The Queen's Weapons

by Anne Bishop

  “Oh, dear. Does anyone know about kindred Black Widows who could tell you?”

  Daemon gave her a sour look. “Does anyone know about them? Oh, yes, I’m sure of that. Will those Ladies share that information? That is a different question.”

  “But you’re . . .” Zhara looked at him. Considered. “Yes. Of course. Can’t exactly pull rank on anyone at the Keep, can you?”

  “No, I can’t.” Daemon selected another dessert and popped it in his mouth. He’d have to mention to Helton that these were delicious—and remember to ask Mrs. Beale about providing sweets this size for the girls’ house party. “Anyway, the other three Scelties who arrived at the same time—one of them being a Warlord Prince—informed me that they would help the rest of the village until I brought the humans who needed them to their new house. Which is, or was, Surreal’s house since that is where they’ve taken up residence—an unexpected event that has encouraged the current tenants to leave as soon as possible.”

  “Sweet Darkness.” Zhara put her cup down with a clatter. “They knew about Sheela and the other women who needed a new place to live.”

  “Well, someone knew.” And he hoped his Queen was in the mood to chat when he arrived at the Keep tonight.

  After promising to make the arrangements for the Black Widows’ residence in Halaway, he escorted Zhara to her carriage, made sure there was nothing Helton needed from him, and left the town house.

  He stood on the sidewalk, studying the unoccupied side of the town house, then gave in to the need to know the boy’s state of mind. *Prince Yaslana.*

  *Sir?* Daemonar replied instantly.

  The boy didn’t sound unsettled, so the visit to the Keep had done him good.

  *Where are you?* Daemon asked.

  *With Beron. We spar a couple of times a week.*

  *Not much room in his flat for sparring.*

  *Close-quarters work. More Dea al Mon than Eyrien in style.* A beat of silence. *Uncle Daemon? Is there something I can do for you?*

  *Not for me, but I had dinner with Lady Zhara this evening, and the cook was a bit too enthusiastic in the number of dishes she prepared, not to mention some excellent desserts that will go to waste if they aren’t eaten tonight.*

  *Oh.* Another beat of silence. *Beron and I were just talking about going out for something to eat before I returned to the town house. It would be a shame to waste good food—or excellent desserts.*

  *I’ll let Helton know to keep the food warm for you. I’m heading to the Keep now and will be returning to the Hall in the morning.*

  *Good night, Uncle Daemon.*

  *Good night, boyo.*

  After informing Helton that two good appetites would be arriving soon, Daemon caught the Black Wind and headed for the Keep.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Karla looked at Witch. Witch looked at Karla. Then they looked at him.

  If they had tails to wag, their expressions wouldn’t be much different from the damn Scelties.

  Come to think of it . . .

  Daemon took a step to one side to see if Witch’s fawn tail was twitching in the equivalent of a wag.

  “Prince?” Witch asked too sweetly. “Looking for something?”

  “Besides answers?” he replied with equal sweetness.

  Karla held out a hand. “Give me the list of names for this party. I’ll help Geoffrey identify the families and home villages of the ones you don’t already know.” She took the list and left the Queen’s part of the Keep.

  Daemon studied the Queen whose will was his life—and whose continued love made it possible for him to remain among the living.

  “How did Tersa end up with a journeymaid Black Widow who is a Sceltie?” he asked.

  Witch looked at him.

  “All right. How about the three Scelties, one of whom is a Warlord Prince, who are going to help the Black Widows who will apparently live in Halaway while they readjust to daily life?”

  Witch looked at him.

  “Hmm. Any thoughts about whether kindred Black Widows have a snake tooth and venom sac?” He felt his temper sharpen, felt his anger turn cold and jagged. “A simpler question. Do you know what my mother saw in those tangled webs? The webs she’d soaked in her own blood?”

  “I didn’t see them,” Witch replied softly.

  “Do you need to see them, Lady? You and Tersa have a connection. You always did.”

  “You’re the connection, Daemon.”

  She walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest. He felt the weight of it, the warmth of it through the silk shirt.

  “You need to rest,” she said. “And you need to drain some of the reservoir of power in your Black Jewel. You have a headache—the kind that is dangerous for you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to need the power. It’s going to happen soon.”

  “You won’t need all of that power, but you will need a strong body—and a strong heart.” She touched his face. “There is nothing else you need to know because you already know the most important thing.”

  “What is that?” he whispered as his left hand moved of its own accord to touch his right biceps and the scars she’d given him.

  Witch noticed the gesture and smiled. “You won’t go into this fight alone.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  The timing of the house party bothered Titian because it didn’t make sense. For an adult party? Maybe. But not for a gathering of girls who wanted to skate on the pond or go out riding. Not in winter, when the sun set so early. They should have arrived in the afternoon, right after the midday meal, gotten settled in their rooms, and then headed outside for an activity, returning to the Hall in time to freshen up and change for dinner. Then they would have the evening for playing cards or games or putting on a silly play. The following morning, there would be time for another ride or a walk to the village or leisurely indoor activities. Then they would be on their way home after the midday meal.

