Jaenelle reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Resting her loosely closed fist on the desk, she opened her hand. “Do you think if you sold this, it would buy the frames?”

Saetan gulped, but his hand was steady when he picked up the stone and held it up to the light. “Where did you get this, witch-child?” he asked calmly, almost absently.

Jaenelle put her hands in her lap, her eyes focused on the desk. “Well…you see…I was with a friend and we were going through this village and some rocks had fallen by the road and a little girl had her foot caught under one of the rocks.” She scrunched her shoulders. “It was hurt, the foot I mean, because of the rock, and I…healed it, and her father gave me that to say thank you.” She added hurriedly, “But he didn’t say I had to keep it.” She hesitated. “Do you think it would buy two frames?”

Saetan held the stone between thumb and forefinger. “Oh, yes,” he said dryly. “I think it will be more than adequate for what you want.”

Jaenelle smiled at him, puzzled.

Saetan struggled to keep his voice calm. “Tell me, witch-child, have you received other such gifts from grateful parents?”

“Uh-huh. Draca’s keeping them for me because I didn’t know what to do with them.” She brightened. “She’s given me a room at the Keep, just like you gave me one at the Hall.”

“Yes, she told me she was going to.” He smiled at her obvious relief that he wasn’t offended. “I’ll have the pictures and frames for you by the end of the week. Will that be satisfactory?”

Jaenelle bounced around the desk, strangled him, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Saetan.”

“You’re welcome, witch-child. Off with you.”

Jaenelle bumped into Mephis on her way out. “Hello, Mephis,” she said as she headed wherever she was headed.

Even Mephis. Saetan smiled at the bemused, tender expression on his staid, ever-so-formal eldest son’s face.

“Come look at this,” Saetan said, “and tell me what you think.”

Mephis held the diamond up to the light and whistled softly. “Where did you get this?”

“It was a gift, to Jaenelle, from a grateful parent.”

Mephis groped for the chair. He stared at the diamond in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

Saetan retrieved the diamond, holding it between thumb and forefinger. “No, Mephis, I’m not joking. Apparently, a little girl got her foot caught under a rock and hurt it. Jaenelle healed it, and the grateful father presented her with this. And, apparently, this is not the first such gift that’s been bestowed upon her for such service.” He studied the large, flawless gem.

“But…how?” Mephis sputtered.

“She’s a natural Healer. It’s instinctive.”

“Yes, but—”

“But the real question is, what really happened?” Saetan’s golden eyes narrowed.

“What do you mean?” Mephis said, puzzled.

“I mean,” Saetan said slowly, “the way Jaenelle told the story, it didn’t sound like much. But how severe an injury by how large a rock, when healed, would make a father grateful enough to give up this?”