by Anne Bishop
Daemon clawed at the dial until he managed to shut off the water. Bracing one hand against the wall, he tried to convince his cold-tightened muscles to let go of his lungs long enough for him to take a breath. Then he glared at Lucivar.
"Jaenelle woke up in a similar mood," Lucivar said mildly. "Must have been an interesting night."
"Nothing happened," Daemon growled as he swiped his hair back.
"Nothing physical," Lucivar said. "But I've danced with the Sadist enough times to recognize him when I see him."
Daemon just waited.
Lucivar's lips curled into that lazy, arrogant smile. "Welcome to Kaeleer, brother," he said softly. "It's good to have you back." He paused at the bathroom door. "I'll bring you a cup of coffee. That and a hot shower ought to wake you up enough."
"Enough for what?" Daemon asked warily.
Lucivar's smile turned wicked. "You're late for practice, old son. But, all things considered, I'll give you another fifteen minutes to get to the field before I come looking for you again."
"And if you have to come looking again?" Daemon asked too softly.
"Trust me. If I have to come looking for you again, you're not going to like it."
He already didn't like it. But he sipped the coffee Lucivar brought him while the hot water pounded his neck and back—and the Sadist began planning the quiet, gentle seduction of Jaenelle Angelline.
Chapter Five
1 / Kaeleer
Alexandra walked through the corridors, Philip beside her. She would have preferred Leland's company rather than an unavailable male, but the way Philip had quickly offered to accompany her meant he wanted to discuss something with her in private without making it obvious.
Irritated by his presence, she snapped, "We've been here for over a week and nothing's happened. How long does that 'escort' expect us to be able to remain guests?"
Philip didn't have to point out that Osvald, the escort Dorothea had provided, hadn't been able to get close to either Wilhelmina or Jaenelle without having to deal with at least one male chaperon, let alone get close enough to slip the women away from the Hall. He also didn't have to point out that they would be "guests" until the High Lord—or the real Queen who ruled this court—decided otherwise.
"Lucivar came to see me this morning," Philip said abruptly.
Hearing the tightness in his voice, Alexandra glanced at him, then took a closer look at the flush darkening Philip's face. Was that anger or embarrassment? "And?"
"He strongly suggested that you tighten your hold on Vania's leash before she gets hurt. It seems she's too aggressive in her efforts to coax a Kaeleer male into her bed. He said if she's that itchy for a male, she should invite her Consort, since that's why he's here."
Personally, Alexandra thought Vania acted like a slut. But Vania was also generous about sharing the use of her males with visiting Queens—a generosity Alexandra never refused whenever she visited that Province. She had kept no steady lover in her own court for more than twenty-five years—ever since she had asked Philip to see Leland through her Virgin Night. It wouldn't have been fair to any of them if she had asked him to warm her bed after that when he really wanted to be her daughter's lover, and the other men she had considered since then had been far more interested in the power they might wield as her Consort than in giving her pleasure.
But remembering Vania's generosity—and the fact that no male currently warmed her bed, either—made Alexandra defensive. "She wouldn't have to be 'aggressive' if this court remembered to provide visiting Queens with the basic amenities."
"I mentioned that," Philip said through gritted teeth. "And was told that there are no males in this court whose service requirements include that duty."
"I find that hard to believe. Not every Queen who comes here would necessarily have a Consort at that moment or have brought him. There must be some arrangement—" She stopped, shaken by the depth of the insult. "It's because we're from Terreille, isn't it?"
"Yes," Philip said flatly. "He said there are a few males in the Second and Third Circles who would normally be willing to accommodate a guest of the court if asked, but because Terreillean Queens don't know how to enjoy a male without mistreating him, no Kaeleer male would willingly offer himself." He hesitated. "He also said there are no pleasure slaves in Kaeleer."
That verbal slap hurt as much as a blow because it was a reminder that, for a few months, Daemon Sadi had been a pleasure slave in her court.
