“Couldn’t you go tomorrow?” Sometimes girls had private rooms and sometimes they had to share. When Delora and Hespera had told her about the school, they’d explained that it was social death if you ended up sharing with a girl no one wanted to befriend.
The look was still sharp but no longer amused. There was something cold in his eyes that was struggling to rise to the surface, and that cold made her nervous.
“I’ll go to Amdarh in a couple of days,” he said too softly.
“Okay.”
He hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to hug her like he would have done when she was little, but the man sitting on the other end of the sofa was no longer quite her father.
“There are conditions to this agreement, and there are rules,” he said. “The conditions are fairly simple, I think. I will pay for the school, which includes the books and any other supplies required for your classes. I’ll take care of the room and board. I will also provide a clothing allowance that will cover the basics you will need for school itself, and I will entertain paying for an outfit for a special occasion. You will pay for any other expenses out of your spending money, whether it’s clothes or books or paying for a social outing.”
She almost asked if he would increase her spending money, but Zoey’s and Titian’s jaws had dropped when they’d learned what she already received as spending money, so she didn’t think she should ask for more, even though Delora and Hespera had given her a pitying look that made it clear they thought her father was being stingy—especially since he was so wealthy and could afford to give her more. But once he spoke to the school administrators and learned about all the incidental things a girl would need, she was certain he would increase her quarterly spending money without her having to ask.
“You might be tempted to ignore the rules,” he said. “After all, you’re going to be on your own, making your own decisions and having the exciting experience of living among your peers with limited supervision. But I strongly urge you to listen carefully and listen well, Jaenelle Saetien, because these are lines I will hold with everything in me, and the consequences for breaking the rules will be severe.”
Her stomach churned, and she felt a little sick. “What rules?”
“Nothing you haven’t heard before, but it’s what a basic rule encompasses now.” His smile had an edge. “Permission before action. A simple enough thing to remember.”
Was that all?
“You look very like your mother, and that means you’re a lovely young woman. There will be young men at that school who will want to become friends, companions. Lovers. As friends and companions, that choice is yours. Lovers?”
She rolled her eyes. “I already know about sex. Mother explained things years ago.”
“Good. Then you can’t claim ignorance of how things work as an excuse if you defy me and cross a line that is being drawn here and now. You’re too young to have your Virgin Night and come through it with your Jewels and your power intact, so your choices will have consequences beyond the risk to yourself.”
She wasn’t talking to her father anymore. Maybe this was how he sounded when, as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, he summoned someone to account for something they had done. Or maybe this was something—someone—else, a side effect of the healing treatment he still had done at the Keep. Whatever this was, she wished her mother was here to shield her from the man whose mouth curved in a cold, cruel smile.
“Knowing you as I do, I am granting you, here and now, my permission to engage in the first stage of romance. That means holding hands. Hugging. Kissing. But the sexual encounter, which is touching and kissing, stays between collarbone and crown of head, between elbow and fingertips. If you’re interested in doing more, you will both come to me for permission. Anything that involves your vagina or his cock requires my consent. And that includes kissing.”
Her face flamed with the heat of embarrassment.
He leaned toward her. Just a little. Just enough to have her lean back to maintain the distance between them.
“My darling,” he purred, “should you be so unwise as to let one of those young studs talk you into letting him see you through your Virgin Night, it won’t matter if you come through it undamaged or not. His execution will be slow, it will be painful, it will be messy, and it will be very public. And I will leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that the reason he died that way was because he had dared lay a hand on my daughter without my consent.” He waited a moment. “Is there anything about that line that you don’t understand?”
“No,” she whispered. “No, sir.”
“I’m delighted.” He rose. “In that case, I’ll bid you goodnight. I imagine you and your mother will want to do some shopping before classes begin.”
He walked out of her room.
She raised one hand and watched it shake. But a minute later . . .
“He said yes. He said I can go to the school.”
She leaped up and danced around the room.
Her father had said yes! And he’d said more. He’d said she could go shopping for clothes before she started school. Sure, she’d have to go with her mother, and that would be embarrassing, but maybe she could talk Surreal into letting her buy some stylish clothes.
THIRTEEN
Lucivar walked toward the Queen’s private area of the Keep. He’d hoped this day would never come, but even before the door to the Consort’s suite opened, even before he saw the man who looked at him with glazed eyes and a sweetly murderous smile, he knew he’d been summoned to the Keep because he’d insisted on a promise. Now he’d have to fulfill his side of that promise.
Black shields formed a Craft-made wall across the corridor, blocking any retreat. He stood his ground and waited while the Sadist glided toward him, while one hand with its slender fingers and long black-tinted nails curled around the back of his neck.
“You told me once that if I needed to play, I should come to you,” the Sadist crooned. “Do you remember?”
“I remember.” He could survive this. No matter what was done, he could—and would—survive this.
Wrapping a hand around Lucivar’s right wrist, the Sadist led him to another room in this part of the Keep. Another bedroom.
May the Darkness have mercy on me, Lucivar thought as he heard the snick of the lock, as he felt the Black shields surround the room, cutting off all hope of escape.
“Strip,” the Sadist said.
Everything in him wanted to fight, wanted to challenge, wanted to refuse any kind of submission. But whatever was driving his brother tonight would turn totally merciless if challenged. Besides, he had agreed to this to keep everyone else safe.
He turned his back to the Sadist and faced the bed as he undressed. Oh, they’d seen each other naked plenty of times, spent hours talking some evenings while they’d soaked in the heated pool in his eyrie.
This was different.
As he tossed the clothes to one side, the covers on the bed rolled back, leaving nothing but the bottom sheet.
The Sadist said, “On the bed. On your belly.”
He obeyed. Raising his arms over his head, Lucivar locked his left hand over his right wrist, a self-inflicted manacle, as he listened to the Sadist undress.
A weight on the bed near his thigh, a knee carefully placed to avoid catching his wing. Another weight on the other side.
Straddled.
He flinched when the Sadist’s hands touched his back—a light but firm touch that seemed to be exploring. For what? Weaknesses?
“What have you been doing lately?” the Sadist murmured as he raised his hands.