The Queen's Price, page 35
“What could she do?”
Butler studied her as if the question puzzled him. “When Jaenelle was fifteen, the Dark Council insisted that Saetan wasn’t a suitable guardian for a living girl and that they, the Council, would appoint someone else. Saetan descended to the full strength of his Black Jewel and prepared to destroy the Council. Before he could strike, Jaenelle said they could appoint another guardian when the sun next rose. Saetan was devastated by that pronouncement, since he loved her and he’d waited thousands of years for the Queen he was supposed to serve. The coven and the boyos, however, viewed her statement differently. Correctly, as it happened.”
“What did happen?” Saetien asked when Butler didn’t say anything else.
“The sun didn’t rise. Not the next day or the one after that.”
Saetien’s jaw dropped. How awful, how terrifying, to wait for a sunrise that never came. Waiting in a forever-dark world. Did the Blood outside of this Dark Council know why the night didn’t end? “But the sun did rise. It had to.”
Butler nodded. “Eventually, it did. The Council sent one of its members, a man who got along well with the High Lord, and requested—begged, if you want the truth of it—that Saetan remain Jaenelle’s guardian and that he ask his daughter to restore the sun. Which he did when the Seneschal finally granted him admittance to the Keep.
“Love was the only leash that could hold Jaenelle Angelline, but it was a leash that had a knife edge honed for war and had to be handled carefully.”
Butler hadn’t created a ball of witchlight, so he was little more than a dark shape backlit by the lights shining from the cottage windows. Somehow, that felt right for the telling—and hearing—of this part of the story.
“Dorothea’s man, Osvald, used the compulsion spells and got Wilhelmina away from her rooms,” Butler continued. “But he didn’t take into account that kindred would react the same way as a human protector, and Wilhelmina had become friends with a young tiger Warlord Prince named Dejaal, who was the son of Jaal, a Green-Jeweled Warlord Prince who served in Jaenelle’s First Circle. Wilhelmina was frightened and struggled, despite the spells Osvald had used, and Dejaal responded the same way any other Warlord Prince would respond—he attacked the man who was hurting his friend. A call to battle spread through the Hall, and kindred and humans converged on the area. An Eyrien Warlord Prince who was Lucivar’s second-in-command at the time wounded Osvald, but Dejaal had been killed before the others joined the fight.”
Saetien shook her head. “The residential areas of the Hall are made up of blocks of rooms that surround open-air courtyards. Unless you can fly, there’s no quick way to leave.”
“No, there’s not,” Butler agreed. “And in a place where one male sounding the alarm has all males responding as if they’re standing on a battleground—or a killing field—a man has no chance of removing a woman who doesn’t want to go with him. But Osvald tried, and a young Warlord Prince died because of it.”
“What happened to Osvald?”
Silence. Another of those moments when Butler looked away. “The son of a Brother in the Court was killed by an enemy on home ground. When something like that happens, the males in the First Circle have the right to decide on the form of execution. They gave Osvald to Jaal and Kaelas, who was a Red-Jeweled Arcerian Warlord Prince. I don’t know what those two cats did to that man, but having seen what two cats the size of Jaal and Kaelas can do to a human, it would have been a terrible way to die.”
“But Wilhelmina was saved.”
“Yes.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Saetien realized he was waiting for her next question. What was she supposed to ask?
Think. Think. When it’s a court, it’s never just the person who commits the act who is held accountable. A debt is owed by the person who gave the order.
After a minute, Butler said, “When a Queen comes to another Queen’s territory to visit or for business reasons and brings members of her court to serve her—or protect her—it is expected that she will hold the leash on everyone who came with her, that she will make sure they behave properly and not cause trouble for the hosting Queen or her court. For allowing Osvald to try to abduct Wilhelmina, Alexandra was held accountable for the death of Dejaal.”
“But she wasn’t executed,” Saetien said quickly. “She didn’t actually kill the tiger.”
“She wasn’t executed. She was stripped of her power, broken back to basic Craft. Still a Queen but no longer able to wear any Jewels.”