"I see," she said tightly.
"Despite his anger over the situation, Lucivar actually seemed concerned," Philip said, sounding baffled. "Mostly because Vania's fixed her efforts on Prince Aaron."
"Aaron is a very handsome man, and—"
"He's married."
There wasn't much she could say to that, not when she could feel waves of anxiety rolling off of Philip. Vania's marked attention toward a married man would be a sharp reminder of his own vulnerability.
While more and more aristo marriage contracts in Terreille were being made for social or political reasons, most Blood males still cherished the idea of marriage because it was the one relationship where the genders met on common ground as partners. Or as close to being partners as was possible—or reasonable. It also meant that male fidelity was a marriage requirement, and any man who looked beyond his wife's bed could swiftly find himself without home or family, could even lose his children.
"There's another reason to curb Vania," Philip said. "If the males here get any more riled ..."
"I know," Alexandra replied sharply. They would never get Wilhelmina and Jaenelle away from the Hall if the males became more hostile than they already were. "I know," she said again, softening her voice. "I'll talk to her."
"Soon?"
She disliked herself for thinking less of him because of the anxiety in his voice.
"Yes, Philip," she said gently, "I'll talk to her soon."
2 / Kaeleer
An interesting gathering, Daemon thought as he slipped his hands into his trouser pockets and wondered what it meant when the Steward of the Court summoned the Master of the Guard, the Consort, and the First Escort to his study in order to "discuss something."
He'd spent the past couple of days studying the book of Protocol Saetan had given him and had been surprised by the differences between these rules and the ones he had been taught in Terreille. This Protocol, while reinforcing the matriarchal nature of the Blood, gave males some rights and privileges that helped balance the power. Which explained the refreshing lack of fear and subservience in these males. They understood the boundaries that defined acceptable male behavior, and within those boundaries, they stood on solid ground, never having to wonder what would happen to them if they were no longer in a particular Lady's favor.
He'd also been surprised by the section of Protocol that involved First Circle males since he'd never even seen the vaguest mention of it in Terreille.
There was a phrase that summed up a male's surrender into formal service: Your will is my life. It gave the Queen the right to do anything she pleased with a male, including kill him. That wasn't new, and, in Terreille, it was a serious risk. What was different was the tacit agreement on the Queen's part that, by accepting the male, she was also accepting his right to have a say in her decisions and her life. If a Queen gave an order and the majority of males in her First Circle opposed it, she could yield to their decision or dismiss them from her court. But she couldn't hurt them for opposing her.
If the males in Terreille had known about that part of Protocol, they might have been able to keep the behavior of Dorothea's pet Queens in check, might have been able to keep the younger strong witches safe and whole, might have found a way to fight the threats of slavery and castration that had made most of the males too afraid to challenge the witches in power.
But something—or someone—must have purged the sections about male power from the books of Protocol in Terreille so long ago that no one had remembered they existed.
>
No wonder Terreilleans found living in Kaeleer such a shock. And now it finally made sense why immigrants from Terreille were required to serve in a court. They would need that time to absorb the new rules and understand how those rules applied to day-to-day living.
Which made him even more curious to observe the formal give-and-take between a Queen and the male triangle.
Assuming, of course, the Queen was going to show up.
"Did anyone tell Cat she's supposed to be here?" Lucivar asked, echoing Daemon's thought.
Saetan gave Lucivar a bland look. "I told her. However, Lord Ladvarian had already cornered her to discuss a couple of things. I expect she'll be along as soon as she can talk herself around whatever he and Kaelas have in mind." That bland look was then aimed at Daemon.
Daemon met that look with one equally bland while his heart rate kicked up to a gallop—because he had the distinct feeling that whatever Ladvarian and Kaelas wanted to discuss with Jaenelle had to do with him.
He was trying to think of a reasonable excuse to drag Lucivar into the great hall for a minute to ask him why the kindred were so interested in the Consort when Jaenelle rushed into the room.
