Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 13

Daemon settled in the chair behind the blackwood desk, crossed his legs, steepled his fingers, and tried to decide if his second and his secretary, who were finally coming to report, deserved a verbal ripping or if he should hold his tongue and his temper.

Surreal gave him a smile that dared him to say anything. Rainier gave him a panicky don’t expect me to control her look.

“My darlings,” he said with a mildness that would frighten any intelligent person—excluding females. “Breakfast is served here at the Hall every day. You didn’t have to bypass the family seat last night and go all the way to Amdarh to get a meal this morning.”

It wasn’t that he minded them going on to Amdarh instead of coming to the Hall, even though that would have been more sensible since the Hall was closer to the Keep and its Gate. What pissed him off was that neither of them had sent a message last night to let him know they were safely back in Kaeleer. No, it was Helton who’d had sense enough to send a message to Beale early this morning.

“I wanted some time to think before coming here—and I chose to do my thinking in the family’s town house in Amdarh,” Surreal said with equal mildness.

She’d had plenty of time to think on the journey back from Dena Nehele, so she’d probably wanted a little more time to consider what she was—and wasn’t—going to say.

Daemon raised one eyebrow and waited.

“Why don’t you go first?” Surreal said to Rainier.

Rainier gave her a long look, then shrugged. “Our arrival interrupted a full-volume discussion between Cassidy and a Warlord Prince named Gray.”

“So he’s reached that stage, has he?” Daemon asked dryly.

“You were expecting this?” Rainier hesitated. “Gray is . . . different.”

“He was held captive by a Queen and tortured for two years,” Daemon said. “He was fifteen when he was taken.”

Rainier nodded. “That explains the schism. I felt like I was listening to an adolescent who was still innocent enough to blurt out every thought and complaint, but it was a Warlord Prince around my own age who was absorbing the answers.”

“That’s about right.”

Rainier shifted in his chair. “Anyway, there were twelve men around that table, and every one of them resented me asking questions about their Queen and their court.”

“They resented me too,” Surreal said.

“No,” Rainier said, “they were afraid of you. Me they would have buried without hesitation if they thought they would survive the retaliation.”

“Which they wouldn’t,” Surreal said.

“Something is going on, and no one wants to talk about what that something is,” Rainier said. “However, Gray was more than willing to complain about Cassidy wanting to use the Queen’s Gift of having a connection to the land to boost the potential harvest—and also teach the other Queens how to do the same thing. They all sat there with their mouths hanging open when I said Cassidy and the other Queens had left it a bit late since all the Queens in Kaeleer had done this in the spring. I told them how it’s usually part of the spring planting festival most villages have and there’s usually music and dancing in the evening—a bit of fun before people settled in to the summer work. And I mentioned that Queens habitually drain a little of their power into the land before their moontime because it makes them more comfortable physically. They didn’t know about that either—and considering how many of those men blushed when I said the word ‘moontime,’ I have the feeling not many of them have had much experience living with women for more than a few days.”

“Most of Cassie’s court are rogues as well as warriors,” Daemon said. “So you’re probably right that this is all much newer ground than any of us realized.”

“They also didn’t know about the tradition of fussing,” Rainier said. “So I took the liberty of explaining it—especially as it applies to a Queen and her court.”

Daemon laughed. Oh, Cassie was going to have some comments about that in her next report. Then his humor faded as he looked at Surreal.

She shrugged. “Stone in a pond. Cassidy seems frustrated by how little she’s done in the weeks she’s been in Dena Nehele. My sense is she’s done enough already to send ripples through the whole Territory—including taking a young Shalador Queen into the court for training. I met the girl the last time I was in Eyota. With the right hand to guide her, Reyhana will be a strong, impressive ruler in a few years. She didn’t say a word while Cassidy and Shira talked, but she listened fiercely—and I had the impression she was hearing some of the same things that weren’t being said that I was. And didn’t like them any better.” She paused, then added, “Theran Grayhaven wasn’t in residence, by the way.”

“Oh?” Daemon said, watching her carefully. Those gold-green eyes held the ruthless chill of a first-rate assassin.

“Does the name Kermilla mean anything to you?” Surreal asked.

“No. Should it?”

Surreal shrugged. “This is what I was told. A Lady Kermilla arrived at Grayhaven to have an audience with the Queen. Audience was granted, and Kermilla’s request was denied. Instead of leaving as she should have, Kermilla has become Theran Grayhaven’s ‘personal guest,’ over Cassidy’s objections. So Queen and court removed themselves from the Grayhaven mansion and have taken up residence in Eyota, where Cassidy is determined to do some good for these people during her year in Dena Nehele.”

“I hope she’s not set on leaving at the end of that year,” Rainier said, “becausemy impression is that, however this started, her court is no longer thinking of her presence in Dena Nehele as temporary or as just a year to train someone else. They’re starting to dig in, and they’ll challenge anyone who tries to take her away from them. And that, Prince Sadi, includes you.”

Good, Daemon thought. “So Cassidy relocated her court because of Theran’s lover? I’m assuming ‘personal guest’ equals lover.”