Saetien stood there with her mouth open. A Queen without any power? How . . . ? “The High Lord broke her?”
“No,” Butler said quietly. “The Queen of Ebon Askavi broke the Queen whose actions led to the death of a member of the Dark Court. Witch broke Alexandra.”
“But . . . Alexandra was Jaenelle’s grandmother. Witch broke her own grandmother?”
“What would you have had her do?” Butler’s voice turned sharp. “Oohhh, I see. Alexandra should have been reprimanded for violating her responsibilities as a Queen and a guest, should have had her wrist slapped and been told she was naughty, but should not have suffered any real consequences? After all, it wasn’t a human that was killed, was it? A Warlord Prince, yes, but just a tiger. Just an animal. Nothing important enough to defend.”
“I didn’t say that,” Saetien snapped. But the thought had been there, quickly followed by anger that anyone would think that Shelby might be expendable because he was a dog. “But she did it to her grandmother.”
“Witch called in the debt owed to her by another Queen. Alexandra being a relative had nothing to do with Jaenelle’s decision. It couldn’t. That is the price of being a Queen. Every personal decision, every private choice, has consequences, since every choice affects your court. You’ve seen Witch, seen the Self that lived beneath the human skin. Living myth, dreams made flesh. But not all the dreamers were human, Saetien. Generations of kindred dreamed of a Queen who would help them, who would protect them from humans who saw them as less. Centuries of Blood with one desire. Centuries during which three strong men yearned for the Queen they wanted, needed, to serve. It took a long time for all those dreams to come together to shape the Queen Kaeleer needed. To shape the Queen that Saetan needed. And Lucivar needed. And Daemon needed.
“Not all the dreamers were human. That is why Jaenelle Angelline was beloved as a Queen and could rule the Realm of Kaeleer. Every race in the Shadow Realm had a little part of the making of this Queen, and Jaenelle saw no difference between a Warlord Prince who was a tiger and a Warlord Prince who was a human. If he was under her hand, he was hers to protect—and she did protect her own.”
“Then why was Jaenelle born in Chaillot? Why wasn’t she born someplace in Kaeleer? Why did she end up being Alexandra’s granddaughter?”
“Because Alexandra was also one of the dreamers,” Butler said quietly. “But unlike Saetan and Lucivar and Daemon, she didn’t recognize the dream—and so many terrible things happened because of that. Those terrible things also became part of the living myth, just as Saetan’s love—and Daemon’s and Lucivar’s love—also helped shape who Witch became.”
“What happened to Alexandra?” Saetien asked.
“Alexandra, Leland, Philip, and the rest of the people Alexandra brought with her were escorted through the Gate nearest to Chaillot. As far as I know, they returned to Beldon Mor.”
“But Wilhelmina stayed.”
“Yes, Wilhelmina stayed.”
“And she forgave Jaenelle for breaking their grandmother?”
“In the discussion between Wilhelmina and Jaenelle that followed Alexandra’s return to Chaillot, Wilhelmina conveniently forgot that Jaenelle had been protecting her for most of their lives. She said things that caused a heart wound that never fully healed—and that was the last time the two of them were together.”
Butler’s voice sounded bitter, and Saetien heard an anger that still burned for a woman who died centuries ago.
“What happened between Wilhelmina and Jaenelle?” Saetien asked.
Butler shook his head. “That’s enough for tonight.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Yes. But not tonight.” Butler started to walk away; then he returned to the gate. “Who decides which races are human enough to be important, Saetien? What are the requirements? That a being have two arms and two legs? That they have hair and not fur? Skin that is all one color?” He paused. “What about wings? Is that not a sign that a race might be less than human?”
“How dare you!” The Eyrien race not considered human just because they had wings? Her cousins not considered human? What a filthy thing to say.
“If Jaenelle hadn’t stopped the Dark Council and the Terreilleans who coveted kindred lands by refusing to see any race as less, do you really think it wouldn’t have come to that eventually?”
