Queen of the Darkness bj-3

by Anne Bishop

"But—" Daemon said. The implacable look in Saetan's eyes stopped him. "That's a prissy attitude for you to take."

  "From where you're standing, I suppose it is. From where I'm standing, it makes a world of sense. You're younger. Deal with it."

  Before he could make a comment he might regret, a small brown-and-white dog raced up to them and stopped a few feet away, his tail wagging in effusive greeting.

  *He's here! Jaenelle's mate is finally here!*

  Daemon felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, not only because he had heard the dog but because he'd seen the Red Jewel hidden in the white ruff.

  "Daemon, this is Lord Ladvarian," Saetan said. "Ladvarian, this—"

  *A Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince,* Ladvarian said as he danced around in front of them. *He's a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. I have to tell Kaelas.* The dog dashed down the corridor and disappeared.

  "Mother Night," Saetan said under his breath. "Come on. Let's get out of here before you meet anyone else. You've already had a sufficient amount of education for your first day in the court."

  "He's kindred," Daemon said weakly as he followed Saetan. "When Lucivar said someone named Ladvarian would be pleased to see me, I thought... Unless he meant someone else?"

  "No, that's Ladvarian. He would have gone to the service fair to look for you himself, but kindred aren't well received in Little Terreille, and I wasn't willing to risk him. His ability to explain kindred behavior to humans and human behavior to the kindred makes him unique. And his influence on Prince Kaelas is not to be taken lightly."

  "Who's Kaelas?"

  Saetan gave him an odd look. "Let's save Kaelas for another day."

  Daemon studied the well-kept cottage and neat yard. "I'd always wanted Tersa to live in a place like this."

  "She's comfortable here," Saetan said, opening the front door. "A journeymaid Black Widow lives with her as a companion. And then there's Mikal," he added as they followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.

  Daemon stepped into the kitchen, gave the boy sitting at the kitchen table a quick glance, and then focused on Tersa, who was muttering to herself as she busily arranged an assortment of food.

  Her black hair was as tangled as he remembered it, but the dark-green dress was clean and looked warm.

  The boy hastily swallowed a mouthful of nutcake before saying in a suspicious voice, "Who's he?"

  Tersa looked up. Joy brightened her gold eyes and made her smile radiant. "It's the boy," she said as she rushed into Daemon's arms.

  "Hello, sweetheart," Daemon said, feeling swamped by the pleasure of seeing her again.

  "He'snot a boy," the boy said.

  "Mikal," Saetan said sternly.

  Leaning away from Daemon, Tersa looked at Mikal, then back at Daemon. "He is a large boy," she said firmly. She pulled Daemon toward the table. "Sit down. Sit. There is food. You should eat."

  Daemon sat across from the boy, who openly regarded him as an unwelcome rival. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

  Mikal rolled his eyes. "It's not a school day."

  "But you did finish the chores your mother assigned to you before you came here," Saetan said mildly, accepting the glass of red wine Tersa offered him while his eyes never left Mikal.

  Mikal squirmed under that knowing stare, and finally muttered, "Most of them."

  "In that case, after we've eaten, I'll escort you home and you can finish them," Saetan said.

  "But I have to help Tersa weed the garden," Mikal protested.

  "The weeds will still be there," Tersa said serenely. She looked at the two "boys," frowned at the glasses of milk she held, then put both of them in front of Mikal. She patted Daemon's shoulder. "He is old enough for wine."

  "Thank the Darkness," Daemon said under his breath.

  The meal was eaten with little conversation. Saetan inquired about Mikal's schoolwork and got the expected evasive answers. Tersa tried to make mundane comments about the cottage and garden, but each time the remarks became more disjointed.

  Daemon clenched his teeth. He wanted to tell her to stop trying. It hurt to watch her struggling so hard to walk the borderland of sanity for his sake, and seeing the concern and resentment in Mikal's eyes as her control continued to crumble stabbed at him.

  Saetan set his wineglass on the table and rose. "Come on, puppy," he said to Mikal. "I'll take you home now."

  Mikal quickly grabbed a nutcake. "I haven't finished eating."

  "Take it with you."

