She sighed. “The other girls were jabbing at me for being treated like I’m special.”
“You are special,” Witch said quietly. “You survived.”
You survived. Two words that encompassed physical pain and still-recurring nightmares.
“Fortunately, you have a friend who isn’t going to hesitate to slap you down if you get stupid.”
Zoey looked into those sapphire eyes and knew that something even more terrible than what she’d endured had happened to this Queen. “Did you have a friend like that?”
Witch gave her a dry smile. “If you think Daemonar can be a prick about things, you should try tangling with Lucivar.”
Zoey responded to the smile. “Training and experience?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mother Night.”
“And may the Darkness be merciful.”
She sighed. “I owe Daemonar an apology. And Lord Beale.”
“Yes, you do.” A beat of silence. “Grizande and Jaalan will have a room in the same square as you and your coven. She is not yours to command. She is mine, Zoela. She may never be easy around other Queens, but it is important for her to become acquainted with other people.”
“I’ll try not to be a Sceltie.”
“Liath has already filled that position.”
“Oh.” Zoey wrinkled her face in sympathy. “Is that a good idea?”
“Do you want to tell him he’s not going to help teach the kitten?”
“Noooo.”
“Which indicates you are at least as intelligent as everyone else at the Hall, because no one else is going to tell him.”
The sitting room door opened. Prince Sadi stood in the corridor, waiting.
Zoey hesitated. “Can I still have the lessons?”
“Yes, you can.”
She bowed. “Lady.”
“Little Sister.”
Zoey walked out of the sitting room. The door closed. Prince Sadi said nothing.
“I got scolded,” Zoey finally said.
“Did you think you wouldn’t?” he asked mildly.
“She’s . . .” Terrifying. And yet . . .
“Yes, she is.”
As they walked back to the sitting room where the rest of their group waited, it occurred to Zoey that Witch was the Queen of Ebon Askavi—and Daemon Sadi had been married to her.
If he could be married to her . . .
She began to appreciate just how dangerous he was.
TWENTY
Daemonar landed in the flagstone courtyard outside his family’s eyrie. He appreciated not being stuck in the Coach with the girls, especially since Grizande was the only one who didn’t look ready to fall on him weeping and wailing. Lucivar was acting as the barrier between the girls on the short trip from the Keep to the eyrie—and may the Darkness have mercy on any girl who crossed him.
“Mother?” Daemonar called as soon as he walked into the eyrie’s large front room. “Mother?”
His brother Andulvar would be in school for another hour or so. It was possible Marian was in Riada doing some extra shopping to accommodate guests tonight.
Had anyone told her about the tiger?
*I’m getting the guest rooms ready,* Marian said before Daemonar released a Green psychic probe to locate her. Women, including mothers, could get fairly exercised about having a male track them down when they wanted some privacy.
Boyo, unless there’s a reason to assume she’s in trouble, give your mother a minute to respond. And if you’re going to use Craft to locate her, be subtle about it or risk getting whacked upside the head.
His mother wore Purple Dusk; he wore Green. Even so, it had taken him a while—and a few whacks—to figure out how to be subtle.
He headed for the part of the eyrie that held the guest rooms. He found her in the best guest room, smoothing the covers on the bed.
“Uncle Daemon said he’s staying at the Keep tonight,” Daemonar said.
“So I was told,” Marian replied.
He frowned at the bed. “You’re giving Zoey the best room?”
“Zoey is staying in the guest room close to Titian’s room, where the children’s guests usually stay.”
If Zoey and Titian weren’t romantic, a cot would have been set up in Titian’s room so the girls could stay together. But romance—and sex—had strict rules, at least within the family, so Zoey slept in her own room.
“You’re giving this room to Grizande?”
Marian gave him a look that had a sharp edge. “You have some objection to that?”
“None at all.” A challenge. His mother was a bit riled about something. “Did Father mention the tiger kitten?”
“He did.” Marian stared at him. “No guest will be made to feel unwelcome in our home.”
Whoa. Seriously riled.
He suddenly stood on slippery ground and had no idea why.
Daemonar blew out a breath. “I like her. I like them. I have no quarrel with Grizande and Jaalan.”
Marian sighed, walked up to him, and kissed his cheek. “My apologies. Some things stir up old memories.” She hesitated. “Old wounds. When I first arrived in Kaeleer, someone made me feel unwelcome, encouraged me to feel inferior. Unworthy of time and attention even though I deserved both.”
Daemonar put his arms around her. “What can I do?”
She hugged him hard, then eased back and smiled. “Just be your father’s son.”
As soon as Daemon set the Coach down on the landing web below the eyrie, Lucivar opened the door and gave Titian and Zoey permission to leave. They pelted up the stairs, not giving Grizande a backward glance.
He approached the Tigre girl and the kitten from the back of the Coach. Daemon stepped out of the driver’s compartment and approached from the front. Realizing she was caught between two powerful Warlord Princes, Grizande slowly rose to her feet while Jaalan pressed against her legs.
She would fight. Even knowing she couldn’t win, she would fight—because she just might last long enough to get away. Maybe that’s how she survived whatever had happened in Tigrelan.
The girl had backbone. He approved.
“I have noisy children,” Lucivar said. “There are only three of them. . . .”
“Who sometimes sound like three dozen,” Daemon added dryly.
Lucivar nodded. “If you need some quiet time, you let us know. That goes for the kitten too.”
He watched the way she looked at him, then at Daemon. Thinking. Reassessing. Gambling that they could be trusted.
“I say if noisy too big,” she said.
“Okay. Then let’s go up to the eyrie.” Lucivar walked out of the Coach.
“Do you fear heights?” Daemon asked Grizande.
“Heights?” She stepped out of the Coach. Her eyes widened as she looked around and saw the valley below them.
“High places,” Daemon said. “Allow me.” He wrapped a hand around one of her arms and pointed to the stairs with the other. “Lucivar’s home is up there.”
The kitten seemed frozen in the doorway of the Coach. Too many changes for one so young?
Rather than have Jaalan bolt and take a tumble on the mountain, Lucivar grabbed the kitten and settled him in his arms like some oversized, furry baby. Either the kitten was too startled to object or he was used to being held this way, even if the person now holding him was a stranger.
Lucivar reached the flagstone courtyard and was about to put Jaalan down when Andulvar flew in at a reckless speed. Daemon held the girl. Lucivar held the kitten and watched his youngest barely manage to backwing and land without ending up in a heap.