Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 34

Daemon walked into the parlor where Jaenelle was tucking the last few presents under the tree before she created an illusion spell of the brightly wrapped boxes. Most, if not all, of those gifts would be going with her to the Keep this evening, so the illusion spell would maintain this room’s festive appearance.

He would tuck his special gift for her among the rest once he joined her at the Keep tomorrow for the family’s celebration of Winsol.

He held out a brown delivery box. “This came for you. Special delivery from Cassie.”

“From Cassie?” Jaenelle put the last box in place, frowned a little, rearranged a couple more, then nodded, finally satisfied with the arrangement.

Of course, if this package was supposed to go with the others, his darling wife could well pull them all out and start again.

He might find that annoying if he didn’t suspect she was trying to figure out what the gifts were without using Craft to probe the packages.

That was considered cheating.

Besides, if challenged, he would deny having done anything similar when he’d handled packages while putting his gifts under the tree.

Jaenelle opened the delivery box and uncovered a note and a large bakery tin.

“Chocolate chunk cookies,” she read. “Taste best when slightly warm.” She vanished the note, opened the bakery tin, and took a cookie.

Daemon narrowed his gold eyes as he watched her slowly chew and swallow. Until now, the only time he’d seen that look on her face was when he was doing something especially pleasing with his hands or mouth.

“Let’s see those.” He reached for a cookie.

She hugged the tin, took a step back, and snarled, “Mine.”

“Darling,” he purred, “you’re sharing.”

“Why?”

“Because you like having sex with me.”

She watched him out of those sapphire eyes. “You think you can give me sex that’s as good as these cookies?”

“I think I can manage that.”

She put the last bite of cookie in her mouth. She chewed. Swallowed. Licked melted chocolate off her fingers.

And gave him a smile that made his knees weak and his blood sizzle.

“Did you have any plans for this afternoon?” she asked.

“I don’t remember.”

Her smile turned a bit feral and a whole lot hotter.

She handed him the bakery tin, walked to the door, and said over her shoulder, “Why don’t you tell Beale we’re going to miss the midday meal?”

He watched her walk out of the room and wondered when she’d learned to dothat with her hips.

“Why don’t I do that?” Since he needed a minute before he left the room, he ate a cookie. “Damn, they are good.” He studied the cookies—and smiled.

They tasted best when warm? Well, he’d have to see how warm he could make it when he walked into the bedroom holding a bakery tin full of these cookies—and wearing nothing but black leather pants that fit like a second skin.

Winsol. For the Blood it was the most important day of the year.

For Theran, it was a bittersweet evening.

He sat in a chair near the fire Julien had lit in the parlor, his socked feet resting on a stool. Watching the flames, he idly swirled brandy in a snifter.

He’d enjoyed these past few days more than he’d expected. The first time he’d shown up at a social engagement without Kermilla, there had been an awkward silence, but word must have spread after that because none of his other hosts mentioned her absence. And because her absence meant he was free to travel to other towns, he’d spent some time with other Warlord Princes who had been friends in the rogue camps.

The days leading up to Winsol had been full. He still missed Kermilla with an ache that made him feel hollowed out at times—even when he acknowledged to himself that she wouldn’t have enjoyed the parties half as much as he did, being used to things that were so much grander.

If she’d asked him to spend Winsol with her in Dharo, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Would his clothes and manners have been that much of an embarrassment to her?

Probably.

She certainly would have been offended by the thought of sitting down with the servants for the Winsol feast. Since he couldn’t see the cook making a separate meal just for him, he’d asked Julien, Hanna, and the others to join him in the dining room and to set the table with whatever bits of fancy the butler and housekeeper could find. Despite the surroundings and a much better quality of food, sitting with them tonight had felt more like a Winsol dinner in the rogue camps—camaraderie and easy teasing between the adults and youngsters, and laughter. A great deal of laughter and the hopeful relief that the bad times were behind them.

He enjoyed the meal and the chance to know them as people instead of just servants.

But he still missed Kermilla. And Gray. Hell’s fire, he missed Gray. Not Gray as he’d been for the past ten years, but the youth he had been before he was captured and tortured. As he sipped his brandy and stared at the fire, Theran kept remembering that last Winsol when Gray was whole and happy—when one of them wasn’t weighed down by nightmares and the other by guilt.

A tap on the parlor door before Julien stepped in. “Prince Talon is here and asked if you’re available to see him.”

“Of course!” Theran set the brandy aside and pushed out of the chair. “Send him in.”

“We don’t have any of that special wine,” Julien said. “Is there something else we can offer as refreshment?”

Would Julien actually open a vein and mix his own blood with red wine to make yarbarah?

Studying his butler’s face, Theran realized that was a distinct possibility. “Let me find out if he wants anything.” He paused, wondering if he was reading something in Julien’s voice that wasn’t really there. “I appreciate the offer.”

Julien nodded and stepped out of the room.

A minute later, Talon walked in.

“Happy Winsol,” Talon said, giving Theran a hard hug and a smile.

