One of the things she would have to deal with was that every male who wore a Ring of Honor could feel her intense emotional turmoil and was now one step away from the killing edge—without an enemy on which to focus that rage.
Then came the Queen’s summons to her Steward. It bought him a little more time to keep the more volatile males—meaning his sons—under control, providing he could give them some kind of answer once he talked to the Queen.
As he walked up to her, Jaenelle continued to stare out the sitting room windows, keeping her back to him.
“Lady,” he said quietly.
“High Lord.”
Two words, but enough for him to recognize the huskiness that came into a woman’s voice after hard crying that had gone on for too long.
He tightened the leash on his temper and swallowed rage. He didn’t need rage—yet. “How may I be of service?”
“I need you to do something for me without arguing about it.”
He moved until he stood beside her and could see her face. The well of pain and grief that had brought so many tears to the surface was old—and deep. And new.
“I can’t promise that until I know what upset you.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Maybe your Steward doesn’t need to know, but your father does. And I don’t think you want anyone outside this room to start thinking about why you’ve been crying.”
She looked at him, alarmed. “There is no need to issue threats, Saetan.”
“That’s not a threat, witch-child. That’s a statement.” He softened his voice. “You and Wilhelmina had words?”
A huff of laughter, bitter and cutting. “You could say that.” Jaenelle’s eyes filled with tears.
“Tell me.” A father’s command, not a Steward’s request. When she hesitated, he added, “I give you my word that I will not act out of anger.” Which wasn’t the same as promising not to act at all, and they both knew that.
She brushed lightly against his inner barriers, a request for direct contact, mind to mind.
It would have been easier to hear the words than to receive the memory, but he opened his inner barriers and viewed this exchange between sisters.
Oh, witch-child, he thought when she withdrew. Given the steep price Jaenelle—and Daemon—had paid for that last attempt to keep Wilhelmina safe from the men who used Briarwood, the words might be forgiven, eventually, but would never be forgotten.
He, being who and what he was, would never forgive or forget.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“One of the other Territories might suit Wilhelmina better than staying here,” Jaenelle replied. “To be honest, it would suit me better as well. But not right now. She’ll be safer at the Hall right now.” She called in a slip of paper and handed it to him. “I’d like you to take money from my accounts and set up an account for Wilhelmina.”
Saetan looked at the amount and swallowed a snarl. Not that Jaenelle couldn’t afford it, but the amount would provide a generous lifetime income for someone from the short-lived races—provided that person spent wisely. That kind of generosity after that bitch said . . .
One way or another, she would try to take care of Wilhelmina while the woman was in Kaeleer, so she and Saetan would do this his way. “Does Lady Benedict have any experience with finances?”
She knew what his choice of formality meant, the cold temper running beneath polite words, but all she said was, “Probably less than I have, although I gathered she’d been fending for herself for a while before coming to Kaeleer.”
No, she had a young man looking after her, and having worked on the Angelline estate, he would have had a keen appreciation of the cost of food and the need to have a safe place to sleep.
“Then I propose providing Lady Benedict with a quarterly income sufficient to run a modest aristo household.” And if he found her being parsimonious with her servants’ wages in order to buy things for herself, he would pay the servants directly and take the wages out of her quarterly income before she received it.
Nothing he needed to trouble Jaenelle about.
“All right,” Jaenelle said. “Will that be enough?”
“Since I’ll be investing what isn’t immediately needed, I think your gift will be more than sufficient,” he said dryly.
“Thank you, Papa.”
“You’re welcome, witch-child.” He ran a thumb over one of her cheeks to wipe away the last tears. “I suggest you wash your face and drop these shields very soon.”
Jaenelle looked toward the door. Then she sighed. “They’re going to want to fuss.”
“Oh, yes, witch-child, they are all going to want to fuss. And if you don’t want any of the boyos thinking too long or too hard about why you were upset, you will let them fuss until they settle down. And that includes Lucivar and Daemon. Especially Daemon.”
“Maybe . . .”
“No.”
“But . . .”
“No.”
“I am the Queen.”
“And everything has a price.”
She sighed again. “Yes. It does.”
Saetan walked out of the room and faced a corridor filled with males, human and kindred. He didn’t see the cats, but you rarely saw the cats before they attacked. Still, a quick psychic probe confirmed Jaal’s and Kaelas’s presence.
“She’ll be all right,” he said.
“What happened?” Lucivar growled.
“Easy enough to guess,” Daemon said too softly.
“Perhaps,” Saetan said, looking at each male in turn. “But we are all going to pretend that nothing has changed. We are not going to challenge or strike out at anyone still residing at the Hall.”
“And when someone is no longer residing at the Hall?” Chaosti asked.
“You will let me handle this.” Saetan made sure they heard the warning beneath the words. “Jaenelle has made her choice. I will see that it is carried out. Is that understood?”
None of them liked it, but he waited until he received agreement from each of them. Including Lucivar and Daemon. Especially Daemon.
Ladvarian’s tail began to wag. A moment later, the Ebony shields and locks disappeared. The Sceltie passed through the door before any man could take the first step.
*Jaenelle!*
They heard the psychic shout even through the closed door.
“The rest of you can fuss later,” Saetan said. He looked at Daemon. “If I were you, I’d wait a few minutes before going in.”
“I’m the soother rather than the scolder?” Daemon asked.
“Exactly.”
The rest of the males dispersed. Saetan walked into his suite of rooms and wasn’t surprised when Lucivar followed him and closed the door.
“That’s it?” Lucivar said. “You’re just going to let this go?”
“You don’t know—”
“I can guess, High Lord. Wilhelmina Benedict signed a contract with me, so—”
“You will do nothing.” Saetan looked at this strong, volatile son. “Right now, we have other concerns, and in a place the size of the Hall, it’s easy enough to keep people from being in each other’s company. When the time is right, you and I will decide where and how Lady Benedict completes her contract with you.”
“So I ignore the pain she’s just caused my sister, my Queen?”
“You forget, Prince, that sooner or later, Wilhelmina Benedict will come to me, and as the High Lord of Hell, I will make sure that whatever debt she owes us is paid in full.”
Lucivar stared at him. Then the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih nodded. “I’ll accept that, but if Wilhelmina ever hurts Jaenelle again, you should know that the Sadist will call in the debt before you do.”