The Queen's Price, page 34
“Two more times,” he muttered. “We’ll have to go through this Virgin Night with our girls two more times.” Or more, depending on which girls were living at the Hall when they reached the proper age.
“Could have been worse,” Lucivar said. “Karla could be here offering advice.”
“Karla already talked to Jillian and offered advice. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lucivar scrubbed his hands over his face. “What were you thinking?”
* * *
* * *
Daemonar watched his father and uncle circulate among the guests. Together. As a pair of predators ready to take on whatever needed to get squashed flatter than dead.
“Somebody upset them,” he said quietly.
“Might have been me,” Brenda said cheerfully. “There was a bit of a discussion about why females have a Virgin Night and males don’t.”
He looked at Raine, who just looked back at him without offering an opinion—or even making a grunting noise that might be mistaken for an opinion.
“We do have a Virgin Night of sorts,” Daemonar said.
“Do you, now?” Brenda’s eyes brightened with interest.
Brenda had green eyes and Auntie J.’s eyes were sapphire, but that bright interest was a familiar look—a harbinger of trouble that always began with innocent curiosity and often ended with something blowing up. Which meant Brenda would have settled into the Dark Court’s First Circle without a second thought.
Had Uncle Daemon realized that yet?
“Male Virgin Night?” Brenda said.
Right. He’d been foolish enough to say that to her. “Sure. You Ladies need to have the first sexual encounter done properly to preserve your power. Males need to do it properly to preserve their reputations.” Daemonar swallowed some wine to wet a suddenly dry throat as he imagined trying to explain this to Auntie J. or Karla. “A male getting careless about his choice of lover that first time could spiral into Ladies thinking he’s going to accommodate anyone who has an itch and wants him to scratch it. Men who didn’t train to be consorts have been denied being able to serve in courts because of a reputation for providing sex at the snap of a woman’s fingers. They might be considered too unreliable to be a potential husband and father. It might take more than one bad choice for a man to damage his reputation and life beyond repair, but if he lets himself be used once, he can count on someone trying to use him again.”
“Did you learn that from your father and uncle?” Raine asked.
Daemonar shook his head. “I figured that out from Jillian’s first romantic entanglement. He was a Rihlander who made a bad choice about his first time and things soured for him after that, until he ended up in Ebon Rih and latched onto Jillian—and then had to deal with Lucivar.”
Brenda and Raine looked across the room at Daemon and Lucivar. “I’m thinking those two got a wee bit excited about it all,” she said.
“You could say that. It ended with the discovery of the ‘if you loved me’ spell and how it was being used—and it ended with my father taking the title of Demon Prince and ruling all of Askavi.”
“What happened to the boy?” Raine asked.
Daemonar smiled. “They gave him a second chance and sent him to Dharo to serve in a Queen’s court.” He lowered his voice. “One of his descendants works for Mrs. Beale now. The Dharo Boy?”
Brenda hooted. Daemonar and Raine shushed her when Daemon and Lucivar looked over—then pointedly ignored the three of them.
“Does Jillian know?” Brenda asked.
“No,” Daemonar replied. “And unless the Dharo Boy is the one to tell her, she never will.”
* * *
* * *
“What do you think those three are talking about?” Stefan asked as he watched Brenda, Daemonar, and Raine laughing about something.
“I don’t want to know,” Jillian replied. She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, it’s done, and we have Prince Sadi’s permission to bounce the bed.”
Stefan choked. “He did not say that.”
“No, Brenda said it. I’m not sure if she intended for Lucivar to hear her, but it certainly got a reaction.”
“Is that why he snapped the legs off that little table?”
Jillian nodded. “He gets exercised about some things.” She sighed. “You’re going to make us wait until we’re home, aren’t you?”
“Since I’d like to keep my balls behind my zipper and not in a jar on the mantel, yes, we’re going to wait.”
She stifled a laugh. It was funny, but knowing Lucivar and Daemon, it was also true.
“Besides,” Stefan added. “We have time.”
Jillian leaned back to look at him. Loving Stefan was a quiet excitement with plenty of sparks. Rather like Lucivar and Marian’s love, although she didn’t think Lucivar would understand the comparison—yet.
* * *
* * *
The party was winding down and nobody had died. Lucivar figured he and Daemon had done well, and Surreal was right—as long as he didn’t think too much about Jillian having a lover for a decade or two, he’d adjust to her being with Stefan.
He watched Jillian cross the room. Alone.
“If he ever hurts you . . . ,” Lucivar said softly.
“I will call in my Eyrien war blade and slice him into pieces,” Jillian replied. “And then I will call you to deal with whatever part of him is left. Although I guess Daemon would be the one who would deal with what’s left after the transition to demon-dead.”
“He’d let me help.”
A beat of silence before she said, “Stefan won’t hurt me.”
No, Stefan wouldn’t. Not because of the men in Jillian’s family who would be there to protect her, but because Lucivar had seen the way the vintner looked at Jillian. Had seen love and desire rather than lust.
“If you two decide to handfast, you’ll give me a little more warning?”
