by Anne Bishop
Since holding her so close to his face made his eyes sting and water, Daemon didn’t disagree. But as he followed Lucivar into the kitchen, he wondered where Morghann had been and what she’d been doing to smell that bad.
Watching the boy break up a small piece of cooked venison while Lucivar prepared a snack for the three humans, he also wondered how long she’d gone without food.
“Did you finish the private work you needed to do with the Queen?” Lucivar asked.
Daemonar’s head snapped up, a question in his eyes. Daemon returned the look and knew for certain the boy had known about Witch’s continued existence long before he and Lucivar had made the discovery.
“For now,” Daemon replied.
٭Private?٭ Morghann asked.
“Yes.” Looking at her, he could barely force the food down his throat, but he kept his voice calm, conversational. “The Lady has granted me permission to stay in her part of the Keep a few days each month in order to work on some private concerns.” No need to tell the Sceltie, or the boy, that the work was about maintaining his sanity.
“I told you he was doing something important for the Lady,” Daemonar said, feeding Morghann another piece of venison. Whatever else he might have said was silenced by a small shake of Lucivar’s head.
Taking the Sceltie to the sinks in Marian’s laundry room, Daemon gave Morghann a bath, while Daemonar crowded next to him, offering unnecessary advice.
“There’s still some soap there, Uncle Daemon.” Daemonar pointed to a spot on Morghann’s flank. “You probably didn’t see it because the shield on my arm is so bright—and blue.”
“And what did the Lady say when you complained about it?”
The boy gave him a sour look. “She laughed.”
She was a secret Daemonar hadn’t told anyone, not even his father. Still a secret kept from most of the Realm. But now it was shared by the men who still served Witch—and always would.
* * *
* * *
Daemon took the second driver’s seat in the Coach and settled Morghann on his lap. He couldn’t order her to stay in the passenger area of the Coach while he sat up here with Lucivar. He feared giving that order would break something inside her. Until he knew why she’d been left behind, he accepted that she needed to feel his hand on her, needed to take in his scent with every breath.
Lucivar closed the Coach and settled in the other driver’s seat. After guiding the Coach to the Webs of power that flowed in the Darkness, he caught the Ebon-gray Wind and headed for the Hall in Dhemlan.
٭What happened?٭ Daemon asked on a Red spear thread.
٭From what I pieced together from the things Marian and Daemonar told me yesterday, Morghann hid instead of going with Surreal and the others,٭ Lucivar replied. ٭At first, Marian thought she wanted to stay near Khary or had some other reason for staying at the eyrie and would show up when she got hungry. No one was concerned for the first couple of days, and no one mentioned it because you and I were dealing with larger problems.٭
That was one way of describing a decision that had shaken all the Blood in Askavi.
٭Daemonar searched for her every day,٭ Lucivar continued. ٭He even enlisted Tamnar to fly over the mountain with him in case she had left the eyrie and gotten lost. He and Marian told me about Morghann when I got home yesterday. I searched the whole damn eyrie and didn’t find her. Daemonar finally located her early this morning when hunger must have made her weak enough that she couldn’t maintain whatever Craft she’d used to hide from us.٭
٭Why did she hide in the first place? Did something happen with the children?٭
Lucivar looked at him. ٭No, not the children.٭
٭They left us,٭ Morghann had said. “Us” meaning her . . . and him.
Daemon petted the Sceltie, who dozed in his lap, not sure how to feel about such single-minded loyalty.
٭Best I can figure, she wasn’t leaving without you,٭ Lucivar said. ٭And because she couldn’t find you, she kept searching the place she knew without realizing you were at the Keep.٭
٭The three Scelties living with us hadn’t been to the Keep. There was no reason to take them there.٭
٭From what Daemonar could get out of her after he found her, she had decided that she must have done a wrong thing and that was why you had abandoned her.٭
٭I didn’t—٭
٭No, you didn’t.٭
Daemon closed his eyes. ٭She’s an insecure baby. I should have asked Khary to stay with her and Tagg, but he thought Jillian needed him more.٭
٭Wouldn’t have made any difference if Khary had been staying in my home instead of with Jillian. This was about you, old son. You’re Morghann’s special friend in the same way that Jaenelle Angelline was Ladvarian’s special friend.٭
Daemon opened his eyes and studied Lucivar. ٭What bothers you about this? Besides the obvious.٭
٭Your insecure baby, who wears a Purple Dusk Jewel, managed to hide from me in my own home. From me, Daemon. That shouldn’t have been possible.٭
Now Daemon studied the Sceltie. ٭How did she do it?٭
٭You had an Arcerian cat staying with you for a while.٭
٭And a unicorn. They went back to their home Territories soon after Jaenelle Saetien’s Birthright Ceremony. She liked them, and they seemed to like her, but . . . ٭
٭She wasn’t their dream,٭ Lucivar finished. ٭The Arcerians haven’t maintained ties to any of the human Blood, but they’re still connected to the Scelties.٭
Daemon nodded. ٭Yes, they are.٭
٭Well, I think your Arcerian visitor taught your furry baby how to sight shield the way the cats do. Unless you know what that particular bit of Craft feels like when they use it, you don’t know one of those cats is there until he kills you. I played enough games of stalk and pounce with Kaelas to identify the feel of that specific shield. If I’d known she’d learned from an Arcerian, I might have found her sooner—or not, since it wouldn’t feel quite the same with a Sceltie shaping that bit of Craft.٭
٭You’re worried about this?٭
٭An Arcerian uses the sight shield to hunt undetected, but they’re in their own Territory and have little contact with humans. Scelties live in the same villages as humans and are aware of a lot more than we want to believe.٭ Lucivar paused. ٭Let’s just say I’m relieved that Morghann chose you to be her teacher and special friend, because a Sceltie who is that skillful at hiding is not a witch I would want learning to do wrong things.٭
٭Point taken.٭ More than one point when added to Tersa’s warning to accept help offered with love. Unconditional love. Love without fear. Love that would do anything that was needed—including doing what everyone else had thought impossible. Ladvarian had felt that kind of love for Witch. Was Morghann offering the same kind of love to him?
