*Do that.* Daemon broke the link between them, then aimed for the sofa, where he intended to stretch out for an hour—or a century.
He’d barely gotten horizontal when someone tapped on the study door.
Putting an arm over his face, he used Craft to disengage the locks and open the door to allow Beale into the room. He felt his butler walk up to the sofa, but there were no sounds, no words.
“Beale?” Daemon finally said.
“I used to find your father in here looking just like that,” Beale answered.
Daemon lifted his arm enough to stare at his butler. “I am not surprised. I don’t know how successful these exercises will be for the intended group of participants, but I recognize the ringleader who is encouraging the staff to engage in—”
“Fun?” Beale suggested.
He was going to say “outrageous schemes,” but the amusement, mixed with a bit of sympathy, in Beale’s eyes told him all he currently needed to know about life at the Hall when Jaenelle and the coven were in residence.
“Ah, Beale. I do not want to get in trouble with your wife over Lady Dumm’s behavior—whatever that behavior may include.”
“Understood, Prince. I will explain things to Mrs. Beale. However, if this Lady Dumm should try to enter the kitchens . . .”
Daemon jackknifed to a sitting position. “You have my permission to roast her on a spit. I’ll help you.”
Beale’s lips twitched. “Very good.” The butler turned and strode to the door—and didn’t quite manage to close the door all the way before he started laughing.
Zoey listened to Prince Sadi explain the new exercise that was supposed to start tomorrow, and she didn’t know what to think. Sure, District Queens had to answer to Province Queens, who had to answer to Territory Queens, and even Territory Queens took orders from someone before they became Territory Queens, but why did the Queens have to lose all their friends and deal with people they didn’t know well? How could a court function like that? Why couldn’t each of them keep at least a couple of their friends while the rest were shuffled? But how to choose? And would those who weren’t chosen feel resentful?
Why were Daemonar and Grizande not included? They were students too.
*Zoey?* Allis nudged her calf. *Why are you smelling afraid?*
*Am I?* Zoey placed her hand on the Sceltie’s head. Prince Sadi wouldn’t take away Allis, too, would he?
“We’ll do a five-day rotation,” Prince Sadi said. “The other two days will be for studying, resting, and social activities of your choosing.”
Five days? How . . . ?
Zoey glanced at Kathlene, Azara, and Felisha—and realized the other three Queens were looking at her.
*Ask him,* Kathlene said on a psychic thread.
*You ask him,* Zoey replied. She wasn’t going to put herself forward again.
Sadi said nothing; just waited. The Queens said nothing.
Finally Raeth huffed out a breath and said, “Prince? I count four Queens here. Who takes the fifth day in the rotation?”
Sadi smiled, looking pleased that someone had enough spine to ask the obvious question. “On the fifth day, the Queens, with their court of the day, will be under the hand of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and taking orders from him.”
Zoey wasn’t sure what was going to happen on the other days, but even if she wasn’t working with her friends, she would still be safe when Prince Sadi was in charge.
FORTY-TWO
The physical part of the new exercise seemed fairly simple. A basket of envelopes was delivered to the social room connected to the square of bedrooms where each group of youngsters resided. The Queen’s envelope had her name on it and the card inside informed her of the order of dominance among the Queens.
Everyone else took a card from a blank envelope and learned which Queen they were serving that day. They would report to that Queen when they gathered for breakfast, since each court would begin the day with their Queen.
“Kathlene is the ‘dominant’ Queen,” Zoey said, pressing a hand to her stomach. Before that disastrous house party, before she had been dosed with safframate, she would have seen this exercise as a challenge instead of something to fear. Now? She hated that she felt like such a coward about taking orders from someone—even someone like Kathlene, whom she liked and trusted in most ways. Titian looked at Zoey’s card. “Felisha is the ‘Province’ Queen, and you and Azara are ‘District’ Queens.”
“Who are you serving today?”
“Azara. I can talk to Uncle Daemon and see if he’ll let me switch.”
“No special treatment. The other girls resent me enough as it is.”
Arlene and Laureen were part of her court that day, so she had with her two friends whom she could trust. Three when she counted Allis. But Cara, who was also part of her court today, had been a good friend of Dinah’s. The girl hadn’t said anything, but the accusing looks she gave Zoey when she thought no one would notice scraped nerves that were already raw.
Jhett and Grizande approached the table with the basket. Titian handed Jhett the last envelope in the basket.
“I guess you have a different assignment,” Zoey said when Grizande looked at the empty basket.
“Simple learning,” Grizande replied.
Did she feel excluded? Did it sting to be left out—or was Grizande used to that?
“I’m with Kathlene today,” Jhett said.
Titian put an arm around Zoey’s waist—all the warmth and comfort she’d have today.
As they left their square of rooms, subdued and uncertain about what was ahead of them, Daemonar stepped into the corridor. With his longer stride, he easily caught up to Zoey and Titian.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Zoey snapped. “I’m fine.”
Daemonar huffed. “You’re pale and sweating. You get any finer, you’ll spend the day in Lady Nadene’s healing room dosed with a sedative.”
Zoey shuddered at the idea of being dosed with anything.
“Don’t pester her,” Titian said. “Uncle Daemon is being mean making us do this.”
“You haven’t done anything so far.”
If Titian started defending her and snapped at Daemonar, they’d both be in trouble again. “Prince Yaslana, please leave us alone. I can’t deal with you now.”
Daemonar took a step to the side and let them continue alone.
Daemonar watched Zoey and the other girls, and was aware of Grizande coming to stand beside him.
“Zoey Queen is much—is very—afraid,” Grizande said. “ ‘Very’ is right word?”
Daemonar nodded. “That is the right word. And yes, Zoey is very afraid. Too much afraid.”
“Why we not part of this learning?”
She sounded a bit . . . snarly . . . that she wasn’t included—and that made him smile. “I don’t know. We’re to report to Prince Sadi after breakfast. You can ask him then.”
Daemon wasn’t sure how to read Daemonar’s mood, but Grizande was fairly exercised about something, and if he didn’t want his blackwood desk used as a scratching post, he needed to make an effort to find out what had rubbed her the wrong way.
Daemonar nudged Grizande. “You first.”
“Why we not included in learning?” she asked.
Maybe it was meant to be a polite question, but her green eyes had that predator’s stare and her hands kept flexing, giving him glimpses of her claws.
“If important enough for Queens, we should learn,” she continued.