“Happy Winsol.” Theran grinned, delighted by this visit. “Come sit by the fire. I don’t think we’ll have more snow until morning, but the old men who have weather aches say no one will move far from their own doorstep tomorrow.”

“They’re probably right,” Talon replied, taking a seat by the fire. “Plenty of snow up in the mountains this year.”

“You were in the Tamanara Mountains?” Theran couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Did Cassidy know her Master of the Guard was visiting the rogue camps?

“I always visit the camps during the Winsol nights.” Talon gave him a sharp look. “You know that.”

Of course he did. The past few years, he’d made those visits with the older man.

“I didn’t think you’d have time for that this year,” Theran said. He didn’t add that, until tonight, he hadn’t thought about the men who had remained in the mountain camps.

“I had time.”

Made time is what Talon meant. Since he should have done the same, he changed the subject. “How’s Gray?”

Talon smiled. “Boy’s got as much energy as a Sceltie, and he’s almost as good at herding.”

Is she working him hard? Not a question he could ask out loud since Cassidy was a sore subject between them.

Still smiling, Talon shook his head. “When he wasn’t working in the Queen’s gardens, he was overseeing the restoration of the small public gardens and parks in the village. Since Cassie, Shira, and Vae all insisted that he balance that with quiet work, Powell put him in charge of helping villages establish loaning libraries. I’ve never seen him happier.”

“Won’t he miss having you with him for Winsol?” Theran asked.

“Nah. Cassie’s parents and her brother are staying for Winsol. Along with the First Circle, he’s got plenty of people around him.” Talon gave him a long look, then asked quietly, “What about you? Why are you alone tonight?”

“I’ve attended more parties, winter picnics, musical evenings, card parties, riding parties, you-name-it parties in the past six days than I’ve ever seen. I had a choice of attending four Winsol parties or having a quiet evening at home. I chose to stay home.”

“And Kermilla?”

He ignored the ache caused by the sound of her name. “She had Winsol commitments to fill in Dharo.”

Cassidy’s court didn’t know that Kermilla was gone for good, and he wasn’t about to say anything that would lead Talon to think that. Besides, he didn’t know for certain she was gone for good. Correne’s death and the reason the little bitch had died had shaken Kermilla. It would have shaken any woman with a sensitive heart. Once she had some time away, she might realize that her influence as Dena Nehele’s Queen would curb the younger Queens and could prevent another tragedy like the one that had left a boy so horribly maimed.

As pleased as he was to see Talon, it was unfortunate that Cassidy’s Master of the Guard had learned that Kermilla wasn’t currently in Dena Nehele. Without Kermilla’s presence, Cassidy would solidify her claim as Territory Queen next spring without a challenge. He still didn’t think she was the best Queen for Dena Nehele, so he saw no reason to surrender the field to her until he had no other choice.

Talon stared at the fire, saying nothing. Then he shook himself out of whatever thoughts had pulled him away. “Didn’t intend to disturb your quiet evening. I just wanted to stop by and give you these.” He called in two wrapped packages, one large and one small.

Theran’s face burned. With the way they’d parted, he hadn’t expected to see Talon or Gray, hadn’t expected to be remembered. So, feeling the pinch in his purse, he hadn’t bought anything for them. “Talon . . .”

Talon waved a hand dismissively. “Freely given. Freely taken.”

The words Cassidy used the first time she had offered Talon blood from her vein. Apparently the phrase was being used for other kinds of gifts as well.

Setting aside the smaller gift, Theran opened the larger package, then exclaimed in delight as he lifted the winter coat out of the tailor’s box. He slipped it on.

Talon nodded. “You and Gray are the same size, so we thought it would fit you. There are gloves in the box as well.”

Theran found them and tried them on. Fine leather. Excellent workmanship.

“I don’t know what to say except thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The coat and gloves are from Gray and me. The other is from Cassidy.”

Something burned in his throat as he removed the coat and gloves and carefully set them aside. He swallowed that burning and opened the other gift.

“A book?” He opened it to the title page and stared.

“She had the account of Jared and Lia’s journey made into books so that the people in Dena Nehele would know their story. She thought you should have one.”

Theran closed the book. His fingers stroked the leather cover. “I’ll send a proper thank-you after the holidays, but please convey my thanks. This is . . . special.”

“Well.” Talon pushed out of the chair. “I guess . . .”

“Could you stay?” Theran set the book aside and looked at the man who had raised him.

“Were you lying about those parties or the invitations for tonight?” Talon asked.

“No, I wasn’t lying. I really didn’t want to attend another party tonight. But I’d like to spend some time with you. Maybe play some cards or a game of chess?”

“You going to serve the blooded rum at midnight?”

“I am.”

Talon smiled. “In that case, let’s see if you’ve learned anything about chess.”

Talon said that every time they had played, even though Theran won almost half the time.

Theran smiled as he called in the chess set that had been a Winsol gift from a few years back.

They played until midnight, then shared a traditional cup of blooded rum to celebrate Winsol. An hour later, Talon caught the Winds and headed back to Eyota.

For an hour after that, Theran sat by the fire, swirling brandy in a snifter and staring at the flames—and feeling oddly content.