The Queen's Price

SIXTY-SEVEN

Titian breathed a sigh of relief when she found out Kathlene was the Territory Queen that day and that she was assigned to Kathlene’s court. That would make this part of the plan easier. Not that Felisha or Azara wouldn’t have gone along with it eventually, but Kathlene was quiet and thoughtful and had as intense a dislike for these extra assignments as Zoey did. Hopefully, Kathlene would agree to this bending of the rules without needing too much explanation.

As for the rest of what was going on in the Hall . . .

Lady Brenda not asking any questions when Titian told her that Zoey would be staying in her room that day. Tummy—and intestinal—trouble. Not serious but rather messy. Being an apprentice Healer, Arlene was staying with Zoey to look after her.

Daemonar walking into the dining room and informing Kathlene, as the Territory Queen, that the Warlord Princes had been pulled from the courts that day for a different assignment. Titian looked at the leather guards protecting her brother’s wrists and forearms, looked at the sheathed fighting knife that took the place of the knife he usually wore on his belt, and figured all the Warlord Princes needed to be approached with care today.

Finally, there was one of the boys, looking baffled, returning to report that he couldn’t get to the stables to request a carriage to take Lady Azara to Halaway because a shield prevented him from leaving the Hall.

Kathlene barely swallowed a bite of scrambled eggs and toast before leaving the breakfast table and returning to her room to complete the first part of the extra assignment. If it was that distressing, it had to be worse than yesterday’s face slap.

Titian didn’t bother making an excuse. She just hurried after Kathlene, then gave the Queen’s door a quick knock before entering.

Kathlene twisted in her desk chair, her face stamped with anger and pain.

Much worse than yesterday’s face slap.

Titian approached the girl who was her Queen for that day. “If you’ve copied out the extra assignment, I can burn the original for you.”

A beat of silence as Kathlene studied her. “You can?”

“I can.” Which wasn’t the same as saying she would.

Kathlene hesitated, then held out the square of heavy paper, turned over so Titian couldn’t see what was written on it.

Most of the rooms in the Hall were heated with warming spells, but some had fireplaces. All the rooms that had been assigned to the Queens had fireplaces. No fresh wood ready to light, which was better since no one would be in Kathlene’s room for most of the day.

Keeping her back to Kathlene, Titian vanished the paper, then called in a square of paper equal in weight to the ones being used for the extra assignments. Using a tongue of witchfire, she ignited a corner of that paper, then leaned in and dropped it on the grate. She watched until it burned to ash.

When she turned around, she saw the way Kathlene studied her.

“Zoey wasn’t at breakfast,” Kathlene said.

“Tummy troubles,” Titian replied.

Kathlene stiffened. “Not . . . ?” She mouthed the word “poison.”

“No, no. I think yesterday upset her more than she realized until things . . .” She waved a hand in the vicinity of her abdomen.

“Ah. Well, she’s not the only one who has felt that way.” Kathlene sounded bitter.

“Maybe if you wait until after the midday meal to issue orders for the extra assignments, you won’t have to issue those orders at all.”

Dancing on the knife’s edge. Not saying anything outright. Not putting Kathlene in the position of knowing anything that might be considered breaking the rules.

Kathlene rose. “I’m going to tidy up and then see what can be done today. And you will run that errand for me?”

“I will.”

As Titian hurried through the corridors, dodging questions from the other students, she wondered which one had been betraying the rest of them—and why.

Daemon blocked the doorway before Weston had a chance to charge out of the Queen’s square of rooms and say anything.

“Inside.” Daemon took a step forward, forcing Weston to take a step back.

“Zoey—”

“Is fine. So is Grizande. Lucivar is looking after them.” Daemon took another step, forcing Weston back farther. It was a big space, but it was essentially a supply room for towels and sheets and the other things the staff needed to take care of the bedrooms in this square. On this floor it was also the only room from which one could access the interior courtyard without going through someone’s bedroom.

Before Weston could ask another question, Nadene walked in with Brenda, followed by Holt and Beale.

“Lord Beale,” Daemon said. “Close the door. Shield the room.”

When that was done, Daemon looked at them. “Zoey and Grizande have gone to Ebon Askavi to see Witch. They left in the early hours this morning and have arrived safely.”

“Zoey left without informing her sword and shield?” Weston’s voice was rough with the effort of keeping his anger leashed.

Daemon smiled. “Worse than not informing you, Zoey didn’t inform Allis.”

Holt snorted a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough.

“Exactly,” Daemon said dryly.

“I was told that Zoey is dealing with tummy and intestinal troubles,” Brenda said. “Arlene is staying with her to make soothing tonics and make sure Zoey’s discomfort doesn’t get worse.”

“You’re supporting this trip to the Keep, even if that support is after the fact?” Nadene asked.

“I am,” Daemon replied.

“Then I should stop by a few times today to check up on my apprentice Healer and make sure she’s doing all that should be done for the young Queen.”

“Broths and other easy foods should be brought in for Lady Zoey, along with something more substantial for Lady Arlene,” Beale said. “The Dharo Boy can be trusted with that assignment.”

