Besides dealing with the senior staff at the Hall—which, considering the personalities of the senior staff, was sufficiently challenging—Daemon also dealt with the town house and its staff, the family estates in Dhemlan, an estate that was run as a self-sufficient school for half-Blood children, and a school on the Isle of Scelt that trained and educated kindred Scelties. He also owned or co-owned several businesses throughout the Realm of Kaeleer, as well as a few farms and businesses he still supported in Dena Nehele and Shalador Nehele in the Realm of Terreille. Added to that, Daemon took care of the SaDiablo family’s vast wealth, working with his personal man of business and the firm that had been managing some portion of that wealth since Saetan had hired them centuries ago.
That much responsibility might have overwhelmed a lot of men, but Daemon actually enjoyed the work, the challenges of business. They were almost a way for him to relax from the duties of being the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and dealing with the Dhemlan Queens as well as the Queens who ruled Kaeleer’s other Territories.
They were almost a way for him to rest from the duties of being the High Lord of Hell—a title Daemon had shouldered after Saetan went to the final death. A title, a truth, and a secret that was only known to a few who were among the living. Sadi would give his daughter as much time to grow up as he could before that title cast a shadow over her life. That was a choice Lucivar understood, seeing the shadow his title of Demon Prince now cast on his own children.
Added to the complications of Daemon’s life was the fact that Daemon Sadi had been damaged by a savagely abusive childhood and centuries of being used as a pleasure slave, and his brilliant mind had been broken and repaired three times, the last time leaving him fragile in a way that also made him extremely dangerous to the whole damn Realm.
But Sadi was Lucivar’s brother. He loved the man and would stand with him against anyone—except their Queen.
A psychic probe at the level of the Red told him that Daemon was home and Surreal SaDiablo, Daemon’s Gray-Jeweled partner and second-in-command, was not.
Officially, Surreal was Daemon’s wife, and Sadi gave her everything a wife was entitled to have from a husband, including his body. They loved each other but had never been in love with each other, and that had made the difference when mistakes made on both sides had led to Surreal seeing the full truth about the man she had married and developing a bone-deep fear of some aspects of Daemon’s temper—and it had led Daemon into the cascading self-destruction that had ended with him splintering his mind almost beyond repair.
Daemon asking for help that should have been impossible, from a Queen that almost everyone believed no longer existed in any of the Realms, had saved all of them. Witch had intervened and repaired Daemon’s mind, as she had done twice before. But everything has a price, and having the Queen who was the love of Daemon’s life return, even as a presence without flesh, changed Sadi’s relationship with Surreal.
Daemon still referred to Surreal as his wife. Lucivar couldn’t. Once things had settled down and the routines that were set up to keep Daemon sane were in place, Lucivar discovered there were some lines he couldn’t cross. He loved Surreal like a sister, would defend her against anyone but Daemon, but he saw the differences in Daemon’s relationship with Surreal compared to his relationship with and feelings for Marian.
He and Marian had a marriage—a commitment to each other—in the truest sense of the word. Daemon and Surreal had a partnership that included sex and raising their daughter. But in Surreal’s presence, Daemon couldn’t be everything he was, and the acknowledgment that some distance was required to keep her safe—and keep her fear of him at bay—had stained everything they were to each other for the past few years.
Lucivar shook his head. No point rubbing up against rough stone until you hurt.
The door opened before he had a chance to knock. Beale, the Red-Jeweled Warlord who worked as the Hall’s butler, studied him for a moment before stepping aside.
Beale was one of the people Daemon had entrusted with telling him his control was slipping and he needed some solitary time to regain his balance. Lucivar was another who had accepted that responsibility. It wasn’t unusual for him to show up at the Hall for a meal or a quick visit, but that first meeting between butler and brother always held an unspoken question about the man who was the High Lord of Hell as well as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan—and who, at his most lethal, was known as the Sadist.
“Prince Sadi is working in his study,” Beale said. “Should I have coffee brought in?”
“Hell’s fire, no,” Lucivar replied. “I’d rather he wasn’t completely sober when I explain this.” He shook his head at Beale’s momentary look of alarm. “The children are fine, and this is nothing you haven’t heard before. Same story, different father.”
“I see. Perhaps I should talk to Mrs. Beale about making something . . . fortifying . . . for the Prince’s dinner. You’ll be staying for dinner?”
It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t.
“I was hoping to get home for the children’s bedtimes.”
“An early dinner, then. Since the Prince already requested that the meal be kept simple, it shouldn’t be an imposition.”
Lucivar bared his teeth in what could be mistaken as a smile. Beale recognized the warning and wasn’t impressed. Of course, the man was married to Mrs. Beale, who was the cook at the Hall. She was an excellent cook. She was also a large woman who wore a Yellow Jewel and tended to bring her well-honed meat cleaver to any discussion.
“Fine,” Lucivar said. “Please thank Mrs. Beale for accommodating me.”
“It will be a pleasure.”
Shaking his head, Lucivar went to the study, gave the door a quick rap with his knuckles, and walked in. “Hello, Bastard.”
Daemon looked up from a stack of papers and started to smile. Then that beautiful face went completely blank.
“They’re fine.” Wondering how many times he would have to say that today, Lucivar walked up to the large blackwood desk, filled a snifter to the brim with brandy, and set it in front of Daemon. “You’re going to want to slug a good bit of that down before we talk.”
Daemon looked at the brandy, then at him. “But the children are fine?”
Lucivar filled another snifter and settled in the specially designed chair Daemon had made to accommodate an Eyrien’s wings and still provide armrests. “Oh, yeah, old son, they are just fine. And if Father was still around, he’d be laughing himself silly right about now.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Daemon took a long swallow of brandy. He breathed out a resigned sigh. “Tell me.”
The delay had been enough to give Lucivar the measure of his brother’s mental and emotional health. A jagged feel to Daemon’s psychic scent meant trouble. Since he wasn’t picking up anything like that, he went ahead.
“My son, your daughter, on a raft made of branches and twine, riding rapids and going over a waterfall.”
Daemon’s hand trembled. He set the snifter on the desk before covering his face with his hands. Then he spread his fingers enough to peer at Lucivar and said, “Why?”
“Because it’s the sort of thing those two would find challenging and fun.”
Daemon groaned and rubbed his face briskly before sagging in his chair. “What did you say when you caught them? I’m assuming you caught them?”