The Queen's Price

THIRTEEN

Daemonar dealt the cards and wondered why Lord Morris, one of the instructors teaching at the Hall, had insinuated himself into this social evening of playing cards. He couldn’t kick about an instructor being present, since Raine was also at the table, along with Mikal, Holt, and Weston, but tonight there was a forced friendliness about Morris that seemed . . . off . . . in a way that made Daemonar uneasy.

Either Uncle Daemon had missed something when he interviewed Morris for the instructor’s position, or Morris was very adept at hiding some things about his nature—even from a man who had razor-sharp instincts when it came to assessing other people.

Or whatever was off about Morris was something Uncle Daemon did know about and considered a personal flaw rather than a potential threat.

*I think he’s a gambler, and that could be the reason he resigned from his last position—although there was nothing in his references to indicate he wasn’t suitable for teaching at the Hall,* Holt told Daemonar on a personal psychic thread, as if his thoughts were following the same path. *He’s been unhappy about how strictly the betting limits are enforced when the staff play games of chance.*

*He could try his luck in Halaway,* Daemonar pointed out.

*And have someone who serves Halaway’s Queen sitting at the table, who will then make a comment to his Queen about the amounts Morris was wagering, and have her voice a concern to Prince Sadi? I don’t think Lord Morris is willing to risk that—yet.*

*We can’t control other people’s lives. Not to the extent of taking away choices.* His father and uncle were firm about that, since Warlord Princes—and Scelties—were sometimes too helpful when it came to herding someone into making the correct choice, and it required experience and training to know when to draw a line and when to let someone make their own mistakes.

*No,* Holt agreed, *but we can wonder if a man prone to making large bets—and acquiring large debts—might be tempted to sell information to cover his markers.*

Yeah, he was beginning to wonder the same thing. And he wondered if Morris had invited himself to this game tonight because Uncle Daemon was having dinner with the Queen of Halaway, her Steward, and her Consort and wouldn’t be anywhere near this part of the Hall—or be one of the men playing cards.

Whatever reason Morris had for getting into this game wouldn’t be a problem now, because of the other male who had joined them tonight. Liath wanted to learn a human card game, so the original playing cards were removed from the table, and Daemonar produced the deck of cards for hawks and hares—a card game played by Eyrien children. Since he was the only one familiar with the game, Daemonar dealt the cards while he explained the rules.

The Sceltie Warlord Prince sat on the chair to Daemonar’s left, his front paws resting on the table and his cards floating on air in front of him—and curved in a way that prevented any curious human from seeing the cards.

Did Liath assume humans would cheat? Or had he observed a human cheating?

“All right, gentlemen, here we go.” Daemonar set the remaining cards on the table and turned over the top card. It was a simple enough game, the object being to collect the most hares either by matching a pair of hares or by having a hawk “strike” and take a hare.

After the players had all taken a turn, Weston said, “Liath, I was wondering how the Scelties who are helping Prince Sadi were chosen.”

*Are you sure you want to know?* Daemonar asked Weston on a psychic thread. He used one of his hawks to “strike” a hare and took that card.

*He’s a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince,* Weston replied. *Don’t you want to know?*

Actually, he did. The Sceltie had gone through the Offering to the Darkness, and the Green was his Jewel of rank. That maturity, compared to that of the other Scelties currently in residence, made him the pack leader. That maturity and Jewel also made him an adult male who could be reasoned with, up to a point, but who wouldn’t back down from a fight, because a Warlord Prince was a Warlord Prince whether he walked on two legs or four.

*We are needed,* Liath replied on a general communication thread they could all hear.

“Yes, but why were you chosen?” Weston asked.

Liath stared at his cards before using Craft to put down a matching hare and collect the pair. Finally he said, *There is a human girl who lives in Maghre near the Sceltie school. She was hurt when she was young. One leg doesn’t work right and she has . . . puppy brain . . . and wears a Yellow Jewel.*

Daemonar translated that to mean there had been some serious injury to the girl’s brain that the Healer wasn’t able to repair, and the girl was, in some ways, simple and most likely would never be able to do more than basic Craft.

*A bad male came to the village. Many females liked him, but Lord Kieran and other human males did not, so the Scelties kept watch over the younger females in the village, since that male wanted to sniff around them more than the adult females.*

Hell’s fire, Daemonar thought, discarding a hare and taking a card from the deck when it was his turn.

*He found the Caitie girl picking flowers in a field and tried to mate with her.* Liath put down a hare matching the one Daemonar had just discarded and collected the pair. *She was on the ground crying and didn’t want to mate, but he pushed his pants down and ripped her clothes. She said “stop” and “no,” but he didn’t, so I bit him. He screamed a lot and held his male sac. I got the Caitie girl away from him and summoned the human guards, who took him to the Healer because he was bleeding.*

Daemonar glanced around the table. Morris looked like he was going to be sick. Raine had lost all color in his face. Even Mikal, who had plenty of experience with Scelties, and Weston, who was a sword and shield, looked a little woozy.

