More than anything, she didn’t want to be vulnerable around the Black more than could be helped.

٭Lady Surreal?٭ Beale called.

Did Beale know what was contained behind that door? Did he know about these corridors? Would he think to look for her here? And would he tell Daemon if he did find her here?

She’d lived in and around the Hall for decades, but she hadn’t discovered this part of the structure until Daemon had gone to the cabin for a couple of days. She’d been restless and had picked up the feel of the Black beneath the cellars. Curious, she had traced the power to that door and the shielded walls. Still curious, and sufficiently cautious, she had carefully coated her Gray power over the Black—and then pushed just enough for the Black to respond to the “attack” and absorb the Gray. She’d moved to another section of the wall and done the same thing, not pushing too hard in case there was an aggressive shield beneath the passive one. Her Gray Jewel had been drained of some of its power, while the Black shield, though thinned, was still intact. She’d hoped the thinning would be put down to a shield naturally fading over time.

Now there wasn’t time for careful draining, not if she didn’t want people to start looking for her—and there was one person in particular she didn’t want finding her down here.

“Shit shit shit.” Surreal unleashed a wash of Gray power along the wall, hitting the Black shield with enough force that she could feel the difference in the shield. If she kept slamming power at that one area until she completely drained the Gray, she might weaken the Black, but the power she needed to release prior to her moontime wasn’t going to make that much difference to the shield.

Couldn’t make that much difference. But if Sadi noticed, if he asked why she was trying to break one of his shields . . .

Which side of Daemon Sadi’s temper would ask? Her husband? The Warlord Prince of Dhemlan? The High Lord of Hell? Or would it be the Sadist who wrapped his arms around her and played a game of pleasure and pain while he asked questions and waited for answers she didn’t want to give?

With any luck, it would take him a while to notice the weakened shield.

He’d notice plenty if she didn’t get her ass moving and find out why she was needed.

By the time she reached the entrance hall, the only person waiting for her was Beale. She opened her first inner barrier, then quickly shut it against the stew of emotions filling the great hall.

“Prince Sadi?” she asked.

“He left for a meeting that was not on his calendar,” Beale replied. “He will not be home for dinner but will be back sometime tonight.”

“Jaenelle Saetien?”

“The young Lady has gone to her room.” Beale hesitated. “Nothing was said, but I had the impression that an infraction of the rules has caused some unhappiness between the Prince and the young Lady. Before he left, he gave the order that the young Lady was not allowed any dessert or treats for the rest of today and all of tomorrow.”

But he left me to carry out that order, Surreal thought sourly.

“I have informed Mrs. Beale.” Another pause. “And Holt.”

“Did you inform the Scelties?” she asked.

“I think they already know.”

Shit shit shit. That didn’t sound good. “They’re upstairs with Jaenelle Saetien?”

“No. They’ve gone to the stables to play with the horses.”

The girl was upset and the Scelties were not offering company. And Sadi had left for some mysterious meeting. Great. Wonderful. “I’ll sort out what I can.”

As she turned toward the informal sitting room, which held the staircase that led to the family wing of the Hall, Beale said, “Lady Surreal? It’s not my place to say, but the Prince looked . . . unwell.”

“He seemed fine this morning.” And more than fine last night.

“Ah. A passing indisposition.” Beale sounded relieved.

“I’m sure it’s nothing more than that.”

Hurrying toward the family wing, she stopped at Daemon’s suite of rooms first, relieved when she found Jazen, his valet, hanging up freshly laundered silk shirts in the dressing room.

“Prince Sadi,” she said before Jazen could greet her. “If he was ill, would you know?”

Jazen hesitated, and Surreal wondered if it was because the man was considering the question or trying to balance loyalties.

“Some mornings he seems indisposed, but I’ve thought it was due to stiff muscles, since he seems to shake it off after a hot shower. Should I be watching for something?”

“No. Never mind.”

A fully shaved man—mutilated for the entertainment of Dorothea SaDiablo and her cronies—who had had no future until Daemon hired him as a valet, Jazen would be loyal to the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. While he might not say anything to her, if Daemon really was ill, Jazen would say something to someone.

And what she’d told Beale was true: the man had been in fine form last night when he’d come to her bed.

Not finding Jaenelle Saetien in the playroom, she knocked on the girl’s bedroom door and went in without waiting for a response. Her daughter sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, looking sulky.

Surreal sat on the edge of the bed. “I hear you butted heads with your papa and lost.” No response. “And the penalty for whatever you butted heads about is no dessert or treats for the rest of today and all of tomorrow.”

That got a response. “That’s not fair!”

“Why isn’t it fair?”

The story poured out. Nutcakes. Mikal. Papa being mean about her wanting a second nutcake even though Manny did say just one each. But she was special.

Surreal suspected that the real conflict was buried in the things Jaenelle Saetien didn’t say, but she’d work with this. “You’re lucky it was your papa and not your grandfather who decided the penalty for this nutcakes-and-sass drama. Your grandfather, like your papa, was indulgent about some things and very strict about other things. Very strict. If you’d tried this with him, you’d be lucky if the no-desserts-and-treats order was for less than a week.”

She couldn’t have shocked the girl more if she’d dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.

“Do you want to know what ‘special’ really means, my darling? It means more training, more work, more study, more discipline, more rules. Part of the power you wield is at the level of the Green, and that means you wear a dark Jewel. No one can afford to look away from bad behavior and allow you to become a bitch. Too many people died in wars that were started by bitches who thought they were above the laws, above the rules we live by.”