The Queen's Price

FOUR

*Wake up, boyo.*

That mental shove from Uncle Daemon had Daemonar lifting his head off the pillow. “Wha . . . ?”

*Your father’s here. I want you with us when we check out that window. If you want any breakfast, meet us in my sitting room.*

“Wha . . . ?” Daemonar kicked the covers out of his way and stood beside the bed, shivering. He’d forgotten to add power to the warming spells that kept his suite of rooms comfortable. Then again, getting up in the cold here wasn’t any different from waking up outside during an early spring or late autumn hunting trip.

At least he wasn’t responsible for maintaining the hot water tanks for this square of rooms. And no one else in this square would be up this early.

Hell’s fire. Who wanted to get up this early? Then again, his father had traveled here from Ebon Rih. He didn’t want to think about when Lucivar had gotten out of bed in order to arrive in time for breakfast. And which members of Mrs. Beale’s kitchen staff had been roused to make breakfast at this hour?

As long as it wasn’t Mrs. Beale herself, there was nothing to fear. Maybe.

The quick shower and hot water helped trick his brain into believing it was time to function.

The smell of coffee when he opened Daemon’s sitting room door a few minutes later convinced his stomach that it was time to eat, even if the windows barely showed a gray smudge of daylight trying to shoulder out deep night.

“Good morning,” he said, nodding to his father and uncle. Then he dropped into the empty chair that had been pulled up to a small rectangular dining table and lifted the lid that covered the dish. Bacon, a vegetable omelet, and a couple of pastries. There were also a basket of muffins and a bowl of soft butter on the table. Not much of a meal by the Hall’s standards, but it was early. “Who did you wake up to cook the food?”

Lucivar picked up the coffeepot and filled Daemonar’s mug before topping off Daemon’s mug and his own. “We didn’t wake up anyone. There is now a full auxiliary kitchen just across the corridor from this square, and your uncle and I both know how to cook.”

It might have been a full kitchen, but it had a limited menu that was prepared by the apprentice cooks on duty. Still, you could usually get a bowl of soup and a sandwich there throughout the day, as well as fresh fruit and cheese.

“You made pastries?” Daemonar took a big bite out of an apple and cinnamon pastry and decided not to mention that the pastry wasn’t light and flaky—and the flavor of the filling was a little off. Just enough that he doubted it would have been presented in the breakfast room for the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan’s official first meal. Which would be funny if Uncle Daemon had made the pastries. Or it would be funny as long as no one told Mrs. Beale that the Prince was eating substandard fare.

“Those pastries and the muffins were left over from yesterday’s baking lessons,” Daemon replied as he sipped his coffee.

Well, that explained why the pastries didn’t taste quite right. Since they weren’t inedible and he was hungry, Daemonar took another bite.

Daemon lifted the basket and held it out to Lucivar. “Muffin?”

“Thanks.” Lucivar took one.

Looking at their plates, Daemonar realized that Daemon and Lucivar had already finished their meals and were waiting for him. He probably had another five minutes before his father hauled him out the door, so he applied himself to eating while he could.

They gave him seven minutes. Daemonar figured Uncle Daemon was the reason he got the extra two minutes. But as soon as Daemon set his mug on the table, Lucivar was on his feet, and seeing the look in their eyes, Daemonar thought it was fortunate for everyone that those two men weren’t hunting for anything except a weird piece of window glass.

Daemon and Lucivar walked through the corridors side by side, the dominant Warlord Princes in the Realm of Kaeleer. The predators who had no rivals.

He didn’t usually think of them that way, didn’t usually see them that way. They were his father and uncle, and usually when they were together it was for family, and there was an easiness to being around them. As he followed a couple of steps behind them, he saw them as the rest of the Blood must see them. Ruthless. Merciless. Power and temper controlled by a Queen who was no longer flesh but was still the will that commanded their lives.

As she commanded his.

Witch’s public return had shaken the entire Realm. The High Lord of Hell and the Demon Prince might be her weapons, but her power eclipsed theirs in ways no one could measure—except in remembering the purge that had destroyed all the Blood who had been tainted by Dorothea and Hekatah SaDiablo. And he’d heard a few whispers of warnings issued by Black Widows who had looked for answers in dreams and visions. No matter what she had been when she’d walked among the living, Witch, the living myth, was more ruthless, less merciful, and far more feral than her weapons, and it was in everyone’s best interest not to give the Lady who resided in the Keep a reason to look too closely at the living.

She was feared now in ways she hadn’t been feared before, but she was still his Queen and, more important, she was still his beloved Auntie J.

They slowed when they reached the Black shield that closed off one side of the corridor with the weird window.

Lucivar looked over his shoulder at Daemonar and said, “Shield.”

As soon as Daemonar wrapped himself in a Green defensive shield, Lucivar shielded in Ebon-gray and Daemon shielded in Black. Then Daemon dropped the shield blocking that side of the corridor, and the two men slowly walked to the window, with Daemonar still a couple of steps behind them.

“This one?” Lucivar asked quietly.

Daemon nodded. “Storm passed, so it might not respond.”

“Did you hear what the window said?” Daemonar asked.

“I heard,” Lucivar replied. He curled his right hand into a fist and raised it so that the Ebon-gray Jewel in his ring pointed at the window. Then he drew in a breath and let out an Eyrien battle cry enhanced by enough Craft to rattle all the windows in that part of the Hall.

The sensation of dark power, sluggish yet slithery, before the voices in the window roared in answer to Lucivar’s battle cry. Then . . .

Nothing.

