Daemon bolted for the bathroom.

Listening to the muffled laughter behind the closed door, Jared considered switching the mugs but decided he wasn’t up for whatever Daemon’s response might be after choking on the first mouthful.

Jared’s mug vanished.

Daemon returned a couple of minutes later, placed the cleaned mug in front of Jared, sank into his chair, and grinned wickedly.

Jared fixed another mug of coffee. “This is fine.”

“I’m so pleased.”

Jared almost gave in to the urge to give Daemon one hard kick. “They’re rather opposing professions,” he said, his thoughts circling back to the woman who, it was said, had exotic looks and enough bedroom skills to melt a man’s bones.

“Not really.” Daemon sat up, gave Jared a sharp look, and then drank his coffee. “Especially when one profession is part of the tools used for the other.”

Jared choked.

“Did I just ruin a long-held fantasy?” Daemon asked innocently.

“Of course not.”

“She doesn’t kill every male she beds.”

“Wouldn’t matter if she did.”

“Your Thera would like her.”

Mother Night, banish the thought. “She’s not my Thera.”

“Blaed’s Thera, then.”

“Haven’t you got the possessive turned around? Shouldn’t you say Thera’s Blaed?” He thought about that for a second, then set his mug down with a thump.

“Thera’s blade.” Looking too much like a cat that has one paw firmly on the mouse’s tail, Daemon poured more coffee. “Which is something you shouldn’t forget, Warlord.”

The dinner that had tasted good a few minutes ago swam greasily in Jared’s stomach. “You think—”

Daemon made an exasperated sound. “If I didn’t know you’re too tired to think straight, I’d knock some sense into you. Listen, and listen well. Blaed’s a good man and a good Warlord Prince. In a few years, when he matures, he’ll be an even better one—and a dangerous one. From what you’ve said, Thera’s a strong-willed young woman who’s been on a battleground for far too long. A Green-Jeweled Black Widow with that kind of fire in her isn’t the kind of witch Dorothea would allow to stay whole no matter what sort of games were being played. Because that kind of witch is a serious rival.”

Jared sipped his coffee. “Thayne?”

“Why? Because he protected some innocent, terrified animals that were caught in a battle? Because, no matter how he feels about them, he might have realized how much harder the rest of the journey would be without them, especially if any of you were injured?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” And now, remembering Thayne’s burned face, he wished he had thought of it. He rubbed his eyes, fighting to stay awake. “Who, then?”