The fire went out. One moment it was still blazing, the next it was
gone.
"Oh, shit," Surreal said softly.
There was plenty of light from the houses on this side of the street to see him coming. That gliding walk, that feline grace. The waves of cold that had the rest of the Blood scrambling to get out of his way.
"Zhara," Lucivar said very quietly, "don't be a fool."
Daemon got close enough that Surreal could see his eyes were still glazed, and his lips were curved in that brutal, chilling smile. He was still in a cold rage, still riding the killing edge. If anyone pushed him now…
Lucivar shifted, drawing Daemon's attention.
"Still pissed off?" Lucivar asked.
"Not anymore," Daemon replied. "At least, for now." Those glazed
eyes fixed on Zhara. "But if anyone from Dhemlan ever tries to hurt my Queen again, I'll kill you all."
As Daemon turned and walked away, Zhara slowly sank to the ground.
Not hurt, Surreal decided, just… shocked. Seeing Daemon as the Sadist for the first time had that effect on most people.
Lucivar wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her away. "He'll head back to the family town house now to have the quiet he needs to step back from the killing edge. We should be there."
She didn't want to be anywhere near Daemon right now, but Lucivar was right. Even if there was nothing they could do for Sadi, they could stand as a buffer between him and the rest of the Blood until the cold rage passed.
"Do you think he could do that?" Surreal asked. "Do you think something could provoke him enough that he'd really kill everyone in Dhemlan?"
Lucivar muttered, "He's his father's mirror." Then he added, "Let's hope we never have a reason to find out."
Sixteen
Daemon waited until the following evening before he returned to the Hall. After a long night's sleep, the cold rage had thawed, but he hadn't been able to sheath his temper quite enough to face the "talk" with Jaenelle. So he'd stayed in his room most of the day, letting Surreal and Lucivar deal with the visitors who timidly knocked on the town house door.
He'd known the moment Zhara had stepped into the town house. Even Lucivar's efforts to shield him from the other visitors' shrill emotions hadn't been enough to keep him from sensing Zhara's spikes of fear. His warning had been found: two bodies, completely untouched by the witchfire that had consumed everything else in Lektra's house. As powerful as he was, his venom didn't offer a kind death, and the fact that he'd made sure there was no way to mistake how they'd died had chilled the aristo Blood in the city. So now the Queen of Amdarh knew what so many witches inTerreille had learned, although usually too late: The Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who was called the Sadist had no mercy for anyone he considered an enemy. They wouldn't forget the warning because he wouldn't let them forget. The Black Jewels would be in evidence whenever he walked through the streets of Amdarh, and the Blood would understand that their continued survival depended on Jaenelle's compassion, not his. As long as she held the leash, the Sadist would yield to his Queen. If anyone tried to break that leash…
But therewas someone who might break that leash…and she was waiting for him on the other side of the sitting room door.
When he walked into the room, he saw her standing at the window. It was too dark to see the garden, so he wondered what held her attention.
"Is it done?"Jaenelle asked. "It's done."
"The debt is paid to your satisfaction?"
"It's paid." He couldn't sense her mood, and that frightened him. "Jaenelle…"
She held up her left hand, commanding silence. He felt sick relief when he saw she still wore her wedding ring. "I am what I am," he said.
Nodding, she turned to face him. "A Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who grew up in a brutal training ground. That shaped what you are when you become a weapon. But that's only one side of you. The other side is a warm, caring man with a sharp sense of humor and more tolerance for the foolishness of others than you'll ever admit to having. I can accept the Sadist as well as Daemon Sadi. The question is, can you accept me?"
"I do." He took a step toward her. "I always have." Jaenelle shook her head. "I'm no longer stronger than you. I no longer wear a Jewel that eclipses your power."
"I know that." He raked his fingers through his hair. "You lost…" "Nothing. Until you can acceptthat, you'll keep stumbling overthis." She tapped a finger against Twilight's Dawn. Then she held out her hand. "There's something you need to see."
He slipped his hand into hers. One moment they were standing in their sitting room. The next moment, he was standing in a mist-filled place in the abyss. He'd been in the Misty Place twice before…and he wondered why Jaenelle had brought him here now.
The mist retreated, forming a circular boundary. Almost circular. Straight ahead of him there was clear ground. *Jaenelle?* No answer. Since there was something she wanted him to see, he moved forward cautiously until he came to the edge and could look down into a vast chasm.
But it was the huge, spiraling web filling the chasm that took his breath away. Anchored to the Misty Place, it curved until it touched the other side of the chasm, then curved again, gently spiraling, going so deep into the abyss he couldn't see the end of it.
As he studied it, trying to understand, he felt a shiver of power far, far, far below him at the same moment he heard the quiet click of hoof on stone. Turning, he saw her step out of the mist. Here, her true nature wasn't hidden beneath human flesh. Here, she looked like what she was…a living myth, dreams made flesh. The same face and a mostly human body, but a tiny spiral horn rose from her forehead, her fingers had retractable claws, and she stood on delicate hooves instead of human feet. Witch.
She watched him with those ancient sapphire eyes. And waited. Turning back to study the web, he suddenly understood what he was looking at…a web made out of power. Somehow, the Ebony-Jeweled power she used to wield was being transformed into this web instead of filling a vessel of human flesh. Since it was tied to the Misty Place, surely there was a way for her to regain that power if she…
He remembered Jaenelle as a child…a girl who felt the distance between herself and other people because of the Black power that was her Birthright, a girl whose family had never accepted her because she was different. He thought about the Queen who could have destroyed them all if that had been in her nature, a Queen so strong her power was a deep chasm that separated her from the rest of the Blood…even someone as strong as a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.