Now they were united again.
But as he put his arms around her, offering her comfort, he felt that inner withdrawal, that suppressed shudder of fear. She never forgot he walked dark roads that even she dared not travel, never forgot that the Dark Realm had called him High Lord while he still had been fully alive.
Saetan kissed Cassandra's forehead and stepped away. "Get some rest," he said gently. "I'll sit with her."
Cassandra looked at him, glanced at the bed, and shook her head. "Not even you can make the reach, Saetan."
Saetan looked at the pale, fragile girl lying in a sea of black silk sheets. "I know."
As Cassandra closed the door behind her, he wondered if, despite the terrible cost, she derived some small satisfaction from that fact.
He shook his head to clear his mind, pulled the chair closer to the bed, and sighed. He wished the room weren't so impersonal. He wished there were paintings to break up the long walls of polished black stone. He wished there was a young girl's clutter scattered on the blackwood furniture. He wished for so much.
But these rooms had been finished shortly before that nightmare at Cassandra's Altar. Jaenelle hadn't had the chance to imprint them with her psychic scent and make them her own. Even the small treasures she'd left here hadn't been lived with enough, handled enough to make them truly hers. There was no familiar anchor here for her to reach for as she tried to climb out of the abyss that was part of the Darkness.
Except him.
Resting one arm on the bed, Saetan leaned over and gently brushed the lank golden hair away from the too-thin face. Her bodywas healing, but slowly, because there was no one inside to help it mend. Jaenelle, his young Queen, the daughter of his soul, was lost in the Darkness—or in the inner landscape called the Twisted Kingdom. Beyond his reach.
But not, he hoped, beyond his love.
With his hand resting on her head, Saetan closed his eyes and made the inner descent to the level of the Black Jewels. Slowly, carefully, he continued downward until he could go no further. Then he released his words into the abyss, as he had done for the past three weeks.
"You're safe, witch-child. Come back. You're safe."
5 / Terreille
A hand caressed his arm, gently squeezed his shoulder.
Lucivar's temper flared at being pulled from the little sleep his pain-filled body permitted him each night. The chains that tethered his wrists and ankles to the wall weren't long enough for him to lie down and stretch out, so he slept crouched, his bu**ocks braced against the wall to ease the strain in his legs, his head resting on his crossed forearms, his wings loosely folded around his body.
Long nails whispered over his skin. The hand squeezed his shoulder a little harder. "Lucivar," a deep voice whispered, husky with frustration and weariness. "Wake up, Prick."
Lucivar raised his head. The moonlight coming through the cell's window slit wasn't much to see by, but it was enough. He looked at the man bending over him and, for just a moment, was glad to see his half brother. Then he bared his teeth in a feral smile. "Hello, Bastard."
Daemon released Lucivar's shoulder and stepped back, wary. "I've come to get you out of here."
Lucivar slowly rose to his feet, snarling softly at the noise the chains made. "The Sadist showing consideration? I'm touched." He lunged at Daemon, but the leg irons hobbled his stride, and Daemon glided away, just out of reach.
"Not a very enthusiastic greeting, brother," Daemon said softly.
"Did you really expect a greeting at all,brother?" Lucivar spat.
Daemon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "You know why I couldn't do anything to help you before now."
"Yes, I know why," Lucivar replied, his deep voice changing to a lethal croon. "Just as I know why you came here now."
Daemon turned away, his face hidden in the shadows.
"Do you really think setting me free will make up for it, Bastard? Do you really think I'll ever forgive you?"
"You have to forgive me," Daemon whispered. Then he shuddered.
Lucivar narrowed his gold eyes. There was an unexpected fragility in Daemon's psychic scent. At another time, it would have worried him. Now he saw it as a weapon. "You shouldn't have come here, Bastard. I swore I'd kill you if you accepted that offer, and I will."
Daemon turned to face him. "What offer?"
"Maybe trade is a better word. Your freedom for Jaenelle's life."
"I didn't accept that offer!"
Lucivar's hands closed into fists. "Then you killed her for the fun of it? Or didn't you realize she was dying under you until it was too late?"
They stared at each other.
"What are you talking about?" Daemon asked quietly.
"Cassandra's Altar," Lucivar answered just as quietly while his rage swelled, threatening to break his self-control. "You got careless this time. You left the sheet—and all that blood."
Swaying, Daemon stared at his hands. "So much blood," he whispered. "My hands were covered with it."
Tears stung Lucivar's eyes. "Why, Daemon? What did she do to deserve being hurt like that?" His voice rose. He couldn't stop it. "She was the Queen we had dreamed of serving. We had waited for her for so long.You butchering whore, why did you have to kill her?"
Daemon's eyes filled with a dangerous warning. "She's not dead."
Lucivar held his breath, wanting to believe. "Then where is she?"
Daemon hesitated, looked confused. "I don't know. I'm not sure."
Pain tore through Lucivar as fiercely as it had after he had probed the dried blood on the sheet. "You're not sure," he sneered. "You. The Sadist. Not sure where you buried the kill? Try a better lie."
"She's not dead!" Daemon roared.
There was a shout nearby, followed by the sound of running feet.
Daemon raised his right hand. The Black Jewel flashed. Outside the stables where the slaves were quartered, someone let out an agonized shriek. And then there was silence.
Knowing it wouldn't take that long for the guards to find enough courage to enter the stables, Lucivar bared his teeth and pushed to find a crippling weak spot. "Did you just throw her down and take her? Or did you seduce her, lie to her, tell her you loved her?"
"Ido love her." Daemon's eyes held a shadow of doubt, a hint of fear. "I had to lie. She wouldn't listen to me. I had to lie."
"And then you seduced her to get close enough for the kill."
Daemon exploded into motion. He paced the small cell, fiercely shaking his head. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "No, no,no!" He spun around, grabbed Lucivar's shoulders, and shoved him against the wall. "Who told you she was dead?who?"