Shalador's Lady

CHAPTER 17

Kermilla frowned at the toast that was burnt around the edges. She tasted the eggs and made a face. As she pushed her plate away—and noticed Correne doing the same—Theran walked into the small breakfast room.

That was unusual. She and Correne, the “Ladies of the court,” had breakfast alone, leaving the men to a working breakfast where they reviewed their assignments for the day and were allowed to be fools before they had to put on their manners.

It might be unusual to see him in the breakfast room, but his timing was perfect.

“Theran, what in the name of Hell is wrong with the cook today?” Kermilla complained. “The toast is burned, and these eggs are unacceptable. And the beef is . . . Well, I can hardly choke it down.”

“I suggest you try,” Theran said in an odd voice. “The woman who was the cook’s assistant has a blind eye and a weak arm, courtesy of the last Queen she served. She’s doing the best she can.”

“Why is she doing it at all?” Correne asked, sounding pouty.

She was going to have to talk to the girl about when a good pout worked and when it caused nothing but trouble—and judging by the look in Theran’s eyes, being anything but helpful today was going to cause trouble.

Ignoring Correne, Theran watched Kermilla. “The cook, the housekeeper, and the butler resigned yesterday.”

She heard a hint of accusation in his voice. “Because I had to discipline Birdie?”

Theran’s face tightened. “You call it discipline. You said it was necessary, and I’m sure you wouldn’t have struck the girl without good reason. But Dryden called it abuse, said it was the same kind of treatment the purged Queens used to inflict on servants—and the kind of treatment I had promised him no one would endure in this house. So the senior servants resigned, along with four of the stable lads. It may take a while before I can replace them.” He glanced at Correne. “Ladies.”

Stunned, Kermilla watched him walk out of the room. That little bitch Birdie had to be disciplined. The other servants should have accepted that!

“What did he mean by the purged Queens?” Kermilla asked.

Correne pulled her plate back and began eating. “The Queens who were destroyed by that witch storm a couple of years ago.” She shuddered. “I heard it swept through the whole Realm and consumed lots and lots of people.”

“How many Queens?” Kermilla whispered.

“The Territory Queen and all the Province Queens. Lots of the District Queens too. That’s why Cassidy had to come and rule here. There has been talk of letting Queens establish a court when they’re eighteen, which is before the age of majority and before they’re ready to make the Offering to the Darkness.”

“Why would they do that?”

“The old Queens are too old to rule more than one village, so someone has to regain control of the Provinces.” Correne leaned forward. “I got a letter from a friend yesterday. She said some of the Warlord Princes are claiming whole districts as their personal territory and ruling like they were Queens.”

Having males rule on a Queen’s behalf wasn’t that unusual—at least, not in Kaeleer—but Correne sounded shocked. And with good reason. If the most aggressive and dangerous caste of male began taking control and ruling without a Queen’s leash, the young Queens might end up being ruled by Warlord Princes instead of the other way around.

And the Queen who could stop that change would have the loyalty of every other Queen in this land.

“Look, look, look!” Powell danced into the breakfast room, waving a handful of papers over his head.

Momentarily frozen in the act of biting into a piece of toast—which Birdieand Maydra pointed out that she had not had to make for herself—Cassidy finished chewing while she, Shira, and Reyhana watched the gleeful Steward.

“What are we looking at?” Cassidy asked.

“The dominant Warlord Princes living in the two southernmost Provinces have sent in a proposed division of those Provinces into districts that would be ruled by a Warlord Prince if a Queen wasn’t available.”

“There aren’t more than a hundred adult Warlord Princes left in Dena Nehele,” Shira said. “Could so few actually rule effectively?”

Cassidy wiped her hands on a napkin and reached for the papers. “Let me see those.” Her heart pounded and her hands trembled. No indication of which districts would be ruled by Queens. Not that she’d expected them to offer that much trust yet. She’d come to realize that the Queens who had met with her had been prepared to be sacrificed if the new Territory Queen turned out to be as twisted as the one who had ruled before. This was evidence that the Warlord Princes who had been disappointed when they had first seen her were now reconsidering what her knowledge might give their people.

“Maybe . . .” Reyhana began. She immediately hunched her shoulders and toyed with her scrambled eggs.

“Maybe . . . ?” Cassidy said.

