There was Zoey’s group of friends and Delora’s group of friends, and everyone else at the school avoided both so they wouldn’t be forced to take sides. She was the only one who had tried to be friends with people in both groups. If she could help Zoey and Delora settle their differences . . . Well, she didn’t think they would ever be best friends, but they could show each other the courtesy of two leaders who didn’t want their differences to turn the school into a battleground. Almost like they were both Queens ruling neighboring villages.
Of course, talking her father into letting Delora stay overnight at the Hall would be much harder than getting him to agree to having her as a guest at an afternoon party at the town house.
As if anticipating the problem, Delora rushed to explain. “I know your father had that funny turn when he met me at the school. I don’t know why he took such a dislike to me. Maybe I reminded him of someone else?”
Dorothea. Jaenelle Saetien swallowed the compulsion to explain her father’s reaction. No one would want to be compared to such a terrible person. “I don’t know. But his reaction will make it harder to invite you and Hespera and some of the others to an overnight party.”
“Well, you don’t have to be specific about who is coming to the party. Everyone just invites friends, and no one’s father asks for names. Not when girls reach our age and come from aristo families. Parents know the guest list is . . . fluid. But definitely mention Zoey and your cousin, since your father knows them.”
Jaenelle Saetien hesitated. She couldn’t remember there ever being a casual overnight party at the Hall. Family gatherings, yes. There were also formal gatherings where the invited Queens brought some family members along with a handful of people who served in their First Circles. Gatherings that included Queens required a detailed guest list.
Official Queens with official courts. Surely her father wouldn’t require so much formality for a party just because Zoey would be there. Would he?
“Just get him to agree to the party,” Delora said. “It’s so important, and it would be splendid to have it at the Hall.”
And everyone wanted to see an end to this feud between Zoey and Delora.
“Don’t say anything to the other girls until I talk to my father, but I’ll see what I can do,” Jaenelle Saetien said.
“This week?” Delora looked pained. “The more time goes by, the more this misunderstanding with Zoey will fester. It will be awful to go through the rest of the school year this way.”
“I’ll discuss this with my father as soon as I can, but we’ll have to settle for having the house party whenever he says we can have it.”
“Of course,” Delora said brightly. “But . . . soon?”
Jaenelle Saetien smiled. “Soon.”
“Do you think she believed you?” Krellis asked once Jaenelle Saetien hurried off to her class. “You’re not at all convincing when you act contrite.”
Delora gave him a sharp smile. “You don’t think so? She’s so eager to have everyone be friends and be the person who brings it about so that she doesn’t have to choose sides. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t have us for an overnight visit by the school’s next study day.”
“Have you, you mean. She’s not likely to invite the boys.”
“Then your showing up will be a surprise.”
THIRTY-SIX
The letters and visiting cards had been neatly stacked on the salver Helton held out to him, but Daemon noticed the town house’s butler had placed one letter across both stacks as if to emphasize its importance.
Recognizing his daughter’s handwriting, he noted the blend of impatience and neatness that was typical when she wanted something and needed his answer an hour ago but knew an indecipherable scribble wouldn’t get any kind of answer from him. Most of the time, it amused him. They’d been having this push and pull since she was a little girl and was too excited about some adventure to remember that permission wasn’t granted if he was asked ten minutes before she wanted to dash out the door. They would go for months with her making requests in a timely manner, and then she’d . . . forget . . . for a few weeks before resigning herself to the fact that he didn’t forget his own rules and also didn’t break them.
He hadn’t seen much of her since she’d started attending that private school, and she hadn’t bothered with even a quick note to let him know how she was doing—unless she wanted something. Beale and Holt had confirmed that this wasn’t unusual behavior for an adolescent, but this communication, coming on the heels of a couple of heart-tearing days . . .
“When did this arrive?” he asked Helton.
“A short while ago,” Helton replied. “I was about to send it to the Hall since it was marked urgent.”
“Does anything else in that stack look to be of importance?”
“Messages from Ladies Titian and Zoey, as well as a letter from the Queen of Amdarh.” Helton indicated the three letters under Jaenelle Saetien’s missive.
“I’ll take those to the study now. Hold the rest.” He hadn’t intended to do more than stop at the town house on his way to the Keep, but it looked like he might be staying overnight—depending on the content of the letters.
“Have you eaten, Prince?” Helton asked. “I could have sandwiches brought to the study. Maybe a pot of coffee or a soothing mug of tea?”
Food. Had he eaten today? “Did Prince Daemonar return to the town house last night?”
Helton looked grim. “No. But Lord Weston informed the house that Prince Daemonar returned to the school early this morning. He seemed . . . emotionally raw . . . but otherwise unharmed. He led the morning workout and then cleaned up and went to his tutorial.” He hesitated. “Lady Tersa?”
Of course Beale would have informed Helton that Tersa must have walked some dangerous roads in the Twisted Kingdom and that Daemonar had been the first to see the result and sound the alarm.
“She’ll be fine,” Daemon replied. “She’s . . . regaining . . . the rhythm of her life. And she has some helpers now.” He wasn’t sure who had sent a message to Scelt, if any human had, but he’d been willing to agree to anything that would help Mikal cope with living with Tersa. He’d floated the idea of Mikal moving into a suite at the Hall. The boy had slapped the idea down, but had embraced the new helpers without hesitation.
“Another Black Widow?” Helton asked.
He nodded. “A journeymaid.” Of sorts. No, not of sorts. Having four feet and a tail, and practicing the Hourglass’s Craft a little differently, did not make that young witch any less a Black Widow. “A sandwich and coffee would be welcome. And I’ll need someone to deliver messages once I’ve found out what everyone wants.”
Daemon retreated to his study and opened his daughter’s letter.
Jaenelle Saetien needed to talk to him urgently. No hint of why, which reminded him of Titian’s request a few months ago when she wanted permission before action.
Sweet Darkness, let it be that simple.
No mention of her grandmother, which made him wonder if Daemonar had seen her yet.