“You bit off his balls?” Daemonar asked, struggling to sound unconcerned—and struggling equally hard not to put a shield around his cock and balls. But that would attract Liath’s attention and make the Sceltie wonder about the reactions of the humans around him.

*Just one,* Liath said.

Morris knocked over his chair in his haste to get out of the room. Daemonar hoped the man made it to the nearest toilet before throwing up.

Liath, clearly confused by Morris’s reaction, looked at the rest of the men. *The Healer said the other ball would work well enough that the male would be able to make puppies if there was a female anywhere in Scelt who would want him for a mate.*

“You didn’t stay to become the Caitie girl’s special friend?” Daemonar asked.

*There is a colt who is the Caitie girl’s special friend, and Lord Kieran thought I would be more useful here. Prince Sadi agreed.*

Yes, Daemon Sadi would definitely view a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince who wouldn’t hesitate to castrate any male who got too frisky around the girls as an asset. And Lord Kieran had probably breathed a sigh of relief at getting this particular Sceltie away from his own village.

A nearby flash of female fear, of panic. Someone nearby was in trouble.

Before Daemonar and Weston could push away from the table, Liath leaped out of his chair and ran out of the room. *The Alvita boo-hoo girl is attacking Allis and Breen!*

Daemonar was only a few steps behind the Sceltie, and Weston was right behind him. He saw Alvita fiddling with the door of Uncle Daemon’s sitting room, felt the clash of Allis’s Rose Jewel with Alvita’s Rose Jewel, heard Breen’s frantic barking.

Daemonar wasn’t sure there was anything he could do that wouldn’t cause an explosion of power if his Green tangled with Liath’s while the Sceltie formed a Green shield in front of the door. But instead of forming a shield, Liath charged the girl. Daemonar saw Alvita notice the dog and raise an arm as if to release a blast of power from the Rose Jewel in her ring.

And he watched, because he hadn’t understood the intent behind Liath’s charge, as the Sceltie launched himself at the girl and closed his jaws around her wrist. Liath twisted in the air, Alvita screamed as the Sceltie’s move knocked her off her feet, and when she landed on the floor, she showed everyone the lacy bra and panties that were the only garments she was wearing under her robe.

Fool, Daemonar thought as his heart pounded and the girl wailed. Aware of Weston standing a few steps behind him, snapping at someone to stay back, he pointed at Liath, who was snarling and worrying the girl’s bleeding wrist. “Back off now, Prince Liath. Let her go, and back off. We’ll deal with her now.”

“Will you?” a deep voice purred.

The air in the corridor turned so cold, it hurt to breathe. The blood dripping from Alvita’s wrist froze before it hit the floor.

Liath released the girl and backed away, growling to let everyone know he was angry. But a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince wasn’t the biggest threat right now.

May the Darkness have mercy on us, Daemonar thought as the Sadist dropped the sight shield and stood on the other side of the girl.

The Sadist stared at Alvita, his gold eyes glazed and sleepy—the only warning that his cold rage was viciously sharp and lethal. Then he looked past Daemonar and purred, “Lord Beale. You’ll handle this?”

“I will, High Lord,” Beale replied. “You’ll want the Coach first thing in the morning?”

“I will.” The Sadist looked down at Alvita again and said too softly, “If the bitch harmed the puppies, she’ll forfeit her skin.” Then he stepped around the girl, carefully opened the door to his sitting room, and slipped inside.

Footmen arrived with a stretcher to take Alvita to the healing room, where Lady Nadene, the Healer who looked after the Hall’s residents, already waited.

“I’m supposed to go,” Arlene said. “Lady Nadene requires my presence.”

“She has summoned the three Healers in training,” Beale said, looking at Weston when the sword and shield hesitated to allow Arlene to pass.

Weston stepped aside enough for Arlene to slip past him, but blocked Zoey, Titian, and the other girls.

“What’s going on?” Zoey asked. “Can we help?”

“No,” Weston said.

“The best thing you can do is stay in tonight,” Daemonar said, meaning the girls should stay in their square of rooms.

Zoey looked toward Sadi’s sitting room door. “But . . .”

The door opened just enough for Allis to slip out. She rushed over to Liath, not Zoey. The Sceltie Warlord Prince gave the young witch a thorough sniff and a lick on her muzzle. Satisfied, Liath trotted off and Allis leaped into Zoey’s arms.