They stopped at one of the family’s estates to give Morghann a little more food and water. While Lucivar kept an eye on the dog, Daemon talked to the estate’s manager and confirmed what he’d suspected: news that the Demon Prince once more walked the living Realms had already spread beyond Askavi.
Lucivar didn’t say anything for a while after they resumed their journey. Finally, he said, ٭They know?٭
٭They know,٭ Daemon replied, still keeping their conversation private. ٭Although the surprise seems to be that you’re just now laying claim to the whole of Askavi. The estate manager and housekeeper thought you’d done it years ago but hadn’t made a fuss about it.٭
Lucivar snorted a laugh. Then his amusement faded. ٭Things will change because of the choice I made, and not just for me.٭
٭Not everything will change, Prick,٭ Daemon replied softly. ٭And we won’t make the mistakes our father made or Andulvar made.٭
٭You sure about that?٭
He nodded. ٭They served the idea of Witch, held a line they believed the living myth wou
ld want them to hold. But I imagine, in the loneliest hours of the night, they must have wondered if they were holding on to hollow beliefs.٭
٭Hollow or not, they passed those beliefs on to us, taught us both where to draw the line.٭
٭And having lived under the corruption spawned by Dorothea, Hekatah, and Prythian, we’ll recognize that foulness before it sinks its roots too deep in Kaeleer. The biggest difference between us and our father and uncle is that we have someone holding the leash. She may not be flesh anymore, but Witch is still present, and our lives are still shaped by her will.٭
٭The Queen’s weapons.٭
٭Always.٭
A few minutes passed in companionable silence before Lucivar said, ٭If Perzha’s court complains about that damn Sceltie trying to rearrange the village to suit himself, you and I are going to have words.٭
٭Well, if the Rihland courts start whining about being under your hand, offer them a choice: you or a Sceltie Warlord Prince. There are a couple at the school in Scelt who are looking for a challenge. After a week or so of being nipped and herded by one of them, the Rihlanders will be pathetically grateful to have you take over.٭
“May the Darkness be merciful,” Lucivar muttered. Then he laughed, long and loud.
* * *
* * *
After escorting Dillon to Nurian’s eyrie, Rothvar remained in the kitchen while Jillian led Dillon to the sitting room. Khary abandoned the bone he’d been gnawing, faced the other Opal-Jeweled Warlord, and growled.
٭He’s a guest, Khary,٭ she said on a psychic thread. ٭No biting.٭
٭No touching,٭ Khary replied.
She couldn’t argue with that, but she thought it was better for everyone if she didn’t agree with the Sceltie, since Khary had a strict interpretation of “touching.”
“Would you like to sit down?” Jillian said, waving a hand at the furniture.
“No. Thank you.” Dillon tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I used that spell on you. I’m not sorry I used it on the other girls. They would have done the same to me without a second thought. But I’m sorry I used it on you.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked you. I wanted you to be impressed so that you would love me, at least for a little while, so I used that stupid spell instead of courting you properly.”
“Prince Yaslana wouldn’t have allowed a courtship,” Jillian said.
“Maybe not, but he might have allowed us to be friends.” Dillon sighed. “I wanted to stay in a place without feeling hunted. I wanted to repair my honor. I think I said things that hurt you, things that might have made you feel small so that I could feel important. I wasn’t like that before I met Blyte. You have no reason to believe me, but I wasn’t like that.”
She did believe him. Dillon looked . . . younger, less sophisticated. Maybe she was seeing him without any posturing for the first time. She wasn’t sure she would have seen him as a romantic figure, but she thought she could have been friends with this boy.
Jillian looked at the fading bruise on Dillon’s face. “I’m sorry I hit you.” She wasn’t in the least bit sorry, but it seemed like the polite thing to say.
He smiled. “Don’t be. I deserved it.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s all I came to say.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated. “Jillian? One more thing.”
“What?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.
“Just that Prince Yaslana is more of a father to you than my own father ever was to me. I think, in a way, I was a little bit jealous.”
Jillian remained in the sitting room for a while after Dillon left. Khary returned to the rug by her chair and gave his attention to the bone.
