Going to the window, she pulled back the sheer curtain and stared at the mountain Lucivar called home as she lobbed a thought on a Gray psychic thread. *Yaslana.*
*Are you going to start whining already?*
He sounded amused. He sounded like he’d been waiting for her to contact him.
Damn him. His wife, Marian, either was crazy in love with him or had more patience than was natural.
*We need to talk,*Surreal said.*Privately. And if you give me any excuses, I’ll kick you so hard your balls will end up lodged between your ears.*
*If you bring a crossbow to this meeting, I will smack you brainless.*
She grinned. Couldn’t help it. The last time she’d wanted to discuss something with Lucivar, she’d threatened to shoot him in order to assure she would have his undivided attention. *Fine. No crossbow—unless I have to come looking for you.*
He laughed. They’d come out even in this little pissing contest, so she was pretty pleased too.
*This evening,* he said. *Once the little beast is tucked in for the night. Do you know the house in Doun where my mother used to live?*
*I’ll find it.*
*I’ll meet you there.*
Are you sure you want to meet there? Apparently Lucivar also wanted to meet without attracting attention. She couldn’t think of another reason for him to choose that location.
She unpacked her clothes, then got acquainted with the room. The small desk held a supply of paper, as well as pens, sealing wax, and a couple of decorative seals for guests who might not have a family seal. The bottom of the bedside table had a stack of books—mostly collections of stories, but there were a couple of Lady Fiona’s Tracker and Shadow novels, including the newest one, which she hadn’t read yet.
No books by Jarvis Jenkell, the writer who had tried to kill her and Rainier. Was that because Merry hadn’t liked his work, or had the woman removed anything that would remind her guests of that nightmarish effort to survive?
Any reminder that wasn’t still lodged in flesh, Surreal thought as she felt the rasp in her breathing. She would need to take care for the rest of this winter, but her lungs would eventually heal completely. Rainier’s leg, on the other hand, would never be the same.
She opened the bathroom door, intending to claim her half of the shelves and storage space, and heard movement in the next room. She rapped on the door.
“It’s open,” he said.
She opened the door, then leaned on the doorframe to study the Warlord Prince who was one of the few men she thought of as a friend.
When they returned to Amdarh after spending Winsol at the Keep with the rest of the SaDiablo family, he’d retreated during the last half of the holiday, claiming he needed time to get ready for this little “adventure” in Ebon Rih. She hadn’t challenged him because she had her own preparations to make for this stay.
Looking at him, she regretted that decision.
He’d lost weight in those few days. All the Blood burned up food faster than landens did, and the darker the Jewel a person wore, the more food was required to keep the body from consuming itself. Rainier obviously hadn’t been eating enough to sustain what had been a very fine build. His face looked leaner and harder, those dreamy green eyes were shadowed by more than one kind of pain, and the brown hair that was usually worn stylishly shaggy looked unkempt.
Rainier’s leg would never be the same, no matter how skilled the Healer—and he hadn’t been helping. What none of them could figure out was why he seemed determined to prevent that leg from healing as completely as possible.
“Want some help unpacking?” she asked.
“I can still take care of myself,” he snapped as he grabbed several carefully folded shirts and fisted wrinkles into all of them.
“I didn’t say otherwise, sugar.”
She knew he heard the warning in the word “sugar,” because he gave her a long look.
Have you seen Falonar yet?
It was there, on the edge of being said, a deliberately hurtful punch to the heart. But he didn’t say it. She saw the decision in his eyes not to throw that emotional fist.
“Have you finished your own unpacking?” he asked.
“Mostly. I was just about to claim my share of the bathroom space when I heard you moving around in here.”
He snorted. “Will I have any room for my things?”
“As our friend Karla would say, kiss kiss.”
He laughed and held out the shirts. “Fine. Just put the clothes where it will be logical to find them. And I mean male logic, not what passes for female logic.”
“My, my. Aren’t we feeling pissy today?”
He limped over to the corner of the room that had a stuffed chair and footrest, as well as a reading lamp and side table. Settling in the chair and stretching out his legs, he sighed wearily. “Did Lucivar not consider the stairs when he chose this place, or were the rooms being on the second floor one of the reasons he chose it?”
“I’m not sure that was a consideration at all,” she said slowly as she put Rainier’s clothes into the drawers and closet. Before she could decide how much to tell him—especially since there wasn’t anything definite she could tell him—someone knocked on the door.
“It’s Jaenelle,” Rainier said before she had a chance to send out a psychic tendril and find out who was in the hallway.
“How do you know?” she asked as she walked to the door.
“Her psychic scent was always unique. It’s a little different now that she wears Twilight’s Dawn, but there’s no mistaking it.”
Which just proved a Queen was a Queen whether she ruled officially or not. Unless there was a reason to pay attention, psychic scents were ignored in the same way as physical scents. But a male who served in a court would always know when his Queen was nearby.
“Is the fact that you’re all still that observant something you don’t want to call attention to?” Surreal asked as she opened the door.
“Call attention to what?” Jaenelle asked as she walked into the room.
“An unobservant man makes a poor flirt,” Rainier said. His green eyes glittered with a warning to drop the subject.
“If that’s the case, you’re very observant, Prince,” Jaenelle said. “No, stay there,” she added when he started to shift in order to get to his feet. “I can check the leg just fine where you’re sitting. Surreal, do you want to sit on the side of the bed or go back to your room for privacy?”
“That depends on what we’re doing,” Surreal replied warily.