Jaenelle fluffed her hair. “If it rains some morning and we can’t take a walk, maybe you could play a card game with Wilhelmina and me.”

Daemon relaxed a little. “I’d like that very much.”

“Why doesn’t Leland say you were playing cards? Why does she make it sound so secrety? Does she always lose?”

“No, she doesn’t always lose.” Daemon tried not to squirm. Why did she ask so damn many uncomfortable questions? “I think ladies like to seem mysterious.”

“Or they may know things that need to stay hidden.”

For a moment, Daemon forgot how to breathe. His right hand clenched the top of the couch and he winced. Damn. He’d let it slip up on him. The snake tooth had to be milked, and he hadn’t taken the time to find an easily obtainable poison that wouldn’t make him ill.

Jaenelle looked intently at his hand.

Suddenly uneasy, Daemon shifted position, casually dropping that hand in his lap. He’d guarded the secret of the snake tooth for centuries, and he wasn’t about to tell a twelve-year-old girl about it.

He hadn’t counted on her tenacity or her strength. Her hand closed on his wrist and pulled upward. He made a fist to hide his nails and pulled back, trying to break her hold. When he couldn’t, he snarled in anger. It was a sound that had made strong men back away and Queens think twice about what they had ordered him to do.

Jaenelle simply looked him in the eyes. Daemon looked away first, shaking slightly as he opened his hand for her examination.

Her touch was feather-light, gentle, and knowing. She studied each finger in turn, finding the length of his nails of particular interest, and finally focused on the ring finger for a long time.

“This one’s warmer than the others,” she said, half to herself. “And there’s something beneath it.”

Daemon jumped up, pulling her halfway to the floor before she let go of his wrist. “Leave it alone, Lady,” he said tightly, carefully putting his hands in his pockets.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daemon watched her resettle on the couch and study her own hands. It seemed as if she were struggling to say something, and it struck him that she, too, was considering what might inadvertently be revealed.

Finally she said shyly, “I know some healing Craft.”

“I’m not ill,” Daemon replied, staring straight ahead.

“But not well.” Suddenly her voice sounded years older.

“There’s nothing wrong, Lady,” Daemon said firmly. “I thank you for your concern, but there’s nothing wrong.”

“It seems ladies aren’t the only ones who like to seem mysterious,” Jaenelle said dryly as she headed for the door. “But there is something wrong with your finger, Prince. There is pain there.”

He felt cornered. If anyone else had found out about the snake tooth, he would have been creating a quiet grave right now. But Jaenelle…Daemon sighed and turned to look at her. From a distance, particularly in dim light, she seemed like such a frail, plain child, friendly enough but not terribly intelligent. From a distance. When you got close enough to see those eyes change from summer-sky blue to sapphire, it was hard to remember you were talking to a child, hard not to feel a shiver of apprehension at the sharp, slightly feral intelligence just beneath the surface that was drawing its own conclusions about the world.