٭No food?٭ ٭We don’t get food?٭ ٭But we weren’t bad.٭
Jillian put a hand over her mouth to hold back the laugh. Yaslana looked over his shoulder at her. Either he’d sensed the movement or, more likely, he’d known she was there all along.
“You feel up to doing some shopping at the market?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t been down to Riada since the outing to the cake shop, so she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Dillon and tell him about being able to see him. Sort of. “Is it all right if I go to the library too? I have some books to return.”
Yaslana stared at her a moment too long. “All right.” Still looking at her, he crooked a finger at Daemonar. “Bane of my existence, come here.” When Daemonar came up beside him, Yaslana wrapped a hand around the back of the boy’s neck. “You are standing escort for Jillian while she does the shopping and runs her errands. That means you don’t go wandering off to talk to friends. You keep each other in sight. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
She could convince Daemonar to give her a few minutes to talk to Dillon. Not out of sight or anything, because Dillon would be in trouble if they did that, but with Daemonar far enough away for them to have a private conversation.
“And you three are chaperons for both of them,” Lucivar finished, turning his head to stare at the Scelties.
Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. The dogs would obey her. Wouldn’t they?
“Lady Marian is feeding the baby,” Yaslana said, looking at her again. “Lady Surreal is with her. Go ask if there is anything they need while you’re at the market.”
“Yes, sir,” Jillian said.
Yaslana gave Daemonar an easy push. “You go clean your teeth and wash your hands.”
As Jillian walked past the kitchen, she saw Prince Sadi crouch and the Scelties gather around him.
“You think they’ll be all right?” Lucivar asked when Jillian and Daemonar flew down to Riada while Morghann, Khary, and Tagg caught the Winds down to the village. They would meet up in front of the butcher’s shop.
“They’ll be fine.” Daemon looked at the roast that had three chunks torn out of it and shook his head as he set it on a cutting board. “This was a fine piece of meat.” Taking a large kitchen knife from the block on the counter, he cut up the rest into small chunks.
Opening one of the lower cupboards, Lucivar selected a container with a tight lid. “A couple of weeks ago, I wouldn’t have worried about the children going to the village on their own. But that damn Warlord sniffing around Jillian changes everything.”
Daemon scooped up the chunks of meat and put them in the container. While Lucivar closed the lid, he washed his hands. Then he took the pencil and one of the squares of paper Marian used in order to pin information on the family message board and wrote Sceltie food. He used Craft to fix the paper to the lid, then put the container in the cold box.
“There was going to be a boy sooner or later,” Daemon said, returning the pencil.
“I expected any boy interested in Jillian to know better than to piss on my boots.”
“I would have expected the aristo family who is hosting him to know better. After your initial reaction and his accepting Surreal’s invitation to join her and Jillian at the cake shop, they have to know he’s expressed interest in the girl. Why haven’t they told him to come up to the eyrie and introduce himself? If that’s too intimidating or if they’re concerned that might indicate more interest than is felt, especially considering the difference in Jillian’s and Lord Dillon’s ages, there are ways to make a casual introduction.”
“The Eyriens who settled in Ebon Rih didn’t come from aristo families.”
“You do,” Daemon said quietly. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you. That sort of thing never did. But sometimes, brother, reminding someone of just how aristo your bloodlines are can be a very sharp whip.”
Lucivar smiled and shook his head. “Perzha wearing all her clattering jewelry. Me wearing the leathers that are suited for a working Eyrien warrior instead of looking like the ruler of this valley—of the whole damn Territory, even if I haven’t officially claimed it. A truth about who we are, but also a disguise.”
“I know a bit about using one kind of power to conceal another.”
Yes, he would. There still weren’t many among the living who knew Daemon Sadi was more than the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan—was, in fact, the High Lord of Hell.
It took Jillian less than a minute after landing in front of the butcher’s shop to learn that Scelties were bundles of information—especially when it came to themselves.
The female Sceltie was Morghann, a Purple Dusk–Jeweled witch. Khary was a Warlord who wore an Opal in the deeper range of that Jewel, and Tagg, a black and white youngster with tan markings, was also a Warlord, but he was too young to have gone through the Birthright Ceremony, so he didn’t have a Jewel. Normally he wouldn’t have been brought along for a visit in another Territory, except a visit to Scelt, but Daemon had decided that Tagg should come with the other two because it would be educational and the Scelties would be with members of the SaDiablo family.
Jillian interpreted that explanation to mean that the three dogs had put up such a fuss about Tagg being left behind that Prince Sadi hadn’t wanted to return home to deal with whatever trouble one unhappy Sceltie could cause at the Hall. So he brought the trouble with him.
It wasn’t the day for the full open market, but the grocer had carts of fruits and vegetables set up outside. Before she could walk into the butcher shop and buy a replacement roast, Tagg dashed toward a cart full of vegetables and leaped—a move that would have landed him in the middle of the produce. Daemonar caught him in midair, swinging the Sceltie out of reach a moment before Tagg grabbed a crown of broccoli.
“What’s going on?” The grocer dashed outside, holding a broom in a fighting stance.
“Sorry, sir,” Daemonar said, struggling to hold the excited dog. “This is Lord Tagg. He likes broccoli.”
٭Greens are good!٭ Tagg whapped Daemonar’s leg with his tail.
٭Hello,٭ Morghann said. ٭We are Scelties. We live at the Hall with Prince Sadi and Lady Surreal, but we are visiting Prince Yaslana and Lady Marian.٭
The grocer blinked. Then he pursed his lips as Jillian and Khary rushed up to join the kerfuffle.
Honestly, it was like dealing with fast-talking, four-legged toddlers who dashed off to look at, sniff, and taste whatever caught their interest.
Well, she’d been helping Marian deal with children since Daemonar was a baby, so she could, and would, deal with this too.
“Yes, we do need some greens for tonight’s dinner, but I’m going to select them, and there will be no tasting until we get home and Lady Marian decides what she wants to use.”
٭Morghann and I can help choose the fruits,٭ Khary said. ٭We’re good at sniffing out the ripest fruit.٭
“That’s all—,” Jillian began. Then she—and everyone else—stared as the two Scelties rose until they were standing on air level with the cart bed. They walked above the mounded fruit, their paws never touching anything as they sniffed the offerings. Their selections rose above the cart to float on air.
٭I can help!٭ Tagg struggled to get out of Daemonar’s arms. ٭I want to help.٭
٭Move away from the carts,٭ Jillian told Daemonar on a psychic thread.
٭I’m supposed to stay with you.٭
٭If he manages to get away from you, he’ll land right on top of all the vegetables in the cart. Do you want to explain that to your father?٭