Zoey and Titian took the chairs nearest the door. Tigre and tiger moved to the far side of the room, close to the windows. A way to escape if things soured.
Hope soiled by the expectation of pain. That was what he picked up in the Tigre witch’s psychic scent. But there was hope in that girl. He and Daemon could work with that.
First things first.
“Prince Yaslana, with me.” Lucivar walked out of the room, leaving Daemon to enforce civility among the girls.
He didn’t bother going to another sitting room. After stepping into the corridor and closing the door, he faced his son and asked one question. “Were you wrong?”
A thoughtful silence rather than a hesitation. Finally, Daemonar said, “I may have been too harsh in what I said to Lady Zoela in order to get her to leave and let Lord Beale and me deal with Lady Grizande. But I wasn’t wrong.”
Titles. Formality. The boy’s use of both told him where Daemonar had drawn the line.
“All right,” Lucivar said. “The Lady wants a word. You know the way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Unhappy and heart bruised. Well, his first-born wouldn’t be the only one feeling that way today.
Lucivar tracked Daemonar’s progress through the Keep until the boy’s Green power disappeared beyond the ornate metal gate that separated the Queen’s residence from the rest of the Keep. Then he went back to the sitting room to summon his daughter.
Daemonar approached Witch, stopped at the correct distance for a member of the Queen’s Triangle, and bowed. “Lady.”
Witch closed the distance between them. Those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes looked through him, into him, seeing . . . Well, she was Witch. Who knew what she saw?
Her hands rested on his shoulders. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. The feel of her lips against his skin startled and soothed.
She eased back and smiled. “I’m proud of you, boyo. Even though it cost you, you did what was right.”
“She needs help, Auntie J.,” he said. “They need help.”
“I know. Are you comfortable with providing some of that help?”
“Yes.” Daemonar smiled. “If nothing else, I can be an alternative to Liath when it comes to the kitten learning Craft and . . . boy stuff.”
“Well, it will be better for all of you if a tiger doesn’t grow up thinking he’s a Sceltie,” Witch said dryly.
Daemonar choked. “Hell’s fire.” When he caught his breath, he added, “At least the kitten doesn’t have a herding instinct.”
“No, but he does have the Warlord Prince bossiness and an instinct to pounce.” She gave Daemonar a bright, bright smile.
“You are not helping.” Or was she giving him a friendly warning based on experience?
His auntie just looked at him. The amusement and hint of mischief in her eyes lightened his heart—and terrified him a little bit.
She approved of the choices he’d made, and that was all he needed to know.
As he walked back to the sitting room, he wondered if there was anything to eat.
Lucivar sat across from Titian. This sitting room was smaller than the one on the other side of the corridor. Almost intimate—or claustrophobic, depending on who was in the room with you.
“Tell me what you witnessed in the great hall when Zoey and Daemonar had that clash of wills,” Lucivar said.
Titian sat forward. “Zoey said—”
“I didn’t ask what Zoey said. She only knows her side of it. I asked what you witnessed.”
She blinked. Hesitated. “I wasn’t there, but Zoey—”
“Either didn’t understand what was really happening in the great hall when that girl arrived, or she chose to ignore what was happening for her own gain.”
As he expected, the choice of words pricked enough that Titian leaped to defend her friend.
“She was just trying to help,” Titian insisted.
“Was she? She put herself in danger, and she put Grizande in danger. How was that helping?” He kept his voice quiet and even. He wanted his girl to think, not crumble.
“Danger?” She didn’t sound sure anymore.
“Beale had two conflicting duties,” Lucivar explained. “The first was to keep you all safe. The second was to assist a girl who had come to the Hall for help. Zoey trying to push in and take charge put both girls at risk—and she showed a blatant disregard for Beale’s authority as a Red-Jeweled Warlord standing in for your uncle. Do you recall someone else who challenged Beale’s authority because he was only the butler? You should remember. It wasn’t that long ago.”
Titian looked horrified. “It wasn’t like that! Zoey wasn’t doing what Jaenelle Saetien had done.”
“From where I’m sitting, witchling, Zoey tried to do exactly the same thing that Saetien had done. The reason might have been different, but the result could have been Zoey or Grizande dying because Zoey didn’t listen. Beale told her he would take care of it. Daemonar told her they would take care of it. What part of those words didn’t she understand?”
“But—”
“Did Zoey tell you that Grizande has no liking for Queens, that she viewed Zoey’s presence as a threat? Did Zoey tell you Grizande had been tortured more than once, most likely at the orders of a Queen? Do you want me to take off my shirt and show you my back so you get an idea of what was done to that girl?” Quiet voice, but the words were a hammer.
“The moment Daemonar saw Grizande’s reaction to Zoey’s presence, he knew Zoey had to get out of the great hall, had to get out of sight,” Lucivar continued. “She wouldn’t listen to the courteous words, so he gave her a verbal punch designed to drive her away. Did she tell you any of that?”
Tears filled Titian’s eyes and ran down her cheeks.
“And what did you do when Zoey returned to her room upset because Daemonar had been mean to her? Probably comforted your friend, which is understandable even if you didn’t know what was going on. Then you lashed out at your brother because he’d taken a stand to protect Zoey as well as Grizande. If you’d wanted to know what happened, you could have told him that Zoey was upset and asked him politely to explain why he had done what he’d done. He would have told you, just like any First Circle Warlord Prince would have told you. But, my darling, if this had been a real court and you’d lashed out that way at a Warlord Prince who wasn’t your brother? He would have slapped you down so hard you would have needed help getting off the ground.”
Lucivar sat back, offering no sympathy or comfort while she cried. It ripped at his heart, but he wasn’t going to let Titian shift the blame because she wanted Zoey to be right.
“If Grizande is so dangerous . . . ,” she began.
“No,” he said sharply. “You will not blame someone else for Zoey’s mistake. And now is the time for you to understand that loving someone doesn’t mean blindly thinking they’re always right. People make mistakes, Titian. Even Queens. And sometimes loving someone means being willing to fight them into the ground if they’re putting themselves in danger or doing something wrong.”
“What if the person wouldn’t forgive you for not taking her side?” Titian’s voice was a pained whisper.
“Everything has a price,” he replied softly. “You take the chance of learning that the person wasn’t worthy of your loyalty or your love.”
He wondered if Zoey expected blind loyalty, or if this was an unfounded fear of Titian’s and just something each person learned at some point—the cost of making the choice between being loyal and doing what was right.
“Papa.” A little girl’s plea.
Lucivar stood and opened his arms, gathering her to him.