“You’ve felt that way,” he said, looking at his father and seeing a man capable of playing those kinds of games. Seeing a man who had played those games. But not out of cruelty or rage. Saetan had played those games out of desire.

“I never looked at Hekatah and thought, Mine, which should have told me the truth about her feelings and my own.”

Daemon hesitated, but curiosity pushed aside caution. “Sylvia?”

Saetan closed his eyes. “Yes, Sylvia. There were a few times while we were lovers when she came to my bed and . . .” He swallowed hard.

A feeling in the room. They both had to step away from it, shake it off. For now. But he would have to circle around the subject with Jaenelle and find out if she’d found the Sadist thrilling or frightening. If she’d found him thrilling . . .

Step back, fool, before you become a danger to everyone around you.

Since he could see Saetan trying to shake off the feeling as well, he cast around for something else to talk about.

“Where’s Theran?”

A flash of amusement from Saetan. “I sent him down to the village. With Vae.”

“Vae?” Daemon stared at his father. “You sent him to Halaway with Vae?”

“Yes.”

“The young Sceltie who’s such a managing little bitch that Khary used up every favor owed him in order to get her out of his own village for a month?”

“That’s the one.”

“You sent her with a man who doesn’t know anything about Scelties or kindred?”

“Yes, I did.”

Daemon swallowed the sudden tickle in his throat. “That was mean.”

Saetan smiled. “I know.”

As he thought about Theran trying to cope with any Sceltie, let alone Vae, Daemon staggered back a couple of steps, hit the wall—and filled the room with laughter.

By the time dinner was half-over, Theran missed being around Vae. At least with the nippy little bitch, he had a clear idea of where he stood. Sitting across from Jaenelle Angelline, with her husband and her father the only other people sitting at the table, he felt like he was walking on a knife’s edge. Say too much or sound too flattering and he would be stepping on Sadi’s territorial toes. Say too little and he would be condemned by the father for his lack of courtesy.

Either way, it wasn’t making dinner sit easy. And Lady Angelline’s refusal to say anything about her meeting wasn’t helping his digestion. Neither was the way she looked at him, as if she knew something about him that amused her.

When the fruit and cheese arrived at the end of the meal, along with squares of thick chocolate and coffee, Saetan said, “All right, witch-child. Share the joke. What is it about Prince Theran that you find so funny?”