  That was how it was done. That was how she’d expected it to be done because Jaenelle Saetien knew how and when guests arrived for this kind of party, same as she did. But after talking to Delora and Hespera, Jaenelle Saetien had rescheduled the time when the Coach would take them to SaDiablo Hall. They’d reach the Hall around sunset. No time for riding or skating or anything fun.

  It felt wrong, and Zoey thought so too. They’d discussed backing out and staying at the school, but an overnight house party at the Hall felt so grown-up, so like the stories her father told about the Queen and her coven. Besides, Uncle Daemon would be there, and anyone who misbehaved would be stuffed into a Coach and sent back to the school. Or stuffed into one of the cells below the Hall, cells where people were kept while they waited for the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan—or the High Lord of Hell—to decide their fate. She’d never seen those cells and wasn’t supposed to know about them, but Daemonar had found them once when he’d been exploring the Hall with the Scelties who were in residence at the time. He’d told her there was something cold and merciless about those cells, something that made him think they weren’t used often—and weren’t used unless one of the Blood did something horrific.

  Titian shuddered. They were going to a house party. Why think of something scary?

  Why indeed?

  She knocked on the door of Jaenelle Saetien’s room, then went in when her cousin used Craft to open the door.

  “Are you packed?” Jaenelle Saetien asked. “Did you remember to bring a dress for the evening?”

  “Yes, and yes. I also remembered warm clothes for skating or sledding.” She could ride horses. Uncle Daemon had taught all of them to ride, and there were kindred horses at the Hall, which made riding more fun and exciting. But Eyriens did a kind of upright sledding that was also great fun—almost like sailing on snow. There were Eyrien sleds at the Hall, and she really wanted to teach Z
oey how to sled. “I came to tell you that Jhett and Arlene won’t be coming to the party because their moon’s blood started a little while ago.”

  “What?” Jaenelle Saetien looked put out. “But they have to come. It’s all arranged.”

  Titian stared at her cousin. Witches were in isolation during the first three days of their moontime and only interacted with family or close friends. Trusted friends. Since it was only girls at the party, it might be all right, but Uncle Daemon’s temper would have a lethal edge the moment he scented moon’s blood—and he would be paying sharp attention to every guest in his house. Besides, the girls would decline to participate in the more vigorous activities and be on their own in an unfamiliar house, being looked after by servants they didn’t know. At least at the school, they could tuck into their rooms to read and sleep.

  Alone.

  “Well, they aren’t coming,” Titian said.

  “Can’t you talk them into it?”

  “No.” Titian’s uneasiness increased. Why would Jaenelle Saetien be so insistent about them coming to the party when the girls wouldn’t feel well enough to have fun? “Surely enough other girls will be attending the party for whatever you and Delora have in mind.”

  Hell’s fire. That came out pure bitch.

  Jaenelle Saetien looked as if she’d been slapped. “Delora and Hespera just want to get to know Zoey better. Start over without everyone watching. Two groups of friends sharing some fun activities and hopefully finding some common ground. That’s what we have in mind.”

  But Delora and Hespera aren’t on the guest list. Neither are Amara and Borsala. And yet all four of them are coming to this party. She knew that because Lord Weston had shown Zoey the list of guests. Prince Sadi had sent him a copy because he needed to know which girls he would be escorting to the Coach that would take them to the Hall before returning to the school to stand guard.

  She wondered if that Dea al Mon Warlord Prince who worked with Uncle Daemon had also been given the guest list and knew who was, and wasn’t, supposed to be at the school tonight.

  Jaenelle Saetien sounded sincere, but Delora had been able to push and pinch Titian’s cousin into reacting and lashing out and defying rules instead of setting her heels down and holding the lines their parents had drawn. And not holding the lines their fathers had drawn . . . That was just out-and-out dangerous.

  “Well, it’s their loss.” Jaenelle Saetien sounded as if the party was ruined because Jhett and Arlene couldn’t attend.

  Unable to think of anything to say, Titian shrugged. “We’ll meet you at the school gate to ride to the landing web.”

  Jaenelle Saetien nodded. “Don’t be late, all right?”

  Titian returned to her room, thought a moment, then put on her winter cape and went out to find Lord Weston. It turned out that while she’d been talking to Jaenelle Saetien, Zoey had talked to Weston about the two friends who would be staying at the school. He, in turn, had informed Daemonar and had also sent a guard to SaDiablo Hall with a note from Zoey to let Prince Sadi know the change in the guest list.

  She hoped Jaenelle Saetien remembered to do the same thing. She hoped Jaenelle Saetien had already sent a message to Uncle Daemon telling him about the change in their arrival time. When dealing with Warlord Princes, informing them about a schedule change wasn’t just courtesy, especially when a Queen was among the travelers. It was the only way to keep them from reacting as if being late was a declaration of war.

  Jaenelle Saetien knew that as well as she did, so her cousin had to have informed Uncle Daemon about the girls arriving later than expected.

