“Something snapped in you last night, in a way I’ve never seen before. I think I provoked it—or was the final shove. I’d like to know why.”

“You didn’t provoke anything,” he snarled as he met those sapphire eyes. “It wasn’t . . .” He wouldn’t let her take the blame for this, not even a crumb of blame. But how to explain? Where to begin?

She sipped her coffee and waited.

“The Consort’s room is a kind of sanctuary,” he began, choosing each word with care. “A place for a man to let down his guard. A place where he doesn’t have to perform.”

She bit into a piece of toast and chewed slowly. “Do you feel like you have to perform, Daemon?”

He shook his head. “No. Never. Not with you. But . . . for most of my life I’d had to perform, had to be on my guard except for the few precious hours each day that I had to myself. So even though things are different now—so very different now—I like having this private space. I’ll come up here sometimes in the afternoons, stretch out on the bed for an hour, and let my mind wander.” And know he was safe when he did it.

She cut off a piece of the seafood omelet and held up the fork.

His stomach cramped, but he kept his eyes on hers as he leaned forward and accepted the offering.

“Nothing wrong with wanting a place for yourself,” Jaenelle said. “The cabin in Ebon Rih is my private place and seldom shared even with the people I love. So I do understand.”

“All those years in Terreille, I had to fight hard to have a private place,” he said softly.

When he didn’t say anything more, Jaenelle poked around the tray. “Ah. There is another fork.” She handed it to him. “Eat in between the pauses.”

He wasn’t sure if being required to eat was a subtle punishment or confirmation that she was more shaken by last night than she wanted to admit. Otherwise, since she was a Healer, she would have known he couldn’t eat.

He took a piece of toast, then a bite of the vegetable omelet. And swallowed hard to keep it down.

“I needed a private place,” he said. “In order to stay sane, I needed a place. My room. My bed. Out of bounds to everyone.”

She drank some coffee. Dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “You could have asked me to leave.”