Maybe he would escort Wilhelmina Benedict all the way back to Hayll. Once he got her out, what difference did it make if he was found to be missing?
And it would make no difference to him if Alexandra was left behind to explain her granddaughter's disappearance—or was the one who ended up paying whatever price the High Lord chose to extract.
5 / Terreille
The rage twisted inside Dorothea like a choking vine. The brief report dangled from one hand.
"You're distressed, Sister," Hekatah said as she shuffled into the room and took a seat.
"Kartane was gone to Kaeleer." She couldn't draw a deep enough breath to give her voice any strength.
"Gone to see if any of their Healers can cure him?" Hekatah thought about that for a moment. "But why now? He could have gone anytime in the last few years."
"Perhaps because he thinks he has something to barter now that would be worth more than gold marks."
Hekatah hissed, immediately understanding. "How much does he know?"
"He was at my 'confession' the other day, but that's not much to tell someone."
"It's enough to put Saetan on his guard," Hekatah said ominously. "It's enough to make him start asking questions."
"Then perhaps something should be arranged before Kartane has a chance to talk to anyone outside of Little Terreille," Dorothea said softly, almost absently. She could think of a number of interesting "arrangements" that could be made for a son who wanted to woo her enemy.
Hekatah stood up and paced around the room for a minute. "No. Let's see if we can use Kartane as bait to lure a specific Healer to Little Terreille."
Dorothea snorted. "Do you really think Jaenelle Angelline is going to helpKartane ?"
"I'll go to Little Terreille tonight and speak to Lord Jorval. He'll know how to phrase a discreet request." When Hekatah reached the door, she paused. "When your little Warlord comes home, perhaps you should give him a lesson in loyalty."
Dorothea waited until Hekatah left before going over to the fire. She dropped the report into it, watched the flames devour the paper.
When the war they were going to start was over, she would build a bonfire and watch the flames devour that desiccated walking corpse. And while she watched Hekatah burn, she would give her son that lesson in loyalty.
6 / Kaeleer
"I need a favor," Karla said abruptly after ten minutes of small talk and discussion about the Eyriens whom Lucivar had brought in.
Jaenelle glanced up from the piece of needlepoint she was working on, her eyes filled with wary amusement. "All right."
"I want a Ring of Honor like you gave the boyos in the First Circle."
"Darling, they wear the Ring of Honor on their cocks. You may be ballsy, but you don't have one ofthose."
"The kindred males don't wear them there. You had small Rings made that attach to the chain holding their Jewels."
"So you want a Ring of Honor," Jaenelle said, still sounding amused, still adding stitches to the needlepoint design.
Karla nodded solemnly. "For everyone in the coven."
Jaenelle looked up, no longer amused.
Karla met that look, recognizing by the subtle change in the sapphire eyes that she was no longer talking to Jaenelle, her friend and Sister. She was talking to Witch, the Queen of Ebon Askavi.Her Queen.
"You have a reason," Jaenelle said in her midnight voice. It wasn't a question.
"Yes." How much would she need to say to convince Jaenelle? And how much of what she'd seen in the tangled web could be left unsaid?
A few minutes passed in silence.
Jaenelle resumed her stitching. "If it's going to be worn on a finger, it should look decorative enough so that it's real purpose isn't obvious," she said quietly. "I assume you're mostly interested in the Ring because of the protection spells I added to it."
"Yes," Karla said quietly. The protection spells, the Ebony shields Jaenelle added to the Rings, were the reason she wanted one.
"Do you want the Rings linked just between the coven or linked to the boyos as well?"
Karla hesitated. A typical Ring of Honor allowed a Queen to monitor the emotions of the males in her First Circle. Because of a quirk in the way Jaenelle had made the first Ring of Honor—the one Lucivarstill wore—the First Circle males in the Dark Court had the same means of gauging the Queen's mood. Did she, or any of the coven, really want to deal with males who were even more attuned to feminine moods than the boyos already were? Was a little emotional distance worth not having a means of sending a warning that couldn't, in any way, be blocked? "They should be linked with the First Circle males."
"I'll get the Rings made as soon as possible," Jaenelle said quietly.
"Thank you, Lady," Karla replied, acknowledging the Queen rather than the friend.
Another silence filled the room.
"Anything else?" Jaenelle finally asked.
Karla took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I don't like your relatives."