  When they left, with Mikal still loudly protesting, Daemon looked at Tersa. "It's good to see you again," he said softly.

  Sorrow filled her eyes. "I don't know how to be your mother."

  He reached for her hand. "Then just be Tersa. That was always more than enough." He felt her absorb the acceptance, felt the tension drain from her body.

  Finally, she smiled. "You are well?"

  He returned the smile and lied. "Yes, I'm well."

  Her hand tightened on his. Her eyes lost focus, became distant and farseeing. "No," she said quietly, "you're not. But you will be." Then she stood up. "Come. I'll show you my garden."

  7 / Kaeleer

  Saetan shifted to a sitting position on the couch in his study. He didn't need to use a psychic probe to know who was on the other side of the door. The scent of her fear was sufficient. "Come."

  Wilhelmina Benedict entered the room, each step a hesitation.

  Watching her, Saetan tightened the reins on his temper. It wasn't her fault. She had been barely more than a child herself thirteen years ago. There was nothing she could have done.

  But if Jaenelle hadn't stayed in Chaillot in order to protect Wilhelmina, that last, terrible night at Briarwood wouldn't have happened. She would have left the family that hadn't understood or cherished what she was. She would have come to Kaeleer, would have come to him— and would have escaped the violent rape that had left her with so many deep emotional scars.

  It wasn't fair to hold Wilhelmina in any way responsible for what had happened to Jaenelle, but he still resented her presence in his home and her reappearance in her sister's life.

  "What can I do for you, Lady Benedict?" He tried, but he couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.

  "I don't know what to do." Her voice was barely audible.

  "About what?"

  "All the other people who signed the contract have something to do, even if it's just making a list of their skills. But I—"

  She wrung her hands so hard Saetan winced in sympathy for the delicate bones.

  "He hates me," Wilhelmina said, her voice rising in desperation. "Everyone here hates me, and I don't know why."

  Saetan pointed at the other end of the couch. "Sit down." As he waited for her to obey, he wondered how such a frightened, emotionally brittle woman had managed to make the journey through one of the Gates between the Realms and then tried to acquire a contract at the service fair. When she was seated, he said, "Hate is too strong a word. No one here hates you."

  "Yaslana does." She pressed her fists into her lap. "So do you."

  "I don't hate you, Wilhelmina," he said quietly. "But I do resent your presence."

  "Why?"

  Faced with her hurt and bewilderment, he was tempted to blunt the truth, but decided to give her the courtesy of honesty. "Because you're the reason Jaenelle didn't leave Chaillot soon enough."

  Her swift change from frightened to fierce startled him, and he realized it shouldn't have. He should have looked for the common ground between her and Jaenelle instead of letting the past cloud his judgment.

  "You know where to find her, don't you? Don't you?"

  She looked like she was about to shake the answer out of him. Intrigued by the change in her, he wondered if she would actually try.

  "Not at the moment," he said mildly. "But she'll be home soon."

  "Home?" Her fierceness changed back to bewilderment and then thoughtfulness as she looked around the study. "Home?"

  "I'm her adopted father." Wh
en she didn't react to that, he added, "Lucivar is her brother."

  She jumped as if he'd jabbed her with a pin. Her blue eyes were filled with something close to horror as she stared at him. "Brother?"

  "Brother. If it's any comfort to you, while you're both related to the same woman, you're not related to each other."

  Her relief was so blatant he almost laughed.

  "Does she like him?" Wilhelmina asked in a small voice. He couldn't help it. He did laugh. "Most of the time." Then he studied her. "Is that why you came to Kaeleer? To find Jaenelle?"

  She nodded. "Everyone else said she had died, that Prince Sadi had killed her, but I knew it wasn't true. He never would have hurt Jaenelle. I thought she had gone to live with one of her secret friends or with her teacher." She looked at him as if she were trying to measure what she saw against something she knew. "It was you, wasn't it? She came to you for lessons."

  "Yes." He waited. "What made you think of Kaeleer?"

