“Why would Daemonar tell someone like that Warlord Prince?” It bothered her that he had turned this into something official.
“You were accusing Nelson of attempted rape,” Zoey said. “He had to report it to someone. I think he chose Prince Chaosti because the connection with Prince Sadi meant Chaosti had the authority to pass judgment but wasn’t your father or my grandmother.” She capped the flask and vanished it. “They’re going to want the names, Jaenelle Saetien.”
“I don’t have names!”
“Do you think that Warlord Prince already knew the rumors were false?” Titian asked.
“Maybe,” Zoey replied. “Probably. I didn’t see Nelson in class today after Daemonar . . . avalanched . . . on us, so I’m guessing Nelson was quietly removed to have a chat with someone who could command him to open his inner barriers so that he—or she—could look into Nelson’s mind and see everything he’s done.”
Jaenelle Saetien shivered. No thoughts or feelings that were private? Wasn’t that a kind of rape too? Or was it done because that invasion was part of the punishment?
“It’s something I’m going to have to learn how to do,” Zoey said quietly. “As a Queen, that will be one of my duties when required.”
“If someone is falsely accused, that person can ask to stand before a tribunal of Queens, or even the Territory Queen, and have her look into his mind to see the truth,” Titian said. “Before my parents were married, my father was accused of something bad and my mother said the witch accusing him was lying. My mother offered to open her mind to the Queen of Ebon Askavi and reveal the truth, but the witch who made the accusation wasn’t willing to do that and have everyone know she’d been lying since she would have been broken back to basic Craft. I think.” She made an apologetic face at Jaenelle Saetien. “I know you don’t like hearing stories about the Queen, even when the story isn’t really about her.”
“It’s hard to hear about someone who was beyond wonderful when everyone expects you to be like her.” Wasn’t that one of the things she liked about Delora? That the other girl hadn’t met the Queen and couldn’t make comparisons?
Zoey looked concerned. “Jaenelle Saetien, if my grandmother or your father wants to know who told you about Nelson, you have to tell them.”
She shook her head. “I’m not getting anyone else in trouble.”
“That’s the point. Someone is going to ask, and you’ll have to answer. My guess is Delora or Hespera told you about Nelson. They will be required to reveal who told them about the accusations, and that person will be asked, and the next person will be asked until the source is found. Someone will hunt for the original source because Daemonar stopped you from spreading the rumor and becoming the source that a lot of students could point to.”
“They were just trying to be a friend, trying to warn you,” Jaenelle Saetien insisted. “If they didn’t believe the rumors, why would they try to get Nelson in trouble?”
Zoey laid a hand on her arm. “Maybe Nelson wasn’t the person they were trying to get into trouble.”
THIRTY-TWO
It made no sense. The rumor should have run through the school like fire. But there wasn’t so much as a whisper. Jaenelle Saetien had tangled with Fat Bat’s brother and had been subdued all day yesterday—and looked cowed today.
Krellis had reported that Nelson hadn’t been in any of his classes yesterday afternoon and had returned to the dorm late in the evening, looking stunned and frightened—and had looked at all the boys with suspicion except for the handful who did morning workouts with the Eyrien. But even they didn’t know what had happened.
No one was talking, and that was not right.
Wondering if she was going to have to break her own rule of having her underlings come to her, Delora almost stepped out of the shadows where she habitually kept watch on the comings and goings on the green when she saw Jaenelle Saetien hurrying toward her.
“You seem out of sorts this morning,” Delora said. “Did something happen?”
“Yes.” Jaenelle Saetien sounded agitated. “I know you meant well. I truly believe you did. But the accusations that were made against Nelson were false, and you shouldn’t repeat them to anyone else or you’ll get into trouble.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“You will. An official inquiry was made and judgment was passed.” Jaenelle Saetien hesitated. “You may be summoned to reveal who told you the rumors in the first place. Just tell the truth, and you’ll be all right.”
What in the name of Hell . . . ? “What are you talking about?”
Jaenelle Saetien shook her head. “I’ve already told you more than I should have. I’ll get in big trouble if I say anything more, but I had to warn you that there will be serious consequences for whoever even whispers that rumor now.” She turned away and looked ready to bolt.
“You have to tell me—”
“I can’t! I have to go.”
Shaken, Delora stared after the other girl until she disappeared into the building that held the classrooms. An official inquiry? A judgment was passed? In all the years when she’d played her little dramas to amuse herself or punish someone for not doing what she wanted, no one had made a formal complaint. No one would have dared—and no one would have believed someone who accused thoughtful, charming Delora of some wrongdoing when she was among the first to help search for a lost kitten or to bring a basket of treats to a girl who had been beaten and broken by an ardent lover who lost control.
Who would have even thought to turn a rumor into an official inquiry? Insipid Zoey, that was who. She might have more backbone than Delora had given her credit for, and that was a problem.
How was she supposed to shape things in Dhemlan to her liking if there were official inquiries about every little thing? Zoey could claim the attention of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, something that was Delora’s fondest ambition. She’d find a way to wrap Daemon Sadi around her little finger. Yes, she would. She just had to wait until she was old enough to supply the proper incentive, which meant not showing him until then what could be achieved if he had the right partner.
It looked like she would have to . . . diminish . . . Zoey’s influence sooner than she’d planned. That was all right. She had an idea of how to do that and assure that Jaenelle Saetien’s loyalty would never waver again.
THIRTY-THREE
Daemon opened a bottle of red wine. He and Surreal were meeting with Lucivar at one of the family’s vineyard estates, so it was appropriate to sample and savor the wine that was produced there. Besides, the bottle he’d opened had been a very good year—a sop for what he expected would be a bitter truth for the three of them.
Surreal walked into the sitting room, looking tired and tense. “I know I’m late,” she snapped. “I had things to do.”
“Actually, you’re not late,” Daemon replied. “Lucivar hasn’t . . . Ah.”
Lucivar walked in behind Surreal and said, “What things?”
She moved to avoid being between them, which made Daemon very interested in—and wary about—what had made her late.
“A respected Warlord in a village,” she said. “Served as a Consort for several Queens when he was younger. Served in several more courts as an escort. In the past few decades, he’s performed the service of seeing witches through their Virgin Nights. He attends only three or four girls a year, accepting the commission if there is enough attraction between him and the girl that she would be receptive to him as her first lover. He has never left a girl feeling disappointed in her first experience, and he has never broken a witch’s power.”