Daemon turned to Holt and Beale. “Has correspondence that was delivered last evening been distributed yet?”

“I was going to sort it this morning,” Holt said.

“I have collected the letters that were being sent out, but of course, those letters cannot leave the Hall until you lower the shields,” Beale said.

Daemon nodded. “I want to see everything coming in for the children and everything they’re sending out.”

“Be canny about this and do the same for the instructors,” Brenda said. “It might not be a child making this mischief.”

“Point taken.”

She called in two letters and handed them to Holt. “I didn’t get them into the basket of outgoing letters, but you can add them to whatever else you collect. And if you’re looking to give someone a hard jolt, add a slip of paper to a few incoming letters saying that the letter was read and the envelope resealed.”

Assuming he let the letter go on to the recipient.

“I should put a shield around this square of rooms,” Weston said. “No one should be able to reach Zoey—or find out she isn’t here—by entering through one of the bedrooms.”

“No, I’ll put a shield around this square of rooms,” Daemon said. “However, I’ll leave this room open, and you can set the shield here. That way, you can approve or deny anyone who wants to enter, including the other girls who occupy these rooms.”

“What should we tell anyone who asks why the Hall is locked with Black shields?” Brenda asked.

Daemon smiled—and watched Brenda shiver. “Tell them the High Lord of Hell is hunting.”

“Do you think he’ll be there?” Jhett asked.

Titian nodded. “Uncle Daemon is usually in his study at this time of day.”

“But there’s nothing usual about today, is there?”

True, but she hoped he’d be easy to find. She wanted to hand over that paper and be done with that part of the task.

She’d picked up Jhett on her way to Uncle Daemon’s study, in case she needed help explaining what Jhett and Zoey thought a skilled Black Widow could extract from the paper.

She wasn’t sure what to think about crossing paths with Raeth, Caede, and Liath, who were obviously patrolling the areas of the Hall where most of the students should be. She knew what to think when she and Jhett crossed paths with Daemonar, Trent, and Jarrod. The Warlord Princes with Liath were patrolling; Daemonar and his men were hunting.

As soon as the study door opened in response to her knock, Titian rushed inside, with Jhett a step behind her.

The man sitting behind the blackwood desk wasn’t Uncle Daemon. This was the man who had returned to the Hall during that awful house party. Cold. Dangerous. Deadly. She met his glazed gold eyes for a moment before calling in the square of paper and holding it out to him.

“Sir, we believe someone is trying to cause trouble for the Queens who are receiving court training at the Hall. These extra assignments have been added to the tasks you’ve listed for each day.”

“Why didn’t you come to me before now?” he asked too softly.

“It would have sounded whiny.” Not an excuse he was going to accept. Well, her father wouldn’t have accepted it either—which was something she should have remembered, and mentioned to Zoey, before they’d devised this elaborate plan. “But now it’s become serious enough to bring to your attention. We—I acquired the original instructions. We thought you might be able to use them to find out who is doing this.”

A humming silence before the man behind the desk finally took the paper. He turned it over, read it, then looked at her and Jhett—and held up the paper for them to read.

Titian swallowed hard. This was unforgivable cruelty.

“Riding crop?” Jhett’s voice rose in outrage. “Whipping people with a riding crop?”

“Is reporting this being whiny?” Uncle Daemon asked quietly.

“No, sir,” Titian replied. She didn’t want to think about what Lucivar would do if someone laid a strap on her—assuming there was anything left of the person after Daemonar and Uncle Daemon were through with the fool.

“I’m disappointed that you didn’t come to me sooner.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

The quiet reprimand felt worse than a roaring scold. She’d hurt him. The other girls hadn’t; they weren’t family. But she, who’d known him all her life, had hurt him by not trusting him and telling him sooner, and she didn’t know how to make it up to him.

“Zoey . . . ,” she began.

“By now Zoey is having a very interesting discussion with Witch.” Warm amusement appeared in Uncle Daemon’s eyes. “But I understand the story being told here is that she has tummy troubles, which is why she’s staying in her room today.”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at her, then at Jhett. “Shield. Now.”

The command surprised Titian, but she immediately formed a protective shield around herself. After a moment, she formed a second shield—and saw Uncle Daemon’s lips twitch.

Jhett sucked in a breath as they both felt the lightest touch of Red power brush against their shields. Testing.

“You’ve been practicing,” Uncle Daemon said. “Good. Now remember this: there are very few people you can trust today. There is an enemy inside these walls. Don’t make the assumption that the person coming toward you is a friend. Arlene is safe. Lord Weston will make sure of that. The rest of you are vulnerable until I find the person who is helping someone play this game. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” she and Jhett said.

“Very well. Titian, you may go. Jhett, you’re going to stay awhile longer and learn how to weave a summoning web that can draw like to like.”

Jhett beamed at him.

The study door opened. Uncle Daemon looked at Titian, then made a shooing motion. Taking the hint, she hurried to report to Kathlene and find out what she was supposed to do this morning.

Uncle Daemon said there was an enemy within the walls of SaDiablo Hall. She’d stay alert. She’d check in with Daemonar so that he’d know where she was and who she was with. Just in case.