“It’s not my place to speak.”

“Reyhana, I enjoy your company and I value you as a friend, but you’re also here to learn how to be a Queen. I can’t offer guidance if you don’t tell me what you think.”

The girl straightened up. “Are any of the Warlord Princes taking responsibility for a whole Province?”

“That would be a bit too aggressive,” Powell said gently. “It’s one thing to rule what the available Queens can’t handle themselves; it’s quite another to rule over a Queen.”

“Although it is done,” Cassidy said. “Daemon Sadi is the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. He rules that Territory, and every Queen in Dhemlan answers to him. He is the exception, that is true, but Queens do sometimes rule within a Warlord Prince’s Territory and not the other way around. Lucivar Yaslana is another example. He rules Ebon Rih, the territory that belongs to the Keep. The Queens who rule the villages there answer to him.”

“I stand corrected,” Powell said with a smile.

“Someone needs to rule each Province, isn’t that true?” Reyhana said.

“Just getting the Warlord Princes to step up to the line and agree to rule a district is a victory,” Shira said. “At least half of these men lived in the rogue camps in the Tamanara Mountains after they reached puberty. Actually living in a village with the families they left behind is a new experience for them.”

“This is a good start, but it’s just a start,” Cassidy said.

“Why can’t your First Circle act as Province liaisons between the districts and the court?” Reyhana asked. “The same way Prince Ranon does for the Shalador reserves?”

“The way Ranon does?” Cassidy asked, glancing at Shira—who was frowning thoughtfully.

“May I?” Powell asked, indicating an empty chair.

“Yes, of course,” Cassidy replied. “Here, it’s probably best if we look at these papers more carefully in your office.”

Powell vanished the papers. Moments later, Birdie came in with a pot of fresh coffee, another cup and saucer, and more toast.

Cassidy wondered who had told Maydra that Powell was joining her for breakfast. Then she noticed Vae in the doorway. The Sceltie wagged her tail once and left, no doubt to herd a few more of her humans.

“Please explain about Ranon,” Powell said.

“I don’t think he ever visited all the villages,” Reyhana said, “but Janos told me Ranon would visit all three of the reserves and meet with the elders at least once each season. So he always knew if there was trouble or when things were getting too hard. Even during the uprisings, when he was off fighting, he’d visit a reserve if he was close by.”

“He’s been doing that for as long as I’ve known him,” Shira said. “Visiting the elders. I thought he was showing his respect. He never said otherwise.”

No, he wouldn’t have said otherwise, Cassidy thought. But that awareness of his people . . . Not so different from what the males in Jaenelle’s court had done. Not so different at all.

“If a member of the First Circle visited a Province once or twice a month,” Powell said thoughtfully, “and made it known he would carry back any concerns to the Queen, I think other men would approach him—especially if he’s already known to those men. Not an official ruler, but a reminder that all others who rule in Dena Nehele do so on the Territory Queen’s behalf. That is an excellent idea, Lady Reyhana.”

Cassidy smiled at Reyhana and lifted her coffee cup as a salute. “Yes, itis an excellent idea.”

Too bad Gray wasn’t here to share this moment with her.

Ranon stood in Daemon Sadi’s study, a stunned look on his face. “Mother Night, Gray. The man has a butler who wears a Red Jewel.”

Gray looked around the richly furnished room. There had been a jelly-knee moment when the door to SaDiablo Hall opened and that large, formidable man had stared at them. But it was clear the High Lord had sent a message ahead of them and they were expected, because Beale had led them to this room and informed them that the Prince would be with them shortly.

Noticing the stuffed toy on the floor near the long sofa, he nudged Ranon. “He may have a Red-Jeweled butler, but he also has a Sceltie.”

“Then may the Darkness have mercy on him,” Ranon muttered.

The door opened. Ranon sucked in a breath. Gray turned.

Beautiful, deadly man. Had he felt that sexual punch the last time he’d seen Daemon, or was there a reason why that heat and power were sharper today?

“Gray, it’s good to see you again.”

Is it? Gray wondered, noticing Daemon’s slightly glazed eyes. “Prince Sadi, may I introduce my friend Prince Ranon?”

Those gold eyes studied Ranon just a little too long.

“You’re Shaladoran,” Daemon said.

“I am,” Ranon replied. “How did you know?”

