Saetan prowled the corridors of the Keep, too restless to stay in one place, too edgy to tolerate being around anyone.
Lucivar should have been back hours ago. He knew Lucivar had slipped out of the Keep late that morning to find out what was delaying Marian's and Daemonar's arrival, but the afternoon was waning, and there was no sign of any of them.
He doubted anyone else had noticed. The coven and the boyos were gathered in one of the large sitting rooms, just as they had gathered every day since Jaenelle had ordered them to remain at the Keep. So they wouldn't realize Lucivar was gone. And Jaenelle and Daemon... Well, they weren't likely to have noticed either.
Surreal had noticed Lucivar's absence, but she'd shrugged it off, saying he was probably with Prothvar and Mephis. Which made him realize that he hadn't seen either of them lately.
Somehow he had to find a way to make Jaenelle listen to him, had to find out why she was keeping such a stranglehold on all of them. Whether they acknowledged it or not, they were at war. The Queens and males in the First Circle weren't going to tolerate staying there indefinitely while their people were fighting. Something had to change. Someone had to act.
Falonar accepted the mug of ale Kohlvar handed to him.
"Makes no sense," Kohlvar said, shaking his head. "No direct attacks anymore, no efforts at a siege, just a few arrows now and then to make sure we know they're still out there."
"They've got us pinned down," Falonar replied. "We're outnumbered, and they know it."
"But what's the sense of pinning us down?"
We can't go anywhere, Falonar thought. We can't report anything.
"What's the sense?" Kohlvar repeated.
"I don't know. But I expect we'll find out sooner or later."
The answer came at twilight. One Warlord openly approached the communal eyrie, his hands held away from his sides, away from his weapons.
"I have a message," he shouted, holding up a white envelope.
"Put it on the ground," Falonar shouted back.
The Warlord shrugged, set the envelope on the ground, then placed a small rock over it to keep it from blowing away. He walked back the way he had come.
A few minutes later, Falonar watched the Eyrien company take flight.
He waited another hour before he used Craft to bring the envelope to the doorway. Still standing on the other side of the Sapphire shield, he created a ball of witchlight to illuminate the writing, the name of the recipient.
Dread shivered through him. It was the same handwriting as the note that had been left for Lucivar. But this one was addressed to the High Lord.
He called Kohlvar, Rothvar, Zaranar, and Hallevar over. "I'm going to take that to the Keep and give my report."
"Could be a trap," Hallevar said. "They could be waiting for you to make a move."
Yes, he was sure it was a trap—but not for him.
"I don't think they're going to bother us anymore, but maintain a watch. Stay sharp. Don't let anyone in, no matter who they are. I'll stay at the Keep until morning. If I come back before that ... do your best to kill me."
They understood him. If he came back before that, they should assume he was being controlled and respond accordingly.
"May the Darkness protect you," Hallevar said.
Falonar passed through the Sapphire shield. Taking the envelope, he launched himself skyward and headed for the Keep.
Saetan stared at the sheet of paper. Too many feelings crowded him, so he pushed them all aside.
I have your son.
Hekatah
Which also meant she had Marian and Daemonar, since that was the only bait she could have used to provoke Lucivar into going to Hayll.
Now Lucivar was being used as the bait for him.
He understood the game. Hekatah and Dorothea would be willing to trade: him for Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar.
Of course, they wouldn't let Lucivar go, couldn't let him go. As soon as he got Marian and Daemonar safely out of reach, he'd turn on Hekatah and Dorothea with all the destructive power that was in him.
So this was a false bargain right from the beginning.
He could go to Hayll and destroy Dorothea and Hekatah. Two Red-Jeweled Priestesses were no match for a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. He could go there, throw a Black shield around Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar to keep them safe, then unleash his strength—and kill every living thing for miles around him.
But it wouldn't stop the war. Not now. Maybe it never would have. And it was the war that had to be stopped, not just the two witches who had started it.
So he would play their game... because it would finally give him the weapon he needed.
Everything has a price.
He removed the Black-Jeweled pendant and set it on the desk. He removed the Steward's ring from his left hand— the ring that contained the same Ebony shield Jaenelle had put into the Rings of Honor.
Even if Daemon was influencing Jaenelle, even if he was the reason she was resisting a formal declaration of war, even he couldn't stop her reacting. Not to this.
Don't think. Be an instrument.
By walking into the trap Dorothea and Hekatah had set for him, he was going to unleash the one thing he knew would bring out the explosive, savage side of Jaenelle—his own pain.
Of course, he would never be the same after those two bitches were done with him. He would never...
He opened the desk drawer, caressed the lavender-scented envelope. "Sometimes duty walks a road where the heart can't follow. I'm sorry, Sylvia. It would have been an honor to be your husband. I'm sorry."
He closed the drawer, picked up his cape, and quietly left the Keep.
Daemon glided through the Keep's corridors. He'd spent the past several hours making three months' worth of tonics for Karla, according to the instructions Jaenelle had given him. When he'd questioned her, reminding her that healing tonics that had blood in them would lose their potency over that amount of time, she had told him she had calculated that so the potency would taper off the way it needed to. And when he'd ask why...
Well, it was to be expected that she would be drained by unleashing the amount of power needed to stop Dorothea and Hekatah completely. The fact that it would take her three months to recover worried him. And now that she was so close to finishing... whatever it was ... he was also worried that the boyos might finally slip the leash and throw themselves into battle.
They were feeling too hostile toward him just then to listen to anything he might say, but he hoped Saetan would still be reasonable. He was fairly sure he could say enough for the High Lord to understand that Jaenelle's evasion had a purpose, that all they needed was a few more days. A few more days and the threat to Kaeleer would end, the threat Dorothea and Hekatah had always been to the Blood would end.
He knocked on Saetan's door, then went in cautiously when it was Surreal who said, "Come in."
She was standing behind the small desk. Falonar stood beside her, looking tired and angry. Surreal didn't look tired, and she was a long way past angry. "Look at this," she said.
Even from where he stood, he could see the pendant and the Steward's ring. Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, he walked around the desk, silently acknowledging the emotional cut when she deliberately moved away from him. He read the message and felt a claw-sharp chill rip down his back.