Jhett didn’t ask questions or make any unnecessary remarks. She just watched as Daemon called in a small wooden frame and a spool of heavier spider silk and proceeded to weave a simple web.

“Remember when I needed to collect all those notebooks from wherever they had been stashed in bookcases and on shelves?” Daemon asked.

“I remember.” Jhett sounded regretful.

He was sure the darlings sometimes regretted that they hadn’t been able to hold on to any of those notebooks, but after reading a couple of the notebooks and seeing some of the things the coven had been exploring when they’d lived at the Hall, he’d quietly checked to make sure no notebooks had been left behind in the libraries the children could access easily.

Hell’s fire, Jaenelle and her friends had been brilliant. And terrifying.

“We’re going to use the paper that Titian acquired, together with this summoning spell, to find the source of the instructions,” Daemon continued. “Like calls to like.”

“It looks like you’ve practiced that web a lot.”

Daemon considered what to say, then decided on the truth. “It works for cloth as well as paper. My little friend is a hoarder and hides her stash in some unlikely places.”

“Are you running out of handkerchiefs?” Jhett asked.

“Not since my valet set up a standing order for new ones to be delivered every week,” he replied dryly. “But Breen is a puppy and doesn’t understand that some of her hiding places are potentially dangerous when stuffed with handkerchiefs, which is why I’ve become proficient at making this particular web.”

Daemon and Jhett were spared further discussion of a hoarding Sceltie puppy by Holt and Beale entering the study. Beale carried a tray that held letters being sent out. Holt held a shallow rectangular basket that held the letters coming into the Hall.

“Is that everything?” Daemon asked.

“Not the correspondence addressed to you or Lady Surreal, but everything else,” Holt replied. “Students, instructors, and staff. Everything from yesterday evening’s delivery.”

“Thank you.” Daemon waited for the men to leave before putting a Black lock on the door. “Now we begin.”

A simple spell, really. He held the paper with the extra instructions in one hand and the frame with the web in the other. Then he sang the four notes that completed this summoning. The same four notes, over and over.

Nothing stirred on the tray with the outgoing letters. But in the basket of letters that had arrived yesterday . . .

An envelope wiggled its way to the top of the correspondence, then shot toward him like an arrow released from a bow. Daemon formed a Red shield in front of himself and the girl a heartbeat before the envelope hit with enough force to crumple the corner.

“Hell’s fire,” Jhett said.

He stopped singing the notes and put a shield around the frame and web, effectively ending the spell. More cautious than he would have been otherwise, because he wanted to impress on this girl the need for caution, Daemon used Craft to turn the envelope so that they could read the name of the intended recipient.

Jhett sighed. “Cara is one of Dinah’s friends. She smiles while she makes hurtful ‘I’m just teasing’ remarks about the other Queens, and that’s unkind, but I hadn’t thought she would participate in this kind of meanness. Maybe Dinah resents the rest of us because we’re still here for training, so I can see her wanting to cause trouble. But Cara? What does she gain from doing this?”

“The satisfaction of witnessing the mischief and reporting back to her Queen,” Daemon said quietly.

“Are you going to let her stay?”

“No. Yesterday I might have considered issuing a reprimand and a warning and giving her a second chance.” He held up the paper with that day’s instructions. “This changes everything. Now I have to consider what debt she owes for her part in this and how she’ll be required to pay it.”

He contained the instructions and the letter in a Black shield and put them aside. Then he called in another wooden frame and set it and the spool of spider silk in front of Jhett. “Now you. Do you write to anyone?”

“My parents. My aunt because she’s also a Black Widow and is interested in what I’m learning here. A couple of friends.”

“Are you expecting a letter from any of them?”

“All of them.”

He smiled. “Pick one. Call in the last letter you received from that person.”

After Jhett called in the last letter she’d received from her aunt, Daemon talked her through making the summoning web, strand by strand. When everything was placed correctly, he taught her the four-note sequence that went with the spell.

She gave him a look that was equal parts nerves and excitement, then activated the spell.

A letter leaped out of the basket of incoming correspondence, hit the edge of the table, and slid halfway across like an eager puppy on ice. Startled, Jhett stopped singing, which ended the spell.

“Well done, especially for your first try,” Daemon said. “Now, put a shield around that web and take it to your room. Once you’ve made a sketch of the web in your notebook, along with the sequence of notes that need to be sung with the spell, break the threads.”

“Notebook?” Jhett attempted to sound innocent.

Daemon just looked at her. He didn’t know about the other girls, but he knew—because Allis had told him—that soon after Lady Karla’s visit, all of Zoey’s friends had gone to the stationery store in Halaway and purchased blank notebooks.

“Notebook.” This time her voice confirmed she had one.

“Go away, witchling. I have work to do.”

Jhett gathered up her things, including the newly arrived letter from her aunt, and hurried to her room.

Daemon took a moment to inform Weston that Jhett would be requesting entrance to the Queen’s square of rooms in order to reach her bedroom. Then he broke the seal of the letter Dinah had sent to Cara—and learned who else was involved in mischief that had taken on the kind of edge that Lucivar used to blunt with slaughter.