A knock on the door before Beale entered with a tray. After setting dishes out on the low table in the social area of the study, the butler retreated and Daemon led his guest to the other chairs.
“Coffee?” he asked, raising the pot. “Or would you prefer tea?”
She gave him a sharp, wary look. “Coffee. Thank you.”
He poured cups for both of them, offered her sandwiches—which she declined—then leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the knees. “There was trouble over the girl wearing Birthright Sapphire?”
The Queen sipped the coffee, then set her cup on the table. “Birthright Sapphire isn’t the problem.”
“Having the potential to wear Ebon-gray could be a problem,” Daemon said quietly.
“Yes. Ebon-gray without a strong hand to hold the leash?” The Queen shook her head. “The girl instantly became a prize to be acquired and controlled—because the Black Widows were certain she would wear the Ebon-gray and would be a warrior connected to a powerful court. Any Queen who could control her could control all of Tigrelan.”
The Queen reached for the cup, saw the way her hand shook, and pressed both hands into her lap. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if my cousin received any warning, or if a warning came too late. I couldn’t ask her, because she and her mate were dead and gone by the time I heard about the attack and sent some of my warriors to her aid. I heard later that the enemy warriors sent to my cousin’s village finished the kill, leaving nothing of my cousin and her mate behind. I also heard that when my cousin fell, some of the villagers hid her body so that she could make the transition to demon-dead and tell the High Lord about the attack. I don’t know which is true.”
Daemon shook his head. “If she made the transition to demon-dead and reached the Dark Realm, she never asked for an audience with me.” He didn’t mention that trusted demon-dead were quietly searching for anyone who arrived in Hell from Tigrelan.
“Grizande was hidden among the village children her age. The Black Widows in the village cast an illusion spell, a kind of veil, over the girl to hide her Birthright power, while her brother took her Jewel and stashed it in a hollow where he often left messages for his sisters as a game. It was a place Grizande would be able to find again in order to retrieve her Jewel once the danger had passed. Then he joined the other men who were fighting to protect the village.
“They all died. Men. Women. All those lives, all that power, snuffed out in a slaughter grown out of envy—or some equally terrible feeling.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were full of grief. “The children were divided among the courts that had participated in the slaughter. They became slaves, abused and tortured. Raped and killed. It was an obscene corruption of the ways of the Blood. Grizande was among those children—that I know. But what was done to her . . .” The Queen released a shuddering breath.
“You did nothing?” Daemon asked too softly.
She growled. “I wasn’t the Territory Queen then. I ruled a Province on the other side of Tigrelan. I didn’t hear about the attack until it was too late to do anything but fight a war to free Tigrelan from the corruption and return my people to the Old Ways of the Blood. We fought that war, Prince. We fought it—and we won it. And I was chosen by the victorious Queens and Warlord Princes to be the Territory Queen. Since then, I’ve quietly searched for my cousin’s children. Her son died defending his village. The older daughter had been apprenticing in a remote village that was held by the Hourglass. When I finally found her, I learned that she had rescued Grizande, recovered the girl’s Jewel, and taken her younger sister to that remote village. But the Hourglass found another place even more remote—a place where the Hourglass trained Black Widows and the men trained young Warlord Princes to be deadly fighters. It took years of searching, of following every trail that might lead to my cousin’s children, but by the time I found that village, the Black Widows had told Grizande she needed to go to the place where the Queen who was more than a Queen had dwelled, a place where she would be safe. A place where she would not be corrupted by those who ruled.”
“And that’s what brought you here now?”
“Yes. I had hoped she would be here. It will be better for Tigrelan—and the rest of Kaeleer—if a witch who will wear Ebon-gray finishes growing up here. With you. Away from the court intrigue that still vexes my people, despite the end of war.”
He sensed no deceit, and he agreed with her reason for wanting Grizande to remain here. Jaenelle had also been vulnerable when she was young. What might have happened to all of them if Saetan hadn’t protected her, taught her?
Agreeing with this Tigrelan Queen didn’t mean he trusted her. Still, better to find out now. *Daemonar.*
*Sir?*
*Escort Grizande to my study.*
*Jaalan too?*
*No.* No reason to bring the kitten into this. To the Tigrelan Queen he said, “My nephew will escort Grizande here. It will take a few minutes. The Hall is a large place, and I don’t know where she’s studying right now.”
It wouldn’t have taken more than a heartbeat or two for him to locate the Sapphire within the Hall, but he would pretend otherwise. Why let a potential enemy know how easily he could locate someone anywhere on the SaDiablo estate?
He waited until she reached for a sandwich before saying too casually, “While we’re waiting, tell me about the special tea.”
She dropped the sandwich and jerked back in her seat. “What tea?”
“The secret tea that quiets the effect a Warlord Prince has on a woman.” His smile had sharp edges and a bit of a chill. Not the Sadist—although he could feel that aspect of himself straining to slip the leash—but enough to make this Tigrelan Queen wary. Enough to make her realize she might never leave that room.
Instead of the fear he expected, he found fury. “Is that your price for helping her?” she snarled. “Do you even know what it does?”
“I wasn’t here when Grizande told my nephew about the tea,” Daemon replied coldly. “Her living here under my protection isn’t something you or anyone else can buy.”
She stared at him, then seemed to deflate. “That tea is a secret because it is dangerous, Prince. Something to be used only when necessary. Yes, it cocoons a woman, protects her from a Warlord Prince’s sexual heat. But it also quiets desire, and if used too often, it can smother physical desire for weeks. Months. Years.” A pause. “Forever.”
That confirmed what Witch had told Surreal.
Daemon uncrossed his legs and leaned toward her. “It could smother desire just for Warlord Princes, or for any lover?”
“For anyone. A woman might still love a man.” The Queen pressed a hand over her heart. “But if she consumes that tea too often, he could no longer excite her body. She would no longer want physical mating.”
Daemon reached for the Ebon-gray to deliver a warning, then stopped before making the psychic link. Lucivar already knew the danger that came from drinking the tea and would keep Marian safe—no matter the price.
He studied the woman before him. He didn’t know her, didn’t know what her psychic scent and physical scent should be. But . . . “You drank the tea before coming here.”
“Yes.”
“To deal with me?”
“Yes.” She tipped her head and studied him. “But perhaps a full dose wasn’t needed. Your heat is quieter than I expected it to be, given that you wear the Black.”
He didn’t tell her Witch had taught him how to drain enough of the heat into a tangled web to minimize the effect it would have on everyone living at the Hall. It still had a wicked punch when he let it slip the leash, but he’d been able to ease it back to where it had been before the heat had entered its final phase. And he’d bet he could overwhelm the effects the tea had on the Tigrelan Queen if the Sadist wanted to make her desperate and compliant.