Jared blinked again. “Little Black Widow?” He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. “What did she say about Lia?”

“Ambush. Viper rats. You taking off with the witchling to find help. The rest of them hightailing it here.” Yarek shook his head and huffed. “Poor thing was making herself sick with all the fretting, and that young Warlord Prince knew about as much as an ant can piss about soothing a witch who’s got herself fretted. Now, me”—he waved his hand—“I know something about soothing a fretting witch. Janine wasn’t much of a fretter. All I had to do for her was keep some cheap clay pottery around that she could smash whenever she got really annoyed. That and a long, hot ride between the sheets usually eased her mood.”

“What?” Jared said weakly.

“Can’t settle things the same way with a daughter—”

Jared choked.

“—so I had to learn other ways of soothing, didn’t I? Wasn’t Janine who got Shira to stop fretting when Tavi performed the Fire Dance and then turned down her invitation to be her lover, was it?”

“What?”

“ ‘Sweetheart,’ I said, ‘a young Warlord’s got a right to choose his lover same as a young witch.’ ”

“What in the name of Hell was she doing inviting anyone to her bed?” Jared shouted.

“She’d had her Virgin Night. She was free to try out a man if it pleased her.”

“Shira’s not old enough—”

“She’s twenty-five now,” Yarek said, looking fierce.

“Then why didn’t her lover escort her over the mountains?”

“She didn’t find one she wanted to keep. Damn shame, but there it is. I wanted Mariel to have her Virgin Night before she left—have a Shalador male take care of it so I’d know it was done right—but there was too much upset at the time, and it would have been too risky with her emotions all stirred up like that.”

Jared braced his head in his hands and moaned. He’d been able to picture Janos and Davin grown—up to a point—but Shira and Mariel? Shira, with lovers. Mariel, ready for her Virgin Night and probably spending her evenings dreamily thinking about which consort she’d like to request for that night.

Lia, who wasn’t thinking about any of it.

He moaned again.

Yarek narrowed his eyes. “You acting so prudish about Shira and Mariel for a reason, or are you just trying to dodge my question about the witchling?”

“The witchling.” Jared rammed his fingers through his hair. What would Lia say about being called a witchling? What would Thera say about being called the little Black Widow? “She’s—”

They both tensed when they heard a horse approaching at an easy pace, but they couldn’t see the road from that part of the garden.