“Ah.” Jhett nodded. Then she gave him a sharp look. “Why me?”
“You’re a Black Widow. Grizande grew up around the Hourglass. I think she’ll be more comfortable around you than with any of the other girls. Also, you live in the same square of rooms. Getting to know you might help her relax around the other girls in Zoey’s coven.”
Jhett nodded again. “Do I have time for breakfast?”
“Sure. I’ll tell Grizande about our plans, and we’ll meet up in an hour?”
She hesitated. “Let’s meet up in the great hall. Zoey is my friend, and she’s still feeling raw about Grizande’s rejection.”
How much to say? “Because of things that happened to him in Terreille, my father doesn’t have much use for Queens as a caste. Grizande doesn’t have much use for Queens either. I suspect her reasons for feeling that way are much the same as his. Pain is a harsh teacher—and scars make sure a person doesn’t forget the lessons.”
Jhett sucked in a breath, confirming that she understood what he was saying. “Does anyone else know about Grizande?”
“The adults who serve Prince Sadi know. My father knows. But the students?” He shook his head. “She’ll choose who she tells.”
“It helps that you told me—especially if we’re going to be trying on clothes.”
Daemonar waited until Jhett hurried to join the other girls before he entered the Queen’s square. He found Grizande wandering the courtyard, staying away from the box of sandy earth where Liath was showing Jaalan how the kitten was supposed to use that kind of toilet.
He whistled softly to catch her attention, then jumped from the second-floor balcony, spreading his wings for a controlled drop.
“We’re going to the village this morning,” he said. “My father’s orders. I’m told you need more clothes, and it would be good for you to see some of the shops and get a feel for the village.”
Grizande looked away and shook her head.
Daemonar called in the leather wallet and held it out. “A welcome gift from my family.”
She took the wallet, opened it—and then stared at him.
“Money is a kind of freedom, a kind of safety,” he said quietly. “A shield against hunger, if nothing else. Halaway is a good place to practice using it, because no shopkeeper will try to cheat you or take advantage of you learning something new.”
“A learning.”
She didn’t sound excited about the prospect of having new clothes or spending money. He wondered if she’d ever experienced either of those things.
“I’ve asked one of the girls to help us with the clothes. Jhett. Did you meet her yesterday?”
Grizande shook her head.
“She’s a Sister of the Hourglass.” Daemonar watched Grizande relax and was relieved that he’d made the right choice of assistant. “Once we have the clothes—we can’t come back without them—we’ll visit the village weapons maker to select a gift from me. I figured you could use a good knife.”
That made her purr.
Yesterday Zoey had avoided seeing anyone but her circle of close friends—girls who were curious but wouldn’t ask her to talk about what happened at the Keep. Today she had to have meals with the other Queens and their friends, had to go to classes. Had to pretend nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
“Zoey?” Titian said softly when they reached the open dining room doors. “Do you want to go back to our rooms?”
She shook her head. Couldn’t act like a coward, even if she did want to hide.
She walked into the dining room. The boys were already in line to fill their plates. They were always the first in line—but to be fair, they always yielded their places as soon as any of the girls approached the table that held the serving dishes. Ladies had first choice, and Queens were given first choice among the distaff.
Most of the boys glanced at her, then looked away and hurriedly filled their plates. The four Warlord Princes gave her a careful look. Raeth dipped his head in the smallest bow before selecting the food for his breakfast.
But the other four Queens hurried up to her.
“We heard you were summoned to the Keep,” Kathlene said, sounding concerned. “Is that true? Did you see . . . her?”
“What’s she like?” Felisha asked. Avid curiosity.
“She’s . . .” Power and mind and knowledge and storms, and not all the dreamers who shaped her were human, and there is no hiding that now. “She’s hard to describe.”
“I’m going to insist that the rest of us have an audience with her,” Dinah said, sniffing. “We’re just as important as you.”
“It wasn’t an audience,” Zoey snapped, aware that even the boys had stopped focusing on food to listen to her. “I was chastised for ignoring some court Protocol, and being in the same room with her when she’s angry is horrible.”
It wasn’t all horrible. But somehow, when Witch had sounded human and . . . ordinary . . . it was more unnerving. And Zoey had wondered—and worried—last night if she’d have the courage to request one of those audiences that had been a gift from Witch.
“What . . .” Azara looked at the other Queens and lowered her voice. “What did you do that was so bad?”
“Lord Beale told me to do something, and I tried to overrule him,” Zoey replied, feeling her face burn with the shame of stepping so far out of line that she’d been summoned for discipline because of it.
“Why shouldn’t you overrule him?” Dinah said loudly. “He’s just the butler.”
“And you’re the bitch-brat who is going to pack her trunks and leave right after breakfast,” Lucivar said, dropping his sight shield.
The boys sucked in a collective breath. The Warlord Princes straightened to attention. The girls just stared at the Warlord Prince of Askavi.
“You can’t decide that,” Dinah said. “This isn’t your house.”
Lucivar gave Dinah that smile. “This is the SaDiablo family seat, so this is my home more than it will ever be yours, whether or not I’m in residence. But more than that, Lady, the Hall is working as a court works. You are all little witches in training, and I am the Master of the Guard. That gives me the right to decide that you don’t belong here.” He looked at the girls clustered around Dinah. “And you have until breakfast is finished to decide if you’re leaving, too, or if you’re going to get it through your heads that this bitch-brat shit won’t be tolerated. You’ve had a chance to settle in and get a feel for living at the Hall and understand what is expected of you. There’s a difference between making a mistake and being a bitch. Bitches will not survive in this court.”
“But Prince Sadi . . . ,” Kathlene began, her voice shaking.
“If you cross an unforgivable line, you’d better hope I’m the one coming for you, because if Sadi’s temper goes cold, you have no chance of surviving—and your age won’t make a damn bit of difference to either of us.” He looked at all of them. “And I’m going to recommend that Protocol be enforced everywhere except in your private rooms. That means addressing people by their titles and recognizing the Jewels they wear and what those Jewels mean, regardless of the work those people do. That means addressing each other as you would in any other court. That means sharp discipline if you step out of line.”
Lucivar turned toward the dining room door. “You have anything to say about that?”
Zoey sucked in a breath. She hadn’t realized Prince Sadi had returned—and she wondered if the Green-Jeweled witch who had come in with him was a visitor.