“You don’t have to go alone,” Zoey said. “We all had a chance to report this when it was our turn to be Territory Queen, and none of us did. Now we’ll go to him united and make this request.”
“Yes,” Felisha said.
Azara hesitated but finally nodded.
Kathlene sighed. “I guess we’ll pay a price for failing.”
Zoey smiled. “I told Witch everything that I knew, and she said we hadn’t failed yet.”
They moved through the corridors of the Hall the same way they would move through enemy territory. Liath, properly shielded, scouted ahead, reporting back to Daemonar through psychic communication about any humans he encountered. Most were servants who stepped aside—and probably reported to Beale that the Queens were heading for the High Lord’s study.
Daemonar had taken point. Lord Weston walked on one side of Zoey and Titian; Allis walked on the other side. Grizande had chosen Jhett and Arlene as the people she would defend—and Jaalan trotted with her. The other Warlord Princes studying at the Hall walked beside the Queens. And the Demon Prince guarded their backs.
By the time they reached the great hall, Beale stood at the door of the High Lord’s study. Holt, Brenda, and Raine stood between the front door and the students and other instructors gathering to find out what had happened.
Daemonar wasn’t sure what to do next. Hustle all the girls into the study and hold position? What about Zoey and Titian’s friends who were gathered with the rest of the students? Were they vulnerable?
“Queens only,” Lucivar said. “He’s waiting for you.”
Beale opened the study door and announced the Ladies Azara, Felisha, Kathlene, and Zoela.
Daemonar wasn’t sure who held Allis back, but the Sceltie’s sharp whine told everyone she was not a happy herder.
A light tap on his inner barriers before his father used a psychic link to show him the next step. Titian, Jhett, and Arlene to remain near the study door. Beale moving to help defend the great hall. He, along with the other human Warlord Princes and Weston, to form a half circle to prevent anyone from approaching the study until the meeting was done.
Once they had taken their positions, Daemonar watched Liath and Grizande—and the kitten—neatly extract the rest of Zoey’s friends from among the other students and deliver them to Brenda. Watched them separate the youngsters who were friends with Kathlene, then Felisha’s friends, then Azara’s, and bring them to Beale, to Holt, to Raine. Separating the herds—or the flocks.
And the Demon Prince, holding his war blade, stood in the great hall and watched them all.
Daemon listened to four young Queens stumble through an explanation of why they hadn’t challenged orders that they knew no Queen should ask of anyone in her court without good reason. Was there a reason? Were they told to punish someone who had done something wrong? To slap the hand of someone who was trying to take food from someone else’s dish? Who tried to take something that belonged to someone else? Who was abusing a servant? No?
Zoey looked exhausted and close to tears. Considering what she’d already done to find answers, that didn’t surprise him. Felisha and Azara? Shaken—and not as sure of the responsibilities that came with being a Queen. Kathlene. That girl already had steel in her spine. She acknowledged making a mistake by not coming to him sooner and . . .
“We talked it over, Prince,” Kathlene said, “and we respectfully ask that you expel Cara from the Hall. We feel she no longer deserves the privilege of being trained by you and the other people here.”
“That’s all you want?” he asked quietly. “To see her banished from the Hall?”
Kathlene hesitated. “I don’t think we’re entitled to ask for more than that. As the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and the owner of the Hall, you may feel differently.”
“You are correct. In the current hierarchy, the four of you are not entitled to ask for more than that.” Daemon rose—and watched four girls flinch. Had Jaenelle ever flinched when Saetan was about to call in a debt? He doubted it. “You are also correct that I feel differently about this. Because of the order Lady Kathlene was given this morning, I feel very differently about this.”
He walked out of his study, trailed by the four Queens. Daemonar and Raeth stepped aside to let him pass, then closed ranks to protect the Queens.
Daemon walked up to Lucivar, called in the paper with that day’s orders, and held it out.
After reading it, the Demon Prince looked at the High Lord. *What do you want done?*
*A debt is owed to us and to everyone living at the Hall, but I think we should give this witch a choice of how to pay the debt.*
*What choice?* Lucivar asked.
Daemon smiled a cold, cruel smile. *The kind you and I do so well.*
Daemonar watched his father vanish the war blade, watched the way Lucivar and Daemon casually moved to the center of the great hall and began circling, maintaining a distance from each other that made Daemonar think they were performing the moves of a dance.
Then he considered what kind of dance the Demon Prince and High Lord might perform right now and thought, Mother Night.
Still circling, Lucivar called in a whip that wasn’t any longer than a man’s arm. Supple, like a thin branch of a young tree, and made of leather.
“There aren’t any riding crops here at the Hall, so this will have to do,” Lucivar said. He brushed one hand over the leather, calling attention to its length. “The bitches in Askavi Terreille used this kind of whip to punish those who wouldn’t obey orders that inflicted pain and suffering on other people. Even a light touch with this would produce welts. A man driven by the fear of having it used on him would wield it with enough force to tear through skin and muscle. I’ve used it a few times since coming to Kaeleer. The men deserved this form of execution, but it was brutal to perform and brutal to witness. Still . . .”
Daemonar guessed what was coming, but he still wasn’t prepared when Cara suddenly skidded across the floor and ended up in the center of that circle made of Black and Ebon-gray power and temper. Ice and fire—and no way to escape either.
Cara kept turning around, and the two men continued to circle, circle, circle as they watched her. Just watched her with an intensity that made Daemonar shiver.
Daemon said in that viciously civil voice, “Today’s orders were to give three people in each of the lesser courts ten strokes with a riding crop. Hard strokes. That was specified. But you already know that because you’re the one who slipped those orders into the Territory Queen’s envelope. So you will be the person who receives that punishment. I’ve seen Yaslana wield that whip, so I know what your back will look like when he’s done. That’s why we’re willing to give you a choice of how you will pay this debt to me, to him, and to all the people here at the Hall who were harmed by what you did. Your first choice: you can take the ten strokes of the whip. I’m sure Lady Nadene will be able to heal the wounds well enough that you won’t have any physical problems with your back—at least while you’re young—but the marks will show on your skin for the rest of your life, testimony that you crossed a line and betrayed the people around you. Your second choice: I can shatter your Birthright Jewel and break you back to basic Craft here and now. That will put an end to your ability to use power to further your ambitions. Your final choice: you can tell all of us why you participated in acts that were meant to harm other students, that were meant to inflict pain. Tell us who else was part of the game. Tell us why, and then I’ll decide on an appropriate reprimand that will not include a whip or a shattered Jewel.”