Cassidy took the last cookie. “That’s settled then.”
“A word with you, Cassie?” Talon asked.
Cassidy turned away from the dining room. “Of course.”
They went into the parlor. Now that they had privacy, he didn’t seem eager to speak.
“You’ve got your family here for Winsol,” he finally said.
She nodded. “My brother Clayton is coming tomorrow to be with us.”
“You still have half the court here, so you’ll be looked after.”
He was tiptoeing around something. “Talon, it’s Winsol. The next few days are social and fun. I don’t need looking after.”
“There are some who do,” he said quietly. “I wanted your consent to be gone for a few days. Thing is, the mountain passes still need to be guarded, so there are still men in the rogue camps. Some of them are there because they see that as their duty to Queen and land. Some of them are there because they’d seen too much when the twisted Queens ruled here, and they haven’t found the courage yet to come down to the villages.”
“Oh, Talon.” Cassidy’s eyes filled with tears.
“Now, don’t be doing that, Cassie. Don’t. It’s not as bad as you’re thinking. And it’s better this year than it’s been in a long time. Thing is, I trained a lot of those boys, so I’ve always made it a point to spend a little time in each of those camps around Winsol Eve and Winsol.”
“Then you should do that.” Cassidy blinked away the tears. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? We could have done something for them.”
“It’s been done. First Circle took care of it. Guess we should have told you, but you were already doing plenty.” Talon smiled. “Gray made up a bundle of books for each camp. Good entertainment on winter nights. Got new blankets and other supplies to pass out. Got baked goods and casseroles, fruits and coffee. Got a bit of a feast for each camp. They’ll already be making some of their own; this will add to it.”
“I’m glad. Do you know how many men are still up there?”
Talon shook his head. “Some went down to their home villages for a while, then went back into the mountains. I’ll have a better idea once I’ve seen the camps.”
“You’ll leave tomorrow?”
“As soon as the sun sets.”
“Powell is out this evening, so I’ll talk to him tomorrow morning and see what can be spared from the tithes for quarterly wages.”
“Wages? For what?”
Cassidy lifted her chin. “You said they’re guarding the passes for Queen and land. To me that sounds like they work for the court. And if they work for the court, they get paid by the court.”
“Cassie, that’s not why I told you.”
“I know that, Talon. It doesn’t make it any less true. If this is the work they do, they will be paid. We may not be able to give them what they deserve—not yet, anyway—but those men will be acknowledged.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he kissed her cheek and walked out of the room.
She gave herself another minute to settle before joining the other women for dinner.
CHAPTER 34
KAELEER
Daemon walked into the parlor where Jaenelle was tucking the last few presents under the tree before she created an illusion spell of the brightly wrapped boxes. Most, if not all, of those gifts would be going with her to the Keep this evening, so the illusion spell would maintain this room’s festive appearance.
He would tuck his special gift for her among the rest once he joined her at the Keep tomorrow for the family’s celebration of Winsol.
He held out a brown delivery box. “This came for you. Special delivery from Cassie.”
“From Cassie?” Jaenelle put the last box in place, frowned a little, rearranged a couple more, then nodded, finally satisfied with the arrangement.
Of course, if this package was supposed to go with the others, his darling wife could well pull them all out and start again.
He might find that annoying if he didn’t suspect she was trying to figure out what the gifts were without using Craft to probe the packages.
That was considered cheating.
Besides, if challenged, he would deny having done anything similar when he’d handled packages while putting his gifts under the tree.
Jaenelle opened the delivery box and uncovered a note and a large bakery tin.
“Chocolate chunk cookies,” she read. “Taste best when slightly warm.” She vanished the note, opened the bakery tin, and took a cookie.
Daemon narrowed his gold eyes as he watched her slowly chew and swallow. Until now, the only time he’d seenthat look on her face was when he was doing something especially pleasing with his hands or mouth.
“Let’s see those.” He reached for a cookie.She hugged the tin, took a step back, and snarled, “Mine.”
“Darling,” he purred, “you’re sharing.”
“Why?”
“Because you like having sex with me.”
