“I had the impression that that decision was already made and my consent is superfluous, but you have it. As for the apprenticeship, you’ve been offered a six-month contract to serve in the Queen of Little Weeble’s court.”

Jillian blinked. “The Queen of what?”

“Little Weeble. It’s a small village on the coast of Askavi. Far enough but not too far from home. No mountains there, but you’d have a chance to live in a village that focuses on fishing and spend time with Rihlanders who have a different way of looking at just about everything.”

The name tickled her. But . . . “Do you think Prince Yaslana would consent to me going there?”

“He’ll give his consent. He’s struggling with the idea of letting you fly on your own, but if you send him a letter every few days to let him know how you’re getting on, Lucivar might resist checking up on you in person every day.”

“But he doesn’t like to read.”

Sadi smiled. “Darling, if you wrote him a letter, he would read it. And after he read it, he would tuck it in a drawer in his desk so that he could look at it every day and reassure himself that letting you go was the right thing to do.”

“Then I’d like to go. I’d like to experience something beyond the villages in Ebon Rih.”

“Dillon will be leaving Askavi in a few days. He asked to see you before you go.”

“I—” Did she want to see him? Was there any point? “All right.”

“Are you sure?”

Jillian nodded.

“Then I’ll deliver the message.” Sadi selected a pastry and took a bite. “I’m curious about something.”

“What?” Please don’t ask me why I was attracted to Dillon in the first place. I don’t want to admit that having a crush on you is the reason I liked him.

“What did Dillon finally say that made you angry enough to hit him?”

Finally say? That meant there had been other things that should have sparked her anger. Something to think about at another time. “He said Prince Yaslana wasn’t my father.”

“Is he?” Sadi asked gently. “Is Lucivar your father?”

Jillian looked the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan in the eyes. “In every way that counts.”

FORTY-THREE

Daemon stepped out of Nurian’s eyrie. He’d spent a couple of days in the Consort’s suite at the Keep, giving himself—and the Sadist—time to settle so that his family would be safe around him when he went home.

He was ready to go home. But he’d been given a message to see Lucivar before leaving Ebon Rih. He caught one of the Winds and rode to the landing web below the Yaslana eyrie. As he climbed the stairs to the flagstone courtyard, he wondered why Khary hadn’t been with Jillian while they had talked about the girl going to Perzha’s court. He’d have thought the Sceltie would have had any number of opinions about going to an unknown village and court.

Maybe it was as simple as Jillian not wanting the Sceltie to be disappointed if he wasn’t included in this apprenticeship.

Khary’s absence troubled him, but not as much as the control Daemon saw on Lucivar’s face when his brother opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.

٭Daemonar found her this morning,٭ Lucivar said on a Red spear thread.

٭Found . . . ?٭ He looked toward the corner of the room where Daemonar knelt beside a whining ball of dirty fur.

“See?” Daemonar’s hand rested on the fur. “I told you he would be back.”

Shock sizzled through him, struck a blow to his heart. “Morghann?” He looked at Lucivar. “What happened? Is she hurt?”

“We’ll talk later,” Lucivar said quietly.

The Sceltie raised her head at the sound of his voice. Dull eyes brightened with joy. She uncurled, staggered a couple of steps, then ran to him. ٭Daemon! My Daemon!٭

Afraid she would try to leap into his arms and fall, Daemon crouched to meet her and gather her up. “Morghann. Why are you still here, little Sister? Why didn’t you go home with Lady Surreal and the others?”

٭I couldn’t find you.٭ She licked his chin before tucking her nose under his jacket, where she could breathe in his scent. ٭They left us.٭

Us. He had plenty of questions, but feeling the trembling dog in his arms, he focused on other priorities.

“I think we should all have a snack,” Lucivar said. “Then I’ll drive you and Morghann home in a Coach.”

“Maybe Morghann should have a bath before you go.” Daemonar wrinkled his nose. “She’s stinky.”

Since holding her so close to his face made his eyes sting and water, Daemon didn’t disagree. But as he followed Lucivar into the kitchen, he wondered where Morghann had been and what she’d been doing to smell that bad.

Watching the boy break up a small piece of cooked venison while Lucivar prepared a snack for the three humans, he also wondered how long she’d gone without food.

“Did you finish the private work you needed to do with the Queen?” Lucivar asked.

Daemonar’s head snapped up, a question in his eyes. Daemon returned the look and knew for certain the boy had known about Witch’s continued existence long before he and Lucivar had made the discovery.

“For now,” Daemon replied.

٭Private?٭ Morghann asked.

“Yes.” Looking at her, he could barely force the food down his throat, but he kept his voice calm, conversational. “The Lady has granted me permission to stay in her part of the Keep a few days each month in order to work on some private concerns.” No need to tell the Sceltie, or the boy, that the work was about maintaining his sanity.

“I told you he was doing something important for the Lady,” Daemonar said, feeding Morghann another piece of venison. Whatever else he might have said was silenced by a small shake of Lucivar’s head.

Taking the Sceltie to the sinks in Marian’s laundry room, Daemon gave Morghann a bath, while Daemonar crowded next to him, offering unnecessary advice.

“There’s still some soap there, Uncle Daemon.” Daemonar pointed to a spot on Morghann’s flank. “You probably didn’t see it because the shield on my arm is so bright—and blue.”

“And what did the Lady say when you complained about it?”

The boy gave him a sour look. “She laughed.”

She was a secret Daemonar hadn’t told anyone, not even his father. Still a secret kept from most of the Realm. But now it was shared by the men who still served Witch—and always would.