Dillon abruptly changed the subject.

Surreal listened to the boasting, the bragging, and the subtle sneering at anyone who wasn’t a member of the aristo class—no, more than that, who wasn’t a member of Dillon’s exalted clique, which now, curiously, seemed to exclude Beron. She wanted to gag, but Jillian soaked up every word, as if her life had been nothing but a dull and boring gray, and Dillon had presented her with a palette of colors that dazzled the eyes.

Jillian was right about Dillon. The boy was pretty to look at, as long as you didn’t look beyond the surface. Then again, the boasting, bragging, and sneering hadn’t started until he’d made the mistake of claiming to be one of Beron’s friends and been called on it. Maybe those things were an attempt to hide his insecurity and regain some ground.

Lucivar was right about the cakes. They were awful and could be part of the reason she wanted to gag.

Four cakes were left on the platter and Surreal was more than ready to leave. Then Jillian reached for another piece and Dillon blocked her hand, pushing the platter away from the girl—or as far away as he could, considering it was a small table.

He smiled and shook his finger playfully. Jillian blushed and looked unhappy.

“Thank you for the cakes, Lord Dillon,” Surreal said, pushing her chair back as a signal that the outing was over. “It has been an interesting afternoon.”

“I hope I was able to entertain you in some small measure,” Dillon replied. He turned to Jillian. “And I hope we can do this again.”

“Are you sure I can’t settle the bill?” Surreal asked. “This place was my choice, after all.”

He waved her offer away. “No, it’s my pleasure. You two go along, and I’ll take care of things.”

“In that case, good day, Warlord.”

“Lady SaDiablo. Jillian.”

Surreal walked out of the shop and took the first side street, moving swiftly until they reached open land and were far enough from the buildings in Riada that nothing that was said would be overheard.

“Lady Surreal?” Jillian sounded worried. “Aren’t we going back to the eyries?”

“I need to walk for a bit. And we need to talk.”

 

* * *

 

* * *

Jillian waited, but Surreal continued to walk and remained silent. Finally, she couldn’t stand waiting.

“What did you think of Dillon? Isn’t he lovely? He’s so smart, and he went to all these fine schools, so he knows everything. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know about weapons or fighting or things like that, but Dillon says those skills aren’t as important as they used to be.”

Surreal just kept walking.

“What did he say to you?” Surreal asked suddenly.

“What?”

“When he stopped you from taking that cake. What did he say to you?”

“It was nothing.”

“You were having an enjoyable afternoon until that moment, so it wasn’t nothing.”

“It was just a tease, but sometimes I get self-conscious and too sensitive.”

Silence. Surreal walked. Jillian followed half a step behind, wondering how things had gone wrong.

“If you want me to tangle with Lucivar to give you opportunities to spend time with this boy, you will tell me what he said.” Surreal sounded cool, distant, not the indulgent chaperon she had been at the cake shop.

Marian and Nurian would do whatever Lucivar said. Surreal was the only one who might stand up to him. If she lost Surreal’s support, she would never see Dillon again.

“He said if I ate another cake, I would be too plump to fly.”

“I see,” Surreal said.

“Haven’t you ever felt this way?” Jillian cried. “Haven’t you ever thought your heart would burst out of your chest because it was beating so hard when you caught sight of a special boy, or would break if he didn’t send you a note when he promised?”

Surreal walked. She appeared to be heading for the old cabin on the outskirts of the village.

Before Jillian could point out that the cabin was out of bounds to everyone, Surreal stopped walking, as if she could sense the boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.

“My mother was murdered when I was twelve,” Surreal said. “I came home from lessons one day and found her on the floor with her throat slit. She was a Queen and a Black Widow who had been broken by a man who had lusted for a girl who looked exotic. Being Dea al Mon in the Realm of Terreille certainly made her exotic.

“I ran because that was what she wanted me to do—get away, hide from her killer. I was raped a few days later. I wore Birthright Green, and sometimes raw power makes up for the lack of experience or training. That man violated my body, but he couldn’t break me, couldn’t break my Green Jewel.

“I let men use me in order to have enough coins to buy food, to keep going another day. And then a man used me and refused to pay. I rammed a knife into him and began my second profession. Even at that age, I was good with a knife. I whored on the streets for a few years until Sadi found me and arranged for me to train in a high-level Red Moon house.”

“Why didn’t he help you get out of being a whore?” Jillian asked softly.

“I wouldn’t let him, and he knew that. So he made sure I received the best education available for the skills I wanted to acquire. I was the most sought-after, and expensive, whore in Terreille, but I was even better as an assassin.” Surreal looked at Jillian. “I never felt that rush, that tingle of anticipation, that heightened level of nerves because every knock on the door might be that special boy. Because of that, I will help you have opportunities to spend time with Dillon and get to know more about him—and give him a chance to know you. But my rules aren’t negotiable, Jillian. If you break them, even once, you had better hope that Lucivar gets to that boy before I do. Are we clear on that? If you can’t, or won’t, follow my rules, you should write a note to Dillon telling him you can’t see him again—and warn him not to try to see you.”

Jillian hesitated but couldn’t see another choice. “What are your rules?”

Surreal nodded, as if Jillian had asked the right question. “Dillon can visit you at your sister’s eyrie or at Lucivar’s eyrie, as long as one adult is present. When you go into the village, you go with a chaperon.”

“I’ve been allowed to go into Riada on my own since I was a child!”

“And you were safe,” Surreal agreed. “But that kiss and grope in the alleyway changed things.”

If Dillon had given her just the kiss instead of doing more, they wouldn’t have been caught and Prince Yaslana wouldn’t be angry and she wouldn’t have these restrictions on where she could go and whom she could see.