He knew that voice.You are my instrument.
"Daemon!"
He looked up. Flattened himself against the pulpy ground.
A hand hovered over him, reached for him. A light-brown hand with long, black-tinted nails. A wrist appeared. Part of a forearm. Straining to reach him.
He knew that voice. He knew that hand. He hated them.
"Daemon, reach for me. I can show you the road back."
Words lie. Blood doesn't.
The hand shook with the effort to reach him.
"Daemon, let me help you. Please."
Inches separated them. All he had to do was raise his hand and he could leave this island.
His fingers twitched.
"Daemon, trust me. I can help you."
Blood. So much blood. A sea of it. He would drown in it. Because he'd trusted that voice once and he'd done something . . . he'd done . . .
"liar!"he screamed. Til never trust you!"
"Daemon." An anguished plea.
"never!"
The hand began to fade.
Fear swamped him. He didn't want to be alone in this sea of blood with the words circling, waiting to slice into him again and again. He wanted to grab the hand and hold tight, wanted whatever lies might ease this pain for a little while.
But he owed someone this pain because he'd done something . . .
Butchering whore.
That voice, that hand had tricked him into hurting someone. But, sweet Darkness, how he wanted to trust, wanted to hold on.
"Daemon." A whisper of sound.
The hand faded, withdrew.
He waited.
The words circled and circled. The island crumbled a little more.
He waited. The hand didn't return.
He pressed himself against the pulpy ground and wept in relief.
Saetan sank to his knees. The threads of the tangled web were blackened, crumbling. He caught his ring as it fell from the center of the web and slipped it on his finger.
So close. A hand span at most. A moment of trust. That's all it would have taken to begin the journey out of that pain and madness.
That's all it would have taken.
Stretching out on the cold stone floor, Saetan pillowed his head on his arms and wept bitterly.
3 / Kaeleer
Saetan looked at Lucivar and shook his head.
"Well," Lucivar said, his voice tight, "you tried." After a minute he added, "You're wanted in the kitchen."
"In the kitchen? Why?" Saetan asked as Lucivar herded him toward Mrs. Beale's undisputed territory.
Lucivar smiled and dropped a friendly hand on Saetan's shoulder.
The gesture filled him with foreboding. "How was your trip?"
"Traveling with Cat is an experience."
"Do I really want to know about this?"
"No," Lucivar said cheerfully, "but you're going to anyway."
Jaenelle sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor. A brown-and-white Sceltie puppy tumbled about in front of her. Her lap was full of a large, white . . . kitten?
"Hello, Papa," Jaenelle said meekly.
"Papa High Lord," said the puppy. When Saetan didn't answer, the puppy looked at Jaenelle. "Papa High Lord?"
"Kindred." Saetan cleared his throat. His voice went back to a deep baritone. "The Scelties are kindred?"
"Not all of them," Jaenelle said defensively.
"About the same ratio of Blood to landen as other species," Lucivar said, grinning. "You're taking this a lot better than Khardeen did. He sat down in the middle of the road and became hysterical. We had to drag him over to the side before he got run over by a cart."
A muffled chuckle-snort came from the direction of the worktable where Mrs. Beale was busily chopping up some meat.
"And with that one little explanation, the humans suddenly realized why some of the Scelties matured so late and had a longer life span," Lucivar added with annoying cheerfulness. "After Ladvarian made it clear that Cat belonged to him—"
"Mine!" said the puppy.
The kitten lifted a large, white, furry paw and squashed the puppy.
"Ours!" said the puppy, wriggling out from beneath the paw.
"—we fixed a strong sedative for the Warlord who had just discovered that his bitch was also a Priestess."
"Mother Night." Saetan switched to a Red spear thread. "Why does a male Sceltie have a name with an Eyrien feminine ending?"
"That's what he said his name is. Who am I to argue?" "After that," Lucivar continued, "Khary dragged us to Tuathal to see Lady Duana, who had a few pointed things to say about not being told there were kindred in her Territory."
Yes, he was sure the Queen of Scelt would have had quite a few things to say—and would have a few more to say tohim.
Jaenelle hid her face in the kitten's fur.
Lucivar, damn his soul, seemed to be enjoying this now that he could dump it into someone else's lap.
Since Jaenelle wasn't jumping into the conversation, Lucivar continued the tale. "In the invigorating discussion that followed, it came out that there are also two breeds of horses who are kindred."
Saetan swayed. Lucivar propped him up.
The Scelts were noted horsemen. Khary's and Morgh-ann's families especially were passionate about horses.
"Imagine how surprised people were when they discovered their horses could talk back to them," Lucivar said.
Saetan knelt beside Jaenelle. At least if he fainted now he wouldn't fall so far. "And our feline Brother?"
Jaenelle's fingers tightened in the kitten's fur. Her eyes held a dark, dangerous look. "Kaelas is Arcerian. He's an orphan. His mother was killed by hunters."
Kaelas. In the Old Tongue, the word meant "white death." It usually referred to a kind of snowstorm that came with little warning—swift, violent, and deadly.
Saetan switched to a spear thread again. "I suppose no one named him, either."
"Nope," Lucivar replied.
Saetan didn't like the sober caution in Lucivar's tone. He reached out to pet the kitten.
Kaelas took a swipe at him.
"Hey!" Jaenelle said sharply. "Don't swat the High Lord."
Kaelas snarled, displaying an impressive set of baby teeth. The claws weren't anything to shrug off either.
"Here you are, sweeties," Mrs. Beale cooed, setting two bowls on the kitchen floor. "Some meat and warm milk."
Saetan eyed his cook. This was the same woman who always cornered him whenever the wolf pups chased the bunnies through her garden? Then he looked at the bowl of chopped meat and frowned. "Isn't that the cold roast you were going to serve for lunch?"