She’d worn this outfit on the last day of school before they all went home for Winsol, and Delora had said it was a sleek look for a powerful woman. Now it was childish and only something a rube would wear?
She had a feeling she was being punished for failing to get Delora and Hespera invited to the party at the town house. But all those two had talked about since they’d returned to school was how many parties they had attended and how exhausting it was to be so much in demand, so it was just as well they hadn’t been invited to Fat Bat’s little party.
Zoey didn’t like Delora. Not at all.
Jaenelle Saetien might have put it down to jealousy because Zoey was a Queen who was barely noticed, while Delora had a way of dazzling students and instructors alike. But there was that word. Dorothea. It bothered her that her father had looked at one of her best friends and had been reminded of a witch who had tortured him. Had done more than torture him.
She’d been rushing to her last morning class, had intended to meet up with Zoey and Titian for a few minutes beforehand since they were the only girls at the school who could appreciate the excitement and craziness that came with dealing with a kindred Sceltie, especially during puppyhood. She’d received a terse note from Mikal telling her to stop pestering him. Shelby was fine. Breen was fine. They were all working hard on understanding the rules for “pee here, don’t pee there.” Unless she wanted to come home and help him clean up the accidents, there was nothing to say, and when there was, he’d tell her.
She’d written only five notes in the past few days, asking him for reports on Shelby’s progress. That could hardly be considered pestering.
“Trouble at home or trouble in love?” Hespera said, suddenly coming up along one side of her.
“Neither,” she replied, noticing how Delora now walked on her other side, with Leena, Amara, Borsala, and Tacita forming a little pack just behind them.
“You looked . . . anxious,” Delora said. “We were concerned.”
Friends cared about friends. Of course they were concerned. And yet she hadn’t told Delora about Shelby, hadn’t even mentioned the puppies, let alone acknowledged how much it mattered to her to have a Sceltie want to be her special friend.
She hadn’t said anything because she was afraid they would make fun of her for caring about something so rube—and because of that word: Dorothea.
“We wanted to warn you about him.” Delora made a subtle gesture to indicate one of the boys walking toward the classrooms.
She recognized him as one of the young Warlords who attended the morning workouts with Daemonar. “Warn me about Nelson? Why?”
“He’s a slut,” Hespera said. “And a mean one at that. Not only will he give anyone a ride, he tried to use some forceful persuasion on a couple of girls when they said they weren’t interested.”
A boy who was a slut and also leaned toward rape? Was that possible?
“Does Zoey know? He’s one of her friends.” Did Daemonar know? Probably not. He wouldn’t have anything to do with a slut. And definitely not a boy who danced on the line of being accused of rape.
“We thought you should know so you can be careful when you’re around him,” Delora said.
“Thanks.” Jaenelle Saetien gave Delora a strained smile. “There’s something I need to do. Do you want to meet up for lunch?”
“Of course.”
She hurried toward Zoey and Titian. She had to warn them that a boy they considered a friend might not be as honorable as they thought.
“You think she’ll spread the rumor?” Hespera asked as they continued walking to their next boring class.
“She’ll spread it. And being the daughter of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, her concern will carry more weight.”
“Serves Nelson right for refusing to go down on his knees to make you happy.”
Delora smiled. “Yes. It serves him right.”
THIRTY-ONE
Daemonar ignored the churning in his gut that had started when he’d come upon Jaenelle Saetien, Titian, and Zoey just in time to overhear Jaenelle Saetien sharing a rumor about Nelson and clearly intending to tell the other girls who were in Zoey and Titian’s group of friends. Promising himself that he’d release some of his anger by sending his uncle a blistering letter informing Prince Sadi of this serious hole in his cousin’s education, he had aimed enough of that anger at the girls to silence their nattering and get an I-will-hurt-you-if-you-break-this promise from each of them that nothing would be said to anyone else until that evening when they would all talk about what Jaenelle Saetien had heard.
They’d all been shocked by the depth of his anger, which made him a little less pissed off with Uncle Daemon since his anger now stretched to include his father and Lady Zhara for also being negligent. Then a nugget of common sense helped him consider that the difference in his age and the girls’ could account for his deeper level of understanding about the consequences of that particular rumor. Telling a lie about something had always brought out the sharp side of Lucivar’s temper—and Daemon’s, too, for that matter—but telling a lie about someone . . . The price for that kind of lie was always steep—and not a price Lucivar or Daemon would have required a daughter to witness. And when he was the girls’ age, Lucivar hadn’t allowed him to stand witness either. But just a few years ago, he’d been permitted to stand witness and had watched the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih use an Eyrien club to break a man to pieces for spreading lies that had resulted in another man killing his wife.
The execution had been brutal and merciless. Since there was no law against murder among the Blood, the man who had killed his wife received no official punishment, but less than a month later, he made arrangements for his children to visit his wife’s family and he disappeared. A few days after that, the High Lord informed the Demon Prince of a man, newly transformed to demon-dead, who had arrived in Hell searching for his wife, hoping that she, too, had made the transition and was somewhere in the Dark Realm.
So he knew, as the girls did not, that Jaenelle Saetien could be in serious trouble.
He wanted a place that was neutral ground, so Daemonar didn’t hesitate to pull rank on Prince Raine and get the instructor’s reluctant permission to use the room that served as Raine’s office and tutorial space. Lady Fharra wasn’t happy about Lord Weston and his men standing guard over Zoey even in the girls’ dormitory. She would have screamed the roof off the building if she’d known about Prince Chaosti and the fist of demon-dead Dea al Mon warriors who were guarding Zoey, Titian, and Jaenelle Saetien at night. And considering the subject they were here to discuss, it was better for a man of Daemonar’s age not to be seen in the girls’ dormitory.
Raine had insisted on being present, and Daemonar had agreed—mostly because he wanted the Dharo Prince to see firsthand that courts, and families, had a dangerous side usually only seen by those involved—or those who were killed.
Jaenelle Saetien, Zoey, and Titian had slipped out of their rooms, wrapped in sight shields to avoid detection. None of the girls was happy about seeing the men in the room, but Zoey looked more resigned than surprised to find Raine and Weston at this meeting. Judging by her squirming, Jaenelle Saetien hadn’t realized this would be more than a family discussion and that she would have to explain things to adults who had some authority.
Everyone in the room except him looked stunned—and frightened—when Chaosti walked in and put a Gray shield around the room and a Gray lock on the door.