Lady Perzha had freckles, buckteeth, rusty red hair heavily threaded with silver, and a face that was so homely it was oddly attractive. She wore shirts and skirts and shawls in colors that clashed as often as they coordinated. Her jewelry was a mishmash of seashells and glass beads, pearls and rubies, diamonds and emeralds. And somewhere under all of it was a Red Jewel, making Perzha as powerful as she was eccentric.

“Is this an official visit?” she asked politely, looking at Daemon.

Being demon-dead, she was the only one facing them who wasn’t holding his breath waiting for an answer.

“Not on my part,” Daemon replied mildly. “Prince Yaslana needs your help, and I tagged along to keep him company.”

“Do you mind if we sit out in the garden? I do love the early-morning hours when I can be outdoors and look after my flowers.” Perzha turned to one of the older men. “Lord Carleton, will you see to refreshments?”

“But . . .” Carleton, who was the Steward of Perzha’s court, slanted a look at Daemon before hurrying into the house.

“This way.” She led them through a gated archway that divided the house into two sections and provided access to the enclosed lawn and gardens. “Even if one works from a single room, it’s important to be able to separate business from one’s personal life, don’t you think?”

“My study may be my main place of business, but it’s also my sanctuary from household drama,” Daemon replied as they took seats at a round table on a terrace overlooking flower beds that followed the same color schemes as Perzha’s wardrobe. “That’s why it has a thick door and a stout lock.”

Perzha gave them a sympathetic smile. “When children reach a point of having opinions of their own, family is often about drama.”

“Mine have been voicing opinions since before they could say actual words,” Lucivar said, happy to see a woman wearing an apron approaching the table with a coffeepot, followed by a younger woman carrying a tray that held plates of pastries and sandwiches. Carleton brought a ravenglass goblet and a familiar kind of decanter.

“May I,” Daemon said, indicating the goblet and decanter. It wasn’t a question.

Carleton set the items next to Daemon’s place at the table and retreated, along with the two women from the kitchen.

Ignoring his coffee, Daemon removed the crystal stopper from the decanter and poured the dark liquid into the goblet. As he tilted the goblet, he used Craft to create a tongue of witchfire. He turned the ravenglass slowly over the flame until the liquid warmed to the correct temperature. Extinguishing the witchfire, he moved the goblet back and forth under his nose, breathing in the scent before he took a taste—and made a face as he set the goblet on the table.

“Hell’s fire, woman,” he said. “What kind of blood wine is this? Why aren’t you drinking proper yarbarah?”

“Proper yarbarah, as you put it, comes from the SaDiablo vineyards in Dhemlan,” Perzha replied. “A few other places produce some yarbarah for ceremonial purposes, but the best vintages come from your vineyards. Having my court ordering bottles on a regular basis would have caught your attention.”

“So?”

“So you are more than the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, and my people have feared the day you would come calling.”

Lucivar chose a sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, was rapidly losing his appetite for a lot of things since realizing what their arrival might mean for this village, but lazy arrogance was a useful tool—or weapon. “Is there a reason they’ve been concerned about Prince Sadi coming here? Something your court should have reported to me?”

“You know full well the reason for their concern. I told my First Circle—the First Circle who was with me then—that I should go to Hell. I was demon-dead. I died of natural causes, of an illness this old body couldn’t overcome. It was swift, and I died in my sleep, which is why, when I made the transition to demon-dead, I still had the reservoir of power in my Red Jewel as well as my Birthright Green.” Perzha leaned toward Daemon. “I told them I should report to the High Lord of Hell and they should look for another Queen. I told them Prince Yaslana wouldn’t allow Little Weeble to go to another Queen without considering what the people needed. But the First Circle pleaded with me to stay until they could find the right Queen to take my place. As long as a Red-Jeweled Queen ruled here, the village couldn’t be claimed by some ambitious twit—their word, not mine—who looked at Little Weeble as a place to gain credentials for something better. As if there could be any place that was better.”

“I wouldn’t have allowed a twit to take over the village,” Lucivar growled. “They should have known that.”

“They should have,” Perzha agreed quietly. “Especially considering who you still serve.”

He didn’t look at Daemon. The commitment they had made to the Queen of Ebon Askavi was a lifetime commitment of service—their lifetimes, not hers. So he understood why the people in this odd yet productive village would have resisted bringing in anyone who couldn’t be another Perzha.

“Do they actually look for another Queen?” Daemon asked.

“Yes, they do.” Perzha hesitated. “Every year, the First Circle collects a bucket of sand from our beach. Then the men use a screen and carefully sift the sand. On the day they find a diamond among the grains, they’ll know there is a Queen out there who is right for Little Weeble and they should let me retire, even if retiring means going to the Dark Realm.”

“You really think there is a diamond somewhere on that beach?” Lucivar asked.

She smiled. “Yes. That’s why I have stayed. It’s there. They just haven’t found it yet.”

His heart gave an odd flutter. Daemon, he noticed, looked pale.

“Who told you?” Daemon asked quietly.

“A few days after I made the transition to demon-dead, the living myth came to Little Weeble with the previous High Lord. She was the one who told the First Circle about the sand and the diamond. She saw it in a tangled web of dreams and visions—the diamond found in the sand would herald the arrival of the new Queen. Until that day, everyone agreed that I should stay here and take care of my people.”

Daemon rested his hand over hers. “If my father and my Queen agreed to this arrangement, then I will honor it. But if you tire of duty, if you want to go whether the people find the diamond or not, all you have to do is send a message, and I’ll return for an official visit.” He sat back and took a sip of now-cold coffee. “Until then, we came for some gossip.”

Perzha blinked at Daemon, then looked at Lucivar.

“Yeah, gossip,” he said.

“The more titillating, the better.” Daemon gave Perzha a smile that would have made her blush.