Helene and some of the senior housemaids arrived to clean the corridor and deal with the blood soaking into the carpet. The Hall’s housekeeper gave the men a sharp look and said, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Yes, Lady,” Mikal said.

They retreated to the room where they’d been playing cards.

“Any guesses why Liath attacked the way he did?” Holt asked, looking at Mikal. “His Jewel is a lot darker than Alvita’s. He could have put a shield in front of the door to keep her out.” Now he looked at Daemonar. “You hesitated because you expected him to shield the door and keep her from getting into the room, but he was savage.”

“He said she was attacking Allis and Breen,” Daemonar said.

“But she wasn’t attacking. She was trying to get into a room she had no business entering—and thank the Darkness she didn’t cross that threshold—but Liath’s response was not appropriate unless there is more to this than we’re aware of.” Holt called in a bottle of whiskey and some glasses. He poured a couple of fingers in each glass and passed them around.

Weston blew out a breath and said, “Speaking as a sword and shield, if a threat has been made, you respond to the adversary’s next move as an attack. You don’t wait; you don’t hesitate. If you do, the Queen you’re protecting could be harmed.”

Mikal downed his whiskey and set the glass on the table. “I’d better locate the rest of the Scelties and find out if there had been a previous threat that they didn’t tell me about. And then I need to get home.” Home was a cottage in Halaway that he shared with Daemon’s mother, Tersa, and Keely, the Sceltie who was a journeymaid Black Widow.

“You’ll let us know if there’s more trouble on the horizon?” Daemonar asked.

Mikal nodded and left.

Raine sank into a chair. “Perhaps tomorrow all the Warlord Princes in residence should have a discussion about appropriate responses.” He looked at Daemonar and tried to smile. “Like those ‘what if . . . ?’ exercises you’re so fond of.”

“I’d like to sit in on that lesson,” Weston said, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t see it clearly until tonight. We’ve all been so busy settling into the new arrangement, I didn’t appreciate the real intent.” He looked at the other men. “This isn’t a school, despite the subjects being taught. This isn’t just protection for the youngsters who were targeted by the coven of malice and might still be targeted by someone who wants to destroy young Queens. This is a training ground for Queens and the Blood who might serve in courts. Five Queens living here, each with a group of friends who are drawn to a particular girl. Being here is the equivalent of doing an apprenticeship in an established Queen’s court, but more demanding because they’re all young and learning together.”

“Yes,” Holt said. “And more demanding because they’re living under the hand of a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who has seen the best—and the worst—of what Queens and their courts can do. Everyone who works at the Hall is part of the training because aristos aren’t the only people who will live in a Queen’s territory, and a Queen and those who serve in her First Circle need to learn how to interact with all her people.”

“Including the kindred,” Daemonar added.

Weston set his glass on the table. “I’ll check on Lady Zoela. I’m sure she has questions about what happened. Allis will have told her what she knows from a Sceltie’s point of view, and I’ll tell her what happened on the other side of the door.”

Holt turned his head, as if listening to something. Then he sighed. “Messenger bag coming in from one of the estates. I’d better go down and sort through what was sent, in case there is something that requires the High Lord’s attention before he leaves in the morning.”

Raine and Daemonar left the sitting room and went out to the open courtyard that made the square’s interior space.

“Not what you expected when my uncle offered you this job, is it?” Daemonar asked quietly.

“No,” Raine replied just as quietly. “But it occurs to me that this was Prince Rainier’s life. From the things my father and aunt told me about our family’s history, Rainier’s close family members were uncomfortable around him because he was a dark-Jeweled Warlord Prince. I think some of them felt guilty about that, but they couldn’t put aside their gut-level fear and he became this . . . blank. An empty chair at family gatherings. The name unspoken. And yet he knew, really knew, some of the most powerful Territory Queens who ruled in Kaeleer.”

“He more than knew those Queens, Raine. He was a friend. He became part of this family. You should talk to Holt. Rainier was Uncle Daemon’s secretary before Holt took on the job.” Daemonar looked up at the night sky. “Weston’s right. This is a training ground—and it’s very important to pay attention to the lessons that aren’t in the books as well as the lessons that are.”

Zoey and the other five girls listened to Weston’s report. Concise and factual—and very unsatisfying.

“Why did Liath attack that way?” When she was younger, she’d had a Sceltie Prince who had been her special friend, and now there was Allis, and she’d never thought a Sceltie would attack a human. She’d gotten only a glimpse of Alvita, but Arlene, who had sent one message on a psychic thread before Lady Nadene began the healing, said the damage to Alvita’s arm was very bad.

“Liath believed she was a threat to Allis and Breen,” Weston replied. “He dealt with the threat.”

“You wear Sapphire,” Titian said. “You could have stopped him.”

