“That’s true,” Jaenelle said slowly, considering. “That way, most of the time I’d only have to jump the Webs once instead of twice.” Her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. “Or I can even use the Gates if you show me how to open them.”

His mind didn’t stumble. It went head over mental heels and landed in a heap. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was desert dry. “Quite so,” he finally choked out. He definitely had to strangle her. Otherwise, he’d do himself an injury with the mental acrobatics required to translate the impossible into something reasonably probable. “Your lessons,” he croaked, hoping, a bit hysterically, that this would be a safe subject.

Jaenelle beamed at him, and he sighed, defeated.

“When would you like to begin?”

Jaenelle thought about this. “It’s getting late today. I’ll be missed if I don’t come to lunch.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should see Lorn tomorrow. I haven’t seen him in a while and he’ll be worried.”

He’ll be worried! Saetan bit back a growl.

“The day after tomorrow? Wilhelmina has her lessons in the morning, so no one would really miss me before lunchtime.”

“Done.” He kissed the top of her head, led her to the front door of the Hall, and watched her vanish as she waved good-bye. He stayed long enough to make sure Helene was over any shock she might have had, left explicit instructions about conduct when Jaenelle arrived—particularly if she arrived without him—and made his way back to his private study in the Dark Realm.

Andulvar found him there a little later, pouring a very large brandy. The Eyrien’s eyes narrowed when he noticed Saetan’s shaking hands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to get very drunk,” Saetan replied calmly, taking a large swallow of brandy. “Care to join me?”

“Demons don’t drink straight alcohol, and for that matter, neither should Guardians. Besides,” Andulvar persisted as Saetan knocked back a second glass, “why do you want to get drunk?”

“Because I’ll strangle her if I don’t get drunk.”

“The waif’s back and you didn’t tell us?” Andulvar braced his fists on his hips and growled, “Why do you want to strangle her?”

Saetan carefully poured his third large brandy. Why had he given up drinking brandy? Such a delightful drink. Like pouring water on a blazing mental fire. Or was it like pouring oil? No matter. “Did you know she jumps the Webs?”

Andulvar shrugged, unimpressed. “At least half the Jeweled Blood can jump between the ranks of the Winds.”

“She doesn’t jump between the ranks, my darling Andulvar, she jumps between the Realms.”

Andulvar gulped. “That isn’t possible,” he gasped, grateful that Saetan was pouring brandy into a second glass.

“That’s what I always thought. And I’m not even going to think about the danger of doing it while I can still think. That’s how she’s been coming and going all these years, by the way. Until today, she didn’t know there were Gates.”