The Queen's Price

FORTY-ONE

Daemon stared at the object surrounded by people who worked for him—people he had mistakenly thought were sensible. And they had been sensible until one Green-Jeweled witch from Scelt had taken up residence at the Hall.

“What is it?” he asked. Better to know the nature of an enemy than to ignore a threat inside your own walls.

Brenda gave him a terrifyingly bright smile, but it was Helene who said with undisguised glee, “This is the new Lady Dumm.”

Hell’s fire.

“We used a dressmaker’s dummy for the torso,” Brenda said. “Then we padded it.”

“I can see that,” he murmured as he eyed the bust and waist and everything else.

“The girls from Scelt, as well as some of Helene’s staff, are fair hands with a needle and thread, so they made up proper arms and legs,” Brenda continued. “And look.” She pressed on Lady Dumm’s shoulder, which somehow bent the thing’s hips. “Tarl and his lads came up with the idea to make bones out of lengths of wood and attach them in a way that allows her joints to bend.”

Daemon stared at Tarl, who held his eyes for a moment before deciding to study the carpet.

Carpets at the Hall received a great deal of study.

Lady Dumm now sat in a chair, dressed for afternoon visits. Maybe. “No face or hair?” he asked. The hat wouldn’t have left much hair visible in any case, but wearing anything that had that many plumes was asking for trouble with a tiger in residence.

“We thought the Scelties might get confused if they saw something with an actual face,” Brenda said. “This way they can see it’s just a pretend human that we’re using for the young humans’ lessons. But we did add this.”

He wasn’t sure what Brenda touched, but he felt a spell engage before Dumm sneezed, then said in a stentorian voice, “I need a hanky!”

Daemon clenched his teeth.

Helene and Brenda looked at him expectantly.

He called in a handkerchief and held it out—to Brenda. The sun would shine in Hell before he willingly approached Dumm.

“When will our guest—who is an aristo from a prominent family but not a Queen—arrive?” He’d draw that line and hold it. This version of Dumm would be trouble enough without belonging to the caste that was the Blood’s moral center.

“In a couple of days,” Brenda said. “We’re still working on some of her wardrobe. But we’re thinking that you should start the exercises ahead of that, give the children a couple of days to get used to how this all works before we add Dumm to the mix.”

“Very well. I’ll explain this new set of exercises to the children, and we’ll start tomorrow.”

Daemon walked out of the guest room. He ignored everyone’s effort to catch his attention. He simply kept going until he reached his study. Once inside, he secured all the locks on the door. Then he contacted Lucivar on an Ebon-gray psychic thread.

*Prick?*

*Bastard? Something wrong?*

*I’ve just met Lady Dumm. The next time I see you I am going to kill you flatter than dead.*

*I thought the dummy was destroyed.*

*People who work for me created a new one. This one talks.* Apparently, so did the previous version, but that was beside the point.

Silence filled the link between them.

*Prick?*

*I’ll check with Marian and find out if she’s made any commitments for us. If we’re available, we’ll come to the Hall for an overnight visit. Soon.*

*Do that.* Daemon broke the link between them, then aimed for the sofa, where he intended to stretch out for an hour—or a century.

He’d barely gotten horizontal when someone tapped on the study door.

Putting an arm over his face, he used Craft to disengage the locks and open the door to allow Beale into the room. He felt his butler walk up to the sofa, but there were no sounds, no words.

“Beale?” Daemon finally said.

“I used to find your father in here looking just like that,” Beale answered.

Daemon lifted his arm enough to stare at his butler. “I am not surprised. I don’t know how successful these exercises will be for the intended group of participants, but I recognize the ringleader who is encouraging the staff to engage in—”

“Fun?” Beale suggested.

He was going to say “outrageous schemes,” but the amusement, mixed with a bit of sympathy, in Beale’s eyes told him all he currently needed to know about life at the Hall when Jaenelle and the coven were in residence.

“Ah, Beale. I do not want to get in trouble with your wife over Lady Dumm’s behavior—whatever that behavior may include.”

“Understood, Prince. I will explain things to Mrs. Beale. However, if this Lady Dumm should try to enter the kitchens . . .”

Daemon jackknifed to a sitting position. “You have my permission to roast her on a spit. I’ll help you.”

Beale’s lips twitched. “Very good.” The butler turned and strode to the door—and didn’t quite manage to close the door all the way before he started laughing.

Zoey listened to Prince Sadi explain the new exercise that was supposed to start tomorrow, and she didn’t know what to think. Sure, District Queens had to answer to Province Queens, who had to answer to Territory Queens, and even Territory Queens took orders from someone before they became Territory Queens, but why did the Queens have to lose all their friends and deal with people they didn’t know well? How could a court function like that? Why couldn’t each of them keep at least a couple of their friends while the rest were shuffled? But how to choose? And would those who weren’t chosen feel resentful?

Why were Daemonar and Grizande not included? They were students too.

*Zoey?* Allis nudged her calf. *Why are you smelling afraid?*

*Am I?* Zoey placed her hand on the Sceltie’s head. Prince Sadi wouldn’t take away Allis, too, would he?

“We’ll do a five-day rotation,” Prince Sadi said. “The other two days will be for studying, resting, and social activities of your choosing.”

Five days? How . . . ?

Zoey glanced at Kathlene, Azara, and Felisha—and realized the other three Queens were looking at her.

*Ask him,* Kathlene said on a psychic thread.

*You ask him,* Zoey replied. She wasn’t going to put herself forward again.

Sadi said nothing; just waited. The Queens said nothing.

Finally Raeth huffed out a breath and said, “Prince? I count four Queens here. Who takes the fifth day in the rotation?”

Sadi smiled, looking pleased that someone had enough spine to ask the obvious question. “On the fifth day, the Queens, with their court of the day, will be under the hand of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and taking orders from him.”

Zoey wasn’t sure what was going to happen on the other days, but even if she wasn’t working with her friends, she would still be safe when Prince Sadi was in charge.