“At least someone will profit from the evening.” Finishing the first roll, she checked the napkin bundle, pleased to see two more stuffed rolls. Lucivar was going to share fairly—and just in case that wasn’t what he had in mind, she took another roll and bit into it.

“And let’s hope this is the only thing in Amdarh that burns tonight,” Lucivar growled, using the mug to point to the carriage and riders slowly moving up the street.

The carriage stopped. Zhara stepped out and was immediately surrounded by her guards.

“He doesn’t have any reason to go after her, does he?” Surreal asked.

“Not that I know of,” Lucivar replied.

Someone pointed them out. Zhara and her circle of guards pushed their way through the crowd. On Zhara’s command, the guards stepped aside so the Queen of Amdarh could face Surreal and Lucivar without looking over a wall of male bodies.

“Is Daemon Sadi responsible for this?” Zhara demanded.

Lucivar took a long swallow of coffee before answering. “Yeah, he is.”

“Did he also kill Lord Tavey?”

“Sadi killed a Warlord?” Surreal asked.

“At the party the other night,” Lucivar replied. “He was fairly neat about it—in a messy sort of way.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t know that.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Zhara snapped. “You find this all amusing? It’s likely Lady Lektra and her friend were caught in that fire.”

“They wouldn’t have been alive when the fire started.” Surreal shrugged. “What do you want us to say, sugar? The little bitch played a game with the Sadist—and she lost.”

Zhara went very still. “What did you call him?”

Lucivar vanished his mug. “In Terreille, they called him the Sadist—with good reason. If you want to push at him for going after a witch who spread those rumors about him and tried to hurt Jaenelle, you go right ahead. You’ll live just long enough to regret it.”

The fire went out. One moment it was still blazing, the next it was gone.

“Oh, shit,” Surreal said softly.

There was plenty of light from the houses on this side of the street to see him coming. That gliding walk, that feline grace. The waves of cold that had the rest of the Blood scrambling to get out of his way.

“Zhara,” Lucivar said very quietly, “don’t be a fool.”

Daemon got close enough that Surreal could see his eyes were still glazed, and his lips were curved in that brutal, chilling smile. He was still in a cold rage, still riding the killing edge. If anyone pushed him now . . .

Lucivar shifted, drawing Daemon’s attention.

“Still pissed off?” Lucivar asked.

“Not anymore,” Daemon replied. “At least, for now.” Those glazed eyes fixed on Zhara. “But if anyone from Dhemlan ever tries to hurt my Queen again, I’ll kill you all.”

As Daemon turned and walked away, Zhara slowly sank to the ground.