now.
But it was more than that. Thirteen years ago, he had wrongfully accused Daemon of killing Jaenelle. That had been the first hard shove that had ended with Daemon spending eight years in the Twisted Kingdom, lost in madness. And Daemon had forgiven him because, he’d said, he’d already grieved for a brother once and didn’t want to do it again.
Daemon had believed a painful lie for thirteen years.
So he would do what he could to mend things, for his own sake as well as for Daemon’s. Because, during those long centuries of slavery when they’d had no one but each other, their anger had sometimes flared to moments of hate, but underneath there had always been love.
Pushing away from the wall, Lucivar walked down the steps, knelt in the grass beside Daemon. He touched his brother’s shoulder.
Daemon looked at him out of a face devastated by grief before lunging into the open arms.
”I want her back,” Daemon cried. ”Oh, Lucivar,
Lucivar held on tight as his own tears fell. ”I know, old son. I know.”
”You’re leaving!” Lucivar leaped to his feet and stared at Saetan. ”What do you mean, ’leaving’? To go where?” Pacing behind the two chairs in front of the blackwood desk, he pointed an accusing finger at his father. ”You are not going to the Dark Realm. There’s no one left there. And you are not going to be alone.”
”Lucivar,” Saetan said quietly. ”Lucivar, please listen.”
”When the sun shines in Hell.”
Prick, Daemon said on an Ebon-gray spear thread.
And why in the name of Hell are you just sitting there? Lucivar demanded. He’s your father, too.
Daemon bit back exasperation. Let him talk, Prick. If we don’t like what we hear, then we’ll do something about it. ”You’re leaving because of Sylvia?” he asked Saetan.
Lucivar froze, swore softly, then settled back into the chair.
”That’s part of it,” Saetan said. ”A Guardian isn’t meant to be among the living. Not that way.” He hesitated, then added, ”If I stay… I can’t stay and be a friend and encourage her to… She deserves to be with someone who can give her more than I can now.”
”You could come to Ebon Rih and live with us,” Lucivar said.
”Thank you, Lucivar, but no. I’ve…” Saetan took a deep breath. ”I’ve been offered a position at the Keep as assistant historian/librarian. Geoffrey says he’s starting to feel his years, and it’s my fault that he’s had more work now than he’s ever had because I’m the one who introduced the coven to the Keep’s library, and it’s time I started making myself useful.”
”The Keep is only a mountain away from our eyrie,” Lucivar said.
”You will not bring Daemonar to the library.”
Lucivar gave Saetan a sharp smile. ”Did you bring me there when I was his age?”
”Once,” Saetan said dryly. ”And Geoffrey still reminds me of that little adventure on occasion.” He glanced at Daemon. ”I’ll come and visit both of you, just to find out how much trouble you’re causing.”
Daemon felt a tension ease. He wanted to see his father, but not at Ebon Askavi. He would never again set foot in the Keep.
”The family owns three counties in Dhemlan,” Saetan said. ”I’ve divided them between you. Daemon, I’m giving you the Hall and all the land and titles that go with it. Lucivar, you’ll have the land that’s near the Askavi border. The other property you’ll own together.”
”I don’t need land,” Lucivar protested.
”You’re still the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih because the people want you to be the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. But Daemonar may not want to rule-or you may have other sons or daughters who want a different kind of life. You’ll be the caretaker of that land because the SaDiablo family has been the caretaker of that land for thousands of years. Is that understood?”
”Yes, sir,” Lucivar said quietly.
”And you?” Saetan said, pointedly looking at Daemon.
”Yes, sir,” he replied just as quietly. Well, that explained why Saetan had insisted on spending the past two months teaching him the family business. He’d thought it was just a way to keep him occupied and too busy to think too much.
He’d welcomed the work, especially when he realized that Saetan had shouldered the burden of helping Geoffrey with a far more difficult task. He and Lucivar had been told the results, but he knew he couldn’t have tolerated accumulating the information.
Over forty percent of the Blood in Terreille were gone. Completely gone. Another thirty percent had been broken back to basic Craft. The Blood who were left in Terreille were reeling from the devastation-and the sudden freedom.
He hadn’t asked what had happened to Alexandra, Leland, and Philip-and Saetan hadn’t offered the information. Or if he had, it had only been to Wilhelmina.
The numbers were about the same in Little Terreille as they were for the Realm of Terreille. But the rest of Kaeleer was mostly untouched-except for Glacia. Karla was struggling to reunite her people and re-form her court. The taint Dorothea and Hekatah had spread in the Blood might have been destroyed, but the scars remained.
Everything has a price.
”What about Jaenelle’s house in Maghre?” Lucivar asked.
Daemon shook his head. ”Let Wilhelmina have it. She’s decided to settle in Scelt, and-”
”The house was leased for Jaenelle,” Saetan said firmly. ”It remains for Jaenelle. If you have no objections to Wilhelmina living there until she finds a place of her own, so be it.”
Daemon backed down. He loved that house, too, but he wasn’t sure he could ever live there again. And he wasn’t really sure if Saetan truly believed Jaenelle was coming back or if his father just wasn’t willing to do anything that would acknowledge that she wasn’t. After all, it had been two months now with no news of any kind, just Tersa’s continued-and useless-assurance that it would be all right. ”Is that it?”
He read the message in Saetan’s eyes. ”I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said to Lucivar when his brother rose and looked at him.
When they were alone, Saetan said carefully, ”I know how you feel about Ebon Askavi now.”
Daemon rushed in. ”I truly hope you will come to visit, Father, because I’ll never set foot in the Keep again.”
Saetan said gently, ”You have to go one more time. Draca wants to see you.”
”There iss ssomething I want to sshow you.” Draca unlocked a door and stepped aside.
Daemon walked into a huge room that was a portrait gallery. Dozens upon dozens of paintings hung on the walls.
At first, he saw only one. The last one.
Unable to look at it, he turned his back to it and began to study the rest of them in order. Some were very, very old, but all of them had been exquisitely done. As he slowly walked around the room, he realized the portraits spanned the species who made up the Blood-and they were all female.
When he reached the last one, he studied Jaenelle’s portrait for a long time, then looked at the signature. Dujae. Of course.
He turned and looked at Draca.
”They were all dreamss made flessh, Prince,” Draca said gently. ”Some only had one kind of dreamer, otherss were a bridge. Thesse were Witch.”
”But-” Daemon looked at the portraits again. ”I don’t see Cassandra’s portrait here.”
