The Shadow Queen

shrugged. “What he wants for his people shouldn’t be dismissed. And it took balls to come here.”
    “Yes, it did.” Saetan swirled the yarbarah in the ravenglass goblet. “He doesn’t fit. His Jewels are dark enough and his personality is strong enough, but he doesn’t fit in with us.”
    “He looks into Jaenelle’s eyes and doesn’t see who she is,” Daemon said.
    Saetan nodded. “Yes. That was always the test when it came to accepting someone into the Dark Court, even for an apprenticeship. If the person couldn’t look into her eyes and know , he would rub the entire First Circle the wrong way and their tempers would start sharpening for an attack.”
    “Fortunately, Theran won’t have to deal often with anyone who served in the Dark Court.”
    “Except his new Queen,” Saetan said.
    Daemon blew out a breath. “Except the new Queen.”
    “You and Jaenelle. Will you be all right this evening?”
    “We’ll be all right.”
    “Will you be all right?”
    He smiled. “Yes, Father, I’ll be all right.”
    “In that case, I’ll return to the Keep and see Theran back to Terreille.”
    They found Jaenelle—and Vae—waiting for them in the great hall. Theran joined them a minute later.
    “Thank you for your help and your hospitality,” Theran said.
    The words were properly spoken, but Daemon had the impression that Theran would have said anything if it got him out of the Hall.
    “Witch-child,” Saetan said, kissing Jaenelle’s cheek.
    Daemon felt more than saw a flash of understanding between them before Saetan shifted to him and put a hand against his face.
    A different kind of understanding, an acknowledgment that the darkest feelings that lived inside him were not unique. He’d done something with those feelings no other male had done, but he knew now that he could temper those feelings when he chose to, could soften them to be an enticement rather than a weapon.
    *Massage, not sex tonight,* Saetan said.
    Right.
    A pat on the shoulder and his father walked out the door with Grayhaven.
    *Bye, Theran!* Vae said, bouncing in some kind of tail-wagging happy dance. *Bye!*
    As soon as Beale closed the door,Vae looked at both of them. *He is male and foolish. He needs me. When he comes for the Queen, I will go live with him.*
    She trotted out of the great hall, leaving him and Jaenelle staring at the door.
    “We could make it part of the bargain,” Daemon said.
    “How so?” Jaenelle asked.
    “If he wants the Queen, he has to take the Sceltie.”
    “Oh, Hell’s fire.”
    It didn’t occur to him until much later, when he was cuddled up with Jaenelle in her bed, that Beale hadn’t thought there was anything odd about the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and the former Queen of Ebon Askavi sitting on the floor of the great hall laughing like fools.

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    CHAPTER 8
    TERREILLE
    T heran stared at the ninety-nine Warlord Princes and wished one of them would sneeze, cough, fart—anything to break the stone-hard silence.
    “That’s it,” he said. “That’s the bargain.”
    “One choice,” Ranon, the Shalador Warlord Prince, said. “And if she turns out to be a bad choice, she’ll destroy what’s left of us.”
    I know. “I don’t believe Daemon Sadi would recommend a Queen who would be a danger to us.”
    “Sadi hated Terreille,” Ranon said. “He might see this as an opportunity to crush a Territory completely.”
    “Sadi hated everything to do with Dorothea SaDiablo and what she was doing to the Realm,” Theran said, raising his voice to be heard above the mutters.
    “That may be true,”Archerr said. “But you said it was his wife who went and talked to this Queen.”
    *And you’ve said damn little about the wife,* Talon said on a psychic thread aimed directly at him.
    *Nothing much to say,* Theran replied.
    Talon shifted in his chair. The mutters faded as the other Warlord Princes focused their attention on him.
    “Here’s the thing,” Talon said. “Jared trusted Daemon Sadi. So did Blaed. They knew him. He gave them some training when they were slaves, and helped them survive. Yeah, that was a few centuries ago, and maybe he’s changed—maybe he jumps now when his wife snaps her fingers. But the terms he set tell me he gave some thought to this request. They won’t be all that easy for us to meet, and these ‘inspections’ don’t sit well with me, I can tell you that. Even so, I think we have to take this chance.”
    “Forgive me, Prince Talon,” Ranon said, his tone respectful, “but you’re demon-dead. You have less to lose than the rest of us.”
    “I