Saetan stopped at the edge of the light. He hadn't seen Hekatah in ten years—hardly more than a breath of time for someone who had lived as long as he had. And he had known her for most of those years. Even so, despite Dorothea standing beside her, she had withered so much, decayed so much, he wasn't really sure it was her until she spoke.
"Saetan."
"Hekatah." He walked to the center of the bare ground.
"You've come to bargain?" Hekatah asked politely.
He nodded. "A life for a life."
She smiled. "For lives. We'll throw the bitch and the babe into the bargain. We don't really have any use for them."
Did she think he didn't know they would never give up Daemonar? They had been striving for centuries to get a child out of Lucivar or Daemon that they could control and breed in order to bring back a darker bloodline.
"My life for theirs," he said. Everything has a price.
"NO!" Lucivar shouted, struggling against the spelled chains. "Kill them!"
Ignoring Lucivar, he focused on Hekatah. "Do we have a bargain?"
"For a chance to see the High Lord humbled?" Hekatah said sweetly. "Oh, yes, we have a bargain. As soon as you're restrained, I'll set the others free. I swear it on my word of honor."
They ordered him to strip—and he did.
Removing his Black-Jeweled ring, he tossed it on the ground. He had put a tight shield around it so that no one could actually touch it. If he needed to call it back to him, he didn't want their foulness absorbed by the gold.
As two guards chained him to the center post, Hekatah slipped a Ring of Obedience over his organ.
"You look well for someone your age," she said, stepping back to give his naked body a thorough inspection.
He smiled gently. "Unfortunately, darling, I can't say the same about you."
Viciousness twisted Hekatah's face. "It's time you learned a lesson, High Lord." She raised her hand at the same time Dorothea, with a look of perverted glee, raised hers.
Lucivar had once tried to explain to the boyos why a Ring of Obedience could force a powerful male to submit, so Saetan thought he was ready for it.
Nothing could have prepared him for the pain that filled his cock and balls before it spread through his body. His nerves were on fire, while agony settled between his legs. He couldn't fight it, could barely think.
His sons had endured this, had fought against Dorothea's control knowing that this was waiting after every act of defiance. For centuries, they had endured this. How could a man not become twisted by this? How...
He screamed—and kept on screaming until his body just shut down.
Surreal paced back and forth in Karla's sitting room, growing angrier by the minute. She wasn't sure why she'd chosen to vent her frustrations to Karla. Maybe it was because Karla had seemed so damned indifferent to everything that had been happening.
All right, that wasn't fair. The woman was grieving for her cousin, Morton, not to mention that she was slowly recovering from a vicious poisoning. Even so...
"The bastard sounded like it was an inconvenience that would interfere with his manicure," Surreal raged at Karla. " 'We'll see what we can accommodate.' Hell's fire, it's his father and brother!"
"You don't know what he intends to do," Karla said blandly.
The blandness pushed Surreal's temper up another notch. "He doesn't plan to do anything!"
"How do you know?"
Surreal sputtered, swore, paced. "It's as if he and Jaenelle want us to lose this war."
For the first time, temper heated Karla's voice. "Don't be an ass."
"Now, look, sugar—"
"No, you look," Karla snapped. "It's about time all of you looked and thought and remembered a few things. The boyos' instincts are pushing them toward battle. They can't change that any more than they can change being male. And the coven is made up of Queens whose instincts are urging them to protect their people."
"Which is exactly what they should be doing!" Surreal shouted. "And you don't seem to have that problem," she added nastily. Then she glanced at Karla's covered legs and regretted the words.
"When Jaenelle was fifteen," Karla said, "the Dark Council tried to say that Uncle Saetan was unfit to be her legal guardian. They decided to appoint someone else. And she said they could 'when the sun next rises.' Do you know what happened?"
Finally standing still, Surreal shook her head.
"The sun didn't rise for three days," Karla said mildly. "It didn't rise until the Council rescinded their decision."
Surreal sank to the floor. "Mother Night," she whispered.
"Jaenelle didn't want a court, didn't want to rule. The only reason she became the Queen of Ebon Askavi was to stop the Terreilleans who were coming into the kindred Territories and slaughtering the kindred. Do you really think a woman who would do those things has spent the past three weeks wringing her hands and hoping this will all go away? I don't. She needs us here for a reason—and she'll tell us when it's time to tell us." Karla paused. "And I'll tell you one other thing, just between us: sometimes a friend must become an enemy in order to remain a friend."
Karla was talking about Daemon. Surreal thought for a moment, then shook her head. "The way he's been acting—"
"Daemon Sadi is totally committed to Witch. Whatever he does, he does for her."
"You don't know that."
"Don't I?" Karla said too softly.
Black Widow. The words bloomed in Surreal's mind until there wasn't room for anything else. Black Widow. Maybe Karla wasn't indifferent to what was happening. Maybe she had seen something in a tangled web. "Are you sure about Sadi?"
"No," Karla replied. "But I'm willing to consider the possibility that what he says in public may be very different from what he does in private."
Surreal raked her fingers through her hair. "Well, Hell's fire, if Daemon and Jaenelle were planning something, they could at least tell the court."
"I was poisoned by a member of my court," Karla said quietly. "And let's not forget Jaenelle's grandmother, because I'm sure Jaenelle hasn't. So tell me, Surreal, if you were trying to find a way to totally destroy those two bitches, who would you trust?"
"She could have trusted the High Lord."
"And where is he right now?" Karla asked.
Surreal didn't say anything, since they both knew the answer.
"I think it's time to let Jaenelle know you're here," Hekatah said, circling behind Saetan. "I think we should send a little gift."
He felt her grab the little finger of his left hand. He felt the knife cut through skin and bone. And he felt rage when she dropped to her knees and clamped her mouth over the wound to drink his blood. A Guardian's blood.
Gathering his strength, he sent a blast of heat down his arm, psychic fire that cauterized the wound. Hekatah jerked away from him, screaming. While he had the chance, he used a little healing Craft to cleanse the wound and seal up the flesh enough to keep infection at bay.
Hekatah kept screaming. Dorothea rushed out of her cabin. Guards came running from every direction.
Finally the screaming stopped. He heard Hekatah scrabble for something on the ground, then slowly get to her feet. As she circled around him, he saw what the blast of power had done. Since her mouth had been clamped on the wound, the psychic fire had kept going after it cauterized the blood vessels. It had melted part of her jaw, grotesquely reshaping her face.