  "She told me. After." Wilhelmina brushed a finger against her Sapphire Jewel. "When Prince Sadi unleashed his Black Jewels to escape the Hayllians who had come for him, I heard Jaenelle yelling 'ride it, ride it.' So I did. When it was over, I was wearing a Sapphire Jewel. Everyone was upset about that because they thought I had somehow made the Offering to the Darkness. But it wasn't my Jewel. It was Jaenelle's. I couldn't actually use it, but it protected me. Sometimes, when I was scared or didn't know what to do, it always gave the same answer: Kaeleer. I left home because Bobby—" She pressed her lips together and took a couple of deep breaths. "I left home. As soon as I was twenty, I made the Offering. I got this Jewel. The other one disappeared."

  "And you've spent these past years trying to find a way here?"

  She hesitated. "I wasn't ready for a long time. Then, one day, I started wondering if I would ever be ready. So I came anyway."

  Which meant this woman had more courage than was readily apparent.

  "Tell me something, Wilhelmina," Saetan said gently. "If, thirteen years ago, Jaenelle had decided to leave Chaillot and had asked you to go with her, would you have?"

  It took her a long time to answer. Finally, reluctantly, she said, "I don't know." She looked around the room, sadness in her eyes. "Jaenelle belongs here. I don't."

  "You're Jaenelle's sister and a Sapphire-Jeweled witch. Don't judge too quickly." And I, too, will try not to judge too quickly. "Besides, you would have had a different opinion of this place if you'd been here while ten adolescent witches were in residence," he added in a deliberately mournful voice.

  Her eyes widened. "You mean the Queens who are here?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, dear."

  "That's one way of putting it."

  She ducked her head as she stifled a laugh. When she dared to look at him again, he could tell she was thinking hard, reassessing the Hall and the people who resided here.

  "I still don't have anything to do," she said hesitantly.

  The almost-hopeful expectation in her eyes made him realize she had taken a long step toward accepting him as the family patriarch—and expecting him to fulfill the duties of that position.

  "Lucivar didn't say anything?" he asked, fully aware that the only reason Lucivar had brought her there was to keep her away from anyone who might try to use her relationship to Jaenelle.

  For the first time, a bit of temper flashed in her eyes.

  "He told me to try not to faint because it will upset the males if I do."

  Saetan sighed. "Coming from Lucivar, that was almost tactful. He's right. Blunt, but right. Males react strongly to feminine distress."

  Wilhelmina frowned. "Is that why that large striped cat keeps following me?"

  Saetan looked at the study door. A quick question on a psychic spear thread gave him the answer. "His name is Dejaal. He's Prince Jaal's son. He's appointed himself your protector until you feel comfortable with the other males at the Hall."

  "He's kindred? I had heard stories—"

  "The Blood in Little Terreille don't have much use for the kindred, and the kindred have even less use for the Blood in Little Terreille," Saetan said, and then added silently, Except when they're hungry.

  Rising, he offered a hand to Wilhelmina and led her to the door. He called in a grooming brush and gave it to her. "If you want to do something that will help all of us right now, take Dejaal out to one of the gardens and brush him. Once you get used to him, perhaps it will be easier for you to be around the rest of us."

  "If it's supposed to make me feel easier, maybe I should brush Lucivar instead," she said with just a hint of tartness.

  Saetan burst out laughing. "Darling, if you want to get along with Lucivar, just show him that bit of steel in your backbone. Since he's lived with Jaenelle for the past eight years, he'll recognize it for what it is."

  8 / Kaeleer

  "Are you sure this is the path back to the Hall?" Daemon asked as he ducked under a low-hanging branch.

  *We left the path,* Ladvarian said. *We have to cross the creek, and the path has no bridge.*

  "I don't need a bridge to cross the creek."

  Ladvarian looked at Daemon's shoes. *You would get wet.*

  "I'd survive," Daemon muttered.

  When he left Tersa's cottage, he'd found Ladvarian waiting to escort him back to the Hall. At first, he'd wondered if this was a subtle kind of insult, implying that he couldn't find his way back by himself. Then, when Ladvarian offered to show him a footpath that ran between Halaway and the Hall, he'd wondered if he was being set up for an ambush. Finally he realized the dog just wanted to spend a little time getting to know the male whose duties made him an important part of the Queen's life.

