Jaenelle’s lips curved into just a hint of a dry smile. “Oh, yes, Prince, I understand what he represents.”

Daemon swallowed hard. “Then don’t insult me by offering regrets. A male is expendable. A Queen is not—especially when she is Witch.”

She made an odd sound. “Saetan said almost the same thing once.”

“And he was right.”

“Well, being a Warlord Prince made from the same mold, you would think that, wouldn’t you?” She started to smile. Then her eyes narrowed. Her attention sharpened.

Daemon had the distinct impression there was something about him that didn’t please her. When her intense focus ended a moment later, he realized that she had made some decision about him, just as she had done the first time he’d met her. And now, like then, he didn’t know what she had decided.

The Consort’s ring was a heavy weight on his finger, but, because of it, he could ask for one thing he desperately needed.

“May I hold you for a minute?”

He tried to tell himself that her hesitation came from surprise and not wariness, but he didn’t believe it. That didn’t stop him from closing his arms around her when she walked up to him. That didn’t stop the tears from stinging his eyes when her arms cautiously circled his waist and she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You’re taller than I remember,” he said, brushing his cheek against her hair.

“I should hope so.”

Her voice sounded a bit tart, but he could hear the smile in it.

Oh, how his hands wanted to caress and explore, but he was afraid she would pull away from him, so he kept them still. She was alive, and he was with her. That’s all that mattered.

He could have stayed that way for the rest of the night, just holding her, feeling the easy rise and fall of her breathing, but after a few minutes she drew away from him.

“Come on, Daemon,” she said, holding out her hand. “You need to get some rest, and my orders were to herd you back to your room so that you’d get some sleep before daylight.”

His temper sharpened instantly. “Who would dare give you orders?” he snarled.

She gave him a look full of exasperated amusement. “Guess.”

He almost said “Saetan,” and then thought about it. “Lucivar,” he said grimly.

“Lucivar,” Jaenelle agreed as she took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “And trust me, boyo, having Lucivar haul you out of bed because you weren’t on the practice field when he told you to be is not an experience you want to have.”

“What’s he going to do? Pour a bucket of water over me?” Daemon said as they reached the corridor and headed toward their suites.