Hesitation. He and Lucivar needed to get to the Keep before the sun got much higher, but he hoped his brother wouldn’t walk into the front room just yet.
“I didn’t want to tell him unless the Jewel was clear again,” Daemonar finally said.
“If it wasn’t clear?”
“It meant Mother didn’t have a chance to use the healing spell and it would be too late.”
“You’ve got balls, little Brother, to carry the weight of that knowledge in order to spare your father.” Daemon leaned down enough for them to be eye to eye. “But we share the weight in this family. If you can’t tell one of us, think about telling the other. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Did you talk to her? Can you see her?
Before he could ask a question that might break the boy’s willingness to tell him anything in the future, Lucivar walked into the front room and Daemonar bolted.
“You think we’ll get any answers at the Keep?” Lucivar asked as they put on their outer garments.
“That will depend on whether we get there before Karla retires for the day,” Daemon replied.
Lucivar solved the problem of Karla’s needing to retire to conserve the reservoir of power in her Gray Jeweclass="underline" he opened a vein and filled a small cup with fresh blood.
Accepting the cup, she took a sip and made a face. “Next time, consider doing this when you’re calmer.”
He wasn’t sure if temper really changed the taste of blood or if she was simply commenting about the emotions she felt pumping in him. “We have questions. We need answers.”
She drank the rest of the blood. Two swallows. Setting the cup aside, she said, “Marian?”
“In a way,” Daemon replied. He called in a kitchen towel, unwrapped it, and held up the clear Jewel. “Whatever was in this Jewel is the reason Marian fell into a healing sleep unlike anything Nurian had seen before. We’re hoping that, being a Healer and a Black Widow, you have seen something like this.”
Karla took the Jewel, rubbed a thumb over the surface. “If you’re asking if a Healer like Nurian could create a healing spell and place it in a clear Jewel to lie dormant for decades, the answer is no.”
“What about other kinds of spells?” Daemon asked. “We can wrap spells into objects. Death spells and witchfire are a couple that come to mind.”
“Yes, but power fades over time and the potency of a spell fades with it. If the spells you mentioned fade, someone may survive the death spell, or the witchfire might burn out quickly. A healing spell has to work when it’s needed and be as potent as when it was made.”
Daemon nodded toward the Jewel. “Could you do this?”
“Not even when I walked among the living.” Karla studied both of them. “But you already know there was only one witch, one Healer, who had figured out how to do this.”
Lucivar felt like his heart would explode in his chest. “Jaenelle could have warned us. Warned me.”
Karla held up the Jewel. “This was between Marian and Jaenelle. I’m guessing they didn’t tell you because neither of them knew when the spell would be needed, and both of them knew that when the time came, there was nothing you could do to change the outcome for good or ill. Not saying anything to you before she drank the brew? That’s something to discuss with your wife when she’s feeling better.”
Oh, yes, they would have a discussion. “Tersa described the spell as dark water that washes away what doesn’t belong. Dark water—and a song in the Darkness.”
“Tersa also said that Marian would be shown the path home,” Daemon added.
“Are you sure Jaenelle did this?” Lucivar asked. If his sister had created the spell, then Marian would survive. But if this was an attempt to kill his wife and leave her Self imprisoned somewhere . . .
“Do you remember when I was poisoned and Jaenelle did the healing that saved me?” Karla asked.
Daemon shuddered. He had assisted Jaenelle during that healing. “I remember.”
“When a Territory’s stability depends on the strength of its Queen, the Queen cannot afford to appear fragile. Cannot afford to be fragile. Injured, yes, but not susceptible to things like cold winters. I wasn’t going to hide the damaged legs or the need for a cane or the wheeled chair, but the rest of the damage the poisons had done to me? That was a secret between Jaenelle and me. She tried to teach me the particular healing brew and spell that helped me stay as healthy as I could be. I could get close to what she made, but not quite close enough. Every six months, when we’d gather, she would make that brew and weave the healing spell she combined with it. And I could take care of my people for a while longer.”
Lucivar huffed. “No one knew?”
“Not even Gabrielle, and she was the other side of the Golden Triangle.”
The Golden Triangle had been Saetan’s term for Jaenelle, Karla, and Gabrielle—the three Queens who were also natural Healers and natural Black Widows. The only witches in Kaeleer with the triple gift.
“The last Winsol we celebrated together, Jaenelle gave me a pretty container that held pieces of clear Jewels.” Karla smiled. “She told me she wouldn’t be able to do complex healing spells much longer, but these would be enough. When there were two left, it would be time to put my affairs in order. It would be time to decide what I wanted to do when I made the transition to demon-dead.”
“All of the First Circle had made the transition before I . . . before Saetan became a whisper in the Darkness,” Daemon said. “I often wondered how all of you seemed to know and were ready.” He took a step back. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady.”
Lucivar watched Daemon walk away, then turned back to Karla. “Did everyone who mattered receive a last gift?”
“I’m sure they did. But not every gift was stored in a piece of clear Jewel, Lucivar, and some won’t appear until they’re truly needed.”
If Marian recovered, that was the only gift he needed. Jaenelle probably knew that too. But Daemon? Was his daughter the last gift, or was there another one waiting for him? And what would be the trigger that would indicate the gift was truly needed?
Jillian opened the glass doors that led to the snow-covered lawn and outside play area and breathed in the fresh air. The eyrie felt stuffy, or maybe it was the additional psychic scents and so much emotion that had her wishing she could locate one of those cleansing spells Marian used after Prince Yaslana slipped into the rut and spent a few days doing nothing but having sex with his wife. Afterward, you could almost taste the sex in the air.
This wasn’t the same, but the . . . swamp . . . of feelings made her a bit ill. She didn’t want to tell Yaslana about her reaction to whatever was going on with the adults, but maybe Manny would know a similar cleansing spell.
Until she could talk to Manny, cold fresh air would have to do.
Prince Sadi had treated her like an adult this morning. Like a woman instead of a girl. She understood the danger of thinking his actions were anything other than the courtesy he would offer any woman, but this morning, she’d seen him as a man. Beautiful, intelligent, powerful. Educated.
She’d been aware of him in a way that made her tingle. That, in itself, wasn’t dangerous as long as she kept thoughts and feelings to herself. He was married, and a married Warlord Prince didn’t welcome invitations from anyone who wasn’t his wife—would, in fact, defend his marriage vows with a savagery no other caste of male could match.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy his attention, couldn’t talk to him about books and other things that were of interest to her and of no interest to Eyrien males.