Twilight's Dawn

deadly. Rainier wasn’t stupid. He knew who would be waiting for him if he got maudlin enough to commit suicide. The boy thought he had troubles now? Wait until Saetan got done explaining things to the fool—especially a fool who had helped himself become demon-dead sooner than he should have.
    But it might explain Rainier buying a gift he really couldn’t afford. And Lucivar needed to be aware of that possibility.
    “What’s the state of your finances?” Daemon asked.
    Rainier blinked. Then color stained his cheeks. “Frankly, Prince Sadi, that’s none of your business.”
    “I just made it my business. Do you want to find out how fast I can acquire every scrap of private information about you, or are you going to answer the question?”
    Rainier squirmed. “I’m doing all right. I have some savings.”
    “Your salary will continue, paid quarterly as usual,” Daemon said.
    “For what?” Rainier let out a pained laugh. “There’s not much I can do.”
    “I have some thoughts about that, but right now you can make some effort to heal.” Daemon put enough ice in his voice to have Rainier’s eyes fill with wariness. “I’ll take care of the rent on your apartment in Amdarh, as well as any other necessary expenses like food.”
    “I don’t need your charity, and I don’t want your pity,” Rainier snapped.
    “You’re not getting either, so shut up.” But it was becoming clear that someone was giving Rainier heavy doses of both, and those things could become more crippling than a damaged leg.
    Daemon huffed out a sigh. “You’re going to have to come to terms with what you can do physically and what you can’t. I can’t help you with that, but I can make things easier for a while so that you can concentrate on healing. You’re a good Warlord Prince, Rainier, and a good escort. Too good to lose because you’re having trouble finding your balance.”
    Another pained laugh. “That’s a good way of putting it.”
    “After Winsol, you’ll be spending a few weeks in Ebon Rih with Lucivar.” And may the Darkness have mercy on you. “So I suggest you visit your family in Dharo and enjoy the festivities.”
    “Am I dismissed?” Rainier asked, his voice a shade too polite.
    “Yes, you’re dismissed. Happy Winsol, Rainier.”
    Rainier pushed himself to his feet, then leaned on the cane. “Happy Winsol, Prince.”
    Daemon suspected that he and Rainier were both wishing each other a lot of things at that moment, and “happy” wasn’t one of them.
    He waited until he was sure he’d given Rainier enough time to leave the Hall. Then he left his study—and didn’t have to go far, since Beale was waiting for him.
    “Lady Karla requests your presence,” Beale said.
    He’d known when the Queen of Glacia had arrived. It was hard to miss that particular psychic scent—and hard to miss the presence of a Gray-Jeweled witch in his home.
    “She’s waiting for you in her suite,” Beale added.
    “And Lady Angelline?”
    “The Lady has gone to the Keep. She intends to be back in time for dinner, but said if she was late, you should start without her.”
    Not likely, but he didn’t need to say it, since it was already understood by the household staff.
    Daemon made his way through the Hall’s corridors to the section that held the family’s suites of rooms. When Jaenelle was fifteen, the coven came to spend a summer, reuniting with the special friend they thought had been lost. The coven—and the boyos who also came for that afternoon tea and never quite went home again—had been given suites. Even now, when those Ladies were the Queens of their own Territories, those suites were still theirs, a second home and a place where they still gathered as friends and Sisters.
    Karla’s suite looked out over Jaenelle’s courtyard. He knocked on Karla’s door and didn’t get an answer. His hand hovered over the door’s handle, but he tried another approach before reacting as if something was wrong.
    *Karla?* he called on a psychic thread.
    *Come on through,* she replied. *I’m down in the courtyard.*
    He entered her sitting room and hurried to the glass doors that led out to the balcony. He paused then, reassured when he saw her standing near the drained fountain, her face raised to the sun. Moving more leisurely, he went down the nearest set of stairs and joined her.
    “Kiss kiss,” Karla said, giving him a wicked smile.
    Raising the hand she offered, he kissed her knuckles.
    “Darling,