Jaenelle shook her head. “I want to warm up first.”

“When you’re ready, I’ll go a round with you.”

She glanced at Lucivar’s bare chest. “I would have thought you’d already done your workout.”

“I’ve gone through two of them. Haven’t worked up a sweat yet.”

“Ah.”

Lucivar paused. “Your sister’s here.”

“I know.” She flicked a glance at the empty women’s practice circle. “I’m surprised you haven’t dragged her out here.”

“She’s got another thirty minutes to arrive on her own before she gets dragged.” Lucivar grinned wickedly. “I promise I’ll go easy.”

“Uh-huh.”

That, Daemon thought sourly, he would like to see.

“We also have company,” Lucivar said.

Her eyes iced over. “I know,” she said in her midnight voice.

Daemon took a step toward her. He didn’t know what he could say or do, but he was certain he—or someone—had to shift the mood she was in.

*Lucivar…*he began.

*Just keep things soft and easy, Bastard,* Lucivar replied. *The workout will take the edge off her.*

Daemon took another step toward her. Her expression changed to something close to panic—and he realized that, last night when she had let him hold her, the Queen had been doing her duty for one of the males in her First Circle, but the woman didn’t want to get anywhere near him.

As she darted away from Lucivar—and him—she almost ran into Jazen, who was carrying a tray containing a pot of fresh coffee and clean mugs.

“Who are you?” Jaenelle said a little too softly.

Jazen stared into her eyes, frozen. “Jazen,” he finally said. “Prince Sadi’s valet.”

Her eyes changed from ice to curiosity. “Is it interesting work?”

“It would be more interesting if he wore something besides a black suit and a white shirt all the time,” Jazen muttered.

Lucivar choked back a laugh. Daemon felt the blood rush into his face and wasn’t sure if it was from temper or embarrassment. Jazen looked horrified.

Then Jaenelle’s silvery, velvet-coated laugh rang out. “Well, we’ll do our best to rumple him up for you.” As she walked past Jazen, she brushed her left hand over his shoulder. “Welcome to Kaeleer, Warlord.”

Daemon waited until she had reached the women’s practice circle before turning to his valet. “Should I apologize for being boring in my taste in clothes? And why in the name of Hell are you out here doing a footman’s work?”

“Beale asked me to bring this tray out.” Jazen gulped. “I don’t know why I said that other.”

“You said what you’ve been thinking,” Lucivar said, amused. “Don’t worry about it. By the time we’re done with him, you’ll have to work hard to keep him looking pristine.”

Daemon snarled at his brother, then glared at Jazen.