Saetan snarled in frustration. ”Except for that bitch Vania, no one has done anything yet that justifies an execution.” He shook his head. ”We’ve made sure nothing will happen tonight. After breakfast, I’ll talk to Jaenelle about getting those… people… out of the Hall and out of Kaeleer.”

”I suppose that’s best.” They walked in silence for a while. ”Are all of Jaenelle’s relatives here?”

”Except for Robert Benedict. He died a few years ago- and was in the Dark Realm for a very brief time.”

Titian stopped walking. Saetan turned to face her. She lifted her hand and pressed it lightly against his face.

”And, during that time, did he have a private conversation with the High Lord of Hell?” she asked with malevolent sweetness.

”Yes,” Saetan replied too softly, ”he did.”

Chapter Six

1 Kaeleerspan

Daemon’s nerves were raw when he and Jaenelle walked into the dining room the next morning, and the speculative looks from the other males in the First Circle didn’t help. The fact that it was Jaenelle’s moontime and he couldn’t have done more than warm the bed didn’t matter. He knew what was expected of a Consort, and he knew the other men were aware that he wasn’t fulfilling those duties.

He tried to push those thoughts aside. There were reasons to be alert that day.

Lucivar stood near the sideboard, sipping a mug of coffee, while Khardeen and Aaron filled their plates. Leland and Philip, the only members of Alexandra’s entourage who were present, were eating breakfast at one end of the table. Surreal and Karla were at the other end.

A greedy look filled Jaenelle’s eyes when she focused on the mug in Lucivar’s hand. ”Are you going to share that?”

Lucivar bared his teeth in a smile. ”No.”

She gave him a frigid look but kissed his cheek anyway.

Daemon could have cheerfully killed Lucivar for being given that kiss. It was a grumpy, habitual kiss, but still a kiss-which was more than he’d gotten that morning. Since killing Lucivar wasn’t an option-at that moment, anyway-he watched Jaenelle select two slices of pear and a spoonful of scrambled eggs.

As she turned away from the sideboard, Lucivar reached over, jabbed a fork into a hunk of steak, and dumped it on her plate. ”You need the meat today. Eat it.”

She snarled at him. Lucivar just sipped his coffee.

”Long night?” Daemon quietly asked Lucivar.

”I’ve had longer,” Lucivar replied with a smile that turned sharp as he flicked a glance at Philip and Leland, then raised his voice just enough to carry. ”What about you, old son? You look like you put in a long night yourself.”

”It was interesting,” Daemon said cautiously. He wasn’t about to admit that he and Jaenelle had played cards until, bleary-eyed, they had fallen into bed for a few hours of restless, broken sleep.

Jaenelle snorted. ”There’s something a bit sneaky about the positions in variation twenty-seven that give a male so much of an advantage, but I haven’t worked it out… yet.”

Daemon noticed Philip’s white-lipped anger-and he noticed the way Khardeen and Aaron snapped to attention.

”You know twenty-seven variations?” Khardeen asked slowly.

Daemon said nothing.

”Yes, he does,” Jaenelle grumbled. ”And that variation is brilliant. Sneaky, but brilliant.” She studied the platter of steaks, selected two more pieces, and headed for the table.

Before Daemon could reach for a plate, Khardeen was holding one arm and Aaron had the other, and they were hustling him out of the dining room.

”We’ll get breakfast later,” Khary said as he and Aaron led Daemon to the nearest empty room. ”First, we need to have a little talk.”

”It’s not what you think,” Daemon said. ”It’s really nothing.”

”Nothing?” Aaron sputtered, while Khary said, ”If you’ve figured out a new variation of ’cradle’ that gives a man the advantage, it’s your duty as a Brother of the First Circle to share it with the rest of us before the coven figures out how to beat it.”

He just stared at them, not sure he had heard them correctly.

Aaron smiled. ”Well, what did you think Consorts do at night?”

Daemon burst out laughing.

2 Kaeleerspan

Osvald knocked on Wilhelmina’s door, then stepped back and firmly gripped the carved wooden box with both hands.

It hadn’t taken much persuasion to convince Alexandra to keep most of her people in their rooms. It had taken more to convince her to send Leland and Philip down to breakfast in order to give the appearance that everyone else was merely late. With so many absent, no one would be sure exactly who was missing until he was long gone from the Hall.

Assuming, of course, that the spells Dorothea and the Dark Priestess had prepared to cut a ”door” in the High Lord’s defensive shields actually worked.

No. He wouldn’t doubt. The spells that had kept him from being detected were proof enough that Dorothea and the Dark Priestess knew how to deal with the bastard who ruled this place. He would escape with the lesser of the two prizes, true, but that lesser prize, sufficiently squeezed, might be enough bait to in turn capture Jaenelle Angelline.

Everything was in place. The three men Dorothea had arranged to help him were waiting at the bridge. There was a Dark Altar beside the Hall, but she had warned him that the detection spells around that Altar would immediately alert the High Lord, and he would never get the Gate open in time to escape. So he would take Wilhelmina to Goth, where Lord Jorval would help him reach another of the Gates.

By this evening, he would be back in Terreille with his prize, and Alexandra and the fools who were with her would still be explaining Wilhelmina’s disappearance to the High Lord… or dying.

Smiling, Osvald knocked on Wilhelmina’s door again. A moment later, impatient, he knocked harder. She was in there. He’d made sure of it this time. What was taking her so long to open a damn door?

It was tempting to use one of the simple compulsion spells Dorothea had prepared for him, but he only had two of them and didn’t want to waste one for this. Still, every minute’s delay increased the chance of someone noticing him.

He was just about to give in and trigger one of the compulsion spells when the door finally opened. ”Good morning, Lady Wilhelmina.” Smiling, he lifted the box just enough to draw it to her attention. ”Lady Alexandra asked me to bring this to you.”

”What is it?” Wilhelmina asked, sounding anything but eager.

”A token of her regard for you-and a gesture of goodwill. She’s planning to leave soon and has felt distressed that her concern for you may have been misunderstood. She hopes that, by accepting this little memento, you’ll be able to remember her fondly in the days to come.”

Wilhelmina still looked wary. ”Why didn’t she bring it herself?”

Osvald looked at her sadly. ”She feared you might refuse the gift and didn’t want to face that rejection in person.”

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