“You have the look of your people. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what brings you here.”

Gray started to turn toward the informal side of the room. Daemon walked over to the blackwood desk and settled in the chair behind it, leaving him and Ranon no choice but to sit in the visitors’ chairs.

He nodded to Ranon, who called in a package and set it carefully on the desk. “Lady Cassidy asked me to give this to you, along with this letter.”

Daemon opened the letter and seemed to take a long time reading the single page. Then he opened the package that contained Jared’s journal and brushed his fingertips gently over the cover.

“While I appreciate her efforts at economy, Cassidy’s request, as written, is not the most practical,” Daemon said.

“I’ll convey the message,” Ranon said. He reached for the package. It vanished before he touched it.

“Therefore,” Daemon said, “I will take care of it as it should be done.” Ranon hesitated, and Gray understood why. Jared’s story was one of the most precious gifts Jaenelle Angelline had sent back to the Shalador people.

Daemon steepled his fingers and rested the forefinger nails against his chin. “Is that why you asked to come to Dhemlan? I could have met you at the Keep.”

“We need a loan.” Gray hadn’t meant to say it that bluntly. In fact, he’d spent a good part of the journey rehearsing what he would say. Too bad the words just plopped out of his mouth.

“What?” Ranon yelped.

“We need a loan,” Gray said again, keeping his eyes on Daemon, who had done nothing more than raise an eyebrow.

“You are aware of the Queen’s gift?” Daemon asked.

Ignoring the slight chill in the words—after all, he figured plenty of people would like to dip a hand into the SaDiablo wealth—Gray nodded. “But that’s just for Cassie, for the things she needs that her people can’t provide yet.”

“All right, I’m listening.”

*Gray, what are you doing?* Ranon asked.

Gray ignored his friend. “We need a loan to start building a life for the people again. For some simple things, like blankets and linens, and cloth so women can sew clothes for their children.”

“Gray,” Ranon said, his voice a clear warning to stop.

“We need money to fix up a Healer’s House. The village will give us the land and buildings, but Shira needs money to fix it up so that she can take care of the court and some of the villagers.”

“Does she know about this?” Ranon asked.

“Not yet. She wants that place, and it’s perfect. But I didn’t want to tell her I’d gotten the deed made out for her until I talked to Daemon about a loan to fix it up.”

Ranon looked ready to fall out of his chair. “Deed. You got an official deed?”

“Yes. I talked to the elders yesterday. They witnessed the deed. The property that backs the Queen’s Residence now belongs to Shira.” Gray paused. “To you, too, I guess, since you’re living with her, but I asked to have it put in Shira’s name since it will be a Healer’s residence.”

“But you didn’t tell her?”

Why was Ranon getting so pissy? It was the best thing to do for the women and the court. “No. But I haven’t told Cassie yet that the Queen’s Residence belongs to her now. She’ll feel better about fixing it up into the home she wants once she knows she holds the deed.”

Daemon started coughing. “We’ll . . . ah . . . have to talk about how to ease into these conversations so you don’t stun the Ladies when you get home.”

Gray looked at the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. No chill in the voice now. No, Daemon seemed to be struggling with the effort not to laugh. “You think Cassie and Shira are going to go hissy cat about this?”

“Hissy cat?” Those gold eyes were starting to water.

“A Sceltie term for a riled human female.”

Daemon’s roar of laughter filled the room.

A couple of minutes later, Sadi finally regained some control. “So you want a loan to fix up the Healer’s House. Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said, pressing his hands between his knees and leaning toward the desk. “But you have businesses in other Territories besides Dhemlan, don’t you?”

Something pained and sad flickered in Daemon’s eyes. “I used to have a few businesses in Dena Nehele. It helped some people defy Dorothea’s bitches for a little while longer.”

But the land fell anyway. How many places did you help hold on a little while longer? No wonder Lucivar said you can’t come to Dena Nehele the way he can. There’s no place in Terreille you can go that doesn’t hold bitter memories, is there?

“We could use your help again,” Gray said quietly. “In return for fixing up the buildings and providing the merchandise, since that’s one of the things we don’t have, the elders in Eyota have agreed to give you the buildings and the land they’re on for a hundred years. That may not sound like a long time to you, but it’s a long time for us.”

