“I know,” Saetien replied. Looking into this woman’s eyes, she did know. “I just have a lot of things to think about before I see Butler tonight. Next time?”
“Next time,” Eileen agreed.
Saetien went up to her room and sat near the window, letting her thoughts drift as she watched the world beyond the glass. Shelby joined her, curling up for a nap.
Jewels. Caste. Bloodlines. The Blood’s place in their society was also measured by social standing, but that wasn’t as important as Jewels and caste.
“Half of what you’ve written down is inaccurate.”
She thought and thought and thought, but in the end, she didn’t see any other way to find out what she wanted to know.
In order to ask about Wilhelmina Benedict, she would have to ask about Jaenelle Angelline.
Butler woke before sundown, feeling battered by troubling dreams of trying to build a sturdy wall to protect a dear friend. But no matter how fast he put up that wall or how thick he made it, parts of it crumbled, leaving her exposed. Leaving her vulnerable.
Butler, it’s time.
Jaenelle Angelline had been a lovely woman, generous and compassionate, brilliant in Craft and interested in other people. A talented Healer and a beloved Queen.
She had also been terrifying, but most people didn’t fully appreciate that, didn’t know the choices she’d made—or what those choices had cost her. What those choices still cost her.
Butler, it’s time.
Was it really time to tell some hard truths just because some child wanted answers about another woman? Did the Queen really owe this girl anything? Did he?
The people who matter already know who I am—and what I am. What I always was. I’m beyond caring what anyone thinks of me.
“No, you’re not,” Butler muttered as he pushed aside the covers and got out of bed. “Even when you walked among the living, you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter what people thought of you, but it mattered. When your sister delivered that heart wound, it mattered.”
He warmed a glass of yarbarah and drank it before taking a shower and getting ready for this meeting.
He would reveal some hard truths because his Queen commanded. But only the truths he had to tell in order to answer the questions the girl would ask.
“You don’t have to stay,” Saetien told Kieran as she stepped down from the pony cart.
“I’ll stay,” he said.
This pony cart had a foldable roof and sides that could be put up to protect passengers from the wind and the wet. With warming spells, it could be quite cozy. Or maybe romantic, since it would afford some privacy if a couple wanted to share a kiss or two without everyone in the village knowing about it before lips left lips.
It was also convenient for a man who wanted to do some paperwork while he waited for a girl to ask questions—and hopefully get some answers from a surly Prince.
The wind had a sharp edge this evening, a reminder that winter hadn’t completely surrendered to spring. It took Saetien three tries to add a warming spell to the hooded cape she wore. By the time she succeeded, she’d started to wonder if Butler was going to come out or if she was supposed to go up and knock on the cottage door. She had her hand on the gate’s latch when the cottage door opened and he walked out.
There you are.
Her heart thumped in her chest. It wasn’t romantic. Not at all. But something about Butler made her want to yield, made her want to be someone he would be proud to know—and that feeling scared her and kicked in the need to fight.
He wasn’t pleased to see her, but he walked to the gate and stood there, waiting.
Saetien took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Jewels. Caste. Bloodlines. That’s what I would like to talk about. Wilhelmina Benedict and . . . Jaenelle Angelline . . . were sisters. That means they had the same parents.”
“The same father,” Butler said. “And it wasn’t Robert Benedict, the man who was registered as their father in the records kept on Chaillot.”
“Then who was their father?”
“Philip Alexander, who was Robert Benedict’s half brother.
“Benedict was married twice. His first wife was a journeymaid Black Widow named Adria. I don’t know why she married him before she’d safely had her Virgin Night, but she did—and he broke her. A broken witch can only conceive once, and Adria, who still had enough power to wield some of the Hourglass’s Craft, was determined not to give Robert a child of his loins. During the first cycle of fertile days after her wedding, she wove a dream web around Philip Alexander, making him believe he was pleasuring someone else—someone he desired. Because of the dreamlike feel of his coupling with Adria, it’s fairly certain that Philip never knew he had sired Wilhelmina. At least, not while she was growing up.
“A few months after Wilhelmina was born, Adria died under mysterious circumstances and Robert Benedict settled in Beldon Mor—and focused his amorous attention on Leland, who was Alexandra Angelline’s daughter. Hard to say if Robert’s interest in Leland was due to her being the daughter of Chaillot’s Territory Queen or due to Philip, who served as one of Alexandra’s escorts, being in love with Leland. Either way, among Robert’s close circle of male friends was a Hayllian named Kartane SaDiablo, who was in Beldon Mor to encourage select aristo males to form an exclusive club where certain sexual tastes could be indulged.”
Saetien sucked in a breath. “Wait. Wilhelmina’s father knew Kartane SaDiablo?”
“He knew him,” Butler agreed. “Since Dorothea SaDiablo, the High Priestess of Hayll, was toppling the courts in other Territories and destroying any Queens and Warlord Princes who tried to stand against her, when Robert expressed interest in marrying Leland—and reminded Alexandra of who would look favorably on such a union—the Queen of Chaillot convinced her daughter to marry Robert, even though Leland and Philip were already lovers and were in love. But Dorothea was an encroaching threat, and Alexandra didn’t hesitate to do what she could to keep Hayll’s influence out of Chaillot.”
“But it was already there, in that exclusive . . .” Saetien stared at Butler, horrified. “Briarwood. You’re talking about Briarwood.”
“The pretty poison.” Butler’s voice sounded rough, as if centuries hadn’t purged all the rage he felt about that place.
“But Jaenelle Angelline . . . Robert had to know . . .”
“He knew. Jaenelle was a troublesome child who told the truth about the things she could see—including the things no one else could see. But that’s getting ahead of the story. Leland married Robert and had one child, a daughter Robert claimed as his own. During the Birthright Ceremony for each girl, he was granted paternity.”
“Did Philip know he was Jaenelle Angelline’s father?”
“Possibly. But Robert quickly entrenched himself in Alexandra’s home and controlled Leland. The only way Philip could stay and serve in Alexandra’s court—and stay near Leland and the two girls—was not to challenge Robert.”
Saetien swallowed hard. “Was Wilhelmina sent to Briarwood?”
“No. Wilhelmina was shy and easily overlooked, despite being beautiful even as a child. Maybe Robert realized that having one child constantly being put in and taken out of Briarwood wouldn’t cause too much talk—she was, after all, a difficult child. But both of his daughters? No, there would be too much talk if both girls were deemed unstable. And Alexandra might stop looking the other way if the girl who caused no problems was sent to a place that specialized in treating emotionally disturbed girls.” Butler paused a moment before adding, “I think Jaenelle did something to make sure Wilhelmina was overlooked by Robert Benedict’s friends—or she was until that last awful night that changed so many things and left so many scars.”