Silence.
Karla cocked a hip and crossed her arms. 'What, there's some rule that says drawing has to be taught in the daytime? Besides, the sun's up now and you're here.'
'That's because the Hall retains enough dark power so that sunlight doesn't bother the demon-dead when they're inside,' Jaenelle said.
'So that's not a problem,' Karla said.
'And if you don't want to be here during the daylight hours, candle-lights or balls of witch light would make a room bright enough to work in,' Gabrielle said.
Dujae looked helplessly at Saetan. Saetan studied his other shoe.
'Is your ego so puffed up that it's beneath you to teach a few little witches how to draw?' Karla asked with sweet malevolence.
'Puffed up? No, no, Ladies, I would be honored but-'
'But?' Jaenelle asked softly in her midnight voice.
Dujae shuddered. Saetan shivered.
'I am a demon.'
Silence.
Finally Karla snorted. 'If you don't want to teach us, just say so, but stop using a paltry excuse to weasel out of it.'
They left, closing the study door behind them.
Dujae twisted his cap.
Saetan stared at his shoe. 'Dujae,' he said quietly, 'it takes a strong but sensitive personality to deal with these young Ladies, not to mention talent. If you decide to become their art instructor, I can either provide you with wages which, I admit, aren't much use in the Dark Realm, or you can add whatever you want for your own projects to the list of supplies you'll provide me for them. However, if you decide to decline' – he looked Dujae in the eye-
There was panic in Dujae's eyes. There was also only one door out of the study.
'But, High Lord, I am a demon.'
'Didn't impress them, did it?'
Dujae sagged. 'No.' Then he shrugged and smiled. 'It has been a long time since I have done portraits, and they have interesting faces, yes? And too much fire to be wasted on polite, itsy-bitsy drawings.'
Saetan waited half an hour before strolling into the great hall. Staying well in the background, he watched the coven.
The girls were sitting on the floor in a circle, busily sketching a still life of vase, apple, and trinket box. Dujae squatted next to Kalush, explaining something in a rumbling murmur before turning to Morghann, who had a stick of charcoal poised above her sketch pad.
Jaenelle put down her pad, wiped her fingers on the towel she was sharing with Karla, and approached him, smiling, nothing more than a delightful, delighted woman-child enjoying a creative endeavor.
Saetan slipped an arm around her waist. 'The truth, witch-child,' he said quietly. 'Was the other one really a bad instructor?'
Jaenelle ran her finger down the gold chain that held his Birthright Red Jewel. 'He wasn't right for us, any of us, and-'
He wouldn't let her duck her head, wouldn't let her hide the eyes he was learning to read so well, that told him so much. 'And?'
'He was afraid of me,' she whispered. 'Not just me,' she quickly amended. 'He didn't like being around Queens. Even Kalush made him uneasy. So he was always saying things like 'ladies' do this and 'ladies' don't do that. Hell's fire, Saetan, we aren't 'ladies,' we don't want to be 'ladies.' We're witches.'
He wrapped his arms around her. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He seemed to be asking that a lot lately.
Jaenelle shrugged. 'We hadn't gotten around to telling you that the music instructor and the dancing instructor already bolted this week.'
Saetan let out a chuckling sigh. 'Well, lessons and sum-
mertime are probably a bad combination anyway.' He kissed her hair. 'Dujae came here because he wanted to be released.'
'Not really. He just needed something to spark his interest again.'
Saetan watched Dujae move around the circle, gesturing, rumbling encouragement, frowning as he studied Karla's sketch before saying something that made her laugh. There was no despair in Dujae's eyes now, no hint of the pain that had driven him to seek out the High Lord.
'We aren't puppet masters, witch-child,' Saetan murmured. 'We're very powerful, but we must be careful about pulling strings to make other people dance.'
'Depends on why the strings are being pulled, don't you think?' She looked at him with those ancient sapphire eyes and smiled. 'Besides, we just overrode a silly excuse. If it was his time, he would have gone.'
She returned to her spot on the floor, Karla on her right, Gabrielle on her left.
He returned to his study and waned a glass of yarbarah.
Puppet masters. Manipulators. Hekatah and her schemes. Jaenelle and her sensitivity to other hearts. Such a fine, fragile line, with intent the only difference.
He picked up the latest letter from the Dark Council. There was something beneath the terse words that disturbed him, but it was too vague for him to define. He couldn't put them off much longer. A few more weeks at most. What then?
Such a fine, fragile line.
What then?
Jaenelle picked up a small vial and tapped three amethyst-colored granules into the large glass bowl on the worktable. 'Why are members of the Dark Council coming here?' „Saetan eyed the thick, bubbling liquid that covered the bottom third of the bowl and sincerely hoped the stuff wasn't a new tonic. 'Since my legal guardianship was
granted by the Council, they want to look in on us to see how we live.'
'If they're members of the Council, they're also Jeweled Blood. They should know how we live.' Jaenelle picked up a vial of red powder and held it up to the light.
Saetan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He wouldn't, couldn't tell her about the latest 'request' from the Council. Their strident insistence had made it easy to read between the lines. They weren't just coming to look in on a guardian and his ward. They were coming to pass judgment on him.
'I'm not going to have to wear a dress, am I?' Jaenelle growled as she dipped her little finger into the vial of red powder. Using her nail as a scoop, she tapped the powder into the bowl.
Saetan bit his tongue before the lie could slip out. 'No. They said they wanted to see a normal afternoon.'
Jaenelle looked at him over her shoulder. 'Have we ever had a normal afternoon?'
'No,' Saetan said mournfully. 'We have typical afternoons, but I don't think anyone would consider them normal.'
Her silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the room. 'Poor Papa. Well, since I don't have to dress up and simper, I'll try not to offend their delicate sensibilities.' She handed him a vial of black powder. 'Put a pinch of that in the bowl and stand back.'
The butterflies in his stomach' were having a grand time. 'What happens then?'
Jaenelle laced her fingers. 'Well, if I mixed the powders in the right proportions to the spell, it'll create an impressive illusion.'
Saetan looked from his nervously smiling daughter to the bowl on the table to the vial in his hand. 'And if you didn't mix them in the right proportions?'
'It'll blow up the table.'
An hour later, as he lay in a deep, hot bath, soaking the soreness out of his muscles, he had to give her full
