“Why?” She sounded genuinely curious.
“It’s a good, solid structure that was built as a Healer’s House. Plenty of land with it for gardens. Doun could use another Healer.”
“So you’re thinking of renting it to a Healer?” Surreal asked.
He shrugged, then said quietly, “Or maybe find a teacher with backbone and heart and turn it into a residence for children who need a safe place.”
He shifted, not comfortable talking about an idea he hadn’t voiced to anyone else, not even Marian.
“So,” Surreal said. “You want to tell me why I’m staying at The Tavern?”
“Because I’m saving the guest room at the eyrie as punishment if you start whining about the training you need,” he replied.
He studied her face, then opened his inner barriers enough to get a taste of her psychic scent.
Hunter. Predator. Assassin. That surprised him—and intrigued him.
“If you don’t like it, you’re free to choose another place,” he said, watching her carefully.
“Those stairs aren’t going to be easy on Rainier’s leg,” she said.
“He can float up and down them the same as he’s been doing at his residence in Amdarh.”
“All right, Yaslana. Let’s stop dancing. Is there some reason you want a knife under Merry’s roof?”
He blinked. Took a step back. “How in the name of Hell did you come up with an idea like that?”
“Tiger Eye and Summer-sky running a very public business. You wandering in at least once a day. Makes me wonder if Merry and Briggs need that kind of protection. Makes me wonder if you wanted protection there that wouldn’t be so obvious.”
It was tempting to agree, tempting to let her run with that idea. But if he did that, sooner or later the truth would bite him in the ass.
“It’s not like that. Lady Shayne doesn’t eat at The Tavern, but if there was trouble there, her court would know about it and take care of it.” He huffed out a breath. “Look. I’m scorned by some because I don’t rub elbows with the aristos in Riada—or anywhere else for that matter. But the truth is, when I’m among those people, I am the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. Aristos never forget that, so I can never forget that. But when I walk into The Tavern, I’m Lucivar. I get teased; I get scolded; I get sent on errands. I sit at a table with a bowl of stew and the bread I’ve picked up from the bakery for Merry and hear the village’s gossip—who needs help, who needs watching. I hear about families in the other villages in Ebon Rih. I hear all the things an aristo wouldn’t and the Queens’ courts probably don’t. And if I hear something I think Shayne needs to know, I will tell her.
“More than that, Merry and Briggs are friends. And lighter Jewels notwithstanding, they would fit in with Jaenelle’s First Circle. Because of that, I thought you and Rainier would be comfortable there. If that’s not the case . . .” He shrugged. Marian had voiced the concern that Surreal and Rainier both ran in Amdarh’s aristo society and might not like The Tavern. Maybe his darling hearth witch had been right about that.
“So you drop by every day that you’re home to keep an eye on the village and listen to the talk that might alert you and Riada’s Queen to a problem?” Surreal asked.
“Sure.”
“What a boot full of shit.”
He stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
She let out a hoot of laughter. “You’re like a damn Sceltie who’s handpicked his own flock, and Merry is one of the sheep. Sure, you run errands and put up with being scolded, but I bet you know when her moontime is supposed to start each cycle, and you get bossy when you think she’s working too hard. I bet you’ve even stood behind the bar and served drinks with Briggs after pushing her upstairs to take the nap you decided she needed.”
Caught. “What’s your point?” Not that he was going to admit to any of this.
“Just making an observation that there is a dual purpose to your visits to The Tavern. And it’s good to know there’s no trouble for Merry or—” She started coughing. It sounded like her chest was being ripped up.
Swearing, he pulled her close, wrapped his wings to form a cocoon, and created a warming spell around them.
“Damn it, Surreal. Why didn’t you tell me you were this sick? We could have had this discussion inside.”
She leaned her forehead against his chest. “Don’t like being weak. And I’m not that sick.”
“Are you coughing blood? And don’t try to lie to me or this will get very unpleasant.”
“No blood. Jaenelle would have told you if I was coughing up blood.”
“Unless you didn’t mention it to her.”
She laughed a little. It sounded liquid and rough. “I’m not stupid, Lucivar. I’m not going to tangle with Witch over the condition of my lungs.”
“All right.” He rubbed her back and waited for his heart to settle back into its normal rhythm. “Look. Maybe . . .”
She punched him. Wasn’t much of a punch since she was snugged up against him, but it was still a punch.
“This is what you have to work with,” she growled. “Deal with it.”
“Remember you said that in the days ahead.”
“Ah, shit.”
He eased back. “Come on, witchling. It’s time to get you back to your room. The days start early here.”
Rainier waited in his room, as ordered. Apparently Lucivar had a few more things to say to him before he officially started this required training.
But when Lucivar rapped on the door and came in, Rainier felt a jolt of uneasiness because Saetan came in with him.
“High Lord,” Rainier said, struggling to get to his feet. Where had he put that damn cane?
“Prince Rainier,” Saetan replied. Then he looked at Lucivar and raised one eyebrow as a question.
Lucivar stared at Rainier before turning to his father. “Do you remember what I looked like when I first came to Kaeleer?”
“I’m not likely to forget,” Saetan said softly.
Lucivar tipped his head toward Rainier. “Show him.” He walked out of the room.
A light brush of another mind against Rainier’s first inner barrier. A familiar, dark, powerful mind. He hesitated, then opened his inner barriers, leaving his mind vulnerable to the High Lord of Hell.
He saw the main room of a cabin, as if he were looking through Saetan’s eyes. He saw the memory, but the emotions weren’t part of it. There was no indication of what Saetan felt when he’d walked into the cabin.
Comfortable place. Not someplace he’d care to stay for an extended period of time, but it would be fine for a country weekend. He’d never been inside, but he guessed this was Jaenelle’s cabin in Ebon Rih.
The memory continued as Saetan walked into the bedroom and froze a few steps from the bed.
Lucivar.
Even the High Lord of Hell couldn’t cleanse the memory of emotion well enough to hide the shock, the anguish of seeing the man lying on the bed.
Broken bones, shoulder and ribs. Guts pushing out of the ripped belly. A leg ripped open from hip to knee. A foot hanging awkwardly from what was left of an ankle.
Why had someone placed strands of greasy rags on the bed next to a man who was so terribly wounded?
Not rags, Rainier realized with a shock. Wings. He was looking at what was left of Lucivar’s wings.
Saetan withdrew from Rainier’s mind. Rainier closed his inner barriers and just stared at the other man for a minute before finding his voice.
“How did he survive?”
Saetan sighed. “He made a choice. He didn’t want to die. He’d been in the salt mines of Pruul for five years. The slime mold had destroyed his wings, and the years of slavery in the salt mines had taken their toll, to say nothing of the torture he’d endured. He escaped and made his way to the Khaldharon Run. He wasn’t in any shape to make the Run, and he knew it, but he was going to die on his terms. Fortunately, Prothvar was standing guard at the Sleeping Dragons that day and brought Lucivar to Jaenelle’s cabin. He wasn’t conscious, so I’m sure he didn’t make the decision knowingly, but I think he felt Jaenelle and gave her everything he had because she asked him for it. And he healed because of that choice.”