Mixed feelings and a bruised heart. Maybe that was what a first love was in the end. Maybe her memory of Dillon and that first love would fade over the years, but that other love—that fierce father’s love—would stay with her forever.
* * *
* * *
Karla walked into the Queen’s sitting room and waited.
“There’s no point in you pretending you don’t know I’m here. There’s no point in me pretending that I don’t know some part of you still exists here at the Keep. And there’s no point in either of us pretending that you can maintain the solitude that has kept loneliness at bay when it’s constantly being shattered by what the boyos need from you. Especially Sadi.”
٭So what is the point?٭
Words rising from deep in the abyss. Rising.
“The point is you asked me to stay if I could. I did, and here I am, helping Lucivar now that everyone in Askavi knows that he’s scary.”
٭He was always scary.٭
Rising. “Yes, but now they all know it, and it’s going to scare a few Queens pissless to realize his administrative second-in-command is a demon-dead Black Widow Queen who wears Gray Jewels.”
٭Which you’ll find entertaining.٭
That was beside the point. “I should receive compensation for this.”
Silence. Then a whisper of midnight in the voice rising out of the abyss. ٭Such as?٭
“Having someone sensible to talk to. Meaning someone who doesn’t have a wiggle-waggle.”
A different kind of silence. ٭Please tell me you didn’t use that term around Lucivar.٭
“Of course not,” Karla replied primly. “I said it to Sadi.”
Jaenelle’s silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the sitting room. And then she was there. Witch. Myth and dreams and the extraordinary friendship that had changed the lives of a generation of Queens.
Witch gave Karla a wickedly gleeful smile and said, “Kiss kiss.”
FORTY-FOUR
Surreal felt Black power roll softly through the Hall and knew Daemon had returned.
She’d had a few days without his presence clouding her mind and swamping her with lust for his body. She’d had a few days to think about everything that had happened between them.
She still loved him. She still wanted to be married to him, still wanted him to be her husband in every way. She figured the best way to show him that she was willing to do that was to treat him as if the past few months hadn’t happened.
She paced and waited and waited and paced, listening for any movement in his bedroom. Then she walked over to the section of the Hall that held the suite Saetan had occupied until he withdrew from the living Realms to make room for Daemon to take his place as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. But the only person she found in the suite was Helene. The housekeeper gave the sitting room one more critical look before nodding to Surreal.
“Is he staying here?” Surreal asked. No point pretending with the senior staff, since they’d probably know where Daemon was sleeping on any given night before she did.
“I don’t know,” Helene replied. “He handed off his trunk to Jazen so that the clothes could be sorted and cleaned, but I don’t think he’s gotten farther than his study since he returned.” She waited a moment before adding, “The bedroom adjoining yours is also clean and ready for his return. Is there anything special you would like me to add to that room?”
Was that Helene’s way of offering assistance in coaxing the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan to stay close to his wife?
“If I think of anything, I’ll let you know,” Surreal said. “Thank you, Helene.”
“It’s my pleasure, Lady Surreal.”
Wanting to send the right message to the rest of the staff, Surreal moved briskly through the corridors of the Hall, heading for the rooms where visitors were met, which included Daemon’s study.
“Holt?” she called when she spotted Sadi’s secretary walking toward the door that led to the senior staff’s work area and his office.
Holt reversed direction, passing the open study door as he approached her. He offered Surreal an amused smile and tipped his head toward th
e door. “Important affairs to discuss.”
“Oh? Whose?” She nodded when Holt’s smile widened. “Of course. I should have known she’d pounce on him the moment he walked through the door.”
“Actually, I got to pounce first and point out the stacks of paperwork that Lord Marcus and I agreed most urgently required the Prince’s attention. The young Lady had to run down from the playroom in order to see him.”
“Since you’ve both had a chance at him, now it’s my turn.”
Holt bowed and, once again, headed for his office.
Surreal approached the study door. Since no one else was in the front hall at that moment, she wrapped herself in a sight shield. It wouldn’t prevent Daemon from knowing she was there, but she wanted a moment to see him with Jaenelle Saetien without the girl spotting her.
“I did them the way you asked,” Jaenelle Saetien said.
Surreal stepped into the doorway far enough to see them—Daemon sitting in his chair behind the desk, one arm around the girl, who leaned against him.
“You did an excellent job preparing these requests. You’ve included all the information I need to make an informed decision, which is the kind of decision a father wants to make.” Releasing his daughter, Daemon reached for a pen.
“You should sign them properly, like you do the papers for Holt,” Jaenelle Saetien said.
“Quite right.” He signed three papers on his desk. “Should I add my personal seal as well?”
Jaenelle Saetien grinned. “Yes!”
Surreal watched man and girl as they worked together to melt a stick of red wax and apply the seal Sadi used for his personal correspondence. She was about to drop the sight shield and step into the study when Jaenelle Saetien said, “Papa? Are you angry with Mama and me?”
Daemon set aside the seal and the remainder of the wax stick and put his arms around his daughter. “No, I’m not angry with either of you.”
“You didn’t come home with us.”