Daemon looked away, and Gray got the impression that Sadi was trying to decide about something more important than a couple of buildings and some merchandise.

Then Daemon rose and came around the desk. “Let’s go down the road and spend some time in Halaway. It’s a small village and some of the shops there should give us all a reference point.”

“Okay,” Gray said as he and Ranon stood up and followed Daemon to the door.

A quick knock. The door opened.

Daemon froze midstep. His nostrils flared as Jaenelle walked into the room—and the gold eyes that now looked at Gray and Ranon held a barely controlled savagery.

“Daemon,” Jaenelle said softly.

Daemon stared at the two men and snarled.

“Prince.”

Those gold eyes focused on her.

She, in turn, smiled at Gray and Ranon.

*Mother Night, Gray, I can smell moon’s blood,* Ranon said. *We have to get out of this room before he kills us.*

*How?*

Ranon gave no answer, since moving toward the door meant moving toward Jaenelle, and that would be a lethal mistake.

Then two other males entered the room and stopped on either side of Jaenelle at the same time Daemon stepped closer to her.

Still smiling at Gray and Ranon, Jaenelle said, “I believe you know my little brother, Ladvarian.”

Gray hadn’t met the Red-Jeweled Sceltie Warlord when Ladvarian and Khardeen came to Eyota, but he nodded anyway.

She hooked an arm around her other companion’s neck. “And this pretty kitty is Prince Kaelas.”

The “pretty kitty” was a white, huge Warlord Prince who wore a Red Jewel—and wasn’t half as terrifying as Daemon at that moment.

“You have some business to take care of this afternoon?” Jaenelle released Kaelas and turned toward Daemon.

“It can be postponed,” he said in a croon that produced a chill down Gray’s spine.

“There’s no reason for that,” Jaenelle replied. “At this moment, Beale and Holt are in my private garden, arranging a lounge chair in the shady spot, Mrs. Beale is making a pitcher of that fruit punch I enjoy drinking in warm weather, Ladvarian and Kaelas are going to keep me company, and . . .” She called in a book and held it up between them. “I have Fiona’s new Tracker and Shadow novel to read.”

Daemon studied his wife through narrowed eyes. “In other words, you have no use for me this afternoon.”

“No use at all.”

The words could have been cutting to a man in love, but not when they were accompanied by the look in Jaenelle’s gorgeous eyes as she smiled at Daemon and gave his face a brief caress.

A code, Gray thought. Like the one he and Cassie had.

“You’ll bring our guests back for dinner,” Jaenelle said.

Daemon hesitated. “As my Lady wishes.”

*He doesn’t want us anywhere near her, but he won’t hesitate to hurt us if we decline her invitation,* Ranon said.

*Did you read the section in the Protocol book that covers this situation? * Gray asked.

*Yes. Thank the Darkness.*

“Gentlemen,” Jaenelle said before she left the room with Ladvarian and Kaelas.

“Shall we go?” Daemon asked.

He didn’t wait for an answer, so they followed him out of the Hall.

Daemon stopped at the edge of Halaway and waited for his companions to catch up. Gray and Ranon had been trailing after him since he’d walked out of the Hall and headed for the village on foot. He had needed the movement, had needed to burn off some of the temper. When Saetan had contacted him to find out if he was willing to host Gray and Ranon, he’d warned his father that Jaenelle’s moontime was close and he might not respond well to male visitors.

Jaenelle had decided that the visit shouldn’t be postponed.

Daemon frowned. Gray and Ranon immediately stopped walking.

He sighed. “It’s all right. I’m steady now and won’t eviscerate you for being in the same room as my wife.” But in the moment before Jaenelle had said “Prince” in a tone he recognized as a command, he had considered it.

Ah, well. At least he could tell Saetan that two of Cassidy’s court had paid attention to the additional notes about how Warlord Princes reacted to the scent of moon’s blood and how to avoid provoking an attack.

“You could have told us not to come,” Gray said when he reached Daemon.

“My Lady decided otherwise,” Daemon replied.

“So . . . no choice.”

“None. But if it makes you feel any better, Ladvarian and Kaelas didn’t object to your presence today. Since those two didn’t see you as a threat to the Lady, I can keep my temper leashed.”

“What kind of cat is Kaelas?” Ranon asked.

