“But they never got to that field, did they? Because they met another enemy. One whose presence hadn’t been anticipated. One who didn’t fight with a blade. One whose power and skill and temper…Well, as you said, it was a slaughter of thousands.”
No response. He didn’t expect one. And he wasn’t sure he actually wanted Saetan to admit to breaking the code of honor that kept the man from being a monster.
“If Andulvar, Prothvar, and their surviving men hadn’t been the ones to walk off the field that day, Hekatah would have won the war between Kaeleer and Terreille, and both Realms would have become the nightmare Terreille became all those long years later.” He took a swallow of yarbarah as a private salute to the warriors who were gone. “So I won’t ask why you were there that day. But I thank you for being there—and for standing that one careful step back from the killing field.”
They looked at each other, and there, within the silence, acknowledged a man’s betrayal of himself—and a secret that would remain a secret.
“Anything else?” Saetan finally asked.
Lucivar stared into the goblet. Easy enough to shrug it off, let it pass. After all, they were both feeling a little raw. But…
“I don’t remember you, but you shaped the core of me during those early years, and your passion and honor were the forge that made that core unbreakable, despite everything that came after. I don’t know what I would have become without that, but I’m certain I wouldn’t have been worthy of serving Witch. So I thank you for that, too, and…I’m proud to have you as my father.”
“As I am proud to have you as a son,” Saetan replied softly.
Time to go, boyo, before you get weepy. He used Craft to float the goblet back to the tray, then stood up and stretched. “Well. I’d better get back. If the little beast wakes up and Marian has to deal with him on her own…” He frowned.
“What?” Saetan asked.
Lucivar rubbed the back of his neck. “I have the nagging feeling that I’ve forgotten something.”
“Hmm. Well, you’ll either remember it on your own, or you’ll remember it when whatever you’ve forgotten comes back and bites you in the ass.”
Lucivar laughed. “I guess that’s something to look forward to.”
NINE
Standing at the edge of the street, Surreal studied the three-story house that looked like it had seen better years. Better decades, actually. There was a shabbiness to it that felt like neglect rather than the decline that comes with age. But it must have been a prominent house in the village at one time, since it was standing on a plot of land that was significantly larger than its neighbors.
She didn’t know much about landen architecture or landscaping, but the whole thing struck her as being off-balance, as if the right side of the land were about to tip up from the weight of the house on the left side. And why would anyone surround property with a waist-high wrought-iron fence that followed the property line at least on the two sides but split the front yard in half between house and street, making it useful for nothing?
“It might have been attractive at one time,” she said, not bothering to keep the doubt out of her voice.
“You mean before it was built?” Rainier replied.
She huffed out a laugh.
“There are plenty of Blood mansions that have a tower,” Rainier said. “But the tower attached to the right side of this building…”
“Looks like a fat penis with pretensions.”
Rainier choked. And because he choked, she couldn’t resist.
“Really,” Surreal said. “It reminds me of the cock decorating that was done in a Terreillean Territory a few decades ago. Didn’t stay in fashion for long, but it was amusing while it did.”
“Cock decorating.”
She couldn’t tell if he was amused or appalled. But he didn’t sound suspicious. “Feathers, ribbons, netting that acted as a sleeve so that seed pearls and sequins could be added.”
“I can’t imagine any of that would be comfortable, and I also don’t see the point.”
“Well, it’s not like they kept it stuffed in their pants.” She bit the inside of her cheek.
“But…In a social gathering, it’s much better for a man to imply what he’s got rather than actually show it.”
Did men use undergarments that enhanced their cocks the way women sometimes used corsets or specially constructed brassieres to enhance their breasts? She’d have to ask him sometime.
“Besides, a man can’t sustain an erection for an entire evening,” Rainier said.
“That’s true. And there was an ebb and flow to the festivities for a while.” Oh, he was definitely appalled now. “That’s why most men started wearing a stiff covering over their asset and decorating that.”
“How could you tell it was a covering?”
“Has your cock ever turned purple?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” She grinned. Couldn’t stop herself. Besides, he sounded like he was being lightly strangled, so it was time to stop teasing. “Now that you’re warmed up for it, shall we go view the rest of the evening’s horrors?”
“Surreal.”
Laughing, she ignored the muttering coming from her companion.
“It really was done in a Terreillean Territory, but not to that extent,” Surreal said.
They both pondered that, and she suspected her perception of that particular fashion was very different from his.
Then Rainier said, “If it had been done like you described, do you think Sadi…?”
He looked at her. She looked at him—and knew they were both picturing that elegant, beautiful man moving across a ballroom with lethal, feline grace. If Daemon had been forced to display himself during the years he’d been a pleasure slave, he would have done it right. Nothing garish for Sadi. Seed pearls and silk. Maybe a small ruby strategically placed to catch the light—and a woman’s eye. A fatal lure that promised unimagined pleasures, despite his lack of arousal. But the look in Sadi’s golden eyes and his cold, cruel smile would have made a very different kind of promise—and that was the promise the Sadist always kept.
And that thought got her moving up the broken, weedy flag-stone walkway at the same moment a man came out of the house and lit the lanterns that hung on either side of the door.
“Think that’s the equivalent of the houselights going down in a theater?” Rainier asked as they stopped at the gate in the fence.
“Could be.” A movement near the edge of the property had her dropping back a step, giving Rainier fighting room as she turned.
“Just children,” Rainier said, turning with her. “One of them must have been keeping watch. Or else they planned to meet here at dusk.”
“Makes sense. After all, they’re probably the ones who provided the inspiration for this place.” And imagining them all getting close enough for her to give each one of them a hard whack upside the head as payment for that inspiration pleased her so much she smiled and waved at them.
“Don’t encourage them,” Rainier warned. “They’ll think you’re inviting them to come with us.”
“Don’t be daft. Landens stay away from…Hell’s fire.” They had taken her wave as an invitation.
“Told you,” Rainier said, grabbing her arm as he pushed the gate open. It swung easily enough but creaked as if it hadn’t been used in years.
“How was I supposed to know?” Surreal grumbled, caught between going through the gate, which she didn’t want to do, and being trapped against the fence by a pack of children.