Cassandra bit her lip. “He knows about Jaenelle. I had the impression he knows where to find her.”

Saetan let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I imagine he does. It’s probably not that far a walk from his room to hers.”

“What?”

“He’s serving her family, Cassandra. He’s living in the same house.” He leaned toward her, taking her chin between his fingers. “Now do you begin to understand? He knows about me because Jaenelle told him, completely ignorant, I’m sure, that it would make him climb the walls. And I know about him because he sent a message to me, through Jaenelle. A polite message, basically warning me off his territory.”

“He doesn’t want to be Steward of the court.”

Saetan laughed, genuinely amused. “No, I wouldn’t think he would. He’s in his prime, virile, living, and well trained in seduction. That twelve-year-old body must be driving him out of his skin.”

Cassandra hesitated. “He thought you wanted to be her Consort.”

Saetan gave her a sidelong look. “What did you tell him?”

“That she needed an older, experienced Steward.”

“Very kind of you.”

Cassandra sighed. “You’re still angry about my talking to him.”

“No, I’m not. I just wish…” That I could have seen him, talked to him, felt the strength of his grip, heard the sound of his voice. That we could have judged each other honestly. We’re forced to trust each other because Jaenelle is asking us to, because she trusts.

He caressed Cassandra’s hair. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Hekatah’s searching for Jaenelle. If Dorothea is supporting the effort, he’ll know best where to look for danger from that quarter. Whether or not he’ll ask us for help will depend on whether or not he trusts us. I want that trust, Cassandra, and not just for Jaenelle’s sake. You owe me that much.”

CHAPTER TEN

1 / Terreille

Why does she ask so damn many uncomfortable questions? Daemon thought, clenching his teeth and staring straight ahead as they walked through the garden. He almost missed Wilhelmina, who was in bed with a cold. At least when her sister was present, Jaenelle didn’t ask questions that made him blush.

“You’re not going to answer, are you?” Jaenelle asked after a minute of teeth-grinding silence.

“No.”

“Don’t you know the answer?”

“Whether I know the answer or not is beside the point. It’s not something a man discusses with a young girl.”

“But you know the answer.”

Daemon growled.

“If I were older, would you tell me?” Jaenelle persisted.

There might be a way out of this yet. “Yes, if you were older.”

“How old?”

“What?”

“How old would I have to be?”

“Nineteen,” he said quickly, beginning to relax. Who knew what sort of questions she might have in seven years, but at least he wouldn’t have to answer this one.

“Nineteen?”

Daemon’s stomach fluttered. He walked a little faster. The pleased way she said that made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“The Priest said he wouldn’t tell me until I was twenty-five,” Jaenelle said happily, “but you’ll tell me six years sooner.”