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"If you're intending to watch me do paperwork, would you like to move that chair behind the desk?" he asked mildly.
That would put him between her and any irate male— namely Daemon—who might come through the door. "What a marvelous idea," Surreal said. She picked up the chair and brought it around the desk.
Before she could sit down, Saetan picked the chair up again and moved it closer to the bookcases that filled the back of the alcove. "Sit down," he said as he walked his fingers over the titles on one shelf. Selecting a book, he handed it to her. "This is a history of the Dea al Mon. You should learn a bit more about your mother's people. And it will be a reasonable excuse for why you're sitting there should anyone come in and wonder about it." He paused. Waited."Are you expecting anyone?"
"No, I'm not expecting anyone."
"I see. In that case, I'll do a bit more paperwork while you catch your breath. Then we'll have a little chat."
Surreal gave him a weak smile. "It seems to be my day for little chats."
Fortunately, his response to that was muttered softly enough that she could pretend she didn't hear it.
2 / Kaeleer
Daemon stared at the empty corridor, shook his head, then kept walking. He'd spent the day walking, first on the grounds of the estate and now along the corridors of the Hall.
In the month that he'd been in Kaeleer, he'd come to love the place. Loved the feel of it, the sprawling mass of it, the furnishings in it.
And he was going to have to leave it.
He'd come to that conclusion after another long, sleepless night. Oh, the boyos had tried to help with their stories about pursuing their Ladies, but it was becoming painfully clear that there was no hope for him. Maybe if he wasn't wearing the Consort's ring, wasn't reminded every minute of the relationship it implied, he could accept being just a friend or—may the Darkness help him—another older brother. Maybe he could get past desire that had become painful and just...
Just what? Watch Jaenelle accept another man one day? Pretend he could quench the fire raging inside him?
A month wasn't long, was no time at all in the courtship dance. But he had already waited so long for Witch to appear. Then, when she'd offered him the Consort's ring, he had hoped...
He would talk to Saetan, give back the ring, see if there was a remote court somewhere in the Realm where he could serve out the required time in order to remain in Kaeleer. He would...
A door opened. Jaenelle stepped into the corridor. Her face turned pale at the sight of him.
He stopped walking. He might have to give up everything else, but he wouldn't give up loving her.
"Um. Daemon," Jaenelle said in an odd voice. "Do you have a minute?"
"Of course." It cost him, but he gave her a warm, reassuring smile and followed her into the room.
Standing out of reach, she stared at the floor, looking uneasy and intense—as if she was trying to find the right way to break bad news.
She's going to ask me to return the Consort's ring.As soon as that thought formed, Daemon ruthlessly buried any ideas about noble sacrifices. He wasn't going to give up that easily. And he wasn't going to return the Consort's ring without a fight.
"How hard can it be?" Jaenelle muttered.
Daemon just waited.
Letting out a big sigh, Jaenelle walked up to him, braced her hands on his shoulders, rose up on her toes a little, mashed her lips against his, then scampered back out of reach and eyed him warily.
Daemon wasn't sure what to say about this unexpected move. As a kiss, it left a lot to be desired. As a kiss from Jaenelle...
It took effort not to lick his lips.
"Are you nervous?" Jaenelle asked, still eyeing him warily.
He was going to have a little chat with Surreal about the uselessness of cryptic advice. But at least he had some idea what the right answer should be.
"Actually, I'm terrified that I may say or do something stupid and you won't want to kiss me again."
Maybe that was too much of the right answer. Now she looked worried. Then she threw up her hands in a gesture of exasperated helplessness.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she almost wailed. And then added under her breath, "Surreal should have let me take notes."
Daemon clamped his tongue between his teeth. Yes, he really needed to have a little chat with Surreal.
Jaenelle began pacing. "It always sounds so easy in love stories."
"Kissing isn't difficult," Daemon said carefully.
She glared at him as she paced past him. "Lucivar said the same thing about cooking," she growled. "The wolves didn't even wait for it to come out of the oven before they were digging the hole to bury it."
That sounded like an interesting story. He'd have a little chat with Lucivar, too.
"Kissing isn't difficult," Daemon said firmly. "You just kissed me."
"Not very well," she grumbled.
Knowing better than to answer that, Daemon studied her. Frustration. Embarrassment. And an emotion that knocked the wind out of him—longing. "Why did you ask Surreal about kissing?"
"She told you that?"
"No, I guessed." And between overhearing Jaenelle's remark about taking notes and receiving Surreal's succinct instructions, it wasn't difficult to reach the correct conclusion.
Jaenelle grumbled and snarled a few comments in a language he thankfully didn't understand. Then, "I wanted to impress you, and I didn't want you to laugh."
"Laughing isn't what comes to mind at the moment," Daemon said dryly. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Sweetheart, if it's any comfort, I want to impress you, too."
"You do?" She sounded astonished.
He started to wonder what had happened in the past thirteen years that would make her so stunned by that idea—but he already knew. She had told him the first time he'd ended up in the misty place, when he'd tried to bring Witch back to heal her wounded body. When it came to physical pleasure, the males wanted to indulge themselves in the body without having to deal with the one who lived inside it. And Jaenelle, with the horrors of Briarwood in her past, would never yield that way.
"Yes, I do," he said.
She pondered this. "Kaelas is annoyed with you."
It seemed like an abrupt shift in topic—and not a welcome one. "Why?" he asked cautiously.
"Because I haven't been sleeping well lately and I keep kicking him. He's decided it's your fault."
Oh, wonderful. "I haven't been sleeping well either."
She turned away, looking distressed.