She watched him out of those sapphire eyes. “You think you can give me sex that’s as good as these cookies?”
“I think I can manage that.”
She put the last bite of cookie in her mouth. She chewed. Swallowed. Licked melted chocolate off her fingers.
And gave him a smile that made his knees weak and his blood sizzle.
“Did you have any plans for this afternoon?” she asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Her smile turned a bit feral and a whole lot hotter.
She handed him the bakery tin, walked to the door, and said over her shoulder, “Why don’t you tell Beale we’re going to miss the midday meal?”
He watched her walk out of the room and wondered when she’d learned to dothat with her hips.
“Why don’t I do that?” Since he needed a minute before he left the room, he ate a cookie. “Damn, theyare good.” He studied the cookies—and smiled.
They tasted best when warm? Well, he’d have to see how warm he could make it when he walked into the bedroom holding a bakery tin full of these cookies—and wearing nothing but black leather pants that fit like a second skin.
TERREILLE
Winsol. For the Blood it was the most important day of the year.
For Theran, it was a bittersweet evening.
He sat in a chair near the fire Julien had lit in the parlor, his socked feet resting on a stool. Watching the flames, he idly swirled brandy in a snifter.
He’d enjoyed these past few days more than he’d expected. The first time he’d shown up at a social engagement without Kermilla, there had been an awkward silence, but word must have spread after that because none of his other hosts mentioned her absence. And because her absence meant he was free to travel to other towns, he’d spent some time with other Warlord Princes who had been friends in the rogue camps.
The days leading up to Winsol had been full. He still missed Kermilla with an ache that made him feel hollowed out at times—even when he acknowledged to himself that she wouldn’t have enjoyed the parties half as much as he did, being used to things that were so much grander.
If she’d asked him to spend Winsol with her in Dharo, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Would his clothes and manners have been that much of an embarrassment to her?
Probably.
She certainly would have been offended by the thought of sitting down with the servants for the Winsol feast. Since he couldn’t see the cook making a separate meal just for him, he’d asked Julien, Hanna, and the others to join him in the dining room and to set the table with whatever bits of fancy the butler and housekeeper could find. Despite the surroundings and a much better quality of food, sitting with them tonight had felt more like a Winsol dinner in the rogue camps—camaraderie and easy teasing between the adults and youngsters, and laughter. A great deal of laughter and the hopeful relief that the bad times were behind them.
He enjoyed the meal and the chance to know them as people instead of just servants.
But he still missed Kermilla. And Gray. Hell’s fire, he missed Gray. Not Gray as he’d been for the past ten years, but the youth he had been before he was captured and tortured. As he sipped his brandy and stared at the fire, Theran kept remembering that last Winsol when Gray was whole and happy—when one of them wasn’t weighed down by nightmares and the other by guilt.
A tap on the parlor door before Julien stepped in. “Prince Talon is here and asked if you’re available to see him.”
“Of course!” Theran set the brandy aside and pushed out of the chair. “Send him in.”
“We don’t have any of that special wine,” Julien said. “Is there something else we can offer as refreshment?”
Would Julien actually open a vein and mix his own blood with red wine to make yarbarah?
Studying his butler’s face, Theran realized that was a distinct possibility. “Let me find out if he wants anything.” He paused, wondering if he was reading something in Julien’s voice that wasn’t really there. “I appreciate the offer.”
Julien nodded and stepped out of the room.
A minute later, Talon walked in.
“Happy Winsol,” Talon said, giving Theran a hard hug and a smile.
“Happy Winsol.” Theran grinned, delighted by this visit. “Come sit by the fire. I don’t think we’ll have more snow until morning, but the old men who have weather aches say no one will move far from their own doorstep tomorrow.”
“They’re probably right,” Talon replied, taking a seat by the fire. “Plenty of snow up in the mountains this year.”
“You were in the Tamanara Mountains?” Theran couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. Did Cassidy know her Master of the Guard was visiting the rogue camps?
“I always visit the camps during the Winsol nights.” Talon gave him a sharp look. “You know that.”
Of course he did. The past few years, he’d made those visits with the older man.