It became funnier when Marian stopped boy and kitten at the dining room doorway and said, “Let’s see the hands.”
Andulvar raised his hands palm out for his mother’s inspection. She held his hands, turning them to inspect both sides—and the fingernails—before saying, “Clean hands. Good job.” She ran a hand over his hair and kissed his forehead.
Then she looked at Jaalan. The kitten looked at her.
“Psst.” Andulvar made little up-and-down motions with his hands.
Settling on his haunches, Jaalan lifted his front legs and showed Marian his paws.
She gave the paws the same careful inspection and said, “Clean paws. Good job.” Then she ran a hand over the kitten’s head and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “Now we can eat.”
Andulvar took his place at the table. Jaalan was shown the bowls of meat and water that were placed where he wouldn’t trip anyone or get stepped on but could still see Grizande.
“We’ve done this before,” Daemon said as he passed the basket of biscuits to Grizande.
She sat between Lucivar at the head of the table and Daemon on her right. Daemonar and Andulvar sat across from her, effectively forming a barricade around Grizande, while Titian and Zoey sat at the other end of the table with Marian. Daemonar’s little brother looked like he couldn’t decide whether to pounce on his food like some ravenous beast, which would earn a scolding from Marian, or pounce on Grizande with questions about tigers in general and Jaalan in particular.
Probably best that students and kitten were going back to the Hall tomorrow. Kindred wolves who were descended from Tassle still lived on the mountain and came to the eyrie to visit, but they were familiar and, therefore, not as interesting. Give Andulvar another day of playing with a tiger and he might work up to asking if they could have one come live with them.
Of course, if the boy started by asking if a Sceltie could live with them, he might wear the parents down to agreeing to a tiger as a less formidable companion.
Zoey usually relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of Titian brushing her hair, but tonight she couldn’t relax, her mind too full of the things she’d heard at dinner. “Do they always do that when they’re together?”
“Do what?” Titian asked in turn.
“Tell stories about the Dark Court. About the . . . Queen.” How did a person reconcile the stories—especially the amusing stories—with the being who had stared at her with those sapphire eyes?
“Sometimes.” Titian continued to brush Zoey’s hair. “Maybe a lot. They don’t talk about things that happened before they came to Kaeleer. At least, not at the dinner table and not in front of guests. There are private talks, things they tell us about living in Terreille when they feel we’re old enough to understand at least some of what they’re saying. That’s why Daemonar, being older, knows lots more than I do.”
“About things like what the girls at the Amdarh school said about Lady Surreal being a”—she ended with a whisper—“whore?”
“I guess. Mother and Father, Uncle Daemon, and Auntie Surreal tell stories about the Dark Court and the Lady when we gather during Winsol, because stories about the Dark Court are also the family stories.”
“But you looked like you’d never heard these stories before.”
“Saetien didn’t like hearing about the Queen, so she would push for the two of us to leave and do something in another room.” Titian put the brush on the dresser and looked at Zoey in the mirror. “Did you see Grizande’s face?”
“No. I was sitting on the same side of the table, and Prince Sadi was sitting between us,” Zoey replied.
“I think they told those particular stories tonight because it was a way to tell Grizande about her bloodline, about the Queen she was named after and the Warlord Prince who was that Grizande’s Consort and husband. I think it was a way to tell stories about kindred that we all might find useful. Her face tonight . . .” Titian blinked back tears. “It was like seeing someone receive a gift so wonderful it was painful.”
She understood that feeling. She’d felt that way years ago when she’d sent Prince Sadi her first report and received a reply. A brief reply, to be sure, but an acknowledgment of her duty as a Queen. She’d received support from her grandparents all the time and training from her grandmother, who was the Queen of Amdarh, but that hadn’t felt the same as receiving that first letter from the Prince.
“We should try to be Grizande’s friends,” Zoey said.
Titian kissed Zoey’s cheek. “We will. As much as she’ll let us, we will.”
A kiss on the lips might have turned into something much warmer if there hadn’t been two sharp raps on the bedroom door—Lucivar’s warning that it was time for everyone to settle down in their own rooms.
Zoey didn’t see Lucivar when Titian opened the door and slipped out of the room, but she knew he was there.
She got into bed. The book she’d chosen couldn’t distract her enough from the worry about what she would face when she returned to the Hall. At the school in Amdarh she hadn’t noticed the opinions of the other students, except to be aware that Delora was someone she didn’t like and didn’t trust. She’d been content with her small group of friends—and her romantic friendship with Titian. Now she felt vulnerable, and she wondered if she would always feel that way.
TWENTY-ONE
Daemon walked into the sitting room across from the Queen’s and Consort’s suites and found Karla and Witch waiting for him. Well, he wasn’t sure they were waiting for him. Still, finding them together was convenient.
“Karla, darling, your assistance is requested,” he purred.
Karla blinked. “If you’re phrasing it like that and using that tone of voice, what in the name of Hell did you do?”
“Nothing. But Jillian is ready to have her Virgin Night.”
“You want us to lock Lucivar in a room and hold him until it’s done?” Witch asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary.” He hoped. Well, it wouldn’t be necessary. He’d be in Amdarh too. “Surreal is handling the details, but I thought Jillian might benefit from hearing about a Virgin Night from someone who had dealt with Lucivar.”
Karla stared at him. “You want me to tell Jillian what Lucivar did with me as a way to assure her that everything will be fine?”
Daemon rocked back on his heels. “He got you through it.”
Jaenelle looked at Karla. “He did do that. And anything anyone else does to see a witch through her Virgin Night is going to seem quite dull in comparison.”
He felt the ground crumbling under him. “What did he do?”
They just smiled at him.
“You’re not going to tell me.”
“No,” Karla said sweetly. “When do you want me to talk to Jillian?”
“At your earliest convenience,” he replied dryly.
“Then you should send a message to Lady Jillian that someone will be at her cottage tomorrow evening to discuss Virgin Nights.” A pause. “Kiss kiss.”
Karla nodded to Witch, then floated out of the sitting room.
Daemon took a seat next to Witch on the sofa.
She smiled. “I’m not going to tell you either.”
He wondered if dealing with Witch and Karla together was the mental equivalent of making the Khaldharon Run. He’d have to ask Lucivar.
“You wanted to talk about your daughter,” Jaenelle said quietly.
He sobered. “Yes. She’s struggling to find her balance and believes she needs to go to Scelt in order to find herself.”
“Believes it because . . . ?”
“Because of a broken Black Widow staying at Surreal’s sanctuary.”