Witch studied him with her ancient, haunted sapphire eyes. "You'll take the scars on your soul so that mine remains unmarked?"
"Everything has a price," he said gently. "Those kinds of scars are part of being a Warlord Prince. You're at a crossroads, witch-child. You can use your power to heal or to harm. It's your choice."
"One or the other?"
He kissed her hand. "Not always. As I said, sometimes destruction is necessary. But I think you're more suited to healing. It's the road I'd choose for you."
Jaenelle fluffed her hair. "Well, I do like making healing brews."
"I noticed," he said dryly.
She laughed, but the amusement quickly faded. "What will the Dark Council do?"
He leaned back on his pillows. "There's nothing they can do. I won't let them take you away from your family and friends."
She kissed his cheek. The last thing she said before she left his bedroom was, "And I won't let them put more scars on your soul."
He had expected it, even prepared for it. It still hurt.
Jaenelle stood silently in the petitioner's circle, her fingers demurely laced in front of her, her eyes fixed on the seal carved into the front of the blackwood bench where the Tribunal sat. She wore a dress she had borrowed from one of her friends, and her hair was pulled back in a tight, neat braid.
Knowing the Council watched his every move, Saetan stared at nothing, waiting for the Tribunal to begin their vicious little game.
Because he had anticipated the Council's decision, he'd allowed no one but Andulvar to come with them. Andulvar could take care of himself. He would take care of Jaenelle. The moment the Tribunal announced the Council's verdict, the moment Jaenelle protested and turned to him for help . . .
Everything has a price.
Over 50,000 years ago, he'd been instrumental in creating the Dark Council. Now he'd destroy it. One word from her, and it would be done.
The First Tribune began to speak.
Saetan didn't listen. He scanned the faces of