He rolled the snifter between his hands and studied the way the brandy followed the motion. “We’re doing all right. He’s . . . wary. Can’t blame him for that. But he’ll stand. If I need him, he’ll stand.”

And you and Jaenelle?

“Anyway,” she said, “I thought I’d spend some time in Amdarh, if you have no objection to me using the town house.”

“It’s the family’s town house. You’re family.” He hesitated for a moment. “I have to go to Amdarh in a few days. If you’re willing to wait, we can go at the same time. I have a box at two of the theaters, if you’d like to see a play—and wouldn’t mind some company.”

I think you’re the one who needs some company. Shit, Sadi, what’s going on here?

“Fair enough.” She set the snifter on the blackwood desk, stood up, and stretched. “I’d better see what Graysfang is up to. He’s of the wolfie opinion that I enjoy drying him off and brushing him when he comes in wet and muddy. Don’t know why.”

“He’s male. He’s getting petted. This is hard to understand?”

The words were said lightly, but there was an undertone of anguished yearning.

Not knowing what to say, she left the study. But she thought about it on and off for the rest of the day. She watched the two of them throughout dinner. And when she was staring at the ceiling late that night, with Graysfang curled up beside her, snoring softly, she came to a decision.

All right, Sadi. I’ll keep the peace while we’re at the Hall. But once we get to Amdarh . . . The Blood in Terreille had good reason to call you the Sadist. If I have to dance with that side of your temper to find out what in the name of Hell is wrong between you and Jaenelle, then that’s what I’ll do. But one way or another, you’re going to talk to me.

And if she couldn’t get anything out of him, informing the patriarch of the family that there was serious trouble between Daemon and Jaenelle would get some results. One way or another.

FIVE

1

Jealousy coiled around Lektra’s heart as she watched Daemon settle the lovely woman in the seat beside him. He never invited anyone to sit with him when he came to the theater. Never.

“Who is she?” Lektra asked, struggling to hide the feeling of betrayal that welled up at the sight of Daemon with another woman. He should be keeping other women at arm’s length until he could be with her.

Lord Braedon, the Warlord who had agreed to be her escort tonight with gratifying eagerness, looked across the theater to the box opposite theirs. “Who? Oh. That’s Sadi’s ‘cousin.’ ”