Shalador's Lady

They hadn’t always liked it, but they knew they could trust it.
    Using Craft, Saetan floated the plate of food over to the bench where Gray sat, drinking water and staring at the flagstones.
    “Do you want to talk or listen?” Saetan asked.
    Gray shrugged.
    Not a surprising response. Now that the anger had dimmed, unhappiness was settling in.
    “Everything is supposed to be fine now,” Gray muttered.
    “In other words, Cassidy is tired of you being angry with her.”
    “Yeah. So I’m not supposed to be angry anymore.” Gray’s hand tightened around the glass. “Well, I am angry.”
    “You’re entitled to your anger,” Saetan said quietly. “And it’s your choice how long you hold on to it. But people make mistakes. Most of the time, mistakes can be forgiven. Some mistakes do enough harm to break what two people feel for each other. Sometimes the anger doesn’t go away, and that means you need to walk away.”
    “Walk away from Cassie?” Gray looked shocked. “No!”
    “Then you have to accept that she made an error in judgment.”
    “Because she doesn’t care enough about us to take care of herself.” Saetan drank the yarbarah and let chilling silence fill the courtyard. Gray eyed him and wisely offered no other comment.
    “She cares, Prince,” Saetan said. “If you think otherwise, then you haven’t been paying attention.”
    Gray hung his head. “I know she does. I just don’t understand why she let the Craft go on so long that she hurt herself.”
    “The whip that drives Cassie was shaped before she arrived in Dena Nehele. It left scars.”
    Gray raised his head and looked at him.
    No , Saetan thought, not Gray. Jared Blaed . Two sides of one person. Gray was the man who loved Cassie and gardens. Jared Blaed was the Warlord Prince committed to his Queen.
    “Who?” Jared Blaed asked too softly.
    “She’s of no importance,” Saetan replied. “Neither are the men who chose her over Cassidy. What is important is that the hurt still festers inside Cassidy.”
    “She’s trying to prove to us that she has something to offer?”
    “I think so. That’s why a simple thing that Queens do all the time in Kaeleer almost turned into a tragic error.”
    “Just a mistake,” Gray said softly.
    “Yes.”
    “Because she cares so much.”
    “Yes.”
    Gray sighed.
    Crisis over, Saetan thought, draining the goblet. Until the next time. “Eat. Then go home and smooth things over with Cassie.”
    Gray gave him a sideways look. Assessing. Measuring. “It would smooth things over a lot faster if Cassie and I could have sex.”
    Saetan said dryly, “Boyo, we’re pretty sure Marian is pregnant, and she’s very queasy today. Daemonar senses there is something wrong with his mama and is acting out, and Lucivar is ready to chew stone trying to deal with his misbehaving boy. Today is not the day to ask him about sex.”
    A pause. “If we had your permission . . .”
    He laughed softly. “Not a chance, puppy. Lucivar had good reasons for setting firm boundaries for what you and Cassie can and can’t do, and he’ll be the one who decides when you’re ready for the next stage.” It didn’t sound like Gray needed as much emotional protection as he’d needed a few weeks ago, but that didn’t mean he had the maturity yet to be a Queen’s lover.
    Still, the fact that the boy was starting to question those boundaries was a good sign that Gray was growing into a healthy man instead of remaining a wounded boy. Knowing how firmly the leash needed to be held while a young Warlord Prince made the transition to adult male, Saetan added, “And from where I’m sitting, boyo, those reasons still apply.”
    “Oh.” Gray looked disappointed, but only for a moment. Then he gave his attention to the plate floating beside him and ate every bit of food with a young man’s enthusiasm.
    Vae appeared on the edge of the courtyard. *Gray? Gray! Draca says it is time to go home. The High Lord will open the Gate for you. Then he needs to sleep because this is his sleep time.*
    Gray sprang to his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to keep you from your rest.”
    Saetan hesitated. In some ways, what he was about to do was a small thing, a simple choice. But the offer, and all of its underlying significance, would ripple through Dena Nehele if it was accepted. “You can call me Uncle Saetan, if you like.”
    The words were absorbed. The significance was understood. And one more inner layer of defense