The Queen's Price

THIRTY

As he and Lucivar stepped onto the gravel drive to greet the guests who had just arrived in a Coach, Daemon noticed Daemonar, Grizande, and Jhett walking up from the village, accompanied by two juvenile wolves. They all looked easy in one another’s company. Well, he wasn’t sure that Jhett would embrace the idea of being a wolf’s playmate, but she wasn’t running away, which was a good sign.

The Coach’s door opened. Kieran stepped out and raised a hand in greeting as he moved out of the way. Then the Coach’s other occupant stepped out.

“What is that?” Lucivar asked quietly.

“It’s a horse,” Daemon replied blandly.

“Uh-huh. You’re usually not so gullible, old son.”

“It’s Brenda’s friend. I was told it was a horse, so it’s a horse.”

“Do you ride him or use him to knock down stone walls?”

“Yes.”

The horse—a black mountain on four legs—bugled and reared. The front hooves hit the ground—and Daemon felt that rumble in the gravel under his feet.

“Hell’s fire,” Lucivar said.

People ran toward the landing web. People skidded to a halt, then ran away from the landing web. Daemonar and the two girls just stared, their mouths hanging open. The wolves didn’t look eager to meet this newcomer.

The stable master and some of the grooms stared at the horse, then stared at Daemon.

Kieran headed toward Daemon, his smile amused and sympathetic.

So like Khardeen, Daemon thought.

The Hall’s door opened. Brenda rushed out. “Shaye, darling. There you are.”

“Have you nothing to say to me, your brother?” Kieran demanded. “I was in a Coach with him for the hours it took to get here, with him fretting all the way about you being on your own.”

Brenda spun, planted a smacking kiss on Kieran’s cheek, and said, “You’re a darling too.” Then she ran to greet the horse.

A moment later, Liath ran out of the Hall, heading for the landing web, with Jaalan bounding behind him. Someone had taught the kitten to air walk but hadn’t gotten around to the lesson on how to stop, especially when running at full speed on a surface that provided no traction. Seeing the horse, the kitten tried to stop as he skidded toward those black legs. Then Jaalan hit the air equivalent of a mound of pillows, stopping a finger length away from Shaye.

“Did you do that?” Daemon asked Lucivar.

“Nope,” Lucivar replied.

“Shaye is used to small things running into him,” Kieran said.

Shaye’s big head lowered. He snuffled. Snorted. Lipped the fur between the kitten’s ears while Liath stood nearby, on air, wagging his tail in greeting.

The wolves approached. The kindred ignored the humans while getting acquainted among themselves.

Smiling indulgently, Brenda headed for Daemon, Lucivar, and Kieran at the same time Daemonar led the girls in a wide curve around the kindred.

“He’ll settle in well here,” Brenda said.

“What is it?” Daemonar asked.

Brenda cocked her head. “Have you not seen a horse before?”

“Horses, sure,” Daemonar replied. “But . . .”

“He’s a horse,” Daemon said in a tone that didn’t encourage discussion.

Brenda looked at Lucivar, then tipped her head toward Daemonar. “Yours?”

Lucivar nodded. “He is.”

“This is Grizande, from Tigrelan,” Daemon said. “And Lady Jhett.”

Brenda studied Grizande’s tawny striped skin. “The kitten is with you?”

“Yes,” Grizande agreed. “He is . . . young.”

“Shaye’s used to being around small children, two legs or four.”

Brenda sounded so cheerful. It was a little terrifying. Although not quite as terrifying as the way Liath wagged his tail and looked at her as if his ally had finally arrived.

“Shaye,” Brenda called. “Let’s get you settled. I’m due inside for the midday meal.”

The horse moved a leg. The kitten, sitting on air right in front of him, was unprepared and the push set Jaalan zipping over the drive, frantically trying to find purchase on air.

Grizande grabbed the kitten as he zipped past her. To keep her upright when the kitten’s weight shoved her off her feet, Daemonar grabbed her, fanning his wings to stay upright himself. Which caught the kitten’s attention. Jaalan leaped for the new toy—or tried to. Daemonar staggered back into Lucivar, who had come up behind him and braced for the tumble of bodies.

Separating the youngsters, Lucivar pointed at the kitten. “You. No playing with Eyrien wings.” The finger aimed at Grizande next. “You. Use Craft when you’re trying to pick up or catch that much weight. After the meal, we’ll work on that move until you don’t have to think about it.” The finger moved, stopping at Daemonar. “You. Anything to report?”

“We had an interesting morning with Tersa,” Daemonar replied.

Daemon met his nephew’s eyes and nodded. A private conversation, then.

Everyone scattered, leaving Daemon on the gravel drive with Lucivar and Kieran.

“You’ll stay the night?” Daemon asked Kieran.

“I will, thanks. I’d like to see what you’re doing here.” Kieran gave them a mischievous smile. “Does this remind you of anything?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lucivar said. “And since we’re the adults now, may the Darkness have mercy on us.”

