Queen of Darkness

The only reason neither she nor her infant daughter had been harmed was because her attackers couldn’t break through the protective shield around her-the Ebony shield that was in the ring Jaenelle had given her-and because Aaron, alerted by the link through the Ring of Honor he wore, had arrived riding the killing edge and had destroyed the attackers with a savagery that bordered on insanity.

It didn’t take any effort to see the pattern, especially since he recognized it. Fifty thousand years slipped away as if they had never existed. It might have been Andulvar and Mephis sitting there, voicing their concerns about swift, seemingly random attacks to a man who had insisted that, as a Guardian, he could no longer interfere with the affairs of the living. He was still a Guardian, but he was too entangled in the affairs of the living to obey the rules Guardians abided by.

They were going to war.

He wondered if Daemon and Lucivar realized it yet.

And he wondered how many loved ones he would have to assist through the transition to becoming demon- dead this time-and how many would disappear without a trace. Like Andulvar’s son, Ravenar. Like his own son, his second son, Peyton.

”Father?” Daemon said quietly.

He realized they were both watching him intently, but it was Daemon he focused on. The son who was a mirror, who was his true heir. The son he understood the best- and the least.

Before he could start to tell them about the other attacks, Beale knocked on the study door and walked in.

”Forgive the intrusion, High Lord,” Beale said, ”but there’s a Warlord here to see you. He has a letter.”

”Then take the letter. I don’t want to be disturbed at the moment.”

”I suggested that, High Lord. He said he needs to deliver it in person.”

Saetan waited a moment. ”Very well.”

Lucivar sprang out of his chair and positioned himself so that he would flank anyone standing near the desk. Daemon rose and resettled himself on a corner of the desk.

The intense warrior and the indolent male. Saetan imagined they had played these roles before-and played them well. With Lucivar’s temper so close to the surface, the attention would be on him-but the death blow would come from Daemon.

The Warlord who entered the study was pale, nervous, and sweating. He paled even more when he saw Lucivar and Daemon.

Saetan walked around the desk. ”You have a letter for me?”

The Warlord swallowed hard. ”Yes, sir.” He extended an envelope, the ink a little smeared from his hands.

Saetan probed the envelope. Found nothing. No trace of a spell. No trace of poison. He took it and looked at the Warlord.

”I found that in the guest room desk this morning,” the man said hurriedly. ”I didn’t know it was there.”

Saetan looked at the envelope. There was nothing on it except his name. ”So you found it this morning. Is that significant?”

”I hope not. I mean-” The man took a deep breath, made an effort to steady himself. ”Lord Magstrom is- was-my wife’s grandfather. He came to visit us last fall, just before… Well, before. He seemed disturbed about something, but we weren’t paying much attention. My wife… We had just found out for sure that she was pregnant. She’d had a miscarriage the year before, and we were concerned that it might happen again. The Healer says she has to be careful.”

Why was the man pleading with him? ”Is your wife well?”

”Yes, thank you, she is, but she’s had to be careful. Grandfather Magstrom didn’t mention the letter. At least, I don’t remember him mentioning it, and then, after he… was killed…” The man’s hands trembled. ”I hope it wasn’t something urgent. As soon as I found it, I knew I had to come right away. I hope it wasn’t urgent.”

”I’m sure it’s not,” Saetan replied gently. ”I expect it’s just the usual information Lord Magstrom sent me after a service fair-a confirmation more than anything else.”

The man’s relief was visible.

Saetan glanced at the Warlord’s Yellow Jewel. ”May I offer you the use of a Coach to take you home?”

”Oh, I don’t want to put you through any bother.”

”It’s no bother-and with a driver who can ride the darker Winds, you’ll be home in time to have dinner with your Lady.”

The Warlord hesitated a moment longer. ”Thank you. I-don’t like to be away from her too long.” He looked a little sheepish. ”She says I fuss.”

Saetan smiled. ”You’re going to become a father. You’re entitled to fuss.” He led the man out of the study, gave Beale instructions about the Coach, and returned to Daemon and Lucivar. Using the letter opener on his desk, he carefully slit the envelope. He called in his half-moon glasses, opened the letter, and began to read.

”You got reports from Magstrom about the service fair?” Lucivar asked, accepting the glass of brandy Daemon poured for him.

”No.” And the more he read, the less he liked receiving this one. As he read the letter a second time, he barely listened to Daemon’s and Lucivar’s conversation-until Daemon said something that caught his attention. ”What did you say?”

”I said Lord Magstrom had indicated that he was going to send letters to some of the Queens outside of Little Terreille,” Daemon repeated, swirling the brandy in his glass. ”But after Jorval took over handling my immigration, I was told that the Queens outside of Little Terreille wouldn’t consider a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.”

Lucivar snorted. ”Jorval probably arranged for the letters not to be sent. Hell’s fire, Daemon, you’ve met the other Territory Queens. They’re the coven. If a letter had reached any one of them, she would have had her Steward at the service fair to sign the contract as fast as he could travel.”

”Read this,” Saetan said, handing the letter to Daemon.

”I don’t understand,” Daemon said when he’d read half the letter. ”Aren’t the lists supposed to indicate every immigrant at the service fair?”

”Yes, they are,” Lucivar said grimly, reading over Daemon’s shoulder. ”And you weren’t on any of them.” He looked at Saetan. ”I did mention that at the time.”

”Yes, you did,” Saetan replied, ”but, since Daemon did end up in the Dark Court, I failed to appreciate the significance of that remark.”

Daemon handed the letter back to Saetan. ”There must have been a list somewhere. Otherwise, how would the Queens in Little Terreille have known I was available?”

Saetan kept his voice mild. ”What Queens were those?”

”There were four Queens in Little Terreille who were willing to have me,” Daemon said slowly. ”Jorval insisted they were the only ones.”

”So, if you hadn’t met Lucivar by chance…”

Daemon froze. ”I would have signed a contract with one of them.”

Swearing quietly, Lucivar started to pace.

Saetan just nodded. ”You would have signed a contract with one of Jorval’s handpicked Queens, and you would have ended up tucked away somewhere in Little Terreille- with no one else aware that you were there.”

”What would have been the point of that?” Daemon said irritably.

”In Little Terreille they use the Ring of Obedience on immigrating males,” Lucivar snapped. ”That’s the point. It would have been Terreille all over again.”

”Not necessarily,” Saetan said, still keeping his voice mild. ”If Daemon was well treated, was handled with care-which I’m sure was part of the agreement-he would have had no reason not to use the strength of his Jewels against an enemy who was threatening the Queen he served. And after the first unleashing of the Black, there would have been no turning back. The lines would have been drawn.”

Daemon stared at him.

”What does it matter?” Lucivar said, looking at the two of them uneasily. ”Daemon’s with us.”

”Yes,” Saetan said softly, ”he is. But where are the other men whose names disappeared from those lists?”