“Oh?”
“Has Titian said anything about the incident this summer when you and the children were at the pool?”
“She said something to Marian.”
It was obvious he wasn’t thrilled about what was said, but he was accepting it—and maybe even felt a little relieved.
“Do I need to call in my crossbow to get the details?” she asked.
“I overheard Titian tell Marian that the older girls had been making a fuss about boy stuff just so the younger girls would think they knew about something interesting, and it was all a big tease.”
“Oh, dear.” She bit her lower lip and told herself to behave. Then she thought, Ah, shit, he deserves this. “Jaenelle has been doing a lot of thinking about the day she saw your boy stuff.”
“Is she upset?” Lucivar asked with a hint of alarm.
“Noooo. But she did come to a different conclusion than Titian. Jaenelle Saetien has decided that, for the most part, boy stuff is not interesting and it looks funny when it wiggles.”
He made a pained sound, but since he was managing to keep a straight face, she went on. “However, she also concluded that when someone is special, his stuff becomes special too. Like, your stuff becomes special when you’re around Auntie Marian. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let you help her make the baby.”
She felt him shake. She wasn’t sure if he was about to start laughing hysterically or just become hysterical.
“Having come to that conclusion about her darling uncle Lucivar—”
He whimpered.
“—she has decided the same must be true of her darling papa. He’s shyer than you so she hasn’t been able to confirm that, but she’s certain it’s true because Daemon is her papa and he’s wonderful.”
“Mother Night.” Lucivar swallowed hard. “What did Daemon say?”
“He doesn’t know about this yet. She decided that he’s been so nervous about the party we’re having after the Ceremony it wasn’t the time to tell him about her conclusions regarding boy stuff.”
“Then why in the name of Hell did you tell me?”
“Because one of these days he’s going to be standing at your door looking like he’d gotten kicked in the head, and I thought you should have some idea about why so you can comfort him.”
“Why can’t you comfort him?”
“Because, sugar, I tend to agree with her—especially when boy stuff wiggles.”
He walked away, weaving a little. Within moments, Marian came up to her, the baby asleep on her shoulder.
“I want to know what you said to put that look on his face,” Marian said. “I think it will come in handy someday.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You have a daughter too. I’m sure you’ll see that look again.”
Marian laughed softly as she rubbed the baby’s back, but her eyes remained serious. “Are you concerned about today? About Jaenelle?”
“A little. I don’t care what Jewels she wears. Neither does Daemon. But I should have sensed something at this point, should have some idea of what Jewel Jaenelle will wear, and I don’t. Based on how quickly she picks up basic—and not-so-basic—Craft, she should be strong enough to need a reservoir for her power.”
“Daemon isn’t sensing anything either?”
Surreal shook her head. “I wear the Gray; Daemon wears the Black. If her power is so weak she comes away from the Ceremony without a Jewel ...”
“She’ll feel like an outsider within her own family,” Marian concluded. “Especially because Titian wears Birthright Summer-sky and Daemonar wears the Green.”
Surreal shivered at the thought. Wasn’t that how so many things had gone wrong with Jaenelle Angelline’s life? She had been the outsider in her family, with her special friends and abilities no one had wanted to understand until Saetan had recognized her as the daughter of his soul.
Well, Jaenelle Saetien was never going to feel like an outsider whether she wore a Jewel or not.
“You look so fierce,” Marian said. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere. Too far.” She tried to smile. “Daemon is going through the steps with Jaenelle. Want to make a bet on who is lecturing who?”
“Do you remember—,” Daemon began.
“I remember!” Jaenelle huffed out a breath. “Papa! We’ve gone over this forever-many times!”
He went down on one knee to be closer to her. “I know, but—”
“Papa!” She cat-puffed and jumped back. “Don’t put your knee on the ground. You’ll get dirty! Stand up!”
He obeyed. She immediately closed in on him and began whacking at his knee to clean off flecks of dirt.
“We have to stay neat and tidy because this is an important day,” Jaenelle said.
“Yes, Lady.”
She gave him a narrow-eyed look to see if he was making fun of her. Then she got a look in her eyes that was much too old for her young years—and scared the shit out of him.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” she asked.
Terrified, actually. “A little.”
She grabbed his hand in both of hers and gave him a sweet smile. “Don’t worry, Papa. Everything will be fine. I already know what Jewel I’m supposed to pick. My friend told me.”
His stomach lurched. There had been no mention of the special friend over the past few weeks. “Witch-child, you can’t choose a Jewel just because you like its color.”
“Tch. I know that. I know all this stuff, Papa.” She looked past him. “I’m supposed to stand with the other children now, and you’re supposed to stand with Mama.”
She hauled him over to where Surreal stood with Marian, then ran off to join the other children who were going through the Ceremony.
Marian looked at him, then looked at Surreal and sighed. “I’ll pay you later.” She wandered off.
“Problem?” Surreal asked.
“Apparently, it’s now your responsibility to keep me neat and tidy,” he replied dryly. “And if you’re going to place bets about me, do I get a share of the winnings?”
She gave him a sharp smile. “No.”
His heart raced and the need to move was almost unbearable. But he stood still because he wasn’t willing to let anyone know how much effort it was taking to stay in control and appear no more anxious than any other father waiting to be told his fate with regard to his child.
Surreal slipped her arm through his. Then she looked at the children and sighed. “She’s at the end of the line.”
