A warm hand rubbed his leg just above the knee.

“What . . . ?” Gray opened his eyes. They must have been closed because now he could see Daemon crouching in front of the chair he’d collapsed into when he walked into Daemon’s study.

“Drink this,” Daemon said. “It’s a warm tonic. It will help put some bone back in your legs.”

“Where did the old bone go?”

A pause.

Gray tried to focus on the blurry mug floating in front of him. Too much effort. He let his head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t doing anything. He liked that. A lot.

He was so damn tired. He had never ever, in the whole of his life, been this tired.

How did these men do this every day?

“Gray, did you remember any part of the Protocol that dealt with the First Escort arranging rest periods for the Queen and her escorts?”

“Huh?”

“Obviously not.”

The dry humor in Daemon’s voice told Gray he’d missed something.

“How’s he doing?” Lucivar’s voice. He sounded amused too. “Looking at him, I guess it’s good Jaenelle doesn’t have as much energy as she used to.”

Gray had spent one whole morning and afternoon acting as First Escort to Jaenelle Angelline. He whimpered at the thought of her having more energy.

“It’s all right.” Daemon gave him a soothing pat.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Lucivar said. “Apparently Mrs. Beale figured a few people would want to turn in early tonight, so dinner is being served early too.”

“A good decision on her part,” Daemon said. “Come on, Gray. Maybe some food will help.”

Help what? He’d have to chew it, wouldn’t he? What help was that?

“Gray?”

“In a minute,” he murmured. “Just give me another minute.”

“Good evening.” Daemon closed the book he was reading and set it on the table next to his chair.

“Guess I’m still a little groggy.” Gray tried to tidy his hair by running his fingers through it. “I didn’t see you there. Is it time for dinner?” He looked to one side, then the other. “Wasn’t I sitting in a chair before? How did I end up on the sofa?”

“Boyo, it’s closing in on midnight, and the rest of us had dinner hours ago. You’re on the sofa because Lucivar and I couldn’t keep you awake long enough to get you any farther. We figured you’d sleep just as well there as anyplace else we could carry you.”

Gray braced his head in his hands. Weeks of studying, working, traveling to the Keep and to SaDiablo Hall for training. “I failed, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t remember the part about the First Escort being able to insist on rest breaks, but I figure you’ll learn that Protocol fast enough for self-preservation if for nothing else. As for the rest, Lucivar and I agree that the only thing you’re lacking is the finesse that comes from experience. And that you will learn by working beside your Queen.”

Gray raised his head. “Really?”

Daemon smiled. “Really. In fact, I have this for you.” He called in a sheet of paper and used Craft to float it over to Gray. “The High Lord wrote it out, so you can be sure the Protocol is exact for retiring a man from a dominant position in a court and giving that title—and the duties that go with it—to someone else.”

He stared at the words but didn’t try to read them. “When do you think Theran will tell Cassie?”

“The first day of Winsol is a week from now. Unless he’s a complete bastard, he’ll wait until the celebration is over and people are settling into the routine of winter days. He can’t wait much longer than that to start gathering the men who will form a First Circle, but the moment he does more than try to feel out who might be interested in serving Kermilla, every Queen and Warlord Prince is going to know about it—and Cassie will hear about it. That’s when she should make her declaration of whether she’s going to stay or leave. After that, a lot depends on which Queen the other Queens and Warlord Princes are willing to have rule over their lives.” Daemon stood up. “Come on. We’ll warm up the food Mrs. Beale set aside for you. Then you can get a bit more sleep and be on your way in the morning.” He paused. “My advice is to forget about all of this and enjoy the days of Winsol.”

Gray’s stomach rumbled. He got to his feet, feeling awake enough to be enthusiastic about food.

“There is one other piece of advice I could use,” he said.

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

“What do you buy a Sceltie for Winsol?”