Shalador's Lady

don’t you? He knew the answer to that. As strong as she was, as powerful as she was, and as fierce as she was, Surreal did not want to be the one who asked Jaenelle Angelline that question.

    He waited until the midday meal. Surreal and Rainier had . . . fled, to be accurate, leaving him to ask what seemed a simple question.
    “Do you know Lady Kermilla?” he asked as he cut into his beef.
    “Why do you ask?”
    Her voice—that midnight, sepulchral, lightning-filled voice—ripped icy claws down his spine.
    And not just his spine, Daemon thought as he put down his knife and fork. There were ice crystals on his food, and the water in the glass was frozen solid. And when he looked up, the sapphire eyes staring at him were filled with cold rage.
    Mother Night.
    “I asked a simple question, Lady,” he said, keeping his own voice quiet and respectful.
    “She is someone who will never be a guest in this house if you want me to continue living here,” Witch replied.
    Had Surreal guessed this would be Jaenelle’s reaction? A little more warning would have been appreciated.
    “Hell’s fire, Jaenelle, who is she?”
    “She’s the Queen who took Cassie’s court.”
    “Then . . .” Oh, shit.
    “Why are you asking about Kermilla, Prince?”
    The look in her eyes and the lethal purr in her voice made him put a double Black shield around himself before he said, “She’s in Dena Nehele, staying at the Grayhaven estate.”

    Daemon removed his shoes and socks. He checked one foot, then the other. He didn’t respond to the knock on his study door, but the door opened anyway. Jaenelle walked in, carrying a large tray.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding contrite.
    “Counting my toes.”
    A pause. “They’re all there, aren’t they?”
    “Yes.” Thank the Darkness.
    She set the tray down on the low table in front of the sofa, then sat close to him. But not next to him.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually lose my temper like that.”
    No, she didn’t. Her response was so fast and so fierce . . . Well, even a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince can have the shit scared out of him—especially when one moment he was sitting at a large blackwood dining table and the next he was surrounded by a table, chairs, dishes, silverware, glasses, and food that had all been reduced to a pile of uniform pieces no bigger than grains of rice.
    It wasn’t the table exploding that upset him. It was the uniformity of the debris that was proof of the depth of her rage. And that rage, and whatever blend of power she had been channeling through Twilight’s Dawn at that moment, had been strong enough to crack his outermost Black shield.
    That was something he needed to talk to Lucivar about. Soon.
    “You were wrapped in a double Black shield,” Jaenelle said. “I didn’t think you would get hurt.”
    “That’s not the point.” Now that he’d gotten over the shock of it, her slash of temper was starting to piss him off. But he leashed that because there had to be a reason for this. Jaenelle didn’t explode like that as some kind of twisted entertainment. And the strength of her reaction got him thinking.
    He rubbed his forehead to ease the headache building behind his eyes, then shifted and turned so he was close to her.
    “Queens lose men or courts to rivals all the time. And even though Cassidy is a friend and losing her court did leave her bruised, that doesn’t equal your rage. If Cassidy doesn’t have enough spine to tell Kermilla to take a piss in the wind, then she’d better acquire some. From everything Surreal and Rainier told me, her court is becoming a solid team committed to their Queen.”
    “All of them?” Jaenelle asked softly.
    “Except Theran Grayhaven.” He brushed fingertips over her shoulder. “Jaenelle, what aren’t you telling me?”
    Those sapphire eyes studied him. “There is nothing you can do about this. Neither of us have any right to interfere in this. Is that understood?”
    Oh, he didn’t like the sound of that. “Maybe.”
    “I spun a tangled web after Cassidy discovered the treasure in the Grayhaven attics. I wasn’t going to share what I saw with anyone, but I owe you that as an explanation for how I reacted.”
    Sweet Darkness. A tangled web. Dreams and visions.
    “All right.”
    “Dena Nehele is going to fall.”
    He closed his eyes. Why now, when they had survived everything Dorothea SaDiablo had done to them? “Because Kermilla went