Heir to the Shadows

Mon."
    Saetan felt his body relax. "Why do you call her 'cousin'?"
    "Gabrielle and I belong to the same clan. Grand mammy Teele is the matriarch. She also adopted Jaenelle." Chaosti's smile turned feral. "So you are kin of my kin—which makes you Titian's kin as well."
    Saetan wheezed.
    Khardeen approached them. "If we want anything to eat, I think we're going to have to fight for it," he said to Chaosti.
    "I'll accept any challenge a male wants to make," Chaosti snapped.
    "The girls are between us and the food."
    Chaosti sighed. "Challenging another male would be easier."
    "Safer, too."
    "Gentlemen," Beale said. "Refreshments are also being served in the formal drawing room."
    "Have you ever heard that red-haired witches have hot tempers?" Khardeen asked as he and Chaosti followed the other males into the formal drawing room.
    "There are no red-haired witches among the Dea al Mon," Chaosti replied, "and they all have hot tempers."
    "Ah. Well, then."
    The door closed behind them.
    Saetan jumped when a hand squeezed his shoulder.
    "You all right?" Andulvar asked quietly.
    "Am I still standing up?"
    "You're vertical."
    "Thank the Darkness." Saetan looked around. He and Andulvar were the only ones left in the great hall. "Let's hide in my study."
    "Agreed."
    They drank two glasses of yarbarah and finally relaxed when an hour had passed without any shrieks, bangs, or booms.
    "Mother Night." Saetan wearily striped off his jacket and slumped in one of the comfortable, oversized chairs.
    "By my count," Andulvar said as he refilled the glasses, "including the waif, you've got ten adolescent witches in one room—Queens every one of them, and two besides Jaenelle who are natural Black Widows."
    "Karla and Gabrielle. I noticed." Saetan closed his eyes.
    "In the other room, you have seven young males, four of whom are Warlord Princes."
    "I noticed that, too. It makes a very interesting First Circle, don't you think?"
    Andulvar muttered in Eyrien. Saetan chose not to translate it.
    "Where do you think the others went?" Andulvar asked.
    "If Mephis and Prothvar have any sense at all, they're hiding somewhere. Sylvia is no doubt passing out nut cakes and sandwiches. Cassandra?" Saetan shrugged. "I don't think she was prepared for this."
    "Were you?"
    "Shit." When someone tapped on the study door, Saetan thought about sitting up straighter, then decided not to bother. "Come."
    A smiling Khardeen entered and placed sixteen sealed envelopes on the blackwood table. "I told Jaenelle I'd drop these off to you. We're going out to meet the wolves and the unicorn."
    "Finished devouring the kitchen already?" Saetan asked as he picked up one of the envelopes.
    "At least until dinner."
    "Plant your feet, Warlord," Saetan said, stopping Khardeen's hasty retreat. He broke the formal seal, called in his
    half-moon glasses, and read the message. Then he stared at Khary. "This is from Lady Duana."
    "Mmm," Khary said, rocking on his heels. "Morghann's grandmother."
    "The Queen of Scelt is Morghann's grandmother?"
    Khary stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Mmm."
    Saetan placed his glasses carefully on the table. "Let's skip the hunt and just tree the prey. Do all these letters say the same thing?"
    "What's that, High Lord?" Khary asked innocently.
    "All of these letters give permission for an extended visit?"
    "So I gathered."
    "Define 'extended visit.'"
    "Not long. Just the rest of the summer."
    Saetan couldn't speak. Wasn't sure what he'd say if he could.
    "Everything is being taken care of," Khary said soothingly. "Lord Beale and Lady Helene are taking care of the room assignments right now, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
    "Noth—" Saetan's voice cracked.
    "And it is a reasonable compromise, High Lord. You get to spend time with her and we get to spend time with her. Besides, the Hall is the only place big enough for all of us. And, as my uncle pointed out, having all of us in one place would surely drive a man to drink, and that being the case, he'd rather it be you than him."
    Saetan made a weak gesture of dismissal and waited until the door was safely closed before bracing his head in his hands. "Mother Night."
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    1 / Kaeleer
    Saetan steepled his fingers and stared at Sylvia. "I beg your pardon?"
    "You have to talk to Tersa," Sylvia said again.
    Damn her. Why was she being so insistent?
    With difficulty, he leashed his temper. It wasn't Sylvia's fault. She had no way of knowing how he and Tersa were