The Shadow Queen

and now would matter. Really matter. So he took a moment to choose his words.
    “Marian comes to my bed every night, but some nights it feels different. Occasionally I’m in bed before her, and when I see her walking toward the bed, watch her get into bed, I feel . . . different. I don’t have the words for it, Daemon. I just feel different. More . . . dangerous. It’s not like the rut. When this happens, I’m still there. My brain is still there. But something changes inside me, and I don’t see her the same way.
    “I don’t know what she sees in my face, in my eyes. Sometimes when she gets into bed, she’s nervous but excited. Aroused. And sometimes she’s scared. Of me. Of whatever I am when that feeling fills me.”
    Their eyes met. Held.
    “What do you do?” Daemon asked softly.
    “On the nights when she’s nervous and excited, the sex is . . . more. It has a flavor it doesn’t have any other time.”
    “And on the other nights?”
    “I’ll kiss her once, because I need to. And I’ll hold her while she sleeps. But I won’t have sex with her. Even if I’m ready to burst and she says she’s willing, I won’t have sex with her when I can smell her fear.”
    Lucivar took a breath and blew it out. Not an easy thing to talk about, even with a brother he loved.
    Not something he’d ever admitted to anyone before.
    “Want some advice?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Some night soon, when nothing is riding you, when you’re feeling easy, invite Jaenelle to your bed. To the bed that’s yours, not hers.”
    “To prove that the Sadist won’t always be there?”
    “Oh, no. No, Daemon, the Sadist will rise in a heartbeat to defend your most private bit of territory. But I don’t think he’ll hurt Jaenelle. He’ll play games. That’s what he does. But he won’t hurt her.”
    He felt a change inside Daemon, pieces that would never be completely whole settling back into place.
    “I’ll take the yarbarah to Dena Nehele,” he said. “I’d like to get a look around, and this is a good excuse. And I’d like to get a look at this demon-dead Warlord Prince.”
    “Which means you won’t be back until later tonight.”
    “I’ll let you know when I get back to the Keep.”
    “All right. Anything I can do here?”
    Lucivar gave Daemon a lazy, arrogant smile. “You feeling brave?”
    Daemon groaned.
    “It’s market day. I was going to entertain the little beast for a couple of hours so Marian could go down to Riada alone.”
    Daemon groaned louder, but this groan sounded less sincere.
    “Fine. All right,” Daemon said. “For Marian.”
    “Of course.”
    Daemon laughed, and the sound had Lucivar breathing easy again.
    “Will you be all right going to Terreille?” Daemon asked.
    “I’ll be fine.”
    Daemon hesitated. “You’ll shield?”
    Lucivar vanished the two boxes of yarbarah. “Of course. I have to set a good example.” Slipping the hunting knife out of its sheath, he studied the blade for a moment before deciding it was a sufficient weapon to wear openly. “Is Surreal still pissed off at me for chewing on her because she didn’t shield before she went into that spooky house?”
    “She doesn’t automatically swear anymore when she hears your name, so I think she’s getting over it.”
    Lucivar grinned. “In that case, it’s time to get some other woman riled up.”

TERREILLE
    She had to move. Had to work. Move. Work. Keep moving.
    Whenever she stopped for a moment, her hands throbbed in time with her heart, and she knew that wasn’t good. But the words were there, waiting to cut, jab, tear. The pain in her back, arms, shoulders, and hands kept the words at bay. Formed a wall that the other hurt couldn’t breach.
    So she kept working, kept moving, kept the words at bay.

    “How long can she keep that up?” Ranon asked, sounding worried.
    Theran shook his head as he watched Cassidy. As they all watched Cassidy. Since early this morning, the First Circle had been gathering on the terrace to watch their Queen tear into the gardens.
    So she got up feeling pissy. If she hadn’t been eavesdropping, she would have had a good ride last night and would have been feeling just fine this morning.
    But she was out there digging in that damn garden so everyone would know little Cassidy was feeling pouty.
    She’d snapped at Ranon when he’d gone out to talk to her, told him flat out to leave her alone. And when he, Theran, had approached her, she had screamed at him. Screamed. Scared Gray so much the boy had been hovering around the terrace ever since.
    She’ll stop when she