“He’s going to help. Trust me.” Surreal picked up the robe and handed it to Jaenelle. “As for the rest, we’re going to Amdarh tomorrow.”
“But—”
“I heard of a new place that opened a few months ago. Pure female indulgence. Manicures, pedicures, massages, the works. We can even stay there, so we don’t have to bundle all the appointments together. The place even has shops.” She held up a hand before Jaenelle could grumble about shopping. “And you’re going to get your hair trimmed so that it has some style.”
“I was growing it out,” Jaenelle protested, one hand reaching up protectively.
“Which doesn’t mean you have to look shaggy,” Surreal countered. “And, yes, some new clothes. Something that fits. Not a lot since you’ll grow back into your former wardrobe, but enough to cover different activities until then.” She paused. “And then, once you look like you again instead of a stray wearing hand-me-downs, you’ll go to the town house and see Daemon. And you’ll tell him in direct, simple words that you are completely healed.”
“Then what?”
If you can’t guess how Daemon will react to that . . . She shrugged. “Then you’ll know the truth, one way or the other.”
Jaenelle sighed. “So what do we do today?”
Surreal gave her friend a knife-edged smile. “I’m going to have a chat with Lucivar.”
2
Smiling, Surreal waved Lucivar into Daemon’s study. She put a Gray lock on the door as she closed it, and by the time he turned to face her, she’d called in her crossbow and had it aimed below his belt.
He studied her for a moment, then growled, “What’s this all about? You asked me to come here, so I’m here.”
“Yes, you are,” Surreal replied, still smiling. “And now I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen. If you don’t listen, I’ll shoot you with this little crossbow arrow.”
“Quarrel.”
She shook her head. “We’re not going to quarrel. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen—or I’ll pin your balls to the wall.” She didn’t have any chance of actually hitting him. She wore Gray; he wore Ebon-gray. The moment he sensed the Gray lock on the door, he’d put an Ebon-gray shield around himself. There was nothing she could do that would get an arrow through that shield, but the threat warned him that she wasn’t going to let him dismiss what she had to say.
Lucivar shook his head. “It’s called a ‘quarrel’ or a ‘bolt,’ not a ‘little crossbow arrow.’ ”
“But—” Her face flushed. Falonar, you son of a whoring bitch.
“I guess Falonar didn’t mention that when he agreed to teach you how to use a crossbow,” Lucivar said, giving her a thoughtful look, as if a few pieces of a puzzle had just fallen into place.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What does matter?”
“Jaenelle.”
He took a step toward her, then stopped and looked at the crossbow. “Is she all right?”
“She needs to start training again to rebuild her strength. You’re going to help her.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!” Swearing viciously, he turned away and paced, giving her searing looks every time he turned in her direction.
“Lucivar?” Surreal said quietly. “How long are you going to keep her an invalid? How long are you going to block her from being strong enough to stand on her own again?”
He charged toward her, stopping before she was within reach. “You bitch! How dare you?”
She lowered the crossbow. “I dare because I love her too.”
He stared at her, fury in his eyes. “She’s too frail.”
“She’s not as frail as you think.” She saw hope, confusion, fear. “I understand that you’re afraid of doing anything that might hurt her. I really do. But she needs you, Lucivar. She needs your help to regain what she lost.”
Pain now as he looked away. “Not everything she lost.”
“No, not everything.” She vanished the crossbow and took a step toward him. “She learned how to call in her shoes today.”
He snapped to attention, surprising her. “Jaenelle called in her shoes? She could never do that before.” He walked over to the desk and leaned back against it. After staring at the floor for a long moment, he sighed. “All right. I’ll take her through a warm-up. We’ll see after that.”
“I’m surprised you gave in so easily,” Surreal said, joining him at the desk.
He shrugged. “Marian’s been muttering similar things over the past few days.”
“You married a smart woman.”
His only response was a grunt. Then he turned his head and studied her. “Are you coming back to Ebon Rih, or do you want to stay here for a while?”
“Actually, I had my eye on the town house in Amdarh. I’ve missed city living.” When she came to Kaeleer, she’d ended up signing a contract to serve the Prince of Ebon Rih, so, technically, Lucivar could demand that she go back to Ebon Rih with him.
“If that’s what you want,” Lucivar said.
“Well, I don’t really want to watch Falonar make kissy faces at Nurian.”
Temper flared in his eyes, confirming that Falonar hadn’t wasted any time declaring his interest in the Eyrien Healer. “I can take care of that.”
Being related to Warlord Princes was such a joy. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Daemon. If I’d wanted him dead, he wouldn’t still be among the living.”
“Twisting his cock off wouldn’t kill him.”
Surreal laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Lucivar. You’re so subtle.”
He gave her a grudging smile before he pushed away from the desk. “Unlock the damn door so I can see Jaenelle and decide if I should be pissed off with myself for being wrong or with you for being right.”
She released the Gray lock on the door, watched him walk out—and hoped.
Seeing Jaenelle’s hesitant pleasure as he handed her the Eyrien sparring stick bruised Lucivar’s heart.
Are you sure you’re not clipping her wings instead of helping her learn how to fly again?
Had Marian been right about that? Had they placed Jaenelle in a cage because they were so afraid of letting her do anything that might harm that terrifyingly frail body? They’d done it for the best of reasons, and certainly out of love, but a cage was still a cage.
“Partnered warm-up,” he said, taking his position in front of Jaenelle. “Go easy. Don’t push. When you feel tired, we’ll stop.”
He mirrored her slow movements, always watching, always assessing. She remembered the moves, but couldn’t complete any of them. Not fully. Choppy motion where there had once been fluid grace. She began panting by the time they’d gone through the first third of the warm-up. By the halfway point, her arms and legs shook from the effort to shift from one move to the next.
Then one end of her stick hit the floor, and she used its support to stay on her feet. Refusing to look at him, she shuffled to the couch and sank down on the cushion at one end.
“So,” she said. “You were right.”
He took her stick, vanished it along with his, then crouched in front of her. “No, I wasn’t.” He waited until she looked at him. “Do you remember when you went into the Twisted Kingdom to mark a trail for Daemon to follow? Your body was already strained from healing the landens who had been trapped by a jhinka attack, and by the time you got back to the Keep after finding Daemon, you’d made a mess of yourself.”
“I remember,” she whispered, staring at her hands.
“As soon as you were able to stand on your own, we started working to rebuild your muscles and your strength.”
“What’s your point?” She looked weary, defeated.
He placed one hand lightly over hers. “You didn’t get half as far that first time as you did today. So the point, Cat, is I’m sorry. I wanted you to come back to us so much, it got in the way. I clipped your wings instead of helping you learn how to fly again.”
“So you’ll be my sparring partner again?”
He smiled. “We’ll get there. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
She made a face. “Can’t tomorrow. Surreal and I are going to Amdarh for what she calls a female indulgence.”
“You’re staying at the town house?”
Jaenelle shook her head. “Surreal says it’s easier to be pampered if we stay at that . . . whatever it is. Besides, Daemon’s at the town house right now.”
So? He didn’t ask because there was something odd about her tone. Something . . . nervous. And Daemon had become edgy over the past few weeks—and subtly territorial in a way that made all the male servants at the Hall wary of drawing his attention. “Then let me know when you get back.”
He stayed at the Hall long enough to assure Surreal he’d start working with Jaenelle once the two women got back from their female indulgence, whatever that meant, then caught the Winds and headed for Ebon Rih. But before he went home, he stopped at the Keep to have a little chat with his father.
