The Queen's Price

SEVENTY-TWO

The days were getting longer, which meant more time to work in the garden. It also meant Saetien had to wait longer for Butler to rise so that they could work on the next lesson.

She had lessons in Craft, in Protocol, in the history of Scelt, particularly of the village of Maghre. Besides working with the puppies each morning at the Sceltie school, she had to spend extra time there each day learning how the school was run—everything from ordering supplies to paying the instructors to hiring the humans who looked after the sheep that were used to teach the puppies how to herd properly.

She’d never truly appreciated how thankful humans should be that there were sheep.

She and Caitie played with the foals and helped Kildare and Ryder in the stables. The two girls also spent time in Butler’s garden, digging and pulling weeds. Caitie’s father came by with another man one afternoon and got the water pump near the stable working again. On another afternoon, a couple more men from the village showed up with a tiller and turned over the soil of what had once been the kitchen garden—and Eileen and a couple of women from Angelline House showed up with seeds and seedlings to help her plant a few vegetables in the kitchen garden. Sure, the greengrocer in the village would be happy to supply her with vegetables for her cooking lessons, but there was some extra satisfaction from cooking foods that you’d grown with your own hands.

She didn’t point out that she would probably be gone before there were any vegetables to harvest, and that Butler didn’t eat them anymore.

The man claimed he wasn’t arranging anything or hiring anyone. People were being neighborly—just like she could give a helping hand if any of them needed it.

The cottage was tidy inside and had been well maintained over the years, but Butler had ignored the outbuildings and the land. Maybe people were happy that her being there gave them an excuse to tidy things up outside?

After Caitie went home, Saetien put the tools away in the shed, washed up a bit at the pump, then returned to the part of the garden they’d cleared of weeds that day.

Butler joined her a little while later. “It’s coming along.”

“It just needs someone to care about it and give it some time,” Saetien said.

He nodded. “It’s yours, then.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“The garden. It’s yours to do with as you please. Hire a couple of men to plow it under and start from scratch, or rebuild from what is here. It’s up to you. I’ll pay for the labor or supplies.”

“You can’t give me your garden!”

Butler raised his eyebrows. “I just did. You ready to start tonight’s lesson?”

A moment to take a breath before she said, “I have money. I can pay for whatever the garden needs.”

“Suit yourself. The offer to help pay for it stands.” He headed into the cottage. “You coming?”

She rushed to follow him, then stopped and looked back. The light was going, but she could still see how much she and Caitie had done—and how much more needed to be done. But . . . Hers? All hers?

Well, if it was hers, that shed needed to go. It had broken boards, and rotten wood, and holes in the roof. No wonder all the tools had rusted! She’d have to ask who she could hire to rebuild the shed and how much it would cost.

Since she couldn’t do anything about that now, she focused on the lesson Butler had prepared.

Later that night, Butler stared at the stacks of papers on the table in his study.

His time here was almost over, and a lot of work still needed to be done. Papers and instructions needed to be put in clear order for whoever would take over. Personal belongings needed to be discarded or packed up.

A lot needed to be done, but he couldn’t concentrate on the tasks, so he warmed a glass of yarbarah and wandered outside the cottage.

The girl had so much potential, so much life. The problem, as he saw it, was that she could shine in a small village like Maghre—or Halaway. She could be happy in a cottage but would flounder in a suite at SaDiablo Hall. Had floundered. She needed a place to call her own—something that belonged to her and not the SaDiablo family as a whole.

Saetien wouldn’t thank him for the comparison, but wasn’t that exactly the reason why Jaenelle had loved Angelline House? Because it was hers? Oh, Jaenelle had thrived at the Hall, too, but that was a Queen being at the center of the family and her court. For Jaenelle, the Hall was just a kind of village in her care. Now it was Daemon’s domain—and would be for a very long time.

Butler didn’t believe for a moment that Daemon Sadi hadn’t taught Saetien all the bits of Craft she claimed she didn’t know. Much of what he was doing was reminding her of what she already knew. And yet it was new to her, in a way he couldn’t explain.

He also couldn’t explain what he was starting to see in her eyes when she looked at him. Not a romantic crush, thank the Darkness, but there were feelings. Affection.

Problem was, she wasn’t the only one experiencing feelings. That had never happened before on one of his assignments, and he didn’t know what to do about it.