The Queen's Bargain Page 34

  Surreal looked around. “We’ll all be safe, but you’ll be reminded over and over again of how alone you are in this place.”

  “Everything has a price,” Witch said quietly.

  “You love him that much?”

  “Daemon is worth whatever price has to be paid. That was true when I walked among the living, and it’s just as true now.” A beat of silence. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “There are other people in easy reach who will listen if you need to talk and who can offer advice if you ask. I don’t think you’ll need to come here again.”

  The light disappeared. The air turned viciously cold. But those feelings passed in a heartbeat and Surreal found herself standing in the sunken garden, staring at the statue of a woman with an achingly familiar face.

  “Jaenelle,” she whispered. “Ah, sugar. I promise I’ll do my best for all of us.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Daemon arrived in Little Weeble shortly after dawn. Lord Carleton greeted him effusively and beamed so much goodwill toward him he wondered if there was something wrong with Lady Perzha’s Steward—until he guessed the reason for Carleton’s pleasure.

  “The shipment of yarbarah arrived?” Daemon asked.

  “It did. A case of beef and a case of lamb,” Carleton replied. “I took the liberty of sampling a bottle of the lamb and am ashamed of the inferior quality of yarbarah we had been purchasing from . . . another supplier . . . and had been serving to Lady Perzha.”

  “You know about supplying Perzha with fresh human blood added to the yarbarah as well as how much undiluted blood she should have each month?”

  “Yes. The Queen of Ebon Askavi had provided instructions when Lady Perzha first developed her allergy to sunlight. The Lady is out on the garden terrace,” Carleton continued as he led the way. “She enjoys doing a bit of gardening before she reviews paperwork and meets with me and Prince Arrick prior to retiring until evening.”

  Perzha smiled at Daemon when he reached the table where she sat looking over her garden and drinking yarbarah from a ravenglass goblet. “Please join me, Prince. There were storms all along the coast yesterday. You also had storms in Ebon Rih?”

  “We did. I’m sure Prince Yaslana will be flying to each of the villages in the valley to check on the people. Is there anything I should convey to him about Little Weeble?”

  “Carleton and Arrick will be doing their own assessment this morning, but I don’t believe we had any significant storm damage. Sit down, Prince. Please, sit. And mind the bucket.”

  As he pulled out a chair, Daemon eyed the bucket filled two-thirds with water. Since they weren’t sitting under an awning or other kind of roof, he wondered what might be leaking.

  “Carleton, have Cook prepare a plate for Prince Sadi,” Perzha said. “I’m sure he didn’t have time to eat this morning before coming to see me.”

  “Thank you.” Daemon looked at Carleton. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, Prince.” For you.

  Carleton didn’t need to say it, but Daemon heard the addendum.

  He and Perzha chatted about the garden until Carleton brought the tray and set the meal in front of Daemon, along with a cup and a pot of coffee. Steak, eggs, pancakes with butter and a small jug of warm syrup, and thick slices of bread toasted to perfection.

  Picking up his knife and fork, he touched the stack of pancakes, looking forward to the meal.

  The top pancake suddenly bulged in the center. Suckered tentacles slid out between two pancakes and felt around until they found the edge of the plate.

  Daemon shoved back from the table. “Mother Night!”

  Something erupted from under the pancake and swiftly flowed across the table until . . .

  Plop.

  . . . it went over the edge and fell into the bucket of water.

  Perzha patted her chest and looked flustered. “My apologies, Prince. Our little friend escaped from his tank this morning and we’ve been looking for him everywhere. Almost everywhere. Didn’t think he would hide in the pancakes, but the little creatures have the ability to change color, and I suppose pancakes have a similar coloring to rocks or sand.”

  Carefully setting the silverware on the table, Daemon leaned over to look in the bucket. Tentacles were reaching out of the water, reaching up to the rim of the bucket.

  “It looks like your beastie is trying to escape from the bucket as well,” he said dryly.

  “Be a dear and put a shield around the bucket.”

  “Over the top?”

  “Oh, no. You’d have to leave openings for air, and that’s a problem, you see. They’re very good at squeezing through the smallest openings. I’m sure that’s how he got out of the tank in the first place. You’d be surprised how far one of them can travel before needing to return to water.”

  At least that explained the bucket beside the table.

  Daemon created a circular shield that began just below the rim of the bucket and went up a couple of hands high. He watched the beastie probe the new barrier before retreating to the bottom of the bucket to sulk—and change color to match the bucket. If he hadn’t seen it change, he would have thought the bucket still contained nothing but water. “You have a tank of these as fresh seafood?”

  “Oh, no. This one has become a kind of pet. Even so, we don’t eat this kind of octopod.” Perzha turned in her seat as her Steward hurried to their table. “Carleton, please bring Prince Sadi a fresh plate of food. This one had an unexpected addition. And have someone return our friend to the tank.”

  “Found him, did you?”

  Carleton sounded as if it wasn’t the least bit unusual to find a beastie hiding under the pancakes. And it wasn’t unusual, actually. But the little surprises at Perzha’s dinner parties had been shadows, illusions of something real, not an actual critter hiding in the soup.