  What he didn't like was the growing impression that he was being labeled as a human who needed to be coddled.

  He stopped walking. "Look, this has got to stop. I may not be an Eyrien warrior, but I'm perfectly capable of walking a couple of miles without collapsing, I can get across a creek without getting wet if I choose to, and I don't need a short furball treating me like I can't survive if I'm not inside a house full of servants. Do you understand?"

  Ladvarian wagged his tail. *Yes. You want to be treated like a Kaeleer male.*

  Daemon rocked back on his heels and studied the Sceltie. "Is that what I said?"

  *Yes.* Ladvarian headed off at an abrupt angle. *This way.*

  A minute later, they arrived at the creek. Ladvarian trotted up to the bank and leaped. By rights, he should have landed in the middle of the creek, but he kept sailing over it, and when he landed, he was standing a foot above the ground, a doggy grin on his face.

  Daemon looked at the creek, looked at the Sceltie, and then air walked over the creek to the other bank.

  *Did Jaenelle teach you that?*

  Remembering the afternoon when Jaenelle had shown him how to walk on air, Daemon's chest tightened. "Yes," he said softly, "she did."

  *She taught me, too.* Ladvarian sounded pleased.

  As soon as they walked through another stand of trees, Daemon saw the road. The drive, he amended. Once the north road out of Halaway crossed the bridge, it became the drive up to the Hall, and the land spread out before him was the family estate.

  He headed for the drive, then spun around when Ladvarian growled, half-expecting an attack despite the dog's display of friendship.

  But Ladvarian was facing the way they'd come. The bridge was out of sight because of the roll of the land, but the wind was coming from that direction.

  "What is it?" Daemon asked, opening his first inner barrier enough to sense the area around them.

  *Humans are coming. Three carriages. I've warned the other males, but we have to get back now.* Ladvarian started trotting in a direct line toward the Hall, forcing Daemon into a fast walk to keep up.

  "What's wrong with humans coming to the Hall?"

  Ladvarian's psychic scent became hostile. *They feel wrong.*

  The sudden fierceness was a sharp reminder that the small m
ale trotting beside him was also a Red-Jeweled Warlord, and if Lucivar had overseen some of Ladvarian's training, the Sceltie was a far more effective fighter than anyone might suspect.

  *Nighthawk will take you to the Hall. He runs faster.*

  Before Daemon could wonder about that cryptic remark, he heard the hoofbeats pounding toward him.

  Under other circumstances, once he saw the black horse, he would have declined the offer—not only because riding a stallion bareback wasn't a healthy idea, but because, for just a moment, the wind and the horse's movement had lifted its forelock and he'd seen the Gray Jewel hidden underneath. Despite the difference in their species, he recognized the aggressive psychic scent of another Warlord Prince. But when he didn't move after the horse pulled up, Ladvarian nipped his calf. *Go, Daemon. Now.*

  He barely had time to mount and grab a fistful of the long mane before Nighthawk took off at a flat-out gallop cross-country. Wondering how Ladvarian was going to keep up with them at that pace, he glanced back and saw the dog balanced on the horse's rump.

  When the horse angled toward the last, long, straight section of the drive, Daemon tugged on the mane, and shouted, "Ease up," worried that Nighthawk would slip on the gravel at that speed.

  He felt a slight lift, and then heard... nothing. No pounding hooves, no scattering gravel. Looking over Nighthawk's left shoulder, he saw those driving legs racing on air straight for the front door.

  They were close enough to see the details of the dragon's head doorknocker before Nighthawk sat back on his haunches and finally came to a stop a hand span away from the steps.

  Daemon dismounted and walked up the steps, not sure if his legs were trembling from muscle tension or frayed nerves. When he reached the door and looked back, there was no sign of Nighthawk, but he could sense the stallion's presence nearby.

  "Hell's fire," he muttered as a footman opened the door.

  Ladvarian rushed in ahead of him and disappeared.

  Daemon entered more slowly, feeling the press of male hostility. Besides the footman, the only visible person in the great hall was Beale, the butler, but he doubted they were the only ones present.

  "It seems we're about to have company," Daemon said as he smoothed back his hair and straightened his black jacket.