Tangled Webs

on, he understood it was female and he would just ride it out.” She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a moment. “I finally realized he left…. It wasn’t just because of what was done to him when he was tortured in Terreille. He really needed to go, to step away from the living Realms.”
    “Yes,” Daemon said softly. “He really needed to go.”
    He watched her eyes fill. Watched one tear roll down her cheek.
    “We were friends before we were lovers.” She wiped the tear and sniffled. “I miss my friend. More than the lover, I miss my friend. I wrote him letters on some of those long nights. Just newsy things about Halaway or the boys.”
    “But you never sent them.”
    “No.”
    He held out a hand. “Give them to me.”
    “Oh, no, I—”
    “Give them to me. I can’t tell you that he’ll welcome them or that he’ll read them. But I’ll offer them.”
    She opened a drawer in the rolltop desk and took out a packet tied with a rose-colored ribbon. “There are a couple of letters from the boys, too. Maybe…”
    He took the packet and vanished it before she could change her mind. “He did love you, Sylvia. He still does. But he’s not coming back.”
    “I know.” It was a trembling smile, but it was still a smile.
    “Well, I’d best gather the furry children and—”
    “No.” Sylvia made a face. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about your father. It’s your mother we need to discuss.”

    Daemon studied the fronts of the two cottages, then slowly circled the buildings, checking to see that everything was well tended. Saetan had purchased one cottage fourteen years ago as a home for Tersa. Daemon had purchased the neighboring cottage for Manny, the servant who had been his caretaker when he had been an enslaved prize living in Dorothea SaDiablo’s court. More than that, Manny had raised him, had loved him, had been the one good constant in his childhood.
    When he immigrated to Kaeleer, he brought Jazen and Manny with him, not willing to leave them to the mercy of the Queens in Terreille. Jazen remained as his valet. Manny, after a few weeks at the Hall, wanted a place of her own—and work of her own. He bought her the cottage next to Tersa’s, and Manny gradually took over as housekeeper and cook for Tersa and Allista, the journey-maid Black Widow who was Tersa’s current companion.
    He rounded the corner and stopped, counting silently to see how long it took the young couple locked in an ardent embrace to become aware of his psychic scent and, therefore, his presence.
    He reached twenty before the boy’s body jerked with awareness and the couple jumped away from each other.
    He stared at the girl first, letting instinct rule temper. Her embarrassment came from who had caught them kissing, but he didn’t pick up any of the bitch-pride feeling that came from witches who enjoyed putting males in a compromising position. And the shy smile she gave the boy before bolting out of the yard made him feel easy enough about her to relax about the boy. This wasn’t a conquest; this was young love. Most likely, Manny would have shooed the girl out of the yard—after giving the couple enough time for a few unchaperoned kisses.
    As he walked toward the boy, he wondered if Manny had taken up her other occupation—village matchmaker.
    “Prince Sadi,” the boy stammered.
    Sleeveless undershirt, dirt-smeared and sweaty. Wheelbarrow, hoe, rake, shovel. No doubt one of the youths who earned a few coins by helping out with the heavier chores.
    “We were just…I was just…” Flustered, the boy looked at the tools and the ground as if an answer would suddenly appear.
    “I noticed.” He smiled, letting dry amusement clearly show.
    “The next time you want to kiss the girl in a public place, stay aware of what is around you. And try a little less tongue next time. Never hurts to have the girl wanting more than you’re giving. Especially in these circumstances.”
    The boy looked at him, shocked delight lighting his face because the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan—and more importantly Jaenelle Angelline’s husband—had offered sexual advice.
    Suppressing the urge to sigh, and feeling much older than he had felt when he woke up that morning, Daemon walked to the back door and knocked.
    When Allista opened the door, she didn’t seem overly anxious, but he did pick up an undercurrent of concern as he stepped into the kitchen.
    “Tersa is up in the attic,” Allista said.