Because the man was Hayllian,Theran choked on the thought of giving the old bastard his family name.

“Let me put it this way,” the man said. “You can offer the basic courtesy of your name and where you are from—or you can go to Hell.”

Theran shivered, because there was something about the soft thunder in that deep voice that warned him his choices were very literal.

“Theran. From Dena Nehele.”

“Since the mountain didn’t fall down around us and your head didn’t explode, I’m delighted that the consequences of revealing so much information were not, in fact, dire.”

He wasn’t used to being slapped down. Not by a stranger. A response scalded his throat, but he choked it back. He didn’t like the Hayllian on principle—and the Hayllian didn’t seem to like him. But the man was the only way of getting the information he sought.

“There has been reason for secrecy,” Theran muttered.

“Then your lack of manners can be understood—if not forgiven.”

Cold voice, cold eyes, cold temper. If he’d ruined this chance...

“I understand you’re looking for someone,” the man said. “Who?”

Maybe there was still a chance.

“Daemon Sadi,” Theran said.

The chill in the air gained a sharp edge. The man asked too softly, “Why?”

None of your business. Theran bit his tongue to keep from saying the words. “He owes my family a favor.”

He wasn’t sure that was an accurate assessment of the message that had been handed down to the males in his family, but it was sufficient explanation for this librarian.

“I see.”

A long silence while those gold eyes stared at him.

“I’ll have some refreshments brought in for you,” the man said.

“I don’t need anything.” Hell’s fire! Remember some of the manners you were taught! “Thank you. Something hot to drink would be most welcome.”

“I’ll have it brought in. And I’ll see what I can find out about Prince Sadi.”

The Hayllian walked out of the room—and Theran breathed a sigh of relief.

The control required to close the door and walk away, leaving that little whelp’s mind intact, made Saetan’s hand tremble.

I guess Daemon’s not the only one who feels overprotective at times, he thought ruefully.

Feeling the other presence in the corridor, he made sure the door was firmly shut and stepped away from it as Geoffrey, the Keep’s historian/librarian, dropped the sight shield that had kept him hidden.

“You heard?” Saetan asked.

“Since you left the door open, it was hard not to,” Geoffrey replied.

“See to the refreshments, will you? I’ll deal with the rest.”

Geoffrey raised a white-skinned hand. “Just one question. Who is that jumping jackass?”

Saetan rocked back on his heels. “Jumping jackass? What have you been reading?”

The other Guardian wouldn’t meet his eyes.