She swept into the great hall, stopping where the sunlight
coming from the lead glass window above the double doors produced a natural spotlight. Tall and slim, she wore severely tailored, dark blue trousers, a loose jacket, and heeled boots. Her white-blond hair rose in spiky peaks above her head like sculptured ice. Darkened eyebrows and lashes framed ice-blue eyes.
"Sisters," she said, giving Sylvia and Cassandra a perfunctory nod that couldn't quite be called insolent. Then her eyes raked over Saetan from head to toe.
Saetan held his breath. Even if Lord Morton hadn't slunk in behind her, he would have bet this was Karla, the young Glacian Queen.
"Well," Karla said, "you're not bad-looking for a corpse."
Before he could reply, Jaenelle's serene but amused voice said, "You're only half-right, darling. He's not a corpse."
Karla whirled toward the informal drawing room, where Jaenelle leaned against the doorway, her fingers hooked in the jacket thrown over one shoulder.
Karla let out a screech that raised the hairs on Saetan's neck.
"You've got tits!" Karla pulled open the blue jacket, revealing a silver, just as skimpy top. "So do I, if you call these lovely little bee stings tits." Smiling the wickedest smile Saetan had ever seen, she turned back to him. "What do you think?"
He didn't stop to think. "Are you asking if I think they're lovely or if I think they're bee strings?"
Karla closed the jacket, crossed her arms, and narrowed those ice-blue eyes. "Sassy, isn't he?"
"Well, heis a Warlord Prince," Jaenelle replied.
Ice-blue eyes met sapphire eyes. Both girls smiled.
Karla shrugged. "Oh, all right. I'll be a polite guest." She stepped up to Saetan, and that wicked smile bloomed. "Kiss kiss."
He refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him
wince.
Karla turned away from him and headed for Jaenelle."You've got some explaining to do. I had to figure out all
those damn spells by myself." She swept Jaenelle into the drawing room and closed the door.
Saetan stared at his shoe. "Damn it, shedid step on my toes," he muttered before realizing Morton had come close enough to hear him.
"H-High Lord."
"Lord Morton, I have only one thing to say to you."
"Sir?" Morton tried to suppress a shiver.
Saetan tried to suppress a rueful smile and couldn't. "You have my heartfelt sympathy."
Morton melted with relief. "Thank you, sir. I could use it."
"Help yourself to the refreshments in there," Saetan said, making a slight gesture toward the closed door. "And if they start making plans to knock down any walls, let me know."
bang!
For one panicked moment, Saetan thought the caution had been made too late. Then he realized someone was, more or less, knocking on the front door.
If Karla was ice, this one was fire, with her dark red hair flowing down her back, her green eyes flashing, and a swirling gown that looked like an autumn woods in motion. She headed for Saetan but veered when Jaenelle and Karla poked their heads out of the drawing room. Grinning, she held up a cloth bundle. "I wasn't sure if we would end up in the stables or digging in the garden, so I brought some real clothes."
Saetan stifled a growl. Didn'tany of them like to dress up?
The girls disappeared into the drawing room—and closed the door.
The youth who'd come in with the fire witch was tall, good-looking, and a couple of years older. He had curly brown hair and blue eyes. Smiling, he extended one hand in informal greeting.
With his stomach sinking toward his heels, Saetan clasped the offered hand. There were a lot of ways he could describe those blue eyes. They all meant trouble.
"You must be the High Lord," the young Warlord said
with a smile. "I'm Khardeen, from the isle of Scelt." He jerked his thumb toward the drawing room. "That's Morghann."
The drawing room door opened. Jaenelle approached them hesitantly. Then she held out both hands in formal greeting. "Hello, Khary."
Khary looked at the offered hands and turned back to Saetan. "Did Jaenelle ever tell you about her adventure with my uncle's stone—"
"Khary,"Jaenelle gasped, glancing nervously at Saetan.
"Hmm?" Khary smiled at her. "Did you know that a proper hug can toss a thought right out of a man's head? It's a well-known fact. I'm surprised you hadn't heard of it."
Jaenelle had been balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to bolt. Now her heels came down and her eyes narrowed. "Really."
Watching the two of them, Saetan decided the prudent thing was to stand still and keep his mouth shut.
Seconds passed. When Jaenelle didn't move, Khardeen turned back to him. "You see, my—"
Jaenelle moved.
"You don't have to hugall the air out of me," Khary said as he carefully wrapped his arms around her.
"Now what were you going to say?" Jaenelle asked ominously.
"About what?" Khary replied sweetly.
Laughing, Jaenelle threw her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you came, Khardeen. I've missed you."
Khary gently untangled himself. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up on things. Right now you'd better get back to your sisters or I'll get the sharp side of Morghann's tongue for the rest of the day."
"Compared to Karla, Morghann's tongue doesn't have a sharp side."
"All the more reason then."
With another nervous glance at Saetan, Jaenelle bolted for the drawing room. She had just reached it when someone knocked on the door. It almost sounded polite. '
They must have appeared-on the landing web within sec-
onds of each other and approached the door en masse because he knew this group didn't come from the same Territories. And since they spared him no more than an uneasy glance before focusing on Jaenelle, he was forced to deduce who they were by the names on the invitations.
The satyrs from Pandar were Zylona and Jonah. The small, pixie-faced darling with the dusky hair and iridescent wings who was perched on Jonah's shoulder was Katrine from Philan, one of the Paw Islands. The black-haired, gray-eyed youth who strongly reminded Saetan of the young wolves now living in the north woods was Aaron from Dharo. Sabrina, a hazel-eyed brunette, was also from Dharo. The two tawny-skinned, dark-striped youngsters were Grezande and Elan from Tigrelan.
The last of the group—a petite witch with a lusciously rounded figure, soft brown eyes, and dark brown hair— hugged Jaenelle, shyly approached him, and introduced herself as Kalush from Nharkhava.