Pulling a book from the shelf, he read the first page and choked back a laugh. By the time he got to the fourth page, he was leaning comfortably against the shelves and grinning. The heroine was a Blood female named Tracker, a musician by trade, whose companion was a Purple Dusk Sceltie Warlord named Shadow. The village they lived in was clearly modeled on the village of Maghre, and the Warlord who ruled the village and requested their assistance in solving a mystery . . .

Did Khardeen know about these stories? He’d send Khary a brief note this evening. It would be a good way to respond to the note he’d received from the Warlord of Maghre last week. Khary’s note had been nothing more than a few sentences about horses, but he’d understood the significance of the note coming to him rather than Jaenelle. His actions during the time Jaenelle needed to create her spells to save Kaeleer had broken the friendships that had developed between him and the other males in Jaenelle’s First Circle. Since then, they’d all been coldly civil with him. Khary’s note was the first sign of any willingness to try to repair those friendships.

Closing the book, Daemon checked the shelves and found two others by the same author that featured Tracker and Shadow. He took those, too. Even if the mystery part of the story didn’t end up being sufficiently compelling, the author’s understanding of human-kindred relationships was certainly entertaining.

As he crouched to look at another book, he heard two women, speaking in low, urgent tones, walk up to the other side of the shelves.

“It’s true, I tell you,” one woman said.

“I don’t believe it,” the other replied, sounding oddly defiant. “And accusing a man of infidelity without proof is irresponsible.”

“He was seen, in public, with the bitch he’s bedding. How much more proof do you need?”

“I’d heard she was his cousin.”

“Her being one thing doesn’t exclude her being the other.”

A hesitation. “No. I’m certain this is all a dreadful misunderstanding. You only had to look at him last winter to see he was in love with his Queen. He wouldn’t betray her now.”

“We’ll see,” the first woman said darkly.

Her companion sighed. “Did you want a book from this section?”

“No, I just wanted to get away from the shopkeeper to finish telling you what I’d heard. The way he kept shushing us was most annoying—and peculiar. I don’t usually come to this shop, and I’m not sure I will again.”

“Then let’s go. I already have my selections.”

When he no longer sensed the women’s presence in the shop, Daemon stood up and took his books to the counter. As he waited for the shopkeeper to return from another part of the shop, he thought about what he’d overheard.