“Surreal.”

Surreal tensed. She hadn’t heard him come out, hadn’t heard even the softest scrape of shoe on stone. She stared at the unlit garden, seeing nothing, waiting.

“Cigarette?” Daemon said, holding his gold case out to her.

Surreal took one and waited for him to create the little tongue of witchfire to light it. They smoked in silence for a while.

“Your escort doesn’t quite know what to do with himself this evening,” Daemon said with a touch of dry amusement.

“He’s an ass.” Surreal flicked the cigarette into the garden. “Besides, if I’d known what kind of party this was going to be, I wouldn’t have come.”

“And what kind is that?”

Surreal let out an unladylike snort. “With Briarwood’s esteemed here? What kind of party do you think it’s going to be?”

The night was still and cold. Now it was filled with something more still—and colder.

“What do you know about Briarwood, Surreal?” Daemon crooned.

Surreal flinched when he stepped toward her. “Nothing more than everyone who works in a Red Moon house knows,” she said defensively.

“And what is that?”

“Why?” she said sharply, wishing for her knife and not daring to call it in. “Have you become an uncle, Sadi?”

Daemon’s voice was too soft, too sleepy. “And what is an uncle?”

She’d been looking into his eyes, frozen by what she saw in them, and didn’t feel his hand close around her wrist until it was too late.

Anger. Anger was the only defense.

“An uncle is a man who likes to play with little girls,” she said with sweet venom.

Daemon’s expression didn’t change. “What does that have to do with Briarwood?”

“Kartane helped build the place,” she snapped. “Does that answer your question?” She jerked her wrist out of his hand, half surprised that he didn’t break it instead of letting go. “No respectable Red Moon house would sell a girl that young or allow her to be…” She rubbed her wrist. “The Chaillot whores call it the breaking ground. The ‘emotionally unstable’ girls from good families are eventually sent home, married off. The other ones…The lower-class Red Moon houses are filled with girls who got too old to be amusing.”

“It explains so much,” Daemon whispered, shaking. “It explains so very much.”

Surreal put a tentative hand on his arm. “Sadi?”

He pulled her into his arms. She struggled, frightened to be this close to him with no way to gauge what he might do. His arms tightened around her. “Surreal,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me hold you. Please. Just for a moment.”

Surreal forced herself to relax. Once she did, his hold loosened a little, making it possible to breathe. Resting her head on his shoulder, she tried to think. Why was he so upset about Briarwood? It wasn’t the first place Kartane had helped build for that purpose. Did he know someone who was in Briarwood? Or had been in…

“No.” Surreal shook her head fiercely, wanting to deny what she’d seen but hadn’t understood in those wary sapphire eyes. “No.” She pushed far enough away from Daemon to wrap her hands in his jacket’s lapels. “Not that one.” She continued to shake her head. “Not her.”