  It wasn’t until she was back in her room, selecting a book to take with her in case there wasn’t time to look through any of the Hall’s libraries for a book to borrow, that she wondered if all this sharp attention on a girls’ house party was because Zoey was a Queen and this was what it would always be like for a Queen, or if the men, warriors all, had another reason for that attention.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  “We’ve prepared twenty guest rooms, as requested,” Beale said. “Mrs. Beale has prepared finger foods for the afternoon and a buffet to be served in the dining room for the evening meal. While Lady Jaenelle Saetien requested a couple of dishes that are favorites of Lady Zoela and Lady Titian, she didn’t indicate if the evening meal was to be formal or informal. When Lady Angelline and the coven dined without male company, they preferred a buffet, so Mrs. Beale made the same kind of plans for this dinner.”

  “Very good.” Daemon stepped away from his desk and accepted the note a footman brought on a salver.

  “There aren’t twenty guests on the list you provided.”

  “I know. I expect there will be four last-minute additions.” Recognizing Zoey’s handwriting, he opened the note. “Ah. Two of the girls on the original list are ‘feeling too delicate to attend the party,’ but would be much improved in three days.” He smiled. “An interesting way to describe a girl’s moontime, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps she didn’t want you to blush,” Beale said, returning the smile.

  Daemon huffed out a laugh. “Zoey will eventually have a moontime when she’s around Lucivar, and then she’ll learn in a hurry that nothing about dealing with a female body makes him blush.” He paused. “Of course, being a Queen, she’s probably never had anyone pick her up and toss her on a bed because he’s decided she needs a nap.”

  “With Prince Yaslana, his sister, and her coven, it was a bit like watching sheepherding contests at the harvest fair,” Beale observed. “Especially when the Ladies tried to bolt and the Scelties jumped in to help him with the herding.”

  Daemon choked.

  “Quite entertaining for the staff,” Beale finished.

  “I’m sure it was.” His amusement faded as he considered the two girls who would not be attending the house party. Jhett was a natural Black Widow; Arlene was a natural Healer. Strong assets for a Queen’s court. Assets Dhemlan couldn’t afford to lose.

  Using Craft, Daemon turned the small clock on his desk so that he could see it from where he stood. “Beale, why would Lady Zoela write to tell me two guests won’t be attending?”

  “Courtesy?”

  “That, yes. But the girls should be arriving on the heels of my receiving this. Knowing now won’t change preparations.” His temper sharpened and turned cold. “Unless the girls aren’t going to arrive until much later today.”

  “There was no other note,” Beale said, anticipating the question.

  They heard the knock on the front door. A minute later, a footman hurried into the study with another message.

  Daemon read that one and felt his temper become a little sharper, a little colder. “The Coach driver says Jaenelle Saetien rescheduled the time of departure. The girls won’t be arriving until around sunset.”

  “Should I tell Mrs. Beale to delay the evening meal? Otherwise, the Ladies won’t have time to do more than get settled in their rooms and change for dinner.”

  “No. My daughter did not inform me of any change in the girls’ arrival, so dinner will be served as planned. Confirm the time with Mrs. Beale, then return here. I need to talk to you, Holt, and Surreal.”

  When Beale left to tell Holt he was needed and to confirm the time the buffet would be served, Daemon gave Surreal a light psychic tap. *We need to talk. Now.*

  *Problem?* she asked.

  He didn’t reply because the need to deny what every instinct told him was going to happen tonight was so strong, he felt ill. And the possibility that his daughter had knowingly participated in planning tonight’s vicious game was a knife twisting in his gut.

  He considered going to Amdarh now and personally escorting Zoey, Titian, and their group of friends to the Hall to destroy any possibility of them being attacked on their way to the Coach. He considered cornering Jaenelle Saetien and de
manding an explanation for this game she was playing.

  Then he considered the girls who had been broken, considered what even he couldn’t do without sufficient proof of who was responsible.

  And then he considered how many more years Zoey and other strong young witches would be vulnerable to this particular kind of attack, and how the enemy might choose another time and place when Zoey had far less protection.

  So they would all play the game tonight.

  May the Darkness have mercy on the survivors.

  While he waited for them, he reached for Daemonar, using a Green psychic thread. *Prince Yaslana.*

  *Sir?*

  *Have the Ladies coming to the house party left the school yet?*

  *No. Titian said the departure was rescheduled, and they’re now going to arrive at the Hall around sunset.* A pause. *Jaenelle Saetien didn’t tell you?*

  *No, she didn’t.* Changing travel plans without telling him when one of the travelers was a Queen? Even if it was forgetfulness caused by excitement, it was also an insolence that could not be tolerated. *I want you at the town house tonight. I want Lord Beron there as well.*

  *I was going to stay at the school. A couple of Zoey’s friends—*

  *I know about them. Prince Chaosti and his fist of men will guard the girls. Your presence at the school tonight might alert someone and cause a change of plans. I will let this game play out here so that we aren’t blindsided at another time when the girls are more vulnerable. You will give Chaosti the names of the boys who Zoey considers friends. They will be kept under watch in case they, too, need protection. Also, tell Prince Raine to stay at the school and stay available. His services may be required tonight.*

  *Sir? Are we preparing for a fight?*

  I’m not going to give the enemy a chance to fight. *Possibly.*