“Arcerian,” Daemon replied. “In fact, he’s the Warlord Prince of Arceria. All eight hundred pounds of him.”

“Mother Night.”

He liked these men, and while he wanted them to be careful during their stay at the Hall, he saw no reason to frighten them. So unless it became necessary, he wouldn’t tell them what a Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince of Kaelas’s size, speed, and strength could do to a human body when he got pissed off.

“Let’s take a look at the village,” Daemon said.

It was a small, healthy village, prosperous enough to take care of itself and the people within its boundaries.

Daemon noted the way that the males who were simply going about their business went on alert at the sight of strangers—and relaxed when they realized the strangers were with him. He noted how the village guards came trotting past to get a look at the strangers despite Gray and Ranon being with him.

“Does this village often see trouble?” Ranon asked when Gray stopped at a bookshop window and stared at the display, damn near vibrating with excitement.

“No,” Daemon replied. “Considering its proximity to the Hall, if trouble starts here and the Queen’s court can’t handle it, I will.”

“But all the males are ready to defend.”

“It is our nature, Ranon.”

The shop door opened and Sylvia walked out. She wore a sleeveless shirt tucked into a pair of knee-length trousers and sandals. Her short black hair looked deliberately mussed enough to be called sassy, and there wasn’t a single thing besides her psychic scent that would give anyone a clue that she was the Queen of Halaway.

Daemon moved to join Gray, who had turned away from the window and given Sylvia a quick, assessing look before smiling brightly.

“Good afternoon, Lady,” Gray said.

Sylvia narrowed her gold eyes. “You look familiar, but not.”

“May I introduce Prince Jared Blaed Grayhaven and Prince Ranon,” Daemon said. “They’re here visiting from Dena Nehele. Gentlemen, this is Lady Sylvia.”

Gray frowned at him. “You didn’t introduce her as a Queen.”

Proof enough that Gray was far more perceptive than his cousin when it came to recognizing caste.

He glanced at Sylvia, who gave him a tiny nod. “You’re right. I didn’t. Lady Sylvia rules Halaway and prefers to be informal in her home village unless formality is required.”

Gray beamed at Sylvia. “That’s the way Cassie wants things to be in Eyota. The Shaladorans are pretty comfortable with that because they’re used to their Queens living among them, so I think she’s happier living where we do now than she was when we were in Grayhaven.”

Hell’s fire, Daemon thought as he looked at Sylvia’s slightly stunned expression and swallowed the urge to laugh. The earnest young Warlord Prince who had asked him for a loan had changed into a two-legged puppy.

“I met someone else named Grayhaven recently,” Sylvia said.

“Jared Blaed and Theran are cousins,” Daemon said.

Sylvia’s smile had sharp edges. “And how is Theran getting along with Vae?”

“Oh, Vae lives with Cassie and me now,” Gray said. “So does Khollie, but that’s because Ranon and Shira live in the Queen’s Residence with us.”

“Well, that must make story time easier for all of you, since the humans can take turns.”

“Story time?”

Ah, no, Sylvia, Daemon thought. But he wasn’t going to stop her.

“You don’t know about story time?” Sylvia asked, widening her eyes. When Gray shook his head, she opened the bookshop door and called to someone inside. “Do you have any copies of Unicorn to the Rescue or Sceltie Saves the Day?” She turned back to Gray. “How many Scelties live with you?”

“There are thirteen in our village,” Gray said, looking back at Daemon.

Finally figured out something is going on, haven’t you, boyo? Of course, it was much too late to do anything about it, but it was always good for a man to recognize when he was in trouble.

“What?” Sylvia leaned into the shop, then back out. “Oh, good. They also have a couple of copies of Dragon and the Dangerous Deed.”

“I don’t think . . .” Ranon began.

“A gift,” Sylvia said. “Enjoy your visit, gentlemen. Prince Sadi.”

Daemon watched her hurry away and duck into a shop a couple of doors down from the bookshop. He huffed out a breath. “While we’re in the shop, there are a few other books you might find entertaining.” The Tracker and Shadow books were adventures or mysteries for most readers, but anyone who dealt with a Sceltie also found them instructional.

“She was laughing when she went into that other shop,” Gray said as Daemon led the two men into the bookshop. “Why was she laughing?”

