The Queen's Price, page 24
“What . . .” Azara looked at the other Queens and lowered her voice. “What did you do that was so bad?”
“Lord Beale told me to do something, and I tried to overrule him,” Zoey replied, feeling her face burn with the shame of stepping so far out of line that she’d been summoned for discipline because of it.
“Why shouldn’t you overrule him?” Dinah said loudly. “He’s just the butler.”
“And you’re the bitch-brat who is going to pack her trunks and leave right after breakfast,” Lucivar said, dropping his sight shield.
The boys sucked in a collective breath. The Warlord Princes straightened to attention. The girls just stared at the Warlord Prince of Askavi.
“You can’t decide that,” Dinah said. “This isn’t your house.”
Lucivar gave Dinah that smile. “This is the SaDiablo family seat, so this is my home more than it will ever be yours, whether or not I’m in residence. But more than that, Lady, the Hall is working as a court works. You are all little witches in training, and I am the Master of the Guard. That gives me the right to decide that you don’t belong here.” He looked at the girls clustered around Dinah. “And you have until breakfast is finished to decide if you’re leaving, too, or if you’re going to get it through your heads that this bitch-brat shit won’t be tolerated. You’ve had a chance to settle in and get a feel for living at the Hall and understand what is expected of you. There’s a difference between making a mistake and being a bitch. Bitches will not survive in this court.”
“But Prince Sadi . . . ,” Kathlene began, her voice shaking.
“If you cross an unforgivable line, you’d better hope I’m the one coming for you, because if Sadi’s temper goes cold, you have no chance of surviving—and your age won’t make a damn bit of difference to either of us.” He looked at all of them. “And I’m going to recommend that Protocol be enforced everywhere except in your private rooms. That means addressing people by their titles and recognizing the Jewels they wear and what those Jewels mean, regardless of the work those people do. That means addressing each other as you would in any other court. That means sharp discipline if you step out of line.”
Lucivar turned toward the dining room door. “You have anything to say about that?”
Zoey sucked in a breath. She hadn’t realized Prince Sadi had returned—and she wondered if the Green-Jeweled witch who had come in with him was a visitor.
“You’ve said everything that needs to be said,” Daemon replied. “It does seem that the children are not mature enough to appreciate informality within a court setting, so Protocol will be enforced.” He waited a beat. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Lucivar said.
“I’m delighted.” Daemon looked around the room. “Since most of you are here, I’d like to introduce Lady Brenda from the village of Maghre on the Isle of Scelt. She’ll be your new instructor.”
“Sir?” Raeth raised his hand enough to draw Daemon’s and Lucivar’s attention. “What will Lady Brenda be teaching?”
Daemon gave them all an amused smile. “Whatever she wants to teach.”
Brenda let out a hoot of laughter. “It’s going to be like that, is it? Well then, best I unpack and get on with it.”
“Lord Beale.” Daemon looked over his shoulder.
“Prince.”
“Please escort Lady Brenda to her suite and introduce her to Helene. Make sure she has everything she needs.”
“And the Lady’s friend?”
“He’ll be arriving later today. Also make up a guest room for Lord Kieran. I expect he’ll be with us overnight.”
“Very good, Prince.” Beale took a step back. “Lady? If you would follow me . . .”
Brenda looked at Lucivar, then at Daemon. “That’s your brother, is it? Quite a whip hand you’ve got there. But not to worry. When he’s not around, I’m a fair hand with a whip myself.”
“Good to know,” Daemon murmured.
“Eat or don’t eat,” Lucivar said, turning back to all the youngsters. “Lessons start in an hour whether your bellies are full or empty.” He looked at Zoey and Titian. “And before the lessons, the three of us are going to have a chat.”
Mother Night, Zoey thought, sinking into a chair. She watched Lucivar walk out of the dining room with Daemon.
Her emotions spun, her stomach churned, and all she could think was What have I done now?
She gasped when Raeth set a plate down in front of her and took the seat on her right.
“It’s just scrambled eggs and toast,” Raeth said. “You need to eat something, and I figured that would go down and stay down.”
Trent put a dish in front of Titian before circling the table and taking a seat opposite the girls.
Jhett sat next to Trent and gave Zoey a worried look.
“What did Daemonar want?” Titian asked Jhett.
The young Black Widow hesitated. “I’m going to the village with him and Grizande. She needs to buy some clothes and personal items—things a man wouldn’t help a female acquaintance buy.”
Zoey forced herself to swallow a bite of scrambled egg. “That’s good. We should help whenever we can.”
She knew there were bad Queens. She did. But until Grizande showed up at the Hall, she’d never met someone whose life had been burned by a bad Queen. She’d never been hated simply because she was a Queen.
What was she supposed to do about that?
And would the other girls blame her for Dinah’s being sent away?
* * *
* * *
“We have things to discuss,” Daemon said quietly as he and Lucivar crossed the great hall and headed for his study.
“Yes, old son, we do. Let’s start with your new instructor.”
“She’s . . .” How to explain Brenda?
“Oh, I got that part. Bloodlines?”
