Daemon capped the pen and set it aside but kept his eyes focused on the desk. “Surreal and I made mistakes and hurt each other. Not out of malice, but that doesn’t lessen the hurt. I won’t hold her to the marriage if she wants to leave.”

“Yes,” Witch said. “Staying has to be her choice.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I never intended to be this much of a presence in your life again. This arrangement won’t be easy for her, Prince.”

Or for you. “Maybe not, but you must have known this might happen. Dreams made flesh don’t become demon-dead, but you found a way to stay. For me.”

“Yes. For you. For as long as you need me.”

“You’ll be here?” Not a body he could touch, but being with her even this much settled something deep inside him and gave him peace. “I’ll be able to talk to you?”

She didn’t answer right away. “Mend as much as you can of your marriage, and take care of Surreal as best you can, whether she stays with you or not. Stay connected to the living. In return, when you reside in this suite, I will be with you to talk—and to help you drain enough of the reservoir of power in your Black Jewel to keep you, and everyone else, safe.”

“That’s our bargain?” Daemon asked.

“That’s our bargain.”

“Then I gratefully accept your terms, Lady.”

Her hand slipped off his shoulder. He searched for something to say that would keep her with him a little while longer.

“Did you know weebles will hide in a stack of pancakes?” he asked.

Silence—but he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, dear,” Witch said. “You had breakfast with Perzha?”

“I did. It was educational.”

“Did the weeble try to take your fork?”

Daemon twisted in the chair. Witch stood just out of reach. “Did it what?”

“Well, wouldn’t you make a grab for it if someone poked you with a fork? Besides, a fork is a ready-made weapon. Very useful for discouraging lobsters and crabs, which have claws.”

A fork-wielding weeble was absurd. Wasn’t it?

“So towns along Askavi’s coast might suddenly have—what would we call them?—pods of weebles entering houses by masquerading as appetizers in order to steal the cutlery?”

“Not all the cutlery. Just the forks.” She gave him a bright smile.

Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. He remembered that smile. He also remembered a couple of . . . memorable . . . dinners when Perzha and Jaenelle had still been among the living.

He imagined Lucivar being called to deal with tentacled thieves—and felt laughter bubbling up. “You and Perzha already did it, didn’t you?”

“That was a long time ago. No one would remember that.”

“Lucivar?”

“Ah. Well. Lucivar.” Witch shrugged. “They were shadow weebles, and it was a very dull party, and Perzha and I did return all the forks. Most of the forks. Turns out a couple of live weebles ended up with the shadows, and they learned a trick or two that night. Did Perzha mention they’re smart little critters?”

“Yes, she did,” he replied dryly.

She looked at him and her smile warmed—and he realized another part of himself that he hadn’t known was hurt had begun to heal.

“Hold on to the living, Daemon. They need you.”

“Your will, Lady.”

She disappeared, but her psychic scent lingered in the room like a promise.

THIRTY-THREE

Are we going to the library again? I like the library. There are lots of smells. But no books for Scelties. Why aren’t there books for Scelties?٭

Jillian looked at Khary, who hadn’t left her side except when she’d closed the bathroom door in his face. His barks and howls of protest had brought Rothvar running and almost had the Eyrien Warlord breaking down the bathroom door just when it would have been most inconvenient for her to get off the toilet. It had taken Nurian’s and Marian’s insistence that women viewed bathroom time as private time to get Khary to agree that, even if he was her escort for the time being, he didn’t need to know everything she was doing when she was in her own home—or in the Yaslana eyrie.

And it had taken Rothvar pointing out that Khary wore an Opal Jewel and could have used Craft to pass right through the door to reach her for her to realize that the howls of protest had been an effort to show some restraint.

Scelties. Stubbornly certain about some things and curious about everything. And this one liked her, wanted to know her—and didn’t confuse her by making her feel desirable one minute and inadequate the next.

“Scelties have books?”

٭Yes. There is Sceltie Saves the Day and Unicorn to the Rescue and Dragon’s Dangerous Deed. Daemon is teaching me and Morghann to read and how to do the counting things. Like us. One plus one equals two.٭

“Prince Sadi reads to you?”

٭Yes. Daemon is our teacher. Jaenelle Saetien was teaching Morghann, but Jaenelle Saetien told Morghann to do a wrong thing, so Daemon’s pup is still our playmate but not our teacher.٭

So many things had happened in the few days since Prince Yaslana had found her kissing Dillon, and her feelings had been so confused, she hadn’t appreciated that, unlike the kindred wolves who lived on Yaslana’s mountain, Khary was chatty and wanted to interact with humans. Was someone she could talk to about things she didn’t want to share with anyone else.

“I don’t think the library here has those books, but we could look for another story that you might like. An adventure story.” There were plenty of children’s books at Yaslana’s eyrie. Being male, Khary might not like the stories that appealed to Titian, but what about the stories that Daemonar had liked when he was little? She could borrow a couple and read them to Khary, same as she’d read them to Daemonar.

Khary growled at the same moment Dillon stepped in front of her and said, “Is that smile for me?”

Startled, Jillian almost dropped the book she was returning. She should have been delighted to see him. She was delighted to see him. So why was there this sudden weight in her chest? “Dillon.”

“May I join you? We’re in public.” Dillon gave Khary a sour look. “And you have your chaperon.”

Both true. “Of course.”

He fell into step with her as they continued toward the library. “You finished it already?” He waved a hand to indicate the book.