“Uh-huh.” She put her nightclothes in another drawer. “You know, sugar, it occurs to me that you were very careful to phrase your message in a way that indicated I needed to visit as soon as I could get here, but you didn’t actually say why you needed me.” She studied Marian. “Is there a problem between you and Lucivar?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Thank the Darkness. I’m dealing with a big enough problem of my own.

“It’s just . . .” Marian hesitated. “Whatever boundaries are drawn now will also apply to Titian.”

“Exactly what are we talking about?”

“We’re talking about Jillian and the way Lucivar reacted to catching the scent of moon’s blood the other day. We’re talking about a boy kissing Jillian and putting his hand on her breast.”

“And Lucivar, being such a calm, mild-tempered man, bounced off the ceiling?”

“He slammed the boy into the side of a building and choked him a little. At least, I was told it was a little.”

Shit. “Where did this happen?”

“In Riada, around the open market.”

“Where were the boy and Jillian?”

“In an alleyway between two of the buildings.”

“Uh-huh. And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

“I see a lot of things wrong with that,” Marian snapped. “For one thing, him touching her that way in public was disrespectful. If Lucivar had heard about it from someone else, he wouldn’t have been happy, and he would have let Jillian know in no uncertain terms exactly why he wasn’t happy, but I don’t think he would have gone looking for the Warlord.”

He might have, if whoever had told him about the incident had known the boy’s name. Lucivar had strict rules about anyone touching the children without his permission, and he didn’t make exceptions just because the person doing the touching was also young. Which didn’t make it easy to indulge in a little romantic exploration.

Then again, Lucivar’s father had had the same “no permission, no sex” rule when anyone was under his roof.

“But because Lucivar was the one who walked into that alleyway and saw them, he reacted as if Jillian were under attack,” Marian continued. “I don’t want Jillian or Titian to avoid getting acquainted with boys because they’re afraid Lucivar will seriously injure those boys.” She pulled clothes out of Surreal’s trunk and hung the trousers and dresses in the wardrobe.

Surreal shook out the blouses and handed them to Marian. “Can you finish unpacking for me? I think I should have a chat with your husband.”

“It’s Jillian who needs your opinion. You’re not going to change Lucivar’s mind.”

“Wanna bet?”

Marian paused. “Are you going to call in a crossbow and threaten to shoot him?”

“Our most productive chats always start with me threatening to pin his balls to the wall. Doesn’t change his opinion about anything. It just makes sure I have his full attention.”

Marian finished hanging up the blouse and reached for another. “Twenty gold marks and I’ll bake your favorite pie while you’re here.”

“I can’t bake a pie, but I’ll put up twenty gold marks and a box of that salty dark chocolate that’s made by the best chocolatier in Amdarh.”

“Deal.”

Surreal walked out of the guest room. When she reached the eyrie’s main corridor, she found Daemonar waiting for her.

“Hey, boyo. Why aren’t you out kissing sky?”

He eased up next to her and whispered, “Something is wrong with Papa and Jillian.”

“People don’t always see eye to eye.” She brushed a hand over his black hair and realized they were almost the same height. Damn. When had that happened? She’d seen him just a few weeks ago when he’d come to SaDiablo Hall for a visit, and would have sworn he hadn’t been this tall. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

“I think it is. Papa is really unhappy.” Daemonar paused. “He’s in his study, doing paperwork.”

Not good. Lucivar often viewed sitting behind a desk doing paperwork as a form of self-punishment.

“Keep the little beasts occupied, okay? I’ll see what I can do to help your papa.”

“Thanks, Auntie Surreal.”

She thought he was going to say something more, but he shied away from it, so she went to the study to tackle the volatile problem.

“Pretend I brought my crossbow to this meeting,” Surreal said, taking a chair in front of the big blackwood desk. The desk wasn’t as big as Daemon’s back at the Hall, but it was sufficiently expansive. “I’m pointing it at you. Threaten, threaten, blah blah blah.”

Lucivar eyed her, then put the pen in its holder with an insultingly slow move. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

No emotion at all in his voice, which meant he was so unhappy over whatever this was that he wasn’t feeling anything at all or he was holding on to his explosive temper so tightly he couldn’t afford to let anything show. Either way, she had to get him to respond before he would really listen to her.

“Blah blah blah. An annoying little phrase Jaenelle Saetien picked up at school. I gather it’s supposed to mean ‘we’ve covered this ground before and don’t actually have to say the words again.’ Imagine her surprise when she wanted permission to go on an outing with some friends and rushed into her papa’s study minutes before she was supposed to be meeting those friends and gave him the ‘blah blah blah’ as an explanation of where they were going and who would be the chaperons.”

“Oh, Hell’s fire.”

Hearing that tiny bit of interest in his voice, Surreal nodded. “Yeah, it went over as well as you’d expect. And not the way Jaenelle Saetien intended, because Daemon looked at her and said that since ‘blah’ meant dull and uninteresting, the reasonable conclusion to her saying ‘blah blah blah’ was that this outing was going to be exceedingly dull and uninteresting, and since that was the case, he would provide her with the excuse to get out of going by not giving his permission. By the time she convinced him that she was interested, the friends had already left.”

“Bet that went over well.”

“It did. There were lots of tears and a few words said in a tone that bordered on pure bitch—which Daemon, surprisingly, didn’t comment on. But when the foolish girl began slamming doors to indicate her extreme displeasure, he quietly informed her that since words spoken quickly could be misinterpreted, any requests to visit friends or go on outings in the foreseeable future would have to be submitted in writing, using proper spelling, full sentences that provided the necessary information he would need in order to make a decision, and, of course, good penmanship.”