Using Craft, Daemon moved Kieran’s Coach off the landing web moments before Surreal dropped from the Winds and guided her smaller Coach to the landing web.

“It’s done,” she said, walking past the men.

Lucivar followed her.

“Everything is set?” Daemon asked Kieran as they walked toward the front door.

Kieran nodded. “No guarantee that your girl will get the answers she wants.”

“I know. But maybe Saetien will find the answers she needs.”

“Prince Sadi doesn’t have rules for how we dress for breakfast or the midday meal,” Jhett said. “You can’t come to the table covered in mud or manure, but otherwise he doesn’t comment about clothing. Hair brushed and hands and face clean. Everyone dresses for the evening meal. Girls usually wear dresses or a skirt and blouse, and the boys wear a shirt and proper jacket. It’s old-fashioned, but it’s a tradition of the house and the Prince holds to it.”

Grizande nodded as she hung her new clothes in the wardrobe and tucked them into dresser drawers.

“There is more than one kind of tiger.” The Tersa Black Widow was not confused. It was a message. The Tigre Hourglass had told her she would find many teachers in the place where the Queen who was more than a Queen had dwelled.

“You like the Zoey Queen?” she asked as she closed a dresser drawer.

“Yes, I do.”

“Trust her?”

“Yes, I do.” Jhett shifted on the window seat, as if uneasy. “This place is more like a Queen’s court than a school, so it’s new to all of us, and we’re just getting to know one another. I was already friends with Zoey, Titian, and a few other girls when we were at a school in Amdarh, but I hadn’t met the other Queens or their friends—or most of the boys. There was one Queen I didn’t like, didn’t trust, and she enjoyed saying mean things to make people feel bad about themselves, but the Prince sent her away this morning.” She hesitated, then reached behind her to touch her back. “I don’t think there is anyone here now who would have done . . . that.”

Grizande nodded. Words were easy—when you had them—but she didn’t think this Black Widow would be fooled by words.

“We’d better wash up and go down for the meal,” Jhett said.

More food. She was used to hunger, not feasts.

As Jhett walked past her, Grizande raised a hand, almost touched the other girl’s arm, wanting to offer knowledge in exchange for the knowledge that had been given. “This place. Still a court. Still her court. Witch power still in the stone. Safe here.”

“That’s what Zoey said. That we’re safe here.”

They washed up quickly and headed for the dining room where the midday meal was served. Grizande didn’t recognize most of the adults who sat at either end of the long table, but the Black and Ebon-gray were there. So was Daemonar. She wasn’t alone among strangers.

Daemonar pulled out a chair next to his. “If you’re full from the treats we ate this morning, just take small servings and spread them out on your plate so it looks like you’re eating enough.”

Sure he was teasing her, she said, “Many people eating. No one will know.”

“Ooh, someone will notice and a comment will be made, and the next thing will be Mrs. Beale and her meat cleaver cornering Uncle Daemon to find out why you didn’t like what she had served for this meal.”

Grizande studied him. He had to be teasing. “No.”

“Yes. I’ve made that mistake when I’ve visited. I don’t make that mistake anymore.”

He put a large spoonful of something on his plate—then put a smaller spoonful on hers. She hoped she would like it. She followed his example with the other foods, noticing that his dish did look full even though he’d taken about half as much food as the Warlord Prince who sat across from him.

The Zoey Queen sat on the other side of the table, but far enough away that Grizande didn’t have to talk to her. And yet . . .

More than one kind of tiger. More than one reason to need the safety of this place. Maybe the Zoey Queen was still licking her wounds too. Maybe there could be a little trust, a little liking.

Maybe.

“Do you think it’s intentional that all the women are at the other end of the table?” Lucivar asked as he heaped food on his plate.

“Do you think it’s not?” Daemon countered.

Surreal, Nadene, and Brenda chatting away and getting along just fine. Sweet Darkness.

“Lord Morris is gone?” Daemon asked, looking at Raine and Weston. Beale and Holt had been less than forthcoming about the instructor’s reason for resigning—and running.

Raine and Weston exchanged a look.

“Well, there was Liath telling us about biting off a man’s ball,” Raine said.

“Just one?” Daemon murmured, grateful there was nothing on his plate that looked similar to that part of a man.

“And then there was Lady Surreal honing some of her knives at the breakfast table while she stared at him,” Weston said.

“Hmm,” Daemon said.

They all looked at Kieran, who said, “Yes, Liath did. Brenda has never sharpened any knives while we were eating, but she has been known to throw a dinner fork at someone with fierce accuracy.”

“Well, your meals are going to be interesting,” Lucivar said, lifting his glass of ale in a salute to Daemon. “I have another boy at home, and a wife. It’s time I got back to them.”

“I appreciate the help.”

“Whenever you need it. After all, I’m your whip hand.” Lucivar glanced at the other end of the table. “One of them, anyway.”

“I am so fortunate to have more than one,” Daemon said dryly.

A beat of silence. Then Kieran burst out laughing.