“Ladies, Warlord Princes are a law unto themselves, and Liath is a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince who has been trained to defend, to protect, and to fight. He could have torn out her throat. He could have hit her with a blast of Green power that would have exploded her chest and splattered her all over the corridor. He didn’t do that. But it’s my opinion that Liath’s attack spared Alvita from whatever the High Lord’s response would have been to her outrageous behavior.”

He’s angry, Zoey thought. At Alvita? Or at us for not understanding something about Liath’s response? “What happens now?”

“She crossed a line, Lady Zoela,” Weston replied. “Lady Nadene will do the healing tonight to repair the damage, and tomorrow Alvita will be taken home—and I doubt she will ever be welcome in this house again. And I think there will be several young men who will feel grateful for that decision.”

Zoey winced. She had noticed that all the boys who weren’t friends with Dinah and her coven avoided Alvita as much as possible without being scolded for being discourteous or flat-out rude. “Thank you for explaining things, Lord Weston. We’ll be staying in this evening.”

Jhett made a soothing brew, and Titian sent a request to the apprentice cooks who were tending the auxiliary kitchen. When they had steaming mugs in front of them, and plates of pastries, cheeses, crackers, and grapes to nibble on, Zoey ventured onto what felt like dangerous ground. She was friendly with the other four Queens in residence, but it did seem like the girls had separated into distinct groups while the boys mostly flowed in and around the groups, not displaying more loyalty to one Queen than to the others. Even Daemonar didn’t show a preference. Well, maybe he showed a little preference for her, but that was because she and Titian were close and he treated her like another sister instead of a Queen.

“Dinah is going to be upset about this,” Zoey said. “Alvita was one of her friends.”

“Do you think Dinah will be blamed?” Laureen asked. “Alvita did brag about flirting with some of the boys and didn’t care who overheard her, but flirting isn’t bad. It’s hard not to flirt a little when you like someone and would like him to pay some attention to you.”

“Flirting with words isn’t the same as lifting your skirt and showing off your ‘womanly parts’ to tease the boys,” Jhett said. “Especially when you’re years away from safely having your Virgin Night, and your taunting them could end with them being executed for trying something they’re forbidden to do.”

“Flirting with words also doesn’t break any of Uncle Daemon’s rules,” Titian pointed out. “We all signed an agreement with him that spelled out the rules of living at the Hall and the consequences of breaking them. Especially the rules about sex.”

Banishment being at the top of the list of possible consequences for breaking the rules.

Titian slipped her hand into Zoey’s and squeezed lightly. She looked worried about Zoey’s reaction to Liath’s actions.

“Warlord Princes are born to stand on killing fields,” Zoey said. “They are fighters. Predators. That is what they are. Even when they’re relaxed and friendly, that doesn’t change their nature.”

There were five Warlord Princes in residence. Seven if she counted Prince Sadi and Prince Liath. Predators. Killers. Her grandmother Zhara, who was the Queen of Amdarh, often said that Warlord Princes were dangerous assets in a court, and holding the leash on one of them required great skill—and great care.

Zoey had known Prince Sadi was dangerous. Everyone knew he was dangerous. But that hadn’t stopped Alvita from trying to sneak into his suite and . . . do what?

“Should I have done something? Said something about Alvita’s flirting?” Zoey whispered.

“Would she have listened to you?” Jhett asked. “She had been given two warnings already for inappropriate behavior. We all thought her actions were minor things, stupid things. But showing up at Prince Sadi’s door dressed like that would have earned her banishment even if she had done nothing else. For one thing, he’s married, and nobody who wants to stay alive propositions a married Warlord Prince. Hell’s fire, girls our age should know that.”

“You’re right. She shouldn’t have tried to get into his private suite—unless she’d done something else and was hoping to use her state of undress to convince him to ignore her other indiscretion,” Zoey said. Or intended to use being alone with him as a way to compromise his honor?

Titian shuddered. “If Alvita intended to claim he’d invited her to his suite and then accuse him of being inappropriate unless he did what she wanted, she wouldn’t be going home now. She’d be going to Hell—or to Ebon Askavi to answer to his Queen.”

They nibbled pastries and considered that for a few minutes.

“We’ll have to be careful tomorrow,” Titian said. “Uncle Daemon will be gone and Beale will be the dominant male at the Hall, so everyone else will be on edge because . . . you know.”

Because the last time Beale had been left in charge, Jaenelle Saetien had overruled him and people had died.

Yes, they had to be careful. She had to be careful. Alvita’s banishment was a harsh reminder that the protection given at the Hall could be forfeited by a girl who crossed a particular line. But how could you learn if you didn’t try new things?

Zoey looked at Titian. “Do you think your aunt Surreal would be willing to talk to us about flirting?”