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  • The Shadow Queen(Black Jewels,Book 7)(89) by Anne Bishop
  • “In order to be with you, Daemon needs to heal. So he’ll heal,” Saetan replied.

    They sat quietly for a couple of minutes. Then Jaenelle said, “So why were you called to the Keep in Terreille?”

    “For this.” He called in Cassidy’s note and handed the pages to her.

    About halfway through the first page, Jaenelle began to chuckle. Wasn’t his reaction to the words, but he had suspected it would be hers.

    “Oh, my,” Jaenelle said. “Cassie is really pissed.”

    “And showing a fair amount of backbone,” Saetan said.

    “She always had that, but she never had to fight for anything enough for it to show.”

    “Looks like she’s fighting now.”

    “And may the Darkness help whoever is dumb enough to get in her way.” Jaenelle folded the pages and handed them back to him. “She didn’t provide any dimensions. Hard to really know what she wants, isn’t it?”

    He knew a leading question when he heard one. “Yes, it is. Any suggestions?” As if he hadn’t guessed.

    Jaenelle smiled at him. “I think we know a good carpenter who could be persuaded to work in Dena Nehele for a few days.”

    He returned her smile. “Yes, I think we do.”

    CHAPTER 17

    KAELEER

    Daemon walked into his closet and pulled a white silk shirt off its hanger. As he stuffed one arm into a sleeve, he muttered, “It’s your own fault, you brainless fool. So do something about it.” And he damn well was going to do something about it just as soon as he got this miserable rag of a shirt over his shoul—

    “Stop it,” Jazen snapped, rushing into the closet. “Stop!You’ll rip the seams.”

    Daemon bared his teeth and snarled at his valet. “What’s wrong with Lord Aldric that he couldn’t get the measurements right? I give him enough business.”

    The valet stripped the shirt off him and hung it back up with a fussy care that honed Daemon’s temper—and also made him wary.

    “It doesn’t fit because it’s not your shirt,” Jazen said, examining the shoulder seams for rips.

    “Then why is it in my closet?”

    “Because it’s Lady Angelline’s shirt.”

    “Then why is it in my closet?”

    Jazen huffed out a breath, and Daemon got the impression the valet had hoped never to have this conversation.

    “It has to stay in your closet with the rest of your clothes in order to absorb your scent,” Jazen said.

    “Are you saying I smell?”

    “If you want to pick a fight, look elsewhere,” Jazen said with a rigid courtesy. “You asked a question; I’m trying to give you an answer.”

    Daemon closed his eyes and struggled to leash his temper. “My apologies, Jazen,” he finally said. “I’m a bit . . . cranky.”

    “Prince, you passed cranky halfway through breakfast—which is when Beale suggested I pack a bag for you so that you could leave the moment you decided to go to the Keep.”

    He’d always been so good at hiding feelings he didn’t want anyone to see. When had he stopped being good at hiding?

    He opened his eyes and looked at Jazen. “The shirt.”

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire