Are we still talking about me and Falonar? Surreal wondered. Remembering the way Daemon had lingered for a moment, she had an uneasy feeling Jaenelle was thinking of two other people.

2

She waited until Saetan and Lucivar had left the Hall before tracking Daemon to his study. It felt strange walking into that room and seeing another man behind the desk where Saetan had ruled Dhemlan for so many centuries. Even stranger to feel as if nothing had really changed.

“So,” she said, settling into the chair in front of the desk. “Do you ever see any rooms in the Hall besides this one?”

“Occasionally,” Daemon replied with a dry smile. “Brandy?”

“Sure.” She watched him pour a snifter for her and top off his own before he used Craft to float hers over to her waiting hand. “Thanks.”

Daemon leaned back in his chair, the snifter cradled in both hands. His Black-Jeweled ring glittered on his right hand. His left hand looked naked without the Consort’s ring. Did he miss the feel of it on his finger? She’d noticed that Saetan still wore the Steward’s ring, which the loss of his little finger made more noticeable. But she could understand why Daemon had set the Consort’s ring aside. Saetan had withdrawn to live at the Keep, leaving his sons—Daemon, specifically—to handle the property owned by the SaDiablo family as well as the wealth acquired over Saetan’s long, long lifetime. Daemon, on the other hand, was still very much in sight. He was no longer the Consort, since Jaenelle, while still a Queen, no longer ruled a court.

Of course, only a fool wanting to commit suicide would in any way imply that the absence of a ring made him any less Jaenelle’s Consort.

“What are your plans?” Daemon asked quietly. “Or haven’t you thought that far ahead?”

“Know anyone who needs an assassin?”

He choked back a laugh. “In Kaeleer? Hardly.”

She saw the question in his eyes. “If I’d wanted him dead, Sadi, Falonar wouldn’t be breathing. You know that.”

His gold eyes stayed locked on hers as he took a sip of brandy. “Point made. Besides, I’m surprised you put up with him this long.”

That startled her. “Why?”

“Too much of that Eyrien arrogance for you to swallow for long.”

“You have a brother who has even more of that Eyrien arrogance,” she pointed out.

“You want to sleep with him?”

“I’d eat worms first. Live.” Since the image made her a little queasy, she took a healthy swallow of brandy. “Not that I don’t like him,” she added. “Maybe even love him a little in a sisterly way . . . when he’s not being a stubborn prick about something.”

“Hmm, all of five minutes a month.”

She grinned. “If you add it up.” The grin faded. “What about you?”