The ground-floor suite had its own small, heated pool off the sitting room as well as two bedrooms with private bathrooms. At least the little prick was smart enough to give them one of the best suites.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit while I go make the appointments?” Surreal said as she walked to the door.

“Are you going to take care of things, Surreal?”

Thinking Jaenelle hadn’t heard her, she turned—and saw the look in Witch’s eyes. And understood Jaenelle wasn’t talking about appointments.

She smiled. “You can count on it.”

She grabbed the first official-looking person she met, swung the other witch into a tiny alcove, and had the tip of her favorite stiletto tucked under the woman’s chin before her prey had a chance to react.

“Listen up, sugar,” Surreal said softly. “My cousin has spent months recovering from brutal injuries. Now that she’s well enough, I brought her here for the kind of pampering I heard you specialize in. You understand me so far?”

“Y-yes,” the witch stammered.

“Wonderful. So here’s the deal. Whatever problem you have with me, you bury it while she’s here, and you give her the best you’ve got. Because if you do anything to spoil this first outing, I’m going to tell her father, her brother, and her lover that you made Jaenelle very, very unhappy. By the time those three are finished expressing their displeasure, I sincerely doubt there will be anything in this place big enough to qualify as a pebble. Is that clear enough?”

The woman nodded.

“Good. I’m going to set up some appointments and give you a little time to pass the word.” Surreal vanished the stiletto and stepped back into the corridor. “And, sugar? Jaenelle’s male relatives aren’t the only ones who are dangerous.”

“My toes will be rose?”

“You’ll love it. That polish will complement the sapphire jacket and trousers I saw in one of the shops we passed on the way to this room. We’ll go there next so they’ll have time to make any alterations by this afternoon.”

“But . . . rose toenails? Who’s going to see them?”

Daemon will when he’s nibbling his way down your legs.

But there wasn’t any reason to mention that right now.

“Mud? They’re going to put mud on my face?”

“You’ll love it.”

“Whenever the kitties and I played stalk and pounce and we ended up muddy, everyone frowned about it.”

Surreal grunted softly. Only Jaenelle referred to Jaal and Kaelas, a full-grown tiger and an eight-hundred-pound Arcerian cat, as “the kitties”—or voluntarily played games with them to keep their predatory skills honed.

“So why is this mud different?” Jaenelle grumbled.

Stretched out on the other table, Surreal turned her head and opened one eye. “It’s expensive.”