12—Terreille
Greer sat on the white-sheeted bed in one of Briarwood's private rooms, cradling what was left of his good hand.
It could have been worse. If that limping stable brat hadn't slashed at him with a knife, slicing through his little finger so it only hung by a thread of skin, he never would have gotten the secondary controlling ring off in time when Sadi broke the Ring of Obedience. In that moment when he'd felt the Black explode, he'd ripped the finger off and flung it away from him. A guard, seeing something hurled toward him, grabbed instinctively, his hand closing around the ring.
Foolish man. Foolish, foolish man.
With the Ring of Obedience broken and with no way to know if Sadi had been hurt by the effort, Greer had run to Briarwood, where the healing would be done without questions. It was also the only place the Sadist wouldn't strike at blindly. Here they had some leverage—at least for a few hours more. After that he would be gone, speeding back to Hayll to melt away among the many, encircled by Dorothea's court. Briarwood and its patrons would still be here to quench Sadi's thirst for vengeance.
Greer lay down on the bed, letting the painkillers lull him into much-needed rest. In a few short hours, the Dark Priestess's little problem would be no more, and Sadi.
Let the bastard scream.
13—Hell
Saetan made another erratic circuit around his private study.
He stared at Cassandra's portrait.
He stared at the tangled web he'd finished a short time ago, at the warning that may have come too late.
He shook his head slowly, denying what the vision in the tangled web had shown him.
An inner web still intact. A shattered crystal chalice. And blood. So much blood.
He had never invaded Jaenelle's privacy. Against his better judgment, against all his instincts, he had never invaded her privacy. But now . . .
"No," he said with soft malevolence. "You will not take my Queen from me. You will not take my daughter."
There was only one place from which he could penetrate the mist. Only one place he could use to amplify his strength to reach across the Realm. Only one witch who had the knowledge to help him do it.
Throwing his cape over his shoulders, he flicked a glance at the door, tearing it off the hinges. Gliding through the deep corridors of the Hall, his rage glazing the rough stones with ice, he brushed past Mephis and Prothvar, seeing no one, seeing nothing but that web.
"Where are you going, SaDiablo?" Andulvar called, striding to intercept him.
Saetan snarled softly.
The Hall trembled.
Andulvar hesitated for only a moment before setting himself squarely in the path of the High Lord of Hell.
"Yaslana." The rage had become very quiet, very still.
This was what they feared in him.
"You can tell me where you're going, or you can go through me," Andulvar said calmly. Only a tiny muscle tic in his jaw betrayed him.
Saetan smiled, raising his right hand in a lover's caress. Remembering in time that this man was his friend and also loved Jaenelle, he sheathed the snake tooth, and the hand gently squeezed Andulvar's shoulder.
"To Ebon Askavi," he whispered as he caught the Black Wind and vanished.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1—Terreille
Surreal dreamed. She and Titian were walking through a wood. Titian was trying to warn her about something, but Surreal couldn't hear her. The woods, Titian, everything, was silenced by the loud, steady pounding of a drum.
As they reached the edge of the woods, Surreal noticed a tree with a perfect branch, a tree sweating dark red sap.
Titian walked past the tree across a lawn filled with tall, silvery flowers. As she picked a flower here and there, it turned into a knife, sharp and shining. Smiling, she offered the bouquet to Surreal.
The drum beat louder, harder.
Someone was screaming.