Heir to the Shadows

him when he was angry, so she decided to be blunt. "Why are you bothering to teach her the Hourglass's ways when she's still untrained?"
    "I never said she was untrained," Saetan replied, starting to pace again. "I said she needed help with basic Craft."
    "Until a witch has the basics, she can't do much else."
    "Don't bet on it."
    Saetan kept pacing, but it wasn't out of anger. Luthvian watched him and decided she didn't like seeing the High Lord nervous. She didn't like it at all. "What haven't you told me?"
    "Everything. I wanted you to meet her first."
    "She's got a lot of raw power for someone who doesn't wear Jewels."
    "She wears Jewels. Believe me, Luthvian, Jaenelle wears Jewels."
    "Then what—"
    A loud whoop sent them hurrying to her workroom.
    Saetan pushed the door open and froze. Luthvian started to push past him but ended up clinging to his arm for support.
    The table was slowly revolving clockwise and also rotating as if it were on a spit. There were now a dozen wooden boxes, some flush to the table's top, others floating above it, and all of them were spinning slowly. Seven brightly colored wooden balls were performing an intricate dance around the boxes. And every single object was maintaining its position to that revolving, rotating table.
    With a lot of effort, Luthvian thought she might be able to control something that intricate, but it should have taken years to acquire that kind of skill. You just didn't start with one ball you couldn't move and end up with this in a matter of minutes.
    Saetan let out a groaning laugh.
    "I think I'm getting the hang of this thread-to-object stuff," Jaenelle said as she glanced over her shoulder and
    grinned at them. Then she yelped as everything began to wobble and fall.
    Luthvian extended her hand at the same moment Saetan extended his. She froze the smaller objects in place. He caught the table.
    "Damn and blast!" Jaenelle plopped on air like a puppet with cut strings and glowered at the table, boxes, and balls.
    Laughing, Saetan righted the table. "Never mind, witch-child. If you could do it perfectly on the first try, you wouldn't have much fun practicing, would you?"
    "That's true," Jaenelle said with bouncing enthusiasm.
    Luthvian vanished the boxes and balls, trying not to laugh at Saetan's immediate dismay. What did he think the girl would do? Try to manipulate an entire roomful of furniture?
    Apparently so, because they were involved in a friendly argument about which room Jaenelle could use for practice.
    "Definitely not the reception rooms," Saetan said. He sounded like a man who was desperately trying to believe the bog beneath his feet was firm ground. "There are empty rooms in the Hall and there's plenty of old furniture in the attics. Start with that. Please?"
    Saetan saying please?
    Jaenelle gave him a look of exasperated amusement. "All right. But only so you won't get into trouble with Beale and Helene."
    Saetan let out a heartfelt sigh.
    Jaenelle laughed and turned to Luthvian. "Thank you, Luthvian."
    "You're welcome," Luthvian said weakly. Were all the lessons going to be like this? She wasn't sure how she felt about that. "We'll have your next lesson in two days," she added as they left the workroom.
    Jaenelle wandered down the hall and studied the paintings. Was she really interested in the art or did she simply understand the adult need for private conversation after dealing with her?
    "Can you survive it?" Saetan asked quietly.
    Luthvian leaned toward him. "Is it always like this?"
    "Oh, no," Saetan said dryly. "She was on her best behavior today. It's usually much worse."
    Luthvian stifled a laugh. It was fun seeing him thrown off stride. He seemed so accessible, so ...
    The laughter died. He wasn't accessible. He was the High Lord, the Prince of the Darkness. And he had no heart.
    Roxie came out of the student workroom. Luthvian wasn't sure what the girl had done to her dress, but there was a lot more cleavage showing than there'd been a short while ago.
    Roxie looked at Saetan and licked her upper lip.
    Although he was trying to hide it, Luthvian felt his revulsion and the beginning of hot anger. A moment later, those feelings were swept away by a bone-chilling cold that couldn't possibly come from a male.
    Not even him.
    "Leave him alone," Jaenelle said, her eyes fixed on Roxie.
    There was something too feral, too predatory about the way Jaenelle approached Roxie. And that cold was rising from depths Luthvian didn't even want to