until he became old enough and strong enough—and lethal enough—to be a danger to her and her coven. Then she sold him to Queens and aristo witches who curried favor with her, trying to break him down. But he didn’t break the way she wanted. He became cold and cruel and deadly, and in the end, she had to keep him away from Hayll because she’d known that if he got close enough for long enough, he would have ripped her to pieces with his bare hands, regardless of what happened to him afterward.”
Dorothea.
Remembering the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes when he met Delora and called her by another name, Jaenelle Saetien shivered.
Manny sighed. “That bitch hurt him so much, he didn’t remember that Tersa was his mother, but once they met again, he loved her and looked after her. He didn’t remember his father, but he was too much his father’s son for Dorothea to be able to control him or shape him into a weapon she could use. Daemon was never truly happy after he was taken from his father. Not until he met Jaenelle Angelline. She saved the best that was in him—and she loved the side of him that everyone else feared. Without her, he would have become death on the killing fields. Death . . . and nothing more. Lucivar too.” She sat back. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Too much pain.”
“I’m sorry I brought up bad memories.”
“There wasn’t much else in Terreille. Not for those boys, or for Surreal either. Not for any of them.” Manny blew out a breath. “Enough of looking back.”
She nodded. She’d heard more than enough. For now, anyway. “Mikal says there are puppies next door.”
“That there are.” Manny pushed to her feet. “Let me wrap up those treats. You can take them next door.”
Figuring the puppies would be in the kitchen area, she went out the back door of Manny’s cottage, entered through the back door of Tersa’s, and turned toward the basket and the puppy who looked into her eyes, then struggled to get away from Mikal and reach her.
Love at first sight. For him. For her.
She almost dropped the plate in her haste to set it on the table before rushing to the basket, sinking to her knees, and cradling the pup in her arms.
“Oh, you adorable boy!” she cooed. “Aren’t you a lovely boy?”
The adorable, lovely boy was beyond excited to see her. She put him down on the diaper Mikal dropped in front of her, but she had to hold on to him until he piddled to keep him from wetting her lap.
“That’s Shelby,” Mikal said. “He’s a direct descendant of Ladvarian. Breen comes from Morghann’s line.”
A Warlord. A strong-willed one. He was too young for her to get a sense of his power, but may the Darkness have mercy on anyone trying to deal with him if that strong will was combined with a darker Jewel.
Mikal had his hands full with the little female, who was focused on something in the front of the cottage and cried in a way to break a person’s heart.
“Breen,” Mikal soothed. “Hush now, Breen. Daemon isn’t here.”
“Yes, he is.” Daemon stepped into the kitchen behind Tersa, shrugged out of the short winter coat, and sank to his knees beside the basket. He picked up the puppy and cradled her against his chest, a brown-and-white ball of fur against the bright red sweater.