“I don’t know that it does,” Surreal replied. “But she must mean something if Theran chose her over the Queen he swore to serve.” She leaned forward. “Kermilla is the key to this break between Cassidy and Theran because everyone was being very careful not to tell me where Kermilla came from or her caste. You don’t know her. Maybe Jaenelle does. You should ask her.”

Why don’t you? He knew the answer to that. As strong as she was, as powerful as she was, and as fierce as she was, Surreal did not want to be the one who asked Jaenelle Angelline that question.

He waited until the midday meal. Surreal and Rainier had . . . fled, to be accurate, leaving him to ask what seemed a simple question.

“Do you know Lady Kermilla?” he asked as he cut into his beef.

“Why do you ask?”

Her voice—that midnight, sepulchral, lightning-filled voice—ripped icy claws down his spine.

And not just his spine, Daemon thought as he put down his knife and fork. There were ice crystals on his food, and the water in the glass was frozen solid. And when he looked up, the sapphire eyes staring at him were filled with cold rage.

Mother Night.

“I asked a simple question, Lady,” he said, keeping his own voice quiet and respectful.

“She is someone who will never be a guest in this house if you want me to continue living here,” Witch replied.

Had Surreal guessed this would be Jaenelle’s reaction? A little more warning would have been appreciated.

“Hell’s fire, Jaenelle, who is she?”

“She’s the Queen who took Cassie’s court.”

“Then . . .” Oh, shit.

“Why are you asking about Kermilla, Prince?”

The look in her eyes and the lethal purr in her voice made him put a double Black shield around himself before he said, “She’s in Dena Nehele, staying at the Grayhaven estate.”

Daemon removed his shoes and socks. He checked one foot, then the other. He didn’t respond to the knock on his study door, but the door opened anyway. Jaenelle walked in, carrying a large tray.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding contrite.

“Counting my toes.”

A pause. “They’re all there, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Thank the Darkness.

She set the tray down on the low table in front of the sofa, then sat close to him. But not next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually lose my temper like that.”

No, she didn’t. Her response was so fast and so fierce . . . Well, even a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince can have the shit scared out of him—especially when one moment he was sitting at a large blackwood dining table and the next he was surrounded by a table, chairs, dishes, silverware, glasses, and food that had all been reduced to a pile of uniform pieces no bigger than grains of rice.

It wasn’t the table exploding that upset him. It was the uniformity of the debris that was proof of the depth of her rage. And that rage, and whatever blend of power she had been channeling through Twilight’s Dawn at that moment, had been strong enough to crack his outermost Black shield.

That was something he needed to talk to Lucivar about. Soon.

“You were wrapped in a double Black shield,” Jaenelle said. “I didn’t think you would get hurt.”

“That’s not the point.” Now that he’d gotten over the shock of it, her slash of temper was starting to piss him off. But he leashed that because there had to be a reason for this. Jaenelle didn’t explode like that as some kind of twisted entertainment. And the strength of her reaction got him thinking.

He rubbed his forehead to ease the headache building behind his eyes, then shifted and turned so he was close to her.

“Queens lose men or courts to rivals all the time. And even though Cassidy is a friend and losing her court did leave her bruised, that doesn’t equal your rage. If Cassidy doesn’t have enough spine to tell Kermilla to take a piss in the wind, then she’d better acquire some. From everything Surreal and Rainier told me, her court is becoming a solid team committed to their Queen.”

“All of them?” Jaenelle asked softly.

“Except Theran Grayhaven.” He brushed fingertips over her shoulder. “Jaenelle, what aren’t you telling me?”

Those sapphire eyes studied him. “There is nothing you can do about this. Neither of us have any right to interfere in this. Is that understood?”

Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe.”

“I spun a tangled web after Cassidy discovered the treasure in the Grayhaven attics. I wasn’t going to share what I saw with anyone, but I owe you that as an explanation for how I reacted.”

Sweet Darkness. A tangled web. Dreams and visions.

“All right.”

“Dena Nehele is going to fall.”

He closed his eyes. Why now, when they had survived everything Dorothea SaDiablo had done to them? “Because Kermilla went there?”

“More because Kermilla is still there.”

“I can bury the bitch,” he said too softly, opening his eyes to stare into hers. “I’ll go to Terreille, no matter the price, and bury the bitch if that’s what you want. Or I’ll let Surreal go. She’d be willing.”

“No.” Her fingers brushed through his hair, soothing. “It’s up to them now. Their decisions. Their choices. Sorrow and joy, Daemon. There is sorrow and joy in what I saw.”

How can there be joy? But he trusted her, and if she said there could be joy in Dena Nehele’s fall, he would believe her.

“So there is nothing we can do for them,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.

“We can’t interfere with another Queen’s Territory. That would violate Blood law and our code of honor. But that doesn’t mean there is nothing we can do. In fact, I’ve already helped make arrangements for a couple of things.”

“How is that different from interfering?”

“In the first instance, I gave only the help requested by someone living in Dena Nehele. In the second, I’m simply making available something I think Cassie and her court will find useful. What they do with the material is up to them.”

“That sounds intriguing.” He looked at the food on the tray. “Why don’t we eat the soup while it’s hot, and you can tell me all about it?”