“Maybe we should have had a private Ceremony,” he muttered.
“You’re the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. Even if she had been the only child acquiring a Birthright Jewel today, it wouldn’t have been a private Ceremony.”
A hard truth. If nothing else, all the Dhemlan Queens would have come to witness the second half of the Ceremony.
“We should move up with the families who are participating today,” he said. When she started to withdraw her arm, he pressed his hand over hers, holding her in place. “There’s no reason to be formal. Is there?”
She studied his face and shook her head. “No reason.”
Her mood seemed bittersweet, and he suspected he was the cause of whatever bitterness dimmed her pleasure in this special day. She had been his partner, his friend, his lover. They had laughed together and worried together and, sometimes, fought with each other.
He hadn’t been the husband she deserved. He had taken care of her body and enjoyed doing it, and he’d made an effort not to deliberately hurt her heart. He cared for her, deeply, but he’d never said the words that matter most to a woman.
And yet, she had stayed—and he wanted her to stay because he wanted to be with her, wanted to share his life with her.
Maybe, once this day was behind them, the tension that had been building between them would go away, along with the unspoken questions and doubts.
Maybe.
Or maybe, like the previous patriarch of the SaDiablo family, he would find himself surrounded by people he loved and yet always feel alone.
His heart ached with love and pride as he looked at the people who were his family. Sylvia’s boys, Beron and Mikal. Manny, who had taken care of him when he’d been a child. Tersa, his mother. Jillian. Marian and the children. Lucivar. And Surreal.
Giving his arm a squeeze, Surreal slipped away to talk to Manny. Lucivar shifted to fill the space.
“How did you survive this twice?” Daemon asked.
Lucivar shrugged. “Nothing I could do about it. A child will wear the Jewels a child will wear. I figure it’s my job to teach them to live up to their own potential instead of trying to match someone else—including me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“If you don’t know the answer to that, old son, then you haven’t been paying attention to the woman you’ve lived with these past fifteen years,” Lucivar said quietly, turning enough to make the words private. “She loves you. You know that, don’t you? And she’s as committed to her daughter as you are.”
“I know.” Daemon sighed. “I know.” But was that commitment enough?
“Boys,” Tersa said.
He and Lucivar immediately looked toward the Sanctuary where the first girl was coming out with her new Jewel.
“Oh,” Marian said with warm pleasure. “She has a Summer-sky.”
The next child in line, a boy, went into the Sanctuary with his chosen witness while the girl stood beside her mother, who proceeded with the formal granting of paternity.
Another child went in, and another man was granted legal rights to the child he had made.
Daemon called in chairs for the women and spread a blanket for the children so that they could sit on the ground and play hawks and hares. Lucivar called in a jug of water and let Daemonar take a glass to Jaenelle while he poured water for the rest of them.
By the second hour, Manny was dozing in her chair, and Surreal had gone off with Marian, who needed to feed and change the baby.
“A dozen children is too many,” Daemon said, accepting the glass of wine Lucivar poured for him. “We should have been split up into smaller groups throughout the day, like they did in Ebon Rih when your children went through the Ceremony.” When Lucivar said nothing, he felt like a fool. “I should have insisted on this group being split into smaller groups.”
“Maybe. Not that it would have made any difference. Not today. They are here to watch you and your daughter.”
“Isn’t that delightful?”
“Everything has a price.”
By the time they reached the third hour, children were getting whiny, adults were getting restless, and Daemon was ready to exile every Queen and aristo present. He’d had enough of the speculative looks and the whispers behind their hands. He also made note of the ones, like Lady Zhara, who had remained gracious and friendly during the long wait, and didn’t appear to be there for any other reason than to offer her good wishes.
Then, finally, Jaenelle was the only one waiting her turn.
He held out his hand, palm side down. Surreal placed her hand over his, standing on his left. They walked up to the Sanctuary, where the Priestess waited for them.
The Priestess looked at Jaenelle. “Who will stand as your witness?”
Daemon tensed and felt Surreal do the same. How was Jaenelle supposed to choose one parent over the other in public?
Before he could insist on both of them going in with her, Tersa walked up to them and held out her hand. “Come with me, little Sister.”
Jaenelle took her grandmother’s hand and followed the Priestess to the room where her Birthright strength would be acknowledged and made apparent by the Jewel that would be both warning and reservoir for the power she wielded.
Surreal’s hand trembled on his, but she gave no other sign of surprise or distress.
*Is that possible?* she asked. *Have you seen signs that Jaenelle might be a natural Black Widow?*
*She’s too young for there to be any sign that she belongs to that caste. I don’t think Tersa meant to indicate that Jaenelle was another Sister of the Hourglass.* But she could have meant exactly that. With Tersa, it was hard to tell. *Besides, Tersa stood as your witness too, didn’t she?*
*Yes, she did,* Surreal replied softly. *Yes, she did.*
Five minutes later, Tersa and Jaenelle walked out of the Sanctuary. Jaenelle held nothing in her hands, and there was no Jeweled pendant around her neck.
Daemon’s heart sank, but he smiled at his girl—and the happy smile she gave him in return almost broke him.
*Daemon . . . ,* Surreal said.
“My Jewel hasn’t arrived yet,” Jaenelle said. “My friend said it might come late because its presence would confuse the other children.”
“Finish the Ceremony,” Tersa said.
Daemon looked at the Priestess. “I don’t understand what—”