"Sorry I'm—" She checked when she saw them, and her rush suddenly became cautious. "Is this family or court?" she asked warily.
"Court," Saetan replied.
Fascinated, Daemon watched the subtle shift from woman to Queen.
"And what is the court's pleasure?" Jaenelle asked quietly.
No hint of a sneer or sarcasm in her voice, Daemon decided as he recognized one of the ritual openings for discussion.
"I received a message from Lord Jorval," Saetan said with equal calm, although his eyes seemed a little too carefully blank. "A person from a prestigious aristo family has come to Kaeleer seeking the assistance of a Healer for an illness that has baffled all the Healers in Terreille. Since you're known to be the best Healer in the Realm, he urgently requests that you come to Goth to offer your opinion."
Lucivar snarled quietly but viciously. A small, but sharp, hand gesture from Andulvar silenced him.
"Jorval also says that, while he's been assured that the illness is not contagious, it does seem to afflict only males. And since he doesn't want any harm to come to the males of your court—"
This time Andulvar snorted.
"—he has offered to provide you with an escort while you're in Little Terreille."
"NO!" Lucivar exploded into movement, pacing furiously. "You are not going into Little Terreille to do a healing without a full escort of your own males. Not again. Never again. If this person wants to see you so badly, why doesn't he come here?"
"I can think of a few reasons," Jaenelle said with dry amusement as she watched Lucivar.
Daemon's blood sang when her eyes met his for a moment. Then it chilled when he glanced at Saetan and saw something flicker at the back of those golden eyes. What was the High Lord trying to hide behind that deliberately blank gaze—and what would happen if the leash holding it back snapped?
"Did Jorval mention where this person is from? Or anything else that might be useful?" Jaenelle asked, turning back to Saetan while Lucivar paced and swore.
"Only that the short-lived races seem most affected." Saetan said.
Jaenelle's lips softened in a hint of a dreamy smile that was malevolent enough to make Daemon shiver. "The races from the western part of Terreille?" she asked in her midnight voice.
"He didn't say, Lady."
Jaenelle nodded thoughtfully. "I'll think about it."
"There's nothing to think about," Lucivar snarled. "You're not going. You may not remember much of what happened seven years ago, but I do. We're not going through that again, especially you."
Daemon studied Lucivar. Behind the fury was fear bordering on panic. He suppressed a sigh, not happy that his first official act as the Consort might be opposing his Queen. But anything that spooked Lucivar so badly wasn't something Daemon was going to easily agree to.
Then he noticed Jaenelle's face as she turned toward Lucivar—and wondered how any man would dare oppose Witch now that she had reached maturity and had come into her full power.
Lucivar froze in midstride as those sapphire eyes fixed on him. His body trembled, but he met her gaze, and his voice was steady as he said quietly, "The only way you're going into Little Terreille is by going through me."
Then he walked out of the study.
Jaenelle's shoulders slumped for a moment, then straightened again as she turned to face Daemon. "Please go with him."
"Why?" Daemon asked too softly.
The Queen stare melted a little into exasperation. "Because you're strong enough to hold him back, and I don't want him getting the boyos riled about something I haven't even decided to do yet."
It was the first thing she had asked of him, and he wasn't sure he could do it. "What happened seven years ago?"
Her face went death pale, and it took her a moment to answer. "Why don't you ask Lucivar? As he said, he remembers it better than I do."
He waited a few heartbeats. Then, "How long do you need?"
Now she looked at Saetan. "Would an hour be convenient?"
"It would be our pleasure to reconvene in an hour," Saetan said.
"All right," Daemon said. "I can hold him for an hour."
Nodding to acknowledge that she heard him, she hurried out of the room.
Daemon stared at the closed door, fully aware that Andulvar and Saetan were waiting for some indication of what he was going to do. "I am going to ask him," he said quietly. "And if I don't like the answer, she's going to have to go through me, too." He would sacrifice any chance of being her lover if that's what it took to protect her.