“Morghann and Khardeen if you go back far enough.”
“Hell’s fire. That explains some of it.”
Daemon made a sound that might have been a laugh. “It does, yes. While I was discussing the trip to Scelt with Saetien, Brenda and Jillian had a chat.”
Lucivar stopped walking and stared at him. “Should I be afraid?”
“ ‘Terrified’ would be closer to the truth of it, especially since they’ll both be living in Dhemlan.”
“Your problem, then.”
“Yes, but apparently you’re my whip hand.”
“Take a piss in the wind.”
Daemon smiled. He could always count on Lucivar being Lucivar.
The front door opened. Surreal walked into the great hall.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Lucivar asked.
“Enough,” Surreal replied. “Why?”
“As Sadi’s second-in-command, you’re taking Dinah back to whatever District Queen rules the girl’s home village and informing that Queen that the girl is temperamentally unsuitable for training at the Hall, and she and the Province Queen will receive a full report of the girl’s conduct.”
“Who’s going to write this report?” Daemon asked.
“I’ll dictate to you and Holt. He’ll write it down, and you and I will sign it.”
Hell’s fire. There was a lot of temper being held on a tight leash. “What happened here?”
“Let’s talk about it in your study,” Surreal said.
Daemon studied her. Something different about her psychic scent and physical scent. Just enough to make him aware of it.
They went into his study. Lucivar put an Ebon-gray shield around the room to make sure they wouldn’t be interrupted. Then Surreal put an aural shield around the room so they wouldn’t be heard.
“I wasn’t away that long.” Daemon looked at the two of them.
“Dinah needs to go,” Lucivar said.
“I agree,” Surreal said. “She’ll keep stirring things up until someone is killed. And she seems to be aiming most of her venom at Zoey.”
“Then she goes.” Daemon focused on Surreal. “What else? I assume there’s a reason why your psychic scent and physical scent are a little different.”
Her eyes widened. “You can tell?”
“Of course I can tell.” They might live apart most of the time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t sharply aware of her—and aware of any differences—when they were in the same place.
“Hell’s fire,” she muttered.
Lucivar stared at her. “You tried the tea?”
“Yes, I drank a cup of the tea after Jaenelle confirmed that one cup wouldn’t harm me.” Surreal frowned. “I’ll have to send a note to the Keep and let her know it changes a witch’s psychic scent and physical scent. Although she probably already knows that.”
“Did you drink it before or after I got that mental kick in the ass from Witch, telling me that Grizande was not allowed to drink another cup of that tea?”
“What tea?” Daemon asked.
Surreal ignored the question. Her frown deepened as she looked at Lucivar. “You didn’t notice the difference.”
He shrugged. “It’s a little like how you feel when your moontime begins and a little like how you feel when you’ve had too much wine.” He paused and asked too casually, “Did Marian drink any of that tea?”
“No,” Surreal said quickly. “No, it’s . . . You and Marian and Nurian need to talk to Witch about the tea.”
“What tea?” Daemon asked again.
He listened while Lucivar explained about the secret tea that was made in Tigrelan and quieted a woman’s response to a Warlord Prince’s sexual heat. Then Surreal told them why Witch’s temper had turned cold.
Lucivar paced the study, swearing under his breath. “I’d leave Marian before I’d let her do that to herself.”
Surreal nodded. “That’s one of the reasons why having this show up again pissed off Witch so much.”
Daemon said nothing, but he noticed how carefully Surreal wasn’t looking at him.
You won’t need it, he thought. Since that wasn’t something he wanted to discuss, he said, “Is Grizande settling in?”
“She needs more clothes,” Lucivar replied. “Daemonar is taking her to the village this morning.”
Daemon raised an eyebrow.
“One of the girls is going with them to help with the underwear,” Lucivar said dryly.
“Of course.”
“Your turn,” Surreal said. “What’s going to happen with Saetien?”
“If she agrees to the terms I set, I’ll escort her to Scelt in three days’ time. She’ll stay with Lord Kieran’s family while she’s on what Lady Eileen called a heart quest.” A beat of silence. “Brenda is Kieran’s sister.”
“A student?” Surreal guessed.
“Instructor.”
“Teaching . . . ?”
“Whatever she tells me she’s going to teach.” Daemon studied the carpet. Nice carpet. Good colors and pattern. “Her kindred friend will be arriving later today. Lord Shaye. A horse.” He blew out a breath. “A mountain of a horse.”
Lucivar narrowed his eyes. “When did you last eat?”
“Had breakfast while I waited for Saetien and Jillian to arrive at the estate,” Daemon replied.
“Sleep?”
“Is a fond memory.”
“Well, Hell’s fire, you’ll be less than useless in another hour. Go to bed, Bastard. Surreal will take the bitch-brat back to her family, and I’ll deal with the rest of the youngsters.”
“And I will be the benign presence,” Daemon murmured.
“Sure,” Lucivar agreed. “Time for a little chat with Zoey and Titian.” He dropped the Ebon-gray shield and walked out of the study.
“This tea . . . ,” Daemon said softly.
