“He’s been used enough, don’t you think?” Jaenelle said quietly in her midnight voice. “And I am not going to be the next in a long list of women who have forced him into physical intimacy.”

“But—” Surreal took a mental step back. She hadn’t expected this to be the reason for Jaenelle’s resistance—and she was sure Daemon had no idea this was why he was getting locked out of the bedroom. Ah, sugar, she thought sadly. You made all the wrong moves for all the right reasons. “That was different. He was a pleasure slave then, not a Consort.”

“Is there that much difference, Surreal?”

Remember who you’re talking to. Remember what she must have seen in Briarwood—and what sort of conclusions a twelve-year-old girl who knew about that side of sex would come to about the time Daemon had spent as a pleasure slave.

“The boyos who are Consorts don’t seem to mind performing their duties. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“They’ve never been pleasure slaves. They’ve never been forced. All right, yes, sometimes a Consort is asked to give more than he feels like giving at that moment, but when a man accepts the Consort’s ring, he goes into that kind of service willingly and by his own choice.”

“Daemon made that choice,” Surreal pointed out quietly. “Not because he wants the status of being the Consort and is willing to put up with the duties that go along with it, but because he wants to be your lover.” She studied Jaenelle. “You do care about him, don’t you?”

“I love him.”

Surreal heard such a deep river of feelings in those simple words.

“Besides,” Jaenelle said, shifting back into a nervous young woman, “I’m not sure he really does want to do…that. He hasn’t even tried to kiss me,” she added sadly.

Surreal hooked her hair behind her pointed ears. Damn, damn, damn. How had the ground gotten so boggy so fast? “If I understand the rules a Consort is supposed to play by, isn’t the Queen supposed to initiate the first kiss so that the Consort knows his attentions will be welcome?”

“Yes,” Jaenelle said reluctantly.

“But you haven’t kissed him either?”

Jaenelle snarled in frustration and started pacing. “I’m not twelve anymore.”

Surreal braced her hands on her hips. “Sugar, from where I’m standing, that’s all to the good.”

Jaenelle threw up her hands and shouted, “Don’t you understand? I don’t know how to do any of this!”

Surreal just stared. “You’ve never been kissed? Family kisses and friendly kisses don’t count,” she quickly amended.

A disgusted look filled Jaenelle’s face. “Teeth, tongues, and drool.”

“Wolves and dogs don’t count either.”

Jaenelle let out a huff of laughter, and said dryly, “I wasn’t referring to the kindred.”

Shit. “Haven’t you received even one kiss you liked?”