  Daemon reached for his cup of coffee, then picked up a spoon and probed the liquid. When he didn’t feel anything but liquid, he took a cautious sip. “That is some kind of octopus?”

  “That,” Perzha said with a delighted smile, “is a weeble. You are the first person outside our village to see a real one.”

  Daemon stared. “I beg your pardon?”

  “That is a weeble.” She waved a hand, setting all her bracelets jangling. “They might have another name somewhere else, but that’s what we’ve always called them.”

  “They’re a food?”

  “Other kinds of mollusks and octopods are, but not the weebles. At least, we don’t eat them. They’re quite clever little creatures. Down the beach a ways, it’s too rocky for the fishing boats to be brought to shore, but there are a lot of tidal pools. Well, generations ago, the men here put out traps for crabs and lobsters, but they noticed the catch was much better around the same time the weebles gathered to breed. As you noticed, the weebles can change color to blend in with the background. Normally it’s to make them invisible to predators, but during their mating time, the males use their ability with color for another purpose. Each male stakes out a small tidal pool or a piece of a larger one and does a bit of decorating with stones and seaweed. Then, at night, when the females come to the pools, the males do a display of bright colors to attract the females. It’s like watching all these little rainbows under the surface of the water. Quite lovely.”

  “I imagine that display also attracts all the creatures that like to eat weebles,” Daemon said as Carleton set another plate of food in front of him. “Thank you.”

  “Best to stick a fork into everything, just in case,” Carleton said cheerfully.

  He did exactly that before spreading butter and warm syrup over the weeble-free pancakes.

  “Yes, attracting females is always a dangerous business,” Perzha agreed. “And weeble numbers were dropping because pred
ators could devour the females as well as the males before they finished mating. Then a group of men discovered weebles in their traps eating the fish chunks that were meant to be bait for the lobsters and crabs—which were clinging to the outside of the trap, trying to get at the weeble, which, it turns out, is a preferred food. So the men built a few weeble houses as an experiment, setting in a chunk of fresh fish before closing the opening until it was too small for a lobster or crab to enter but a perfect size for a weeble. Wonderful idea. The men would go out in the morning and haul up the traps and take the crabs and lobsters that were clinging to the outside, then tuck in a new piece of food before lowering the house into the water. The weeble would leave the house when it chose, scurrying here and there in order to select its decorative bits, then return. It would do its color display to attract a mate—who discovered that the weeble males who had laid claim to the houses could provide food as well as shelter so that the business of mating could be done in relative safety. Their numbers increased, making it a beneficial arrangement for everyone.”

  “Except the crabs and lobsters,” Daemon said, as he cut into the steak.

  “Even they benefit in a way, since they can hunt the weebles who have to make do with the tidal-pool love nests.”

  “So that’s how the village got its name?”

  “Yes. Which is not something we usually share with outsiders.” She smiled at him. “Although, being his brother, you may want to share that information with Prince Yaslana.”

  He would have loved to tell Lucivar about the origin of the village’s name, if he could be sure he’d been told the truth and not one of the best damn stories he’d heard in a long time. He could picture Perzha and Jaenelle Angelline sitting around one evening, laughing themselves silly as they created this story about how the village got its name. And who here would ever contradict either Queen?

  When the dishes were cleared, Perzha set her empty goblet aside and sighed. “But the next story I have to tell you is a sad one. I’m sure it’s a familiar tale, but that doesn’t make it any less sad.”

  “You have some information about Lord Dillon?” he asked.

  “Pieced together from gossip and whispers.” She looked at her garden. “Love betrayed leaves its own kind of scars, doesn’t it?”

  Even when the betrayal is unintentional, Daemon thought.

  “Lord Dillon is the eldest of three sons from a minor aristo family. Regrettably, they have just enough connections to rub elbows with more influential aristo families but not enough influence themselves to be included—or given consideration when it comes to abusing a young person’s heart and honor. It’s a bit like standing in front of the window of a sweetshop and being offered a treat but always being on the wrong side of the glass. From what we could discover, Dillon was bright, charming, and good-looking—and was training to be an escort.

  “Shortly after making the Offering to the Darkness, Dillon met a pretty girl from one of the significant Rihlander families and fell in love. The girl was a few years older and had already had several lovers since her Virgin Night. Unfortunately, she was Dillon’s first love, and he believed her when she said he was different from her previous lovers and her feelings for him were real. All indications are he truly loved the girl, and she persuaded the boy to let her teach him the pleasures of sex.” Perzha slanted a glance at Daemon. “Men are darling creatures, but being so easily petted and aroused does make you vulnerable when you come in contact with unscrupulous women.”

  “I can’t disagree,” he replied. “So she lured him into bed.”