Surreal shook her head. “No need to say anything about it.” Then she smiled—or tried to, anyway. “Lucivar’s right. You’re almost asleep on your feet. Get some rest, Sadi. You’re going to need it.”
Might have been a warning. Might have been a threat. Either way, he didn’t argue, especially after he almost ran into Holt when he left his study. His secretary took one look at him and said there was nothing that couldn’t wait. When was there nothing that couldn’t wait when he’d been gone for a couple of days?
When he reached his suite, he put a Black lock on the door and Black shields around the rooms, remembering to leave a Sceltie-sized hole in the shield on the courtyard side. He opened the glass door that led to the balcony, ignoring the brisk air. Breen was still a puppy, and while she could air walk now, she hadn’t progressed to the Craft lessons about passing through a door or wall. As soon as she realized he’d returned, she would come running to greet him. And woe to the man who was in the shower when she arrived and found herself locked out of the room, because then she’d call on the rest of the Scelties for help. He’d watched tragedies in the theater that didn’t have as much pathos as a chorus of Scelties standing outside a closed door that they couldn’t get through.
By the time he got out of the shower and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms, Breen was in the sitting room, wildly happy to see him.
*Daemon!*
Sitting in a chair, he cuddled her. “How’s my girl? Have you been playing with the other Scelties and having your lessons with Mikal?”
*Yes! And playing with tiger friend.*
Was that safe? She was so small, and the kitten was . . . not small. He had to trust Mikal and the other Scelties to keep her safe when he wasn’t there.
“Breen, I have to sleep.” Daemon put her down and went into his bedroom. He was in bed and drifting toward sleep when he felt her tumble onto the mattress before cuddling against his chest.
He’d got halfway through the thought of telling her to get down and use her own bed when he dropped into sleep.
* * *
* * *
Lucivar strode toward the training room. A quick psychic probe told him the girls were in the room—minus Zoey and Titian, who were hovering in the corridor waiting for him, and that bitch-brat Dinah, who should be in her room packing. The boys were milling around looking uncertain. Well, with Morris gone and Brenda settling in, he wasn’t sure where the boys were supposed to be—or if Raine was supposed to be teaching this morning. Didn’t really matter. No one’s brains were going to be on lessons today. At least not the kind found in books. So he might as well give them other kinds of lessons.
“Prince Raeth,” he called. “Get the girls started on the warm-up with the sticks.”
“Sir?” The boy sounded like he’d just been ordered to strip naked and leap onto a bed of knives.
“Girls. Warm-up. You. Go.” He pointed at Zoey and Titian. “You two with me.”
He led them around the corner and put an aural shield around the three of them. Then he focused on Zoey. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied in a low voice.
“You know that’s shit, and I know that’s shit. So let’s try it again. What’s wrong?”
“Papa,” Titian protested. “Zoey is upset.”
“I can see that, witchling. I want to know why.”
“I failed!” Zoey cried. “How can I rule even a tiny village if I fail at being a Queen?”
Lucivar leaned against a wall and studied this girl who seemed to be shattering right in front of him. “If you’ve reached your age without ever taking any kind of misstep as a Queen, then you have been very sheltered, or very lucky that your instincts didn’t get you into trouble before now. My guess? Your instincts are sound, if inexperienced, and Weston has been very good at protecting you.”
Titian called in a handkerchief and handed it to Zoey.
“Grizande hates me,” Zoey said, sniffling.
He didn’t disagree with that, since it was probably true. “She doesn’t trust you because she’s learned that Queens can’t be trusted. That’s her burden. It has nothing to do with you personally.”
“If I’d listened to Lord Beale . . .”
“Yeah, if you had it would be easier. But you didn’t yield until you were pushed back. At another time, in another place, you may have to stand your ground despite what other people say. But you will have this lesson as a balance for instinct, and the next time—because you are a Queen and there will be a next time—you will make a deliberate choice of whether to yield or to fight, even if that fight is with your own court. You skinned your knee, Zoey. That’s all. Now it’s time to clean the wound and stand up.”
He waited.
“The other girls have been mean,” Titian said when it became obvious that Zoey was still having trouble standing up after what was, in the end, a small mistake.
“ ‘Mean’ as in a physical punch or a verbal one?”
“Words.”
“Sometimes those hurt worse than a fist and take longer to heal.” He waited a beat. “Which girls?” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t demand. The alarm in his daughter’s eyes told him she knew exactly what would happen if she gave him names. “Anyone besides Dinah?”
“No, Papa.”
Probably true. But the other girls, the other Queens, hadn’t stood up against Dinah’s attack either. Something to think about when it came to the harsh kinds of lessons.
“All right,” Lucivar said. He considered what to say that might help Zoey. “Witchling, just because you’re offering friendship doesn’t mean Grizande is obliged to accept it—or can accept it—from you or any of the other Queens who are living at the Hall. Some scars never heal. For her, being around Queens might be one of them. Or maybe, given time, Grizande will see that people she does trust also trust you and consider you a friend, and she’ll take a chance that you will be different from what she’s known. Do you understand?”
