The Queen's Price

NINE

Wilhelmina Benedict, Surreal thought as the estate carriage took her to Jillian’s cottage. Why in the name of Hell would Saetien want to know about Wilhelmina? And why now?

More to the point, why did a young broken Black Widow who walked the roads of the Twisted Kingdom give Saetien Wilhelmina’s name? That wasn’t something she could ignore. But how to get the information without drawing the attention of one of the Keep’s residents? Because the one thing she didn’t want to do was open any heart wounds for Jaenelle Angelline. Witch carried the weight of plenty of wounds, and Surreal didn’t want to add any new ones.

She could slip into the Keep and ask Geoffrey, the historian/librarian. Unless someone asked him what she had been doing there, he would be discreet about her inquiries. Hell’s fire, even after all this time, he could probably recite the basics of Wilhelmina’s life after she came to Kaeleer without needing to look up anything. Those who guarded the Keep—and the Queen—would have kept an eye on Wilhelmina Benedict.

She just needed to decide if providing help with this quest was something she wanted to do.

Jillian’s cottage was charming and slightly eccentric in a way that reflected the years the girl had spent with Lady Perzha in Little Weeble. The exterior fit into the village, but some rooms—like the bathrooms—had been torn apart and rebuilt to accommodate a woman of the Eyrien race. The kitchen had also been redone—and had been inspected by Mrs. Beale and her meat cleaver before the workmen had been permitted to declare the job complete. The carpets in all the rooms were from Dharo—a gift from Daemon that might be overlooked except by a person who understood that Dharo carpets of that quality were considered art, not a floor covering. Lucivar had purchased the furniture for the sitting room and the room Jillian used as her office and library. Marian had fitted out the kitchen with everything a young woman in her first home would need. And Surreal had purchased the bedroom furniture and all the linens.

Jillian still had to purchase a dining table and chairs, and the family had deliberately left out some things that the girl would buy for herself—like a bed for the guest room.

The two Scelties who lived with Jillian greeted Surreal and then disappeared, an indication that there might be an agenda behind this invitation to dinner.

She and Jillian ate and talked about books and the theater, and how Beron was rehearsing for a new play. The two women made plans for Jillian to join Surreal and Daemon on opening night.

When they were down to coffee and delicately made pieces of chocolate, Surreal said, “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?” Since she was staying at the SaDiablo estate located near the sanctuary and had received hints that a certain young vintner was showing special interest in Jillian—and Jillian was showing interest in him—she had a pretty good idea what was on Jillian’s mind.

“I’d like your help.” Jillian selected a chocolate, then dropped it onto her dessert plate.

Surreal smiled. “You’re finally ready to have your Virgin Night. And the Offering to the Darkness after that?”

Jillian sucked in a breath and stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Was there some reason you didn’t do this before now?” Surreal asked gently. Jillian was past the age when most young women would have gone through those ceremonies. Had something happened the family didn’t know about that had made the girl reluctant to participate in the sexual act that would protect her Jewels and power?

“I did make arrangements for my Virgin Night a couple of years ago. More than once, actually.”

“And . . . ?” Surreal said when Jillian hesitated.

“The men who had the training and were interested in providing the service . . . When they found out I was the Demon Prince’s daughter, their enthusiasm withered on the vine.” Jillian held up a forefinger, then slowly curled it.

Surreal choked on her coffee, trying not to laugh. Then she thought about it. “Hell’s fire.” She couldn’t imagine any man being able to perform with Lucivar Yaslana and his war blade standing on the other side of the bedroom door. “You didn’t tell Lucivar you’re ready for your Virgin Night?”

“Are you mad?” Jillian squeaked. “He’d want to be in the room to make sure nothing went wrong!”

Just proved the girl knew the man. Considering that everyone in Askavi knew how Lucivar had responded to Jillian’s first romantic encounter, negotiating distance away from the bedroom might be tricky.

“Why now?” Surreal asked.

Color rose in Jillian’s cheeks. “Stefan.”

That confirmed what she’d suspected. “The young Prince who works as a vintner on the estate here?”

Jillian nodded. “He made the wine we had for dinner. His own blend that he’s been developing over the past few years. He’s intelligent and kind and funny and enthusiastic about his work—and enthusiastic about mine. And now we’d like . . .”

“To be lovers?” Which meant Jillian had ignored the permission-before-action rule up to the part that could get Stefan killed if Lucivar found out after the fact. But the girl had reached her majority, so that rule shouldn’t apply anymore.

Except they were talking about Lucivar. And Daemon.

“Yes,” Jillian said.

Surreal selected a chocolate and nibbled on it. “You wear Birthright Purple Dusk. That means you have the potential to come away from the Offering wearing Sapphire. It’s better to have your Virgin Night first. The darker your Jewel, the more difficult it is to find a partner who is strong enough to see you through your first sexual experience.” She huffed out a breath. “I appreciate how difficult this will be, but, sugar, you can’t do this without Lucivar and Daemon being present. Not after everything we learned about the coven of malice.”

Jillian looked ready to faint. “But you see . . .”

“No. It will be impossible for them to allow a girl they care about to go through the Virgin Night without them being present. So we’ll do some negotiating and compromising to get you through it—and keep the man who has agreed to perform the service alive. What you will not do, as tempting as it may be, is throw caution to the wind and let Stefan see you through that first time. The Virgin Night isn’t about making love. It’s not even about sex. It’s about the preservation of the girl’s power. Your power and potential. Stefan should be your first lover, not your first time.”

“You don’t understand,” Jillian whispered, bracing her head in her hands.

“I understand that Lucivar and Daemon want this for you. They do. You just need to give them time to accept that you’re ready for this.” Surreal poured more coffee for both of them. “As for the other, I would be honored to be with you when you make the Offering to the Darkness.”

“I was going to ask Nurian to be there too. And Marian.”

“Well then. I’ll talk to everyone and we’ll work out the details.”

After Surreal returned to the SaDiablo estate, Jillian washed the dinner dishes and kept reassuring the Scelties that she was fine. Having picked up her emotional turmoil, they ignored her words and watched her until she sent them into the garden for a last piddle before she locked up for the night.

She’d had the conversation planned so carefully, had lined up her reasons in a way she was sure Surreal would understand. But she hadn’t anticipated Surreal making the wrong assumption and running with it. Not wrong, exactly. The attraction between her and Stefan had grown to the point where she wanted to invite him to be her lover, which was why she’d wanted this conversation with Surreal, thinking Surreal would be the most levelheaded adult in the family who was also strong enough to handle Lucivar.

Levelheaded and practical Surreal might be, but she was also Daemon Sadi’s second-in-command—and an assassin who wore Gray Jewels. And once she told Daemon and Lucivar that Jillian was ready for the Virgin Night, they were going to expect to have some say in who performed that service.

Now that she’d kicked this pebble and started the avalanche, Jillian wondered how she was supposed to tell any of them that she’d already gone through that female rite of passage and had kept it a secret.