“Oh, the joy of dealing with young men,” Saetan said dryly as he looked toward the sitting room door. “Thank the Darkness, I think the Ladies are returning.”
Theran rose to his feet with the rest of the men, feeling awkward, exposed. Gray had been the one dumping intimate worries in front of men he barely knew, but Theran felt as if he had been stripped naked as well.
Then Cassidy walked into the room between Jaenelle and Marian—and Gray gasped and rushed over to her, knocking Theran out of the way.
Gray clamped his hands on either side of Cassidy’s face, his expression horrified.
“What happened to her face?” His voice began rising to that desperate keening. “Where is her face?”
“Gray,” Cassidy said, “what’s wrong?”
“WHERE IS HER FACE?”
Saetan and Daemon grabbed Gray’s wrists, trying to pull his hands away from Cassidy’s face.
Theran leaped toward them, wanting to stop them before Gray got hurt, but Lucivar grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“Easy, Gray,” Daemon said.
“WHERE IS HER FACE?”
Saetan snapped out a sentence that sounded like a command. Theran didn’t recognize the language Saetan spoke, but the tone was sharp, commanding, and angry—and Jaenelle jerked back as if she’d been slapped.
A moment later, Gray’s keening changed to gasping sobs as he smiled and said, “There it is. There’s her face.”
“Gray,” Saetan said. “Come with me now. We need to talk.”
Seeing naked fear on Gray’s face, Theran tried to shake off Lucivar’s hold on his arm—and almost got yanked off his feet.
“Jared.”
Green eyes stared into gold. Gray’s hands relaxed and were gently drawn away from Cassidy’s face.
“Come with me,” Saetan said, still holding one of Gray’s wrists while wrapping his other arm around Gray’s shoulders. “We won’t leave the room. We’ll just go over there so we can talk for a minute.”
At first there was that audible hitch in Gray’s breathing, the prelude to one of his bouts of mindless terror. Then the breathing evened out. Looking beaten, he let Saetan lead him to another part of the room.
This time when Theran tried to shake Lucivar off, the Eyrien let him go. Sadi was between him and where the High Lord was talking to Gray, and he wasn’t foolish enough to think Daemon would let him interfere with the discussion.
“It was just an illusion spell,” Cassidy said, sounding shaken. “To hide the freckles.”
He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t seen anything different about her. The room wasn’t brightly lit. How in the name of Hell had Gray seen the difference halfway across the room?
“I’m sorry,” Jaenelle said, looking at Daemon. “It never occurred to me that it would upset him.”
“Not your fault,” Daemon replied. “But I think Gray does better with changes when he has plenty of warning.”
The movements looked casual, as if they were drifting from one position in the room to another without any real reason, but when they stopped, Daemon and Lucivar were flanking the women. Theran had the impression that no matter what they personally thought about what had just happened, they would support and defend their wives—and Cassidy.
Gray looked anxious and uncertain when he and Saetan rejoined their tense little group, and he stared at Cassidy’s face for so long all three women squirmed.
“Now,” Saetan said, his voice a velvet-coated whip.
Theran felt his shoulders tighten in response to that sound. This was a voice that allowed no challenge, no discussion, no defiance.
“Every relationship requires compromises,” Saetan said. “So those compromises are going to be established here and now.”
A moment of silence, as if the High Lord was giving all of them an opportunity to be dumb enough to argue.
“Since Lady Cassidy’s freckles are important to Gray, they will not be altered in any way,” Saetan said.
“But . . . ,” Cassidy began.
“In. Any. Way.”
Cassidy hunched her shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
“In return, Gray, you must accept that women like to paint their faces, adding color to eyes, lips, and cheeks.”
“Why do they want to do that?” Gray asked, his eyes still fixed on Cassidy’s face as if something might disappear the moment he looked away.
“Boyo,” Saetan said, “I’ve been observing females for over fifty thousand years, and I can’t tell you why they do what they do. Don’t expect to understand how they think; just understand that some things are important to them that are incomprehensible to us, and learn to work with their way of thinking when you have to.”
“Like putting color on her face?” Gray asked.
“Exactly,” Saetan replied. “Although . . . a woman using face paints to enhance her beauty can be intriguing.”
Theran watched Gray’s face change, watched anxiety shift to curiosity.
“Darkening the lashes, for instance, to draw more attention to her eyes,” Saetan said.
“Cassie has pretty eyes,” Gray said.
“Putting a little gold dust on the cheeks—and other places—so the skin glitters in candlelight,” Daemon purred. “But that’s usually reserved for romantic dinners.”
“Daemon.”
Watching Jaenelle blush gave Theran a good idea of how those romantic dinners ended—and the room suddenly got much too warm.
“Now, the hair,” Saetan said.
Gray whimpered.
“Changing the color would be an insult to every man who admires beauty, so it will not be changed.”
Now Cassidy whimpered.
“However, you, Gray, have to accept that, like their faces, women like to play with their hair, putting it up in different styles or even cutting it.”
“Cut?” Gray sounded alarmed.
“Compromise, Prince,” Saetan said in that voice that allowed no challenge.
After a moment, Gray nodded. “Okay. I won’t get upset if she cuts her hair.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
Theran hadn’t heard anyone but Gray agree to anything, but judging by the look on everyone’s face, that wasn’t going to be mentioned.
Daemon looked at Gray. “There’s still a few minutes before dinner. Why don’t we get some fresh air and discuss that other matter?” And he winked.
Gray’s eyes widened. He started to move, then stopped and looked at the High Lord. “Sir?”
“We’re done here, so you two go on.”
When Daemon and Gray left, Saetan fixed his attention on Cassidy, and Theran felt sorry for her. After all, she’d just wanted to get rid of those awful spots and look a little better. It wasn’t her fault Gray had gotten fixated on the damn things.
“I didn’t know,” Cassidy said in a small voice.
“Now you do,” Saetan said in that implacable voice.
Cassidy brushed her fingers against one cheek. “Maybe . . .”
“Witchling, if you really think that boy isn’t going to notice if a single freckle is missing, then you have not been paying attention.”
The whiplash without the velvet coating.
Theran winced.
Jaenelle squared her shoulders. “If you gentlemen will excuse us, my Sisters and I need a few minutes to settle before dinner.”
Saetan tipped his head in a bow and walked out of the room.
Lucivar kissed his wife’s head and left the room, giving Theran no choice but to follow him to another sitting room.
“I need some air,” Lucivar said. “How about you?”
Theran shook his head.
As Lucivar opened a glass door that led to some kind of courtyard, Theran said, “I guess the High Lord wouldn’t have lashed at them like that if Lady Angelline had still been the Queen of Ebon Askavi.”