“Once you show those books to any Sceltie, you’ll understand,” Daemon replied dryly. And may the Darkness have mercy on you.

He let them look around while he selected a few books that he thought Cassidy would enjoy since Jaenelle or Marian had liked them. Ranon showed polite interest, but Gray loved books and stories, and kept delaying so that he could see “just one more thing.” Daemon ended up selecting a few more books for them to take back to Eyota and then hauled Gray out of the shop so they could see more of the village.

Gray showed a boyish enthusiasm for everything he saw except, oddly, the bakery, which he glanced at and then bolted past. Ranon’s emotions were more contained and more intense—especially when Daemon showed the Shaladoran the music shop. The place sold sheet music and instruments that spanned the Territories in Kaeleer, as well as the music crystals that had audio spells.

He didn’t tell them Jaenelle owned this shop, which was the reason it had such an eclectic variety of music—and why it had an attached room with a small stage for performances. Twice a month, she joined the musicians and sang there—and on those nights, there was never an empty chair.

He mentioned the performances and pointed out the nearby tavern and coffee shop. Ranon appreciated the potential businesses. Gray was more dazzled by the small courtyards that were shady gathering places accented with flower beds.

By the time they settled at a table in one of those courtyards with glasses of ale and a plate of sandwiches, Daemon had a very good idea what kind of businesses would do well in Eyota.

“All right, gentlemen . . .” he began.

“It’s the boy.”

Daemon rose at the sound of that female voice and was pleased that Gray and Ranon responded just as quickly.

“Tersa,” he said warmly as he kissed her cheek. Her long black hair was always as tangled as her mind, but it gave him comfort to know she could wander around this village and be safe. “Would you join us?”

“You are trying to feed me,” she accused.

Of course he was. Even having a journeymaid Black Widow living with her, Tersa still didn’t remember to eat when her mind traveled its own strange paths.

“Only a little,” he said, giving her a boyish smile.

She gave his arm a light, dismissive smack as she glanced at Ranon. Then she looked at Gray, and Daemon felt the change in her—and saw Gray go absolutely still.

“This is the one,” Tersa said softly. She called in a glass globe supported by a carved wooden base and set it in front of Gray. Then she touched the small amethyst in the base. “Watch.”

Smoke filled the globe as the spell engaged.

Changes, Daemon thought. Metamorphosis. He watched as a dagger was cocooned, then emerged as a small boy who had no limbs. That image cocooned and emerged as a dead tree, which cocooned and emerged as a living tree that bore daggers as its fruit. That image cocooned and emerged as a dragon breathing fire—a powerful warrior.

All the color had drained out of Gray’s face when he saw the first two images—and something Daemon couldn’t name filled those green eyes when Gray saw the last image.

The sequence started again. When the image of the dagger tree cocooned, the sequence stopped.

“This is where you are,” Tersa said.

“How do I get to the last stage?” Gray asked, his eyes fixed on the shrouded image.

“When the time comes, accept the fire that lives within you.”

*Tersa?* Daemon asked.

*Trust your wife—and trust your own heart.*

She kissed him and walked away.

Shaken, he sat down and drained the glass of ale. Gray and Ranon did the same, so he flicked a thought at the tavern owner, who hurried out a minute later with a cold pitcher of ale.

“Who is she?” Ranon asked after the second glass of ale.

“My mother,” Daemon replied.

“She’s . . . different,” Gray said, clearly not wanting to offend, but just as clearly wanting an answer.

“She’s a broken Black Widow,” Daemon said. “She’s been walking the roads of the Twisted Kingdom for a long time, but her mind completely shattered a few centuries ago when she made the choice to forfeit sanity in order to regain her Craft. In the past few years, she’s been living closer to the border of sanity, which lets her have a life in the village.”

“If she can’t wear a Jewel, how does she . . . ?” Ranon asked.

“I don’t know. Even my father doesn’t know. But sane or not, Jewels or not, she has always been a formidable witch.”

“Does Jaenelle know how Tersa regained power through madness?” Gray asked.

“Probably, since my Lady has walked roads even darker than the ones Tersa has traveled.” But this was not something he wanted to think about right now, so he said, “Gentlemen. Let’s talk about doing business.”

