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.*
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 buttocks 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?"
"I do 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?"
Lucivar snapped his arms up, breaking Daemon's grip. "Dorothea."
Pain flashed over Daemon's face. He stepped back. "Since when do you listen to Dorothea?" he asked bitterly. "Since when do you believe that lying bitch?"
"I don't."
"Then why—"
"Words lie. Blood doesn't." Lucivar waited for Daemon to absorb the implication. "You left the sheet, Bastard," he said savagely. "All that blood. All that pain."
"Stop," Daemon whispered, his voice shaking. "Lucivar, please. You don't understand. She was already hurt, already in pain, and I—"
"Seduced her, lied to her, raped a twelve-year-old girl."
"No!"
"Did you enjoy it, Bastard?"
"I didn't—"
"Did you enjoy touching her?"
"Lucivar, please—"
"DID YOU?"
"YES!"
With a howl of rage, Lucivar threw himself at Daemon with enough force to snap the chains—but not fast enough. He crashed to the floor, scraping the skin from his palms and knees. It took a minute for him to get his breath back. It took another minute for him to understand why he was shivering. He stared at the thick layer of ice that covered the cell's stone walls. Then he slowly got to his feet, swaying on shaking legs, feeling a bitterness so deep it lacerated his soul.
Daemon stood nearby, his hands in his trouser pockets, his face an expressionless mask, his golden eyes slightly glazed and sleepy.
"I hate you," Lucivar whispered hoarsely.
"At the moment, brother, the feeling is very mutual," Daemon said too calmly, too gently. "I'm going to find her, Lucivar. I'm going to find her just to prove she isn't dead. And after I find her, I'm going to come back and tear out your lying tongue."
Daemon disappeared. The front of the cell exploded.
Lucivar dropped to the floor, his wings tight to his body, his arms protecting his head while pebbles and sand rained down on him.
There were more shouts now. More running feet.
Lucivar sprang to his feet as the guards poured through the opening. He bared his teeth and snarled, his gold eyes shining with rage. The guards took one look at him and backed out of the cell. For the rest of the night, they blocked the opening but didn't try to enter.
Lucivar watched them, his breath whistling through clenched teeth.
He could have fought his way past the guards and followed Daemon. If Zuultah had tried to stop him by sending a bolt of pain through the Ring of Obedience around his organ, Daemon would have unleashed his strength against her. No matter how bitterly they fought with each other, he and Daemon were always united against an outside enemy.
He could have followed and forced the battle that would have destroyed one or both of them. Instead he remained in the cell.
He had sworn that he would kill Daemon, and he would. But he couldn't quite bring himself to destroy his brother. Not yet.