Jillian nodded. “We’re not thinking of that just yet, but I will tell you if we do. And Stefan is drinking the contraceptive brew, so we’ll give you plenty of warning before you become a grandfather.”
He hadn’t realized he was swaying until someone grabbed his arm to steady him.
Jillian smiled. “If you’ll excuse me . . .”
Rothvar shook his head as Jillian joined Stefan, Brenda, Raine, and Daemonar. “Did she just say . . . ?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell’s fire.” Rothvar released his hold on Lucivar’s arm. “You okay?”
“Living in Terreille, I never thought I would survive long enough to have children, let alone be a grandfather,” Lucivar said. “But here I am.” He looked at his second-in-command. “Here we are.”
Rothvar scanned the room until he located Nurian. The heat of love filled every aspect of the man. “Yeah. Here we are.”
THIRTY-NINE
Maghre
There, now,” Anya said as she tucked the final pin into the coil she’d made of Saetien’s long black hair. “Now let me cover it with this netting, and you’ll be all set.”
Saetien stared at her reflection. With her hair put up this way, she looked older. Looked . . . mature, which would be fine. Would be good, in fact. But if this made her look matronly . . . “Isn’t netting old-fashioned?” Meaning suitable for old ladies rather than young women.
“It’s black, so it matches your hair,” Anya replied as she placed the netting around the coiled hair. “I’ve added a little shielding to it, so even sharp little puppy teeth won’t be able to get a grip on your hair.”
Thank the Darkness for that.
“Besides,” Anya continued, “just because something is practical and traditional doesn’t make it old-fashioned.” She blew out a breath. “Had a guest here not long ago who thought like you. She said the same about netting being old-fashioned. Only she made the mistake of actually teasing some of the puppies with her braid, even though Kieran and Ryder warned her not to do that. Well, she wore herself out with the playing and fell asleep with two of the pups still with her. Don’t know if they liked the smell of her hair or just weren’t ready to stop playing, but there she was, sound asleep, and there they were, chewing on that braid and having a good time being quiet.
“Well, she woke up by herself and started having a fair fit because she had half the hair she’d had before she fell asleep, and there were chunks of hair all over the yard because the pups didn’t know about using Craft to seal the ends to hold the braid together.”
Saetien turned around so she could look Anya right in the eyes. “You’re making that up.”
“Hand on heart.” Anya put her hand on her chest.
Saetien started to reach up to make sure she still had hair. Then she lowered her hand. “It’s practical. And traditional.”
Anya smiled. “Exactly. If you and Shelby are going to puppy school, best you go down and get some breakfast in you.”
Obediently, Saetien headed downstairs. Anya wasn’t quite as bossy as the servants who worked for her father at the Hall, but she’d give them a fair race for the trophy.
Everyone was in the breakfast room when Saetien arrived. She stopped herself from calling attention to her hair, but Kieran noticed the aborted move when she started to reach up.
“Anya found some netting for your hair?” he asked.
“Looks good,” Kildare said with a nod.
“Indeed it does,” Eileen agreed with a smile.
“Anya told me a silly story about a guest who had her braid chewed off.” Saetien rolled her eyes to indicate that she wasn’t about to be fooled, just in case Anya had been teasing.
Except . . . Ryder winced, and Kieran said, “Ah. Well, we did warn her not to get the puppies thinking that her hair was a toy.”
Saetien sat down with a thump. “You mean Anya wasn’t teasing?”
Four people shook their heads.
“Woman upset the whole stable with her screeching.” Kildare buttered his toast a bit fiercely in response to the memory.
“She had her sights set on Kieran,” Ryder said. “Well, she did,” he insisted when Eileen scoffed at the suggestion. “Why did you think he asked you to put her up on this side of the house and had Brenda sleep in the guest room on his side? He figured Brenda would be as fierce a protector as any Sceltie.”
The look in Eileen’s eyes held steel. “Kieran?”
“She never got close to my bedroom, let alone my bed, and she packed up and was gone the next day, so my reputation remains unsullied.” Kieran’s lips twitched with amusement. “But even the youngest pups realized that my scolding about the hair wasn’t sincere, since they had solved a problem for me, which is why some of them still think braids are toys.” He pointed a finger at Saetien. “You’ll have to put some effort into convincing them otherwise, for your own sake as well as other young Ladies.”
She bared her teeth in a smile that had Kieran’s eyebrows rising.
“How was playtime with the foals yesterday?” Kildare asked.
Saetien took her time buttering a piece of toast. “It was fine.” Butter, butter, butter. “They let me win a race. It was a close call. Caitie was watching and declared that I won by a nose.”
A lot of male throat clearing.
Eileen reached over and patted Saetien’s hand. “That was kind of the foals to let you win.”
“It was,” she agreed.
The men excused themselves with more haste than manners.
“The pony cart will be out front for you when you’re ready,” Kieran said before he closed the breakfast room door.
“What is discussed is private, but how are things going between you and Prince Butler?” Eileen asked as she refilled their cups. “He can be a bit prickly about the past.”
“It’s not what I expected.”
“That’s a truth that can be said about a lot of things.”