Daemonar breathed out a sigh of relief. “Is it gone?”

“No,” Lucivar said darkly. “It isn’t gone. It moved.” He turned and looked at his son.

Daemon looked at Daemonar.

Daemonar took a step back and raised his hands. “I didn’t do it. Any of it.”

Lucivar stared at him a little too long before looking at Daemon. “The pup doesn’t have that kind of skill, and there’s nothing in that spell that felt like the Green.”

“But it definitely moved from this window to . . . where?” Daemon asked.

“Good question, old son. And a question you need answered in a hurry.”

“Mother Night,” Daemon said quietly.

“Yeah. You need more help than I can give you, so you know what you have to do.”

Daemon sighed.

“My advice? Start with piss and vinegar. Let Jaenelle and Karla work to calm you down.”

Daemon looked at Lucivar. “You don’t know that this has anything to do with them.”

“With those voices?” Lucivar laughed. “Hell’s fire, Bastard, are you that naive?”

As they went back to Daemon’s suite, Daemonar wondered what Sadi would have said to Lucivar if he hadn’t remembered there was a youngster with them.

He was pretty sure he would have learned some interesting new words.

As soon as Daemon caught the Black Winds and headed for Ebon Askavi, Lucivar headed for the butler’s pantry, which was Beale’s domain. Maids and footmen were stirring now. So were the youngsters who were apprenticing under Mrs. Beale, may the Darkness have mercy on them.

Barely a month into this arrangement of the Hall becoming a training ground for promising witches, Warlords, and Warlord Princes of all kinds of professions—including Queens, Black Widows, and Healers who might be targets for Blood with malevolent ambitions—and he and Daemon were looking at challenges. Well, Daemon was looking at challenges. He was there to watch his brother’s back—and to make sure that this arrangement didn’t undermine Daemon’s sanity.

He found Beale and Mrs. Beale in the butler’s pantry, along with Helene, the Hall’s head housekeeper, reviewing the tasks and assignments for the day.

“Good morning,” Lucivar said, staying in the doorway. No space to maneuver with three people already in that room.

“Prince Yaslana,” Beale said. “I wasn’t aware you were here.”

“Arrived very early.” Bracing himself, Lucivar looked Mrs. Beale in the eyes and tipped his head in greeting.

Mrs. Beale had already had a fearsome reputation despite wearing a Yellow Jewel. Her wearing one of the lighter Jewels didn’t mean much, because she was a large, strong woman who brought her well-honed meat cleaver to any and every meeting she had with members of the SaDiablo family. After the coven of malice’s attack on guests at the Hall, she had become a terrifying fascination for the youngsters who had applied to work in her kitchens because her meat cleaver, which she’d used to kill one of the evil girls, had a kiss engraved on one side—a kiss made by Daemon Sadi’s lips as a thank-you for her part in defending the Hall and the girls who had been under attack.

She stared at him too long for comfort before saying, “You and the Prince made something to eat?”

It sounded more like an accusation than a question. “We did,” he replied. “A token meal, since I arrived so early.”

Her eyes narrowed—and Lucivar had to resist the urge to call in his war blade.

“You sampled the pastries and muffins that were made yesterday?” she asked.

“We did.”

“And?”

Oh, Hell’s fire. “They were acceptable but not up to your standards.”

“The Prince ate something I wouldn’t approve for his table?”

Would you rather he went hungry? Certain there wasn’t an answer that wouldn’t get him—and Daemon—into trouble, he said nothing.

“Well, I suppose an empty belly makes do,” Mrs. Beale grumbled. “I’ll get started on a proper breakfast for the two of you.”

She couldn’t flank him. He could hold his ground. “Prince Sadi has already left. There are things he needs to discuss with the Ladies at the Keep. But I would appreciate a meal of whatever you would like to serve.” He would have suggested eating with the instructors to avoid extra work for the Hall’s staff, but right now he would eat the meal in whatever room Mrs. Beale deemed appropriate.

Lucivar glanced at Beale. “I need a few minutes of your time before the youngsters start their day.” Pulling his dark membranous wings tight against his back, he stepped aside to let Mrs. Beale and Helene leave the pantry, then stepped in and closed the door. “So. Hole in the wall. How is that being handled?”

“As it was handled in the past,” Beale replied. “The young Ladies who were attempting whatever they were attempting decided they should be responsible for paying for the repairs rather than have all the youngsters put a few marks in the pot.”

“That’s fair.”

Beale nodded. “I contacted the workmen in Halaway who usually take care of such things at the Hall. The bill that will be presented for the cost of the repairs will be steep enough to pinch everyone’s pocket.”

“But it won’t cover the full cost.”

“Prince Sadi agreed to continue his father’s arrangement for such adventures and will cover the rest of the cost of the repairs.” Beale offered Lucivar a tiny smile.

Lucivar hesitated. “My brother is doing all right?”

Now Beale hesitated, reluctant to discuss the man who ruled Dhemlan and so much more, but Lucivar and Beale had an agreement when it came to Daemon Sadi. “He is heartsore, and he misses his daughter. That is to be expected. However, seeing the young Ladies who were saved from the coven of malice’s intentions is a daily reminder of why he made the choices he made. I think that helps him. Being here certainly helps them.” Another hesitation. “If I may make an observation, the Hall as it is now, with so many young people, feels more like it did when the Prince’s Lady lived here. I think those were happy years for him.”

Lucivar nodded. “The happiest.” He blew out a breath. “But we have a problem here. Daemon has gone to the Keep for help in fixing it. Until then, this is what the senior staff needs to know.”