The Shadow Queen

into a formal crest.
    “There are drawers on the sides,” Saetan said.
    One drawer contained pens and ink. The other contained sticks of wax and three seals. One was a flower, one was the crest of her initial, and the other . . .
    “Geoffrey and I did a little digging in the library and found the Grayhaven crest that had been used during the time when the Gray Ladies ruled. We had the seal made for you.”
    “But I’m not a Grayhaven,” Cassidy protested.
    “I was told it would be appropriate for you to use that crest for your formal correspondence.”
    Who told you? She didn’t have to ask. There was only one person Saetan would obey without question. She didn’t know why Jaenelle thought it was appropriate for her to use that particular crest, but she wouldn’t argue.
    “Thank you.”
    “A couple more things.” He pointed to four large crates. “Two of those contain primers in basic Protocol. The other two crates contain the more advanced study of Protocol.”
    “Won’t they be insulted if I bring those?”
    “They’ll be needed. Also, Prince Sadi has set aside some funds as a Queen’s gift.” He held up a hand, silencing her protest before it could form. “There are things that you will need that you may not be able to find in Terreille. Recognizing that you may hesitate to ask for those things from a people who will have little to spare, Daemon is willing to bear the cost.”
    “How much?” Cassidy asked. “It would help to know so that I’m not asking for anything unreasonable.”
    “If he feels you’re overspending, I’m sure Daemon will let you know,” Saetan replied mildly. “You don’t have an easy task, Cassidy. You’ll be the only one who knows the Old Ways and the Protocol that goes along with those ways. You’ll be trying to help a people remember who they were. Accept the help we can give you.”
    She felt the blood draining out of her head. “I’ll be the only one who knows Protocol?”
    “Well.” Saetan looked a little guilty. “You and Vae.”
    She frowned, puzzled. “Who is Vae?”

    *Hi,Theran! Hi!*
    Vae bounced in front of him, doing her happy dance.
    *I have my special brushes, so you can brush me properly. And the clippers for my nails. Do you have Healers for kindred? In Scelt we have Healers for kindred. They heal other animals too, but they trained to take care of us. Maybe one of them will have to come and teach your Healer how to properly clip nails.*
    He’d fought. He’d proved his worth as a leader. He wore a Green Jewel. He was the dominant living male in Dena Nehele.
    And every time he was around these people, he seemed to stand there with his mouth hanging open while they ran right over him.
    *I will tell Jaenelle you are here,Vae said. *She and the new Queen are doing fussing things. You cannot eat until they are done doing the fussing things.*
    He waited until he was sure the Sceltie was out of the room and out of hearing. Then he turned to Daemon and said, “No. The dog is not coming with us.”
    “Yes, she is,” Daemon said in a voice that was pleasant in a way that liquefied the bones in Theran’s legs—and not in a good way. “She knows Craft, which she will not hesitate to tell you, and she knows Protocol, which she will not hesitate to tell you. And she’s decided to go with you.”
    “What will it take to keep her here?” Theran asked.
    “A lot more than you can afford. Accept it, Prince. You’re taking the Sceltie. Or you’re leaving without a Queen.”
    “That’s blackmail!”
    “Oooooh, that’s a harsh word.” Daemon smiled. “But I won’t quibble about it.”
    “I suppose you want a report on her too,” Theran said, not bothering to hide the bitterness he and the other Warlord Princes felt about these reports. They were too close a reminder of the “reports” that had been sent to Dorothea SaDiablo—and the people who had disappeared one night after those reports were sent.
    “No, that isn’t required,” Daemon said, “but Vae has worked out how you’ll do it.”
    “How I’ll—”
    “You’ll need to remember the basin of warm water so that you can clean the ink off her paw after she’s told you what to write and puts her mark on the bottom of the page.”
    “After she—” He gave up trying to form words and just sputtered. He’d avoided capture, avoided being leashed, avoided every damn snare that had been set for him, only to find himself chained to a dog.
    “Which side of the triangle are you taking?” Daemon asked.
    As a change of topic, it wasn’t any better. He felt some bitterness