Anne Bishop - Dreams Made Flesh

She'd made it as far as the conservatory, where large ferns shielded her, giving her some privacy. He approached quietly, pained to see her shoulders hunched and her hands over her face. She gasped for air between sobs.

"Jaenelle," he said, brushing a hand over her shoulder…and bracing himself for her rejection of his touch. Mother Night, she sounded close to hysterical.

She lowered her hands and looked at him.

She was close to hysterical… because she was laughing so hard she could barely stay on her feet.

"I…I…I eat cow brains?" she gasped.

Shocked, his mouth fell open. "What? You do?"

"N-n-no. You do."

He gripped her upper arms to keep her upright. "What? No, I don't."

"Th-that's what you said. 'I eat cow brains.' " She collapsed against him, howling with laughter.

That was so far removed from what he'd intended to say it was embarrassing…and he could imagine how much worse it would have been if he'd whispered those words in the middle of hot lovemaking. "That wasn't… It wasn't what I thought I said." Feeling his face heat, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her face against his chest to muffle her laughter.

"Oh, g-good." She gulped air and made an effort to regain some control. "What did you mean to say?"

Oh, no. He wasn't about to embarrass himself that much. "Never mind." He paused. "So what did you say to me?"

"Oh. Well."

"Come on, fair is fair." He tugged on her hair. "What did you say?"

"I said you had the feet of a pig and smelled like a goat." She burst into laughter again.

Daemon sighed. "Well, we certainly descended fast enough to barnyard mudslinging, didn't we?"

"We did. Oh, we did."

Her laughter broke his temper better than anything else could have. "Let's get out of here."

She gulped and wiped the tears from her face. "I'm not sure I can."

He picked her up. "Just keep your face turned away. I'll get us to the carriage."

"Are you going to look all snarly and fierce?" she asked, fighting against another burst of laughter.

He rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best." And if he didn't get them away from here in a hurry, they were both going to be rolling on the floor, laughing like fools.

After contacting the carriage driver they'd hired for the evening, he strode out of the conservatory…and almost ran into Surreal. The look in her eyes told him she was primed for a fight. She couldn't take him, but he respected her as an adversary…and she'd fight him until he killed her if she thought Jaenelle needed the protection.

"I'm taking her home," Daemon said. "She's hysterical."

"I am," Jaenelle bubbled. "I really am." She turned her head to look at Surreal.

"Yeeesss, I can see that," Surreal said, narrowing her gold-green eyes.

Because he didn't want Surreal to worry about Jaenelle, he shifted his bundle of witch, drawing her attention to his hands. Then he dropped the sight shield around his wedding ring for a moment.

Brushing past Surreal, he said, "I'll send the carriage back for you and Lucivar."

"You do that," Surreal muttered.

No one else tried to stop him, no one else even dared speak to him as he walked out of the house and settled his Lady in the carriage. Jaenelle might find his fierce and snarly look amusing, but the rest of the Blood at the party finally began to realize he was a male they should fear. And very soon, they would understand why.

Surreal stood just inside the conservatory, wanting a few moments alone to ponder.

Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen? Sadi… wearing a wedding ring? He and Jaenelle. Married?

"Surreal?" Lucivar stepped into the conservatory.

"He took her home. She was hysterical."

Grim worry filled Lucivar's eyes. "Hysterical?"

"She was laughing so hard, I don't know what else to call it."

The grimness faded but the worry remained.

Wanting to ease the worry, she said, "So what did Jaenelle say that made you snort wine out your nose?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I should repeat it."

She tipped her head to one side. "You tell me what she said, and I'll tell you what I just found out."

So he told her, and when she managed to stop laughing, he growled, "What did you find out?"

She took his left hand and tapped a finger against the gold band. "Daemon's wearing one of these." She wasn't sure how she expected Lucivar to respond, but she hadn't expected his concern to increase. "What's wrong?"

He stared over her shoulder. "Do you know the only thing more dangerous than a Warlord Prince? A married Warlord Prince who has someone playing games with his life that could threaten his marriage."

Suddenly nothing was amusing. Provoked, Daemon was dangerous enough. Pushed to defend something, or someone, who truly mattered to him…

She shuddered. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

"Let's split up. Maybe we can learn something that will help end this."

Lucivar shook his head. "Daemon may already have all the information he needs."

Shit. She had a good idea what that meant. "I'm going to the ladies' lounge and freshen up. I'll meet you at the front door. I think I'd rather wait for the carriage outside."

He headed back to the ballroom to talk to Rainier, and she headed for the lounge. It had struck her as odd that a private home would have a "lounge" until she discovered the owners often "loaned" out the downstairs rooms for a "monetary gift." She didn't know why they couldn't just say they rented out their ballroom, but the lounge made sense, and right now, she was glad to have the privacy.

After taking care of personal needs, she sat down on a padded bench and closed her eyes.

"Are you feeling all right?"

Damn. She must be more tired than she thought. She hadn't even heard the woman enter.

She opened her eyes and studied the woman who stood nearby, looking concerned. The face looked vaguely familiar, but she was certain she'd never met the other witch. She was also certain there was something about the woman that wasn't quite… right. Something that put her on edge. Something that made her want to call in a knife.

She smiled and wrinkled her nose. "Just cramps," she lied. "Sometimes they're wicked mean."

"I know the feeling. Let me get you something to drink."

"No, that's all right." She shifted on the bench, prepared to get up and leave.

"It's no trouble. Really."

Suppressed excitement in the voice. A feverish glint in the eyes.

The witch opened the lounge door and whispered something to someone outside. Then she closed the door and leaned against it.

Bitch. Surreal felt fairly certain she'd just met the source of Daemon's problems, but considering Daemon's mood and Lucivar's worry about Daemon's mood, she'd prefer being absolutely certain before she said anything to either of them. And there was still the question of why anyone would be foolish enough to play with a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

It didn't take long before someone knocked on the door. The witch opened it, and another Dhemlan witch Surreal didn't recognize slipped into the room, carrying a glass.

Same suppressed excitement. Same feverish glint in the eyes.

The first witch took the glass from her companion, then handed it to Surreal. "Drink this. You'll feel better in no time."

Yeah. Cramps aren't a problem when you're dead, Surreal thought. As soon as the other woman let go of the glass, she used Craft to probe the liquid and the glass itself. No poisons. But there was something in the sparkling wine. She didn't recognize the drug, but she could sense its presence. Probably meant to knock her out for a while. But why knock her out?