She blinked at him, and he watched her effort to wake up. “I can make them.”

Daemon smiled. “No, darling, I can make them if you think the children will eat them. What about you? Do you want to eat the casseroles I’m heating for the adults, or would you prefer to eat scrambled eggs this morning?”

Being included with the adults perked her up. He poured coffee for her and spooned out generous portions of the casseroles for both of them. Her cheeks pinkened with pleasure over his attention. After finishing her own breakfast, she took a tray for Nurian so that her sister, who had arrived a few minutes ago to check on Marian, could have a quiet meal before resuming the duties of a Healer; then she returned a few minutes later to make up a tray for Manny, who was watching the baby.

Daemon stood at the counter, eating the food out of necessity but not enjoying it. Right now, food was just fuel for the body, and he needed to be at his strongest to deal with Lucivar today.

Daemonar entered the kitchen, looking not as worried as Daemon expected the boy to be but more than willing to reduce the amount of food currently hot and available.

Except the boy set his plate on the table and made no move to eat.

“I guess you got squashed with me taking up space last night,” Daemonar said, staring at his plate.

“Your aunt Jaenelle and I used to share a bed with an eight-hundred-pound Arcerian cat. Compared to Kaelas, you don’t take up much room.”

Daemonar took a bite of the ham-and-egg casserole. “All that fur must have been nice in the winter. Warm.”

“Yes, it did provide warmth.” Daemon sipped his coffee, wondering if the boy was fishing for something or just making an observation. “Arceria is so cold and has so much snow in the winter, the Arcerian cats build dens under the snowpack, and there is still enough snow above the dens that a grown man could walk over them and not fall through. Despite that, the damn cat used to whine about Jaenelle’s feet being cold.”

Daemonar grinned. “Did you whine about Auntie J.’s cold feet?”

“Husbands do not whine about cold feet.”

“If they’re smart, they put a warming spell around their legs before their darlings scramble into bed and put those feet on them,” Lucivar added, walking into the kitchen.

“How do you learn things like that?” Daemonar asked.

Daemon looked at Lucivar. They looked at the boy and said, “Experience.”

Daemonar pushed away his plate, the food uneaten. “I want to help watch over Mother.”

“No,” Lucivar said.

“Of course,” Daemon said at the same time. “All the Warlord Princes in the family should take a turn. If you’re finished with breakfast, why don’t you take the first watch?”

As he expected, Lucivar turned on him as soon as the boy left the kitchen.

“He’s too young to see his mother like that,” Lucivar snarled.

“He knows something, Prick,” Daemon said softly. “He found out something yesterday and he’s been searching. When he volunteered to dry the dishes last night, he tried to be subtle—”

Lucivar snorted.

“—but he was looking through the cupboards for something. He didn’t find it. I think he wants to look around Marian’s workroom without us asking questions.”

“What could he be looking for?” Lucivar asked.

Daemon filled a mug with black coffee and handed it to his brother. “We’ll know that when he finds it.”

* * *

* * *

Daemonar opened the doors and drawers of the cabinet that held all of his mother’s sewing and weaving supplies. A Jewel the size of the one Auntie J. had shown him could be hidden anywhere, tucked into a skein of yarn or hidden in folds of cloth. It could even be in a jar of buttons. He couldn’t sense any power, so he’d have to take everything out, and if he couldn’t put it back as she’d had it, his mother would kill him flatter than dead.

If she ever woke up.

“Looking for secrets?” Tersa asked.

Daemonar suppressed a yelp. He hadn’t thought she’d noticed him when he entered the room. She’d been staring at Marian and hadn’t responded when he’d greeted her, leaving him free to poke around.

He approached the chair next to the daybed and considered what he could say. You never lied to Tersa. That was one of his father’s and uncle’s strictest rules, because Tersa’s hold on the world as the rest of them saw it was tenuous. But she was a Black Widow, and Witch had said there was one or two people who could explain things to his father once Daemonar found the clear Jewel. Could Tersa be one of them?

“Yes,” he said. “There is something I need to find. A gift Mother might have used before . . .” He looked at Marian.

“Nothing on, nothing over. What is left?” Tersa looked at him expectantly.

Was she seeing this room or some other place? Was this a riddle or an actual question?

Nothing on. Nothing over. He scanned the furniture around the daybed. Someone would have checked the covers already and there was nothing above the bed. So what was left?

“Under.” Daemonar dropped to his hands and knees and looked under the bed. “Found something.”

As his hand closed around the mug, it occurred to him that his mother might have needed to use something as a chamber pot if she’d been too ill to move or call for help.

The mug was empty, a dried stain at the bottom that looked like some kind of tea or witch’s brew. The bowl had one of the kitchen towels. Since it was dry and didn’t smell, he sat back on his heels and had started to unwrap the towel when the door opened and his father and uncle walked in.

“What did you find, boyo?” Daemon asked.

He glanced at his father, who stood behind his uncle, as if not daring to come closer. Better to talk to Uncle Daemon, who knew lots of things about the Hourglass’s Craft. “I’m not sure. It depends.”

Daemon went down on one knee beside him. “Open it.”

He unwrapped the towel and breathed a sigh of relief.

“A clear Jewel.” Daemon sounded puzzled. “Why have a clear Jewel here? They’re only used as beacons on landing webs.”

“They can have other uses,” Tersa said. “Can hold a different kind of beacon.”

“A trap or a spell of some kind?” Lucivar asked, sounding like there were shards of glass in his throat.

“Not a trap.” Tersa stared at the clear Jewel. “A beacon holds special kinds of healing spells. This one . . . Dark water washes away what doesn’t belong. Dark water—and a song in the Darkness.”