**Still not mine. All worlds and characters belong to Anne Bishop**

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"NO CHAOSTI! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Gabrielle, I don't think you properly understand the situation. As a darker jeweled witch, not to mention a healer and black widow, your body needs plenty of food and…"

As Gabrielle's furious, frustrated shriek penetrated the walls of the library, Saetan began to regret encouraging the boyos to "look after" the coven. He also wasn't looking forward to the chat that he would invariably have to initiate if they didn't learn an ounce of subtlety. He heard a smack and a yelp of pain as Gabrielle clearly decided to end the conversation once and for all. He refused to look up as Chaosti entered the library, rubbing his shoulder and wincing.

"Prince," he began, but stopped when he saw the lost look on the young warlord prince's face. Not so young any more, he thought with a sad smile. Chaosti just continued to stare at the door Gabrielle had slammed.

"Uncle Saetan what do I do?" Chaosti whispered, sounded hurt and frustrated. With Jaenelle still on bed rest from her trip to the Twisted Kingdom rescuing Daemon, the males had responded by becoming even more protective of the rest of the coven. It was a protectiveness that the coven did not seem to appreciate. As if to underscore the point, Morton trudged into the library, head hanging low. He appeared to be cradling his arm which…

"Morton what in the Darkness's name happened to your arm!?"

"Karla. I was just trying to tuck her in, she hasn't really been sleeping since Jaenelle got back and, well…" he hung his head even lower as Saetan saw the edge of very faint bite marks peeking out from under Morton's sleeve.

"Rookie mistake" smirked Khary as he strolled into the library. "I have learned through years of experience that, when advising a witch on what is best for her, all well-liked appendages must be kept out of reach."

"What are you so cheery about?" snapped Chaosti. "Didn't Morghann throw a bowl at you this morning?"

Khary's smile faltered for a moment before he rallied. "A minor miscommunication, no doubt it was an accident." Morton snorted disbelievingly and Saetan privately agreed.

"Boyos, look" Saetan began, trying not to show his amusement. "You are no longer children and…"

"We know that, Uncle Saetan!" exclaimed Chaosti, while the others started at his emotion. "It's just some, well, some other people don't seem to realize that, that people grow older, and change…" his voice trailed off as his pale skin flushed lightly. He pursed his lips and glared at the floor.

"Honesty, Chaosti. You must be honest. Children get to pull on pigtails and push you into a pond when they are angry…"

"Just children?" murmured Morton irritated, remembering a certain morning's practice session that he had almost overslept.

"Well," Saetan sighed, "children and Lucivar. But if you want the coven to take you seriously, you will have to learn how to communicate not just what you want but why you want it." Saetan noticed Chaosti staring at him, grey-blue eyes intent. "Communication." he reiterated firmly. With one sharp nod, Chaosti strode out of the library. The rest of the boyos stared after him, some with a touch of envy, others fear.

"She'll kill him!" whispered Morton, eyes wide. "Uncle Saetan, you have to do something!" With another sigh, Saetan shooed them all out of the library. While he had faith in Chaosti, and the warlord prince he was becoming, he had to admit to a few nerves as to how Gabrielle would react. He grabbed his book and quietly went upstairs to one of the empty rooms. Here he would not interrupt their privacy, but would be able to hear if the situation began to escalate. If Gabrielle did lash out, he would have to speak to her as well. It was a careful dance, that between queens and the males who served them. A dance that had to be all the more delicate when your partner was a warlord prince. If Gabrielle did not realize that the path went both ways, he would have to, gently, inform her. Saetan gripped his book more firmly, praying to the darkness that the halls would remain quiet.

Despite his confident posture, Chaosti had butterflies thumping rapidly in his stomach. He had always known that Gabrielle was special, even when they had been children. He knew, a part of him just knew, that what would happen in the next conversation would define them both and he anxiously hoped that he could find the strength to say everything that he needed to say.

As he walked toward Gabrielle's rooms, he found himself feeling extraordinarily grateful to Uncle Saetan, who was, after all, kin of his kin. How many would have been able to advise so wisely and yet also understand? Although there could occasionally be tension between two dark-jeweled warlord princes serving the same queen, he found himself feeling a small joy that Jaenelle finally had a father worthy of her. With the end of that thought, he found himself at Gabrielle's door. He stared at its polished wood, feeling anxious and terrified.

In the end, it was the realization that she never had eaten a proper lunch that propelled him to knock. He heard annoyed mutterings as soft footfalls approached the entryway. As the door was pulled open, Chaosti steeled his spine, and his courage, for what would come next.