"Nobodyhere likes my relatives," Jaenelle replied, but there was a sharp edge underneath the amusement—and sorrow. Then she added very quietly, "Saetan formally requested my consent for their executions."
"Did you give it?" Karla asked neutrally. She already knew the answer. She had been in the same position five years ago when she became Queen of Glacia. She had exiled her uncle, Lord Hobart, instead of executing him, even though she strongly suspected he had been behind the death of her parents and Morton's.
Jaenelle, if pushed, would choose the same.
"If it's any consolation, I do like your sister," Karla said when Jaenelle didn't answer the question. "She'll adjust to living in Kaeleer just fine if she can stop being scared long enough to catch her breath."
Jaenelle looked a little pained. "Lucivar got her drunk. She offered to brush him."
"Oh, Mother Night." When the laughter finally fizzled out, Karla groaned her way off the couch, said good night to Jaenelle, and headed for her own suite.
In the privacy of her bedroom, she indulged in a few grunts and moans as she got ready for bed. No matter how much she exercised when she was home, it always took her a few days to adjust to the workouts Lucivar put her through. But she wasn't about to miss a chance to get a little extra training from him. Especially now.
Later, as she was drifting off to sleep, it occurred to her that Jaenelle, who was a strong and very gifted Black Widow, might have had her own reasons for agreeing to the favor.
7 / Kaeleer
With exaggerated care, Daemon tied the robe's belt. The hot bath had warmed and loosened his tight, tired muscles. A large quantity of brandy would blur the mental sharp edges. Neither of those things would ease a bruised, bleeding heart.
Jaenelle didn't want him. That was becoming painfully clear.
When she had come looking for him last night, he had thought she had been pleased to see him, had hoped that they could begin again. But today she had shied away from him whenever he tried to approach her, using Lucivar or Chaosti or the whole coven as a buffer. It had forced him to realize that she had given him the title of Consort out of some sense of obligation, but she didn't wanthim.
How long, he wondered as he walked into his bedroom, could he stand watching her interact with the other males in her court while he was being shut out of her life? How long could his sanity hold together when, day after day, he was close enough to touch her but wasn't allowed to? How long...
Seeing the mound in the dim light, he thought someone had come in and dumped a white fur cover over his bed without smoothing it out.
Then a head lifted off his pillows and muscles rippled under the white fur as the huge cat shifted position.
The front paws, dangling over the side of the bed, flexed, displaying impressive claws. Gray eyes stared at him as if daring him to do more than breathe.
Even if he hadn't seen the Red Jewel lying against the white fur, Daemon would have had no doubts about who was sprawled on his bed.
We all try not to upset Kaelas,Lucivar had said.
Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
With his heart pounding in his throat, Daemon cautiously backed toward the door. Saetan's suite was right across from his. He could...
Something large thumped against the other side of the door just as his hand touched the knob.
Kaelas curled his lips in a silent snarl.
There was only one escape open to him.
Never taking his eyes off Kaelas, Daemon sidled over to the door that separated his bedroom from Jaenelle's. He opened the door only as much as necessary, slipped into her bedroom, Black-locked the door, and added a Black shield. If what Lucivar had said about Kaelas being able to get through any shield was true, the lock and shield were useless, but they made him feel a little better.
As he backed farther into Jaenelle's room, he began to shake. It wasn't because of Kaelas, exactly. Any man with a healthy survival instinct would be cautiously afraid of a cat that size—especially when that cat was also a Red-Jeweled Warlord Prince. But he knew that, before he had shattered his mind the first time that night at Cassandra's Altar, he wouldn't have felt this kind of overwhelming fear. He would have had enough confidence in himself to match that feline arrogance even while being prudent enough to yield. Now...
"Daemon?"
He twisted around, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe.
Jaenelle stood in the doorway that led to the rest of her suite, dressed in sapphire-blue pajamas.
Seeing her, he lost his balance in too many ways.
She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him from falling. "What's wrong? Are you ill?"
"I—" He was sweating from the effort to take a deep enough breath.
"Can you walk far enough to sit on the bed?"
Unable to speak, he nodded.
"Sit down," Jaenelle said. "Put your head between your knees."
When he obeyed, his robe parted. He leaned over farther, hoping, since she was crouched in front of him, that he wasn't revealing anything she didn't want to see.