  Perzha nodded. “There were promises of a handfast, if Dillon proved himself to be a capable lover. Believing that she truly loved him, he abandoned his training as an escort—at her request—and devoted himself to learning how to please her. After a few weeks, the girl discovered that Dillon had told his parents about her, despite her insisting that this had to be a ‘discreet’ liaison, and his family actually expected the girl to honor her promise of a handfast. Well, his family line wasn’t good enough for that, so the girl broke things off and set about tarnishing Dillon’s reputation, claiming that she hadn’t been his first, and while he was suitable when a girl wanted a good time, he wasn’t the kind of man a Lady wanted for a husband.

  “Dillon’s family was furious and ashamed—and blamed him for their family name being connected to scandal. Fearful of what that would do to the other boys’ chances of making a socially valuable marriage or finding service in more than a District Queen’s court, Dillon’s family did create enough of a stir about the girl’s reputation and her numerous lovers that the girl’s father paid Dillon to leave the city. He left, and his family was relieved to see the back of him.

  “New town, fresh start.”

  “Until he met a girl from another aristo family,” Daemon guessed.

  Perzha nodded. “No indication that he did anything that would get himself in trouble, but the rumors about him reached the girl’s father. Once again, Dillon was paid to go away.” She sighed. “Aristos can be such gossipmongers.”

  Daemon choked on a laugh, since Perzha was so good at netting the social tidbits others tossed away. Then he sobered as he considered a boy’s descent from first love to an unsavory way of life where he was reduced to using a combination of spells to hold a girl’s interest.

  “At some point he turned rejection into a business?” he asked quietly. “Decided he would be the betrayer instead of the betrayed?”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple. If he’s the betrayer, it could be because he no longer believes he has any other choice. If you ask me, he still wants what he wanted with that first girl. He wants to be with someone who loves him—and he wants a way to repair his honor and reputation.” She shook her head and tsked. “The foolish boy had no idea what he was up against when he fixed his attention on young Jillian. I doubt it even occurred to him that Eyriens do things a bit differently when it comes to suitors, especially when the Eyrien is a Warlord Prince.”

  Daemon snorted. “Lucivar would be more inclined to kill the problem than pay off someone who touched a girl in his family.”

  He refilled his coffee cup.

  “I’ll call for a fresh pot,” Perzha said. “That must be cold by now.”

  It was cold and bitter, but that suited him right now. “It’s fine.”

  They both looked at her garden, aware that there wasn’t much time left before Perzha needed to retire for the day.

  “He used a combination of seduction and compulsion spells on Jillian,” Daemon said quietly. “It was too skillfully done to have been the first time. That’s probably how he’s been convincing girls that they were desperately in love with him. After that, if they were forbidden to see him, the girls themselves would cause such turmoil that the rifts created within the family might never be healed.”

  Surreal had been right; while under the influence of Dillon’s mix of spells, Jillian would never have forgiven Lucivar if he had driven Dillon away.

  Perzha nodded. “Having his own heart broken doesn’t excuse his behavior since then.”

  “No, but it makes it more understandable.” Daemon smiled reluctantly. “We’ve offered Dillon the chance to become acquainted with Jillian—and us.”

  Perzha chuckled. “Properly chaperoned?”

  “Of course.” More than properly. One Sceltie would be enough. Three guaranteed a boy couldn’t do more than hold a girl’s hand. “If he takes advantage of the invitation, we’ll give him the chance to set his past aside and show us who he is now.”

  “Why?” Perzha asked.

  “Doesn’t everyone deserve a chance to learn from past mistakes and move on to the next part of his or her life?”

  “Should someone be allowed to continue doing the same harm because she got away with it?”

  Everything inside him went still as he descended to the Black—the cold, glor
ious Black. “Do you have a name?” he asked too softly.

  Perzha called in a piece of folded paper and pushed it toward him. He picked it up and vanished it before rising to the level of his Red Jewel.

  “And now, Prince, I must go in and review the court’s work for the day,” Perzha said.

  Daemon rose and pulled out her chair. “Thank for you for the information—and the entertaining breakfast.”

  She gave him a big smile, showing her buckteeth. Then the smile softened and warmed. “This is a small village and my court is not large. But it would be a different experience for a heart that is bruised and needs time to heal. A safe place for a girl who might want to look at things beyond her own community.”

  “Far enough away but not too far?”

  “Exactly.”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She walked to the doors where Carleton hovered, waiting to coax her inside before she weakened from her allergy to sunlight. Prince Arrick, her Master of the Guard, escorted Daemon all the way to the landing web.

  “If Lady Perzha needs anything that her court can’t provide, you let me know,” Daemon said.

  Arrick tipped his head, a small bow of respect. “Thank you, Prince. We will.”

  Daemon stepped onto the landing web, caught the Black Wind, and returned to the Keep. Then he called Lucivar on a psychic spear thread and requested a meeting.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Daemon studied the listings in the two registers, which Geoffrey had fetched from the private part of the Keep’s library. The listings didn’t tell him much, since he wasn’t familiar with the aristo families in Askavi. The registers certainly didn’t provide a list of the lovers the girl had had before and after Dillon, but they did give him a good idea of the social distance between Dillon’s family and the girl who had been his first, disastrous love.

  There were other ways to find out about the girl’s sexual conquests—and Dillon’s.