Butler returned to his cottage and closed the door, leaving Saetien shrouded in dark thoughts about things she had never considered because she’d never had to.
FORTY
SaDiablo Hall
Daemon didn’t know why Lucivar felt Holt, Beale, Helene, Nadene, Raine, Weston, and Brenda were needed for this discussion, but if Lucivar wanted reinforcements, Daemon was certain he wasn’t going to like whatever his brother wanted to discuss. The only positive he could see was that Lucivar hadn’t asked Liath to attend this meeting.
Maybe Yaslana was saving the Sceltie Warlord Prince in case Daemon was foolish enough not to cooperate with the humans.
He stared at his brother. “I’m listening.”
“The Warlord Princes have formed their own pack, with Daemonar as the dominant and Raeth as his second-in-command,” Lucivar said. “It looks like Raeth and Trent have a preference for working with Zoey and her friends, but that could be because Titian is one of those friends, which means Daemonar takes a sharp interest in those girls. Also, Grizande is now in the mix, and my first-born feels protective of her.”
“Grizande wears a Sapphire Jewel and is well able to take care of herself,” Brenda said, waggling her fingers to remind everyone that the Tigre witch had claws.
“Maybe in a physical fight,” Daemon replied, “but there are other ways to wound someone. And there are the three days in every woman’s moontime when she is vulnerable.” He waited for an argument and felt relieved when he didn’t get one.
No one in the room who knew about Grizande’s past mentioned the scars she carried from being tortured—a testimony that even the powerful, when young, couldn’t always defend themselves. That was something he and Lucivar knew well.
“The two Princes and the Warlords are still sorting themselves out as far as which Queen they prefer to follow and who is a friend and who is just tolerated, but there’s not much squabbling among themselves,” Lucivar said.
Could be because they’re too exhausted to squabble, Daemon thought. Eyrien stamina was not to be underestimated, and with Daemonar leading, the boys were either studying, sweating through weapons practice, playing physically active games with the kindred or among themselves, or falling asleep on their feet if they didn’t manage to fall on a mattress first.
“The problem I’m seeing is the pissing contests that have boiled up between the Queens,” Lucivar continued. “Zoey wears Birthright Opal, which is the darkest Jewel among the Queens and should make her dominant, but she’s backing away from every disagreement instead of drawing a line and setting her heels down. And the reason for that is that the other Queens, led by Dinah, piled on her in a verbal dogfight.”
“Not exactly,” Raine corrected. “It’s more that the other three Queens stood back and did nothing, waiting to see who won the fight for dominance, although I think Kathlene would have stepped up to the line and stood with Zoey before much longer.”
Daemon studied the Dharo Prince. “Now that Dinah is gone, what is your assessment of the young Queens?”
Raine thought for a moment. “Zoey is sparkle and energy. She wants to be helpful—maybe too helpful at times. She might need firmer boundaries and more protection for a while. Kathlene is . . . solid. She’s a quiet girl who watches and listens and is more intent on absorbing the lessons than any of the other girls—including Zoey. With proper nurturing, she’ll grow up into a strong Queen. Felisha?” He shrugged. “She might settle into being a solid Queen. But Azara holds on to an opinion as well as a colander holds on to water. She just wants to back whoever is dominant, regardless of right or wrong. That makes me uneasy.”
“Who is dominant among them will change a dozen times before any of those girls are old enough to form an official court,” Daemon said. “Hell’s fire, who is dominant changes every time someone enters or leaves a room.”
“But the caliber of the Queen will not change in any significant way,” Beale replied quietly. “They have reached an age where they are what they will be. What you teach them will help them discover their potential and refine what is inside them, but it won’t change them.”
“It might change them in some ways, especially if one of them is floundering because another among them keeps cutting the ground out from under her,” Lucivar countered. “Protect and defend, whether the weapon being used is a whip or a word. But before we decide who we defend, we need to know what kind of Queens we’re dealing with. We need to confirm Raine’s assessment.”
