Nothing unusual about Tersa wandering the village on her own. Nothing at all. Although “on her own” wasn’t quite accurate, since Keely, the Sceltie Black Widow who lived with Tersa, accompanied her whenever she left the cottage. If Tersa was in any kind of distress, everyone would know about it.
“Come on.” He didn’t wait to see if the girls followed him. He just strode down the street toward the mad, broken Black Widow who was Uncle Daemon’s mother—and the mother of Lucivar’s heart.
She turned away from the window and smiled as he approached. “It’s the winged boy.”
He was the winged boy. “My winged boy” meant Lucivar. “The boy” or “my boy” was Uncle Daemon.
“Hello, Tersa.” Daemonar kissed her cheek.
“You have brought friends?”
“Yes. This is Jhett.”
“Little Sister.” Tersa’s gold eyes focused on the young Black Widow—and her voice held a warning that she had slipped a little ways from the border of the Twisted Kingdom.
Keely, alert but not alarmed, watched Tersa.
“And this is Grizande,” Daemonar finished.
“Tiger girl.”
Grizande put a hand on her chest. “I am Tigre.”
Tersa nodded. “Tiger girl. Power and grace. You hear the song of the bright dark star. The one who had your name and bloodline, she heard that song too. Others will hear, and the web that connected Kaeleer before will connect it again.” She stepped toward Grizande and pressed her hand over the girl’s. “Your claws are sharp. You will need them. Learn from the ones whose claws are sharper than yours. They are within your reach. Learn, little tiger. Learn—and survive.”
Mother Night, Daemonar thought.
Grizande barely breathed when Tersa stepped back.
Jhett looked stunned . . . and scared . . . and mesmerized.
Tersa looked at him and smiled. “It’s the winged boy.”
Relieved that her mind had returned to the border, he smiled. “Yes, Tersa.”
“This shop sells treats. You will come back to the cottage, and we will have treats.”
“All right. Should we go inside the shop and select a few?” Daemonar asked.
“Cake. And beef flakies. Tiger girls need to be strong, just like winged boys.”
Daemonar glanced at the girls. “Tersa? Jhett isn’t Tigre.”
Tersa patted his face. “There is more than one kind of tiger.” She went into the shop.
“You okay?” Daemonar asked Jhett.
She swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t believe her, but he let it go—for now—and walked into the bakery to help Tersa select the treats.
TWENTY-NINE
Surreal stared at Dinah’s outraged parents—and noticed that the District Queen didn’t look surprised to find the girl returning home.
“But . . . she was on that list. She needs protection!” Dinah’s mother.
“What do you mean, she isn’t temperamentally suited to living at the Hall?” Dinah’s father.
Surreal turned toward the Warlord. Probably a doting father. Too much? She pushed aside the thought that she—and Sadi—had probably failed Saetien in the same way and dealt with the problem in front of her.
“She’s been verbally attacking Lady Zoela, as well as some of the other girls. She brags about being able to meet challenges with no understanding of the cost. And she has the unhealthy idea that she can win a place in Prince Sadi’s bed by acting like a bitch—which is the kind of woman he detests.”
“That explains why he doesn’t sleep with you anymore,” Dinah snapped.
“Dinah!” Dinah’s mother sounded appalled.
“And the only reason Zoey gets special privileges is because she’s tonguing—”
“Enough!” Surreal snapped.
But Dinah had an audience she was sure would sympathize with her. “Zoey got to go to the Keep and see her. The rest of us should be given equal time. We’re Queens. We’re just as important as Zoey.”
After a moment, Dinah’s father said, “If Zoela was given—”
“You want me to take your daughter to the Keep now and have her face Witch and be judged for her behavior?” Surreal interrupted. “If that’s what you want, you will write a letter to that effect, to be witnessed by the District Queen and her Steward and Master of the Guard, and I will do it. And I will bring whatever is left of your daughter back to you.” She watched the father pale and the mother sink to the floor. “Have you learned nothing from what happened to the coven of malice? Witch has walked roads the rest of us will never see, and even when she walked among the living, she had no use for this adolescent posturing and attitude. Consider what will happen if your girl meets with a Queen powerful enough to crush the whole damn Realm and says anything in that bitch-brat snotty voice with that attitude. Are you so eager for Dinah to die? Or worse—because there are worse things than a clean death.”
“Zoey wasn’t hurt from seeing her,” Dinah said.
Not defiance in that statement. More like the tone of a young girl looking for a reassurance Surreal couldn’t give. “Sugar, your behavior is a long step beyond the small mistake Zoey made. Keep behaving this way, and you will meet Witch—and may the Darkness have mercy on you when that day comes.”
“I’ll see you out,” the District Queen said. Her Steward stayed behind with Dinah’s family. Her Master of the Guard followed the two women at a discreet distance.
“You’re not surprised I brought Dinah back home,” Surreal said.
The District Queen shook her head. “I had concerns about Dinah’s temperament. If she’s not the darling of a group, she tries to tear down anyone she believes is superior.”
“That’s a dangerous attitude for a Queen.” It took twelve men to form a court around a Queen. Queens who were bitches often had their courts broken when men refused to continue serving—or they ended up ruling a small village under the hand of a strict Province Queen.
Or they ended up dead when their attitude clashed with a Warlord Prince’s temper—or a desperate village hired an assassin like Surreal to set them free.
“Yes,” the Queen agreed, “but she was on the list of girls targeted by the coven of malice, so I thought—hoped—that she would change once she was living at the Hall. My mistake. Please convey my apologies to Prince Sadi.”
“I will.”
“Is the Prince going to consider other youngsters to take Dinah’s place?”
Do you have a candidate in mind? The thought was there, but Surreal said, quietly and honestly, “I don’t think Sadi will be the one making those choices from now on.”
THIRTY
As he and Lucivar stepped onto the gravel drive to greet the guests who had just arrived in a Coach, Daemon noticed Daemonar, Grizande, and Jhett walking up from the village, accompanied by two juvenile wolves. They all looked easy in one another’s company. Well, he wasn’t sure that Jhett would embrace the idea of being a wolf’s playmate, but she wasn’t running away, which was a good sign.
The Coach’s door opened. Kieran stepped out and raised a hand in greeting as he moved out of the way. Then the Coach’s other occupant stepped out.
“What is that?” Lucivar asked quietly.
“It’s a horse,” Daemon replied blandly.
“Uh-huh. You’re usually not so gullible, old son.”
“It’s Brenda’s friend. I was told it was a horse, so it’s a horse.”