"You're not going to like the answer," Saetan said, "but I wouldn't worry about having to take a stand. If Jaenelle decides she's going into Little Terreille, she's going to have to go through the whole First Circle to do it. Since it isn't likely that she'll fight the court that hard over this particular healing, it's only respectful to allow the Lady the time to reach that conclusion on her own."
"In that case, if you'll excuse me, I'd better see what I can do about restraining Lucivar's temper."
3 / Kaeleer
*Lucivar is unhappy,* Ladvarian said as he watched Jaenelle stare at the waterfall and tiered pools she had built in this inner garden several years ago.
"I want to think, Warlord," Jaenelle said quietly. "Alone."
The Sceltie shifted his feet, thought a moment, then stood firm. *He's snarly and upset and he won't talk to any of us.*
This particular smell of anger and fear on Lucivar only happened when Jaenelle or Marian did something to upset the Eyrien. Since Marian hadn't done anything unusual—he'd already checked—that meant Jaenelle had done something. Or was going to do something.
His lips pulled back in a silent snarl. *Jaenelle.*
As she turned to face him, he saw the large blackwood hourglass resting on her hand. Saying nothing, she turned it over, set it on the stone lip of the lowest pool, and walked to the other end of the garden.
Ladvarian growled softly at the hourglass.
The kindred had trouble understanding the way humans carved up a day into these little chunks called hours and minutes. They had understood easily enough that sometimes human females wanted to be left alone, but, for a while, they had come back too soon and had gotten snarled at. So the High Lord and the Lady had made these hourglasses because they were easy to understand. If the sand was all at the bottom, the female was ready to play again. If it wasn't, the kindred would go away without disturbing her.
Jaenelle had two sets of hourglasses. Each set had an hourglass sized for one hour, a half hour, and a quarter hour. Jaenelle used the set made of light-colored wood as a request for private time and could be interrupted if necessary. Witch, the Queen, used the set made from blackwood, and those hourglasses were a silent command.
Ladvarian trotted out of the garden, accepting the dismissa
l.
He wouldn't challenge his Queen, but he had learned that, if nipped sharply enough, Lucivar would lash out. And then Ladvarian and the other males would find out what the Lady was planning to do.
4 / Kaeleer
Using Craft, any of the Jeweled Blood would be able to send an ax cleanly through a chunk of wood. Lucivar, Daemon decided as he watched the ax come down and split the wood in half, wasn't using anything but muscle and temper. And that, more than anything else he'd observed since arriving in Kaeleer, told him how different serving in a court was here. In Terreille, Lucivar would have picked a fight with another strong male, and the resulting violence would have triggered a vicious brawl that could tear a court apart. Here he was venting his temper by chopping wood that would warm the Hall in the winter days ahead.
"She send you out here to keep me hobbled?" Lucivar snarled as he swung the ax again.
"What happened seven years ago, Lucivar?" Daemon asked quietly. "Why are you so against Jaenelle doing a healing in Little Terreille?"
"You're not going to talk me around this, Bastard."
"I'm not interested in talking you around this. I just want to know why I'm about to draw the line that puts me on the opposing side of my Queen's wishes."
The ax came down just hard enough to set the blade into the chopping block.
Lucivar called in a towel and wiped the sweat off his face. "Seven years ago she had been in Little Terreille, making one of those visits that had been a concession to the Dark Council. A child had been badly injured, and she was asked to do the healing. Whoever set it up did it well. The injury was extensive enough that the healing would have left her physically and mentally exhausted but not enough that she might have called in other Healers than the ones in Little Terreille. Because if she'd called Gabrielle or Karla for help, a male escort would have come with them.
"When the healing was done, someone gave her food or drink that was drugged, and she was too tired to detect it. It made her complacent enough to do what she was told— and she was told to sign a marriage contract."