Thank the Darkness neither of us have to drive this Coach, Ranon thought as he and Gray huddled in the comfortable back compartment of the SaDiablo Coach provided by Daemon. They’d had a delicious dinner. At least, he assumed it was delicious. He couldn’t remember a single bite of it. Afterward, Sadi had opened the Gate next to the Hall and instructed one of the drivers who worked for the SaDiablo family to take his guests back to Dena Nehele. So they were heading home directly from the Hall, riding the Opal Winds.

“Mother Night, Gray,” Ranon said, keeping his voice low even though they couldn’t be heard through the closed door separating their compartment from the driver’s. “Five million gold marks. Do you have any idea how much that is?”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gold mark. I got a ten silver mark once for my birthday, and I thought it was a fortune. Do you really think we could spend that many gold marks?”

Ranon took a deep breath and felt his body tremble as he breathed out. “Wouldn’t be hard to do. We’ve had so little for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to do. Paying it back is a different thing altogether.”

“Shops and supplies,” Gray said. “Forage for the animals if the harvest falls short this year.”

“Food for us if the crops fall short this year,” Ranon said. Although with so many Blood dead in the past two years, having people starve was less likely. Having the crops rot in the fields because there weren’t enough hands to harvest them was a possibility, even if the Blood used Craft and drained their power every day to get the harvest in.

“We’ll have to find the right kinds of buildings for the shops Daemon wants.”

“We’ll find them.”

Ranon closed his eyes. A music shop like the one he’d seen in Halaway. A room where the Tradition Keepers like his grandfather could teach openly what had been forbidden for so many years. And Sadi’s gift . . .

“It’s not the same,” Daemon had said, “but the music of Scelt has a complex simplicity that I think is similar to Shalador’s music. At least as I remember it. You might enjoy it.”

The music crystals and the brass stand. Such a simple thing, really, and not so simple. Like Sadi casually pointing out some folk music from Dharo that could be played on a flute.

Sharing customs. Sharing hopes.

Kind of funny, actually. Now that the Shaladorans could honor their own traditions, it didn’t sting to look beyond his own people and consider what other traditions might have to offer.

A quick scan of the messages that had arrived that afternoon confirmed that nothing required his immediate attention, so Daemon went up to Jaenelle’s sitting room. When she marked her place in her book and set it aside, he took that as an invitation. He picked her up, then sat down in the stuffed chair with her on his lap.

“Our guests are on their way home?” She ran her fingers through his hair, a soothing caress.

“They are.” He called in Jared’s journal and held it up for her to see.

“They didn’t want it?” Disappointment filled her voice and eyes.

“They want to preserve the original and also be able to share the contents. Cassidy sent a note with the journal asking if the Queen’s gift could be extended to having a couple of copies made so that people could read Jared’s account of his journey with Lia.”

She studied him. “That doesn’t sound like an extravagant request.”

“It’s not. It’s also not a practical request.”

“Ah. And what would my darling Prince consider a practical request?”

He shrugged. “A thousand copies would be a good start.”

She laughed. “What are you going to do with a thousand copies?”

“For one thing, sell them in the merchant’s shop I’m opening in Eyota. They can buy the book there, then go over to the coffee shop I’m also opening and read while enjoying a cup or two of their favorite beverage.”

She hooted. “How many shops did Gray and Ranon talk you into opening?”

He laughed with her. “Four. Plus a loan the court can use to help the people start rebuilding their lives and villages.”

Then his laughter faded. He cuddled Jaenelle, needing that comfort.

“What’s troubling you?” she asked.

“Did I do the right thing?”

“How big a loan did you give them?” she asked.

“Five million gold marks.”

She laughed softly. “That explains why they both looked like they couldn’t remember how to breathe when you brought them back from the village and couldn’t string words together in a coherent sentence all through dinner.”

“Jaenelle, did I do the right thing?”

“Why would you ask that?

“Because Dena Nehele is going to fall.”

She rested a hand over his heart. “Daemon, pretend you never heard that. Act as if you’d never heard that. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“In that case, I’m going to talk to Lord Burle about doing a bit of work on my new properties in Eyota.”

“You could also offer those properties as training ground if there were any youngsters in that village who wanted to learn the carpenter’s trade and Lord Burle was willing to teach them.”

“I could, could I?”

She gave him a kiss that was warm and sweet. Then she grinned. “Yes, my darling Prince, you could.”