* * *
* * *
Later that day, Saetien stood on her side of the gate and waited for Butler. Kieran had said it was a bit early to be going, and it probably was, but she’d been thinking about these people all day. Alexandra Angelline, the Chaillot Queen who had struggled to hold on to her Territory in the face of a terrible scandal, with the powerful families in Beldon Mor—the ones who weren’t involved in Briarwood—asking how she had let that evil remain hidden, how she’d allowed it to take root, how she could claim she didn’t know about it when one of the men who had helped make that place lived in her own house. When one of her granddaughters had been committed to that place.
Had those powerful families begun to wonder if Jaenelle Angelline really had been an eccentric, troubled child or if she had been a child who had tried to tell them the truth about the dangers and corruption hidden by people like Robert Benedict?
And Dorothea SaDiablo. Powerful High Priestess of Hayll, who had wanted to control the Realm of Terreille. Had wanted to control more than that?
Jaenelle Angelline had ruled almost the whole of Kaeleer. Dorothea had wanted to rule Terreille. One was beloved while the other was hated for wanting the same thing. Why?
Impatient to hear the next part of the story, Saetien had started walking to Butler’s cottage with only Shelby for company. It wasn’t that far, and it wasn’t dark yet. Besides, having Kieran and whoever was pulling the pony cart just sitting out there in the dark while she talked to Butler was foolish for both man and horse.
She was halfway to the cottage before Kieran and the pony cart caught up to her.
He said nothing. She picked up Shelby and climbed in.
“He won’t open the door before he’s ready,” Kieran finally said.
“I know,” she replied, “but the answers he gives me fill my head with more questions.”
“That’s not surprising. Families can be complicated.”
That was certainly true of hers. It had begun to sink in, really sink in, that her father, whom she loved, had hated the woman who was her great-grandmother. And yet he’d married Surreal, Dorothea’s granddaughter.
The horse stopped, then snorted when she didn’t climb down.
“Shelby can wait here with us,” Kieran said.
She climbed down and walked the rest of the way to the cottage, where she stood by the gate and waited. And waited.
The light was fading, but there was still enough for her to see the flower beds that created a wide border all along the fence and should have provided color along the front of the cottage, especially now that the spring flowers were starting to bloom.
“Can’t the man tell the difference between a flower and a weed?” she muttered as she studied the beds. They were overgrown, unkempt, and full of weeds. They could be lovely with a little care.
Every year, her father had helped her plant flowers in a small space that was hers and hers alone. Tarl wouldn’t let his gardeners touch a thing between the stakes that marked her part of the flower beds in the courtyard that was surrounded by the family’s private rooms. Tarl would fill the watering can for her, and when she was very little he or her father would help her with the watering because the full can was heavy, but caring for the plants and pulling the weeds was up to her.
She’d been a fierce weeder.
She missed taking care of something that was just her own. She didn’t count Shelby because she and Shelby took care of each other. Not the same thing as filling her hands with good earth.
The door opened. Butler walked down the flagstone path and stood on his side of the gate.
“You said Alexandra Angelline was Dorothea SaDiablo’s pawn,” Saetien said, trying not to sound like she was bursting with questions. “What did she do?”
“Alexandra arrived in Kaeleer with her daughter, Leland, and Philip Alexander, along with guards, escorts, and several Ladies who served in her court—and at least one man who was there to carry out Dorothea’s orders,” Butler replied. “She showed up at SaDiablo Hall with the intention of confronting the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, the man she’d been told controlled Jaenelle and now also had Wilhelmina as his unwilling ‘guest.’ Whatever story Dorothea had spun about the man, Alexandra wasn’t prepared to face the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who was the High Lord of Hell—and she wasn’t prepared to see Daemon Sadi again. She wasn’t prepared for the number of Warlord Princes in residence or the number of Queens who had gathered to take a look at someone they had considered an enemy since childhood.
“Wilhelmina was never without an escort, was never left unprotected. She didn’t want to go back to Chaillot, didn’t want to go back to any place in Terreille. Ordinary methods of persuasion weren’t going to work to extract the girl from the High Lord’s care and ‘protection.’ So Alexandra agreed to methods that required the skills of Dorothea’s man. Hayll’s High Priestess had provided her man with compulsion spells to use on Wilhelmina in order to get her away from the Hall and get her back to Hayll.”
“You mean Chaillot,” Saetien interrupted. “He would have taken her to Chaillot.”
“Wilhelmina would have been Dorothea’s ‘guest’ to make sure Alexandra continued to assist her efforts to get Jaenelle Angelline away from Saetan. Jaenelle was the real goal because whoever controlled the Queen of Ebon Askavi could control the Realms. A witch powerful enough to crush Saetan’s and Daemon’s power and bring those men to their knees? Factions of the Blood had been trying to get control of Jaenelle ever since Saetan became her legal guardian. What Dorothea and Alexandra didn’t understand was that Saetan recognized the truth about his daughter’s nature, and he didn’t stand in front of Jaenelle in order to protect her from the rest of the Blood. He stood in front in order to protect the Blood from her.”
