“What happened to Alexandra?” Saetien asked.
“Alexandra, Leland, Philip, and the rest of the people Alexandra brought with her were escorted through the Gate nearest to Chaillot. As far as I know, they returned to Beldon Mor.”
“But Wilhelmina stayed.”
“Yes, Wilhelmina stayed.”
“And she forgave Jaenelle for breaking their grandmother?”
“In the discussion between Wilhelmina and Jaenelle that followed Alexandra’s return to Chaillot, Wilhelmina conveniently forgot that Jaenelle had been protecting her for most of their lives. She said things that caused a heart wound that never fully healed—and that was the last time the two of them were together.”
Butler’s voice sounded bitter, and Saetien heard an anger that still burned for a woman who died centuries ago.
“What happened between Wilhelmina and Jaenelle?” Saetien asked.
Butler shook his head. “That’s enough for tonight.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Yes. But not tonight.” Butler started to walk away; then he returned to the gate. “Who decides which races are human enough to be important, Saetien? What are the requirements? That a being have two arms and two legs? That they have hair and not fur? Skin that is all one color?” He paused. “What about wings? Is that not a sign that a race might be less than human?”
“How dare you!” The Eyrien race not considered human just because they had wings? Her cousins not considered human? What a filthy thing to say.
“If Jaenelle hadn’t stopped the Dark Council and the Terreilleans who coveted kindred lands by refusing to see any race as less, do you really think it wouldn’t have come to that eventually?”
Butler returned to his cottage and closed the door, leaving Saetien shrouded in dark thoughts about things she had never considered because she’d never had to.
FORTY
Daemon didn’t know why Lucivar felt Holt, Beale, Helene, Nadene, Raine, Weston, and Brenda were needed for this discussion, but if Lucivar wanted reinforcements, Daemon was certain he wasn’t going to like whatever his brother wanted to discuss. The only positive he could see was that Lucivar hadn’t asked Liath to attend this meeting.
Maybe Yaslana was saving the Sceltie Warlord Prince in case Daemon was foolish enough not to cooperate with the humans.
He stared at his brother. “I’m listening.”
“The Warlord Princes have formed their own pack, with Daemonar as the dominant and Raeth as his second-in-command,” Lucivar said. “It looks like Raeth and Trent have a preference for working with Zoey and her friends, but that could be because Titian is one of those friends, which means Daemonar takes a sharp interest in those girls. Also, Grizande is now in the mix, and my first-born feels protective of her.”
“Grizande wears a Sapphire Jewel and is well able to take care of herself,” Brenda said, waggling her fingers to remind everyone that the Tigre witch had claws.
“Maybe in a physical fight,” Daemon replied, “but there are other ways to wound someone. And there are the three days in every woman’s moontime when she is vulnerable.” He waited for an argument and felt relieved when he didn’t get one.
No one in the room who knew about Grizande’s past mentioned the scars she carried from being tortured—a testimony that even the powerful, when young, couldn’t always defend themselves. That was something he and Lucivar knew well.
“The two Princes and the Warlords are still sorting themselves out as far as which Queen they prefer to follow and who is a friend and who is just tolerated, but there’s not much squabbling among themselves,” Lucivar said.
Could be because they’re too exhausted to squabble, Daemon thought. Eyrien stamina was not to be underestimated, and with Daemonar leading, the boys were either studying, sweating through weapons practice, playing physically active games with the kindred or among themselves, or falling asleep on their feet if they didn’t manage to fall on a mattress first.
“The problem I’m seeing is the pissing contests that have boiled up between the Queens,” Lucivar continued. “Zoey wears Birthright Opal, which is the darkest Jewel among the Queens and should make her dominant, but she’s backing away from every disagreement instead of drawing a line and setting her heels down. And the reason for that is that the other Queens, led by Dinah, piled on her in a verbal dogfight.”
“Not exactly,” Raine corrected. “It’s more that the other three Queens stood back and did nothing, waiting to see who won the fight for dominance, although I think Kathlene would have stepped up to the line and stood with Zoey before much longer.”
Daemon studied the Dharo Prince. “Now that Dinah is gone, what is your assessment of the young Queens?”
Raine thought for a moment. “Zoey is sparkle and energy. She wants to be helpful—maybe too helpful at times. She might need firmer boundaries and more protection for a while. Kathlene is . . . solid. She’s a quiet girl who watches and listens and is more intent on absorbing the lessons than any of the other girls—including Zoey. With proper nurturing, she’ll grow up into a strong Queen. Felisha?” He shrugged. “She might settle into being a solid Queen. But Azara holds on to an opinion as well as a colander holds on to water. She just wants to back whoever is dominant, regardless of right or wrong. That makes me uneasy.”
“Who is dominant among them will change a dozen times before any of those girls are old enough to form an official court,” Daemon said. “Hell’s fire, who is dominant changes every time someone enters or leaves a room.”
“But the caliber of the Queen will not change in any significant way,” Beale replied quietly. “They have reached an age where they are what they will be. What you teach them will help them discover their potential and refine what is inside them, but it won’t change them.”
“It might change them in some ways, especially if one of them is floundering because another among them keeps cutting the ground out from under her,” Lucivar countered. “Protect and defend, whether the weapon being used is a whip or a word. But before we decide who we defend, we need to know what kind of Queens we’re dealing with. We need to confirm Raine’s assessment.”
“Lucivar, they’re still children,” Daemon said. Was he arguing because he disagreed or because he needed to believe a girl could change if given a chance?
Maybe not change, he thought. Maybe rediscover who she is?
Putting thoughts of Saetien aside, he focused on the people in his study and the current discussion.
“You know better than that, Bastard,” Lucivar said. “We saw plenty of Queens this age when we lived in Terreille, saw which ones already had a taste for cruelty and which ones wouldn’t stand up for their people if there was any risk or inconvenience to themselves.”
“What are you proposing?” he asked.
“We—”
“Meaning me, since you won’t be here most of the time.”
“Fine. You”—Lucivar circled with a finger to indicate all the adults in the room—“will conduct some scenarios that will give the children a challenge similar to something they might face as a ruling Queen or a member of a court. When Father did this kind of exercise one season, he assigned one of the coven to be the ruling Queen for that day and the other Queens were Province Queens or District Queens under her hand. That way they each experienced what it was like to have to answer to someone else or be a Territory’s last voice in any conflict. The boyos were assigned to a Queen, and Father, along with Beale and Helene, assigned servants to assist in whatever task the Queen was given.”