Tersa smiled and walked away.
Daemon returned to the Keep and gave Chaosti the list of men who wouldn’t see another sunrise—and wouldn’t make the transition to demon-dead. After the Dea al Mon Warlord Prince and his men headed for that Rihland town, Daemon retreated to the Consort’s suite.
He called in a wooden frame and his supply of spider silk and wove a tangled web for the aristo bitch who had tried to turn love into a weapon.
“Does she deserve that?” Witch asked when he sat back to consider his work.
“She does,” he replied. “For everyone else, it is warning and lesson that, from now on, there will be a steep price for using the ‘if you loved me’ spell.”
He felt her hand on his shoulder, watched her face as she leaned forward to study the tangled web. Then Witch smiled at him and said, “You need to make the teeth sharper.”
If you loved me . . .
If you loved me . . .
If you loved me . . .
At first, she couldn’t remember where she was. Not her own bedroom.
Now she remembered. She hoped Graham ended up in the bowels of Hell! If he’d done what she’d told him to do instead of fighting her control, that manthief Bekka would be dead, ripped up by Graham’s own hand, and he would be so sorry that he hadn’t been nicer to her, hadn’t done what she’d wanted.
Something coiled around her legs, around her arms, around her waist.
If you loved me, you would tell the truth.
Before she could scream, the darkness in the room softened until she could clearly see the plant coiled around her limbs and torso.
If you loved me, you would tell them about the games you’ve played. All the nasty games.
Was that the plant whispering to her? But wasn’t that . . . ?
As she watched, buds the size of her fist opened. Each flower had her face. Each flower whispered in her voice.
If you loved me, you would tell them about everyone you hurt.
If you loved me . . .
Dreaming. Yes. But such a delicious dream with her face blooming all around her.
“What?” she whispered. “If you loved me . . . what?”
Everything has a price, the blooms whispered in reply.
As she watched, the lips turned black and curled away from mouths filled with serrated teeth.
Tell them everything, the blooms whispered. We feast every night until you tell them everything and the debt is paid.
For a moment, all the flowers hung over her as if waiting for her to speak. Then the mouths opened, the teeth bit . . . and she screamed and screamed while the flowers with her face tore out chunks of her flesh.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Chaosti lifted the lid off a ravenglass goblet before he handed it to Karla and said, “It’s fresh and still warm.”
She swallowed a mouthful of undiluted blood. “It’s also a little bitter.”
“Fear leaves that taste,” he replied. “The blood was part of the payment for a debt owed. Drink. My men and I have had our fill. And I brought some back for Draca and Geoffrey.”
She wasn’t going to ask how many bodies had made up that payment. She just drank the blood and watched Chaosti watching her. “Yes?”
“Curious thing. A witch was detained in the town where we were hunting. Apparently she tried to use a spell to compel a Warlord to kill the woman he loved.”
“That was naughty of her.”
“In the middle of the night, she began screaming that the flowers with her face were biting her and she had to tell the Queen every bad thing she had done using the ‘if you loved me’ spell, because each bad thing was a bloom, and until she said it all, the flowers would come back every night and feast.”
Karla shuddered. Couldn’t help it. “Was there any physical confirmation of her nightmare?”
“Nothing.” Chaosti considered. “Although that may change if the blooms return on another night.” He continued to watch her. “I heard the teeth were quite impressive. It occurred to me creating something like that would take a great deal of skill.”
“I didn’t weave that tangled web, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You didn’t help with any details?”
Then she realized what he’d been looking to confirm. Oh, she still had the skill to create a tangled web as a form of punishment, but she wouldn’t have thought to be that exquisitely cruel, and Chaosti knew that. That was when she understood what he was really asking. Who else would help the Sadist refine the details of a punishment that would not only pay a debt but be a warning to everyone who thought to play with another person’s heart?
And that made her curious. “Just how impressive were those teeth?”
While Manny, Tersa, Jaenelle Saetien, and Tagg made their way to the landing web located below the eyrie and took their seats in the Coach for the journey home, Surreal and Marian searched for Morghann, who had disappeared sometime before dawn.
٭Morghann,٭ Surreal called. ٭Come on, Morghann. It’s time to go home.٭
No answer.
“Maybe she went to Nurian’s eyrie to stay with Khary,” Marian said.
“Khary says she isn’t there.”
“Then she’s here. Somewhere.” Marian put her hands on her hips. “Daemonar and Titian swore they haven’t seen her this morning. Well, you go on. She’ll turn up when she gets hungry.”
Surreal raked her fingers through her hair. “I brought three Scelties. I’m going back with one. Lucivar is going to bounce off the ceiling.”
Marian didn’t disagree but said, “You requested the Scelties as chaperons, but Daemon actually brought them to Ebon Rih.”
“So this is his fault.” Much better.
“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but you’re not wrong.”
They were alone in this part of the eyrie. When would she get another chance to ask the question? “I was told Daemon’s sexual heat is going to stay this potent for the centuries while he’s in his prime. The same thing must be happening with Lucivar. How do you endure it?”
Marian looked uncomfortable. “If this final stage has already happened, it must have been more gradual than what Daemon experienced. And Lucivar’s work takes him out of the eyrie for a good part of each day, while Daemon works at the Hall, so his sexual heat might . . . accumulate . . . despite the size of the place. A couple times each month, Lucivar stays away for a day or two, camping out on the mountain. There’s a hunting eyrie not far from here. Might have been a guard post long ago. It’s small, just big enough for a couple of men. His ‘weather bones’ don’t respond well to sleeping outside in the winter, so he’s fixed it up and keeps a good supply of wood for the fire. It’s close enough that he can be home in a few minutes if I need him, but it’s far enough away that . . .” She hesitated.
“That you don’t feel the heat,” Surreal finished.
“He’s my husband. I’ve gotten used to living with his heat, but the days when he’s away from home, it’s like breathing in crisp air after being inside a house that’s too warm. We’ve never talked about it, but I enjoy him more as a lover because of those absences.” Marian huffed out a breath. “And if we’re being honest, if Daemon is going to be spending a few days each month at the Keep in order to give you the same kind of breathing room, I hope Lucivar joins him at least part of the time.”
“Why?”