The hard black core pushed out, pushed out, pushed out until Witch hooked it with a claw and pulled it out the rest of the way.
Surreal lay back. Her chest hurt, and it felt hollow—and it felt clean. For the first time in too many years, she felt clean.
She closed her eyes. The altar felt much warmer and softer now. Comfortable.
“Rest now, Surreal,” Jaenelle said. “Rest.”
She snuggled farther under the spell-warmed covers, breathed an easy sigh, and slept.
NINE
“Daemonar!”
Surreal jerked awake and struggled against the hand pressing on her shoulder, holding her down. Then a tenor voice said, “Be easy, cousin. Be easy. The boy is well.” Then a tenor voice said, “Be easy, cousin. Be easy The boy is well.”
She flopped back, boneless with relief as the voice and words were absorbed. Then she looked at the man who released her shoulder and took her hand, hiding none of the Gray-Jeweled strength behind his gentle touch. Long silver hair and slightly oversized forest blue eyes. Delicately pointed ears and a slender, sinewy build that was much stronger than it looked. “Chaosti?”
The Warlord Prince of the Dea al Mon smiled. “Welcome back.”
Hell’s fire. How long had she been gone?
“Two days,” Chaosti said as if she’d actually asked the question. “It’s been two days since you collapsed.”
Snips of memory. Lucivar leaving her to watch the boy. A hunt for the missing child. Fear that turned into unbearable pain. And . . .
“How much of the eyrie did I wreck before I went down?” she asked.
A sharp, amused smile. “All of it. Every closet, cupboard, and hidey-hole. You were impressively efficient.”
Shit shit shit. “Didn’t find the boy.” A small ache in her chest where the black lump had been.
“He and his furry brothers used the wolf pups’ newly learned skill of sight shielding to give themselves an advantage in the game of hide-and-seek. If you’d been aware of that, he would have remained hidden only for as long as you chose to let him have the advantage. As it was, Daemonar is very sorry he scared his auntie Surreal. Whenever he’s slipped away from us, we’ve found him outside this door, hugging an armful of his books, waiting for you to wake up so he can read you a story.”
“He can’t read yet.”
“I know. But it’s the only thing he can do to take care of you.”
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away. “Is there any reason I can’t get up?”
“None.” Chaosti squeezed her hand gently. “But there is something I’d like you to think about before you see the others.”
She studied his face, but she couldn’t read him as well as she could read Lucivar. “Think about what?” she asked warily.
“Coming to Dea al Mon for a visit with your mother’s clan. Grand-mammy Teele would like to have some time with you.” He hesitated. “While we waited for your return, Lucivar and I discussed the training he wanted you to have and why he wanted you to have it. I agree with the why—”
Of course he did. He’d been just as upset with her for not shielding before going into the spooky house as Lucivar had been—and just as adamant that she polish her defensive skills.
“—but I think a different how and where would suit you better.”
She blinked at him. “Say that again?”
“You’re not Eyrien. While learning the Eyrien way of fighting is physically beneficial, it’s not natural to who and what you are.”
“Because I’m Dea al Mon.”
“Yes.”
Hadn’t she thought along similar lines the day she’d clashed with Falonar in The Tavern?
“I’d like to make that visit, and I’d like some training with you, if you’re willing. But not just yet.” Weighing loyalties and confidences, she decided Chaosti was as much family to Lucivar as she was. “Something is going on here.”
“Lucivar’s decision to have some of the Eyriens leave Ebon Rih is not your concern, cousin.”
“No, it’s not, but he needs someone watching his back until they’re gone.”
“Isn’t that what his second-in-command is supposed to do?”
“That’s what a second-in-command is supposed to do,” she agreed. “But there’s more than one way to stab a man in the back.”
“Like striking at his family?” Chaosti tipped his head to indicate the other people in the eyrie.
She nodded. “Or good friends like Merry and Briggs.”
“Not wounds Lucivar would recover from easily,” Chaosti said.
“If at all.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No. But it wouldn’t hurt to have the Eyriens in Riada get a look at another side of the SaDiablo family.”
“Lucivar is with the other men now. I’ll go over there and personally give him the news that you’ve recovered.”
“Yeah. About that.” He helped her sit up, then pulled the covers away so she could swing her legs over the side of the bed. “Was Marian upset about me tearing up the place?”
“She said it has given her an opportunity to look at what’s been stored and pass along what is no longer needed.”
Meaning the hearth witch must have been shocked when she’d returned to her home. “Shit.”
He laughed as he helped her to her feet and bundled her into a robe. She didn’t need that much help. She was sure of it. But she wasn’t feeling steady enough to argue with a Warlord Prince and take care of herself.
He helped her to the bathroom, then helped her to the kitchen, where Jaenelle and Marian were talking.
“You’re looking wobbly, sugar,” Jaenelle said. “But you’ll do.” She sounded amused, but Surreal heard approval beneath the amusement.
“Jaenelle!” Marian scolded. “Be nice.”
“Instead of honest?” Jaenelle asked innocently.
Marian narrowed her eyes at Jaenelle, then gave Surreal a brilliant smile. “We’re glad you’re feeling better. Are you hungry?”
Surreal’s stomach growled. They all laughed.
“Auntie Srell!”
One moment she was standing on her own feet. The next, Daemonar flung himself at her and would have knocked her down if Chaosti hadn’t caught her. He positioned a chair behind her and laughed in her ear as he said, “We really do need to work on your defensive skills, cousin.”
She would have said something sharp and concise, but she was being hugged breathless by the boy in her lap.
“I’m sorry, Auntie Srell!”
“I know you are, boyo.” She gingerly put her arms around him. “I know.”
“Let Auntie Surreal sit by herself now and have something to eat,” Jaenelle said.
Daemonar scrambled off Surreal’s lap and into the chair next to hers. “Mama made good soup. You eat some. You eat too, Auntie J.!”
*Hell’s fire,* Surreal said on a Gray psychic thread aimed at Jaenelle. *He’s already got the bossy attitude.*
*Uh-huh.* Jaenelle set the table. *A Warlord Prince is born a Warlord Prince. Doesn’t take long for the personality traits of that caste to show up.*
*Any chance of me taking a bath by myself?*
*Only if you wait until nap time.* Jaenelle brought the bread and butter to the table while Marian ladled the soup.
They ate quietly. Surreal saw the fatigue in Jaenelle’s and Marian’s eyes, felt the fatigue in her own body. The past two days had been hard on all of them.
*One more step, Surreal,* Jaenelle said quietly. *You’ve cleansed your heart. In a day or two, when you’re feeling stronger, let Lucivar give you a chance to cleanse the past from your body.*