“Sir, we believe someone is trying to cause trouble for the Queens who are receiving court training at the Hall. These extra assignments have been added to the tasks you’ve listed for each day.”
“Why didn’t you come to me before now?” he asked too softly.
“It would have sounded whiny.” Not an excuse he was going to accept. Well, her father wouldn’t have accepted it either—which was something she should have remembered, and mentioned to Zoey, before they’d devised this elaborate plan. “But now it’s become serious enough to bring to your attention. We—I acquired the original instructions. We thought you might be able to use them to find out who is doing this.”
A humming silence before the man behind the desk finally took the paper. He turned it over, read it, then looked at her and Jhett—and held up the paper for them to read.
Titian swallowed hard. This was unforgivable cruelty.
“Riding crop?” Jhett’s voice rose in outrage. “Whipping people with a riding crop?”
“Is reporting this being whiny?” Uncle Daemon asked quietly.
“No, sir,” Titian replied. She didn’t want to think about what Lucivar would do if someone laid a strap on her—assuming there was anything left of the person after Daemonar and Uncle Daemon were through with the fool.
“I’m disappointed that you didn’t come to me sooner.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
The quiet reprimand felt worse than a roaring scold. She’d hurt him. The other girls hadn’t; they weren’t family. But she, who’d known him all her life, had hurt him by not trusting him and telling him sooner, and she didn’t know how to make it up to him.
“Zoey . . . ,” she began.
“By now Zoey is having a very interesting discussion with Witch.” Warm amusement appeared in Uncle Daemon’s eyes. “But I understand the story being told here is that she has tummy troubles, which is why she’s staying in her room today.”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at her, then at Jhett. “Shield. Now.”
The command surprised Titian, but she immediately formed a protective shield around herself. After a moment, she formed a second shield—and saw Uncle Daemon’s lips twitch.
Jhett sucked in a breath as they both felt the lightest touch of Red power brush against their shields. Testing.
“You’ve been practicing,” Uncle Daemon said. “Good. Now remember this: there are very few people you can trust today. There is an enemy inside these walls. Don’t make the assumption that the person coming toward you is a friend. Arlene is safe. Lord Weston will make sure of that. The rest of you are vulnerable until I find the person who is helping someone play this game. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” she and Jhett said.
“Very well. Titian, you may go. Jhett, you’re going to stay awhile longer and learn how to weave a summoning web that can draw like to like.”
Jhett beamed at him.
The study door opened. Uncle Daemon looked at Titian, then made a shooing motion. Taking the hint, she hurried to report to Kathlene and find out what she was supposed to do this morning.
Uncle Daemon said there was an enemy within the walls of SaDiablo Hall. She’d stay alert. She’d check in with Daemonar so that he’d know where she was and who she was with. Just in case.
Jhett didn’t ask questions or make any unnecessary remarks. She just watched as Daemon called in a small wooden frame and a spool of heavier spider silk and proceeded to weave a simple web.
“Remember when I needed to collect all those notebooks from wherever they had been stashed in bookcases and on shelves?” Daemon asked.
“I remember.” Jhett sounded regretful.
He was sure the darlings sometimes regretted that they hadn’t been able to hold on to any of those notebooks, but after reading a couple of the notebooks and seeing some of the things the coven had been exploring when they’d lived at the Hall, he’d quietly checked to make sure no notebooks had been left behind in the libraries the children could access easily.
Hell’s fire, Jaenelle and her friends had been brilliant. And terrifying.
“We’re going to use the paper that Titian acquired, together with this summoning spell, to find the source of the instructions,” Daemon continued. “Like calls to like.”
“It looks like you’ve practiced that web a lot.”
Daemon considered what to say, then decided on the truth. “It works for cloth as well as paper. My little friend is a hoarder and hides her stash in some unlikely places.”
“Are you running out of handkerchiefs?” Jhett asked.
“Not since my valet set up a standing order for new ones to be delivered every week,” he replied dryly. “But Breen is a puppy and doesn’t understand that some of her hiding places are potentially dangerous when stuffed with handkerchiefs, which is why I’ve become proficient at making this particular web.”
Daemon and Jhett were spared further discussion of a hoarding Sceltie puppy by Holt and Beale entering the study. Beale carried a tray that held letters being sent out. Holt held a shallow rectangular basket that held the letters coming into the Hall.
“Is that everything?” Daemon asked.
“Not the correspondence addressed to you or Lady Surreal, but everything else,” Holt replied. “Students, instructors, and staff. Everything from yesterday evening’s delivery.”
“Thank you.” Daemon waited for the men to leave before putting a Black lock on the door. “Now we begin.”
A simple spell, really. He held the paper with the extra instructions in one hand and the frame with the web in the other. Then he sang the four notes that completed this summoning. The same four notes, over and over.
Nothing stirred on the tray with the outgoing letters. But in the basket of letters that had arrived yesterday . . .
An envelope wiggled its way to the top of the correspondence, then shot toward him like an arrow released from a bow. Daemon formed a Red shield in front of himself and the girl a heartbeat before the envelope hit with enough force to crumple the corner.
“Hell’s fire,” Jhett said.
He stopped singing the notes and put a shield around the frame and web, effectively ending the spell. More cautious than he would have been otherwise, because he wanted to impress on this girl the need for caution, Daemon used Craft to turn the envelope so that they could read the name of the intended recipient.
Jhett sighed. “Cara is one of Dinah’s friends. She smiles while she makes hurtful ‘I’m just teasing’ remarks about the other Queens, and that’s unkind, but I hadn’t thought she would participate in this kind of meanness. Maybe Dinah resents the rest of us because we’re still here for training, so I can see her wanting to cause trouble. But Cara? What does she gain from doing this?”
“The satisfaction of witnessing the mischief and reporting back to her Queen,” Daemon said quietly.
“Are you going to let her stay?”
“No. Yesterday I might have considered issuing a reprimand and a warning and giving her a second chance.” He held up the paper with that day’s instructions. “This changes everything. Now I have to consider what debt she owes for her part in this and how she’ll be required to pay it.”
He contained the instructions and the letter in a Black shield and put them aside. Then he called in another wooden frame and set it and the spool of spider silk in front of Jhett. “Now you. Do you write to anyone?”
“My parents. My aunt because she’s also a Black Widow and is interested in what I’m learning here. A couple of friends.”