“Lucivar, they’re still children,” Daemon said. Was he arguing because he disagreed or because he needed to believe a girl could change if given a chance?
Maybe not change, he thought. Maybe rediscover who she is?
Putting thoughts of Saetien aside, he focused on the people in his study and the current discussion.
“You know better than that, Bastard,” Lucivar said. “We saw plenty of Queens this age when we lived in Terreille, saw which ones already had a taste for cruelty and which ones wouldn’t stand up for their people if there was any risk or inconvenience to themselves.”
“What are you proposing?” he asked.
“We—”
“Meaning me, since you won’t be here most of the time.”
“Fine. You”—Lucivar circled with a finger to indicate all the adults in the room—“will conduct some scenarios that will give the children a challenge similar to something they might face as a ruling Queen or a member of a court. When Father did this kind of exercise one season, he assigned one of the coven to be the ruling Queen for that day and the other Queens were Province Queens or District Queens under her hand. That way they each experienced what it was like to have to answer to someone else or be a Territory’s last voice in any conflict. The boyos were assigned to a Queen, and Father, along with Beale and Helene, assigned servants to assist in whatever task the Queen was given.”
Beale, Helene, and Holt were working at the Hall when Jaenelle and the coven were adolescents. They all looked suspiciously stoic.
“What went wrong?” Daemon asked—because it was clear to him that something had gone wrong.
“It was Jaenelle and the coven,” Lucivar replied. “They had no problem with following whoever was supposed to lead that day as long as an assignment went smoothly, but as soon as there was trouble, they reverted to their natural order of dominance. And when one of them was assigned to be a bad Queen and do something . . . hurtful . . . in some way—and defend her position—there was a lot of yelling. Usually at Father, because he’d made up the scenario.”
“Hurtful?” Daemon asked too softly.
“As in being a guest in another Queen’s court and being discourteous to members of the court or the servants working at the residence, or trying to persuade a servant to let the guest into a room that was private—or into Beale’s pantry to snitch a bottle of wine. Or being a Queen who allowed someone in her court to steal from a merchant. Problem was, they all rebelled at being a bad Queen, even in an exercise.”
“The time they were told someone in a visiting Queen’s court kicked a puppy,” Holt murmured.
Daemon’s temper went cold. The men—and Helene and Nadene—shuddered as the air in the room turned frigid. Brenda just called in a heavy wool shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Well,” Lucivar said, eyeing Daemon, “it’s a good thing you weren’t here for these scenarios. As it was, we almost had a war inside the Hall when the coven, the boyos, and the kindred exploded into a hunt for that person.”
“Who was imaginary,” Holt said. “And thank the Darkness for that.”
Lucivar nodded. “Yeah. That was invigorating. It wasn’t even an approved scenario. A servant, thinking to add some drama into the exercises—or maybe wanting a bit of malicious fun—spread the rumor.”
“It sounds terrifying,” Raine said.
“That’s what Lucivar meant by ‘invigorating,’ ” Daemon said dryly.
“After that, the High Lord purchased a dressmaker’s dummy and a few outfits for various social functions,” Helene said. “Lady Dumm became the Queen with shaky scruples whose court got up to all manner of unsavory things. A couple of the maids were assigned to be Lady Dumm’s dressers, and a couple of footmen were responsible for putting her in the proper room for whatever was happening. She was even assigned a guest room to hold her wardrobe, and was sometimes seen taking a stroll through the gardens or being driven through Halaway. When the shopkeepers in Halaway understood the purpose of Lady Dumm’s existence, they participated by submitting complaints about misconduct by one of Dumm’s First Circle.”
“The point was for the coven to experience the conflicts that can occur when the line between what is right and what is wrong starts getting smudged,” Lucivar said. “It didn’t work well because all the Queens in the coven were already united around Witch. But the girls who are here now aren’t united. There are rivalries. Bring those out into the open. Force the girls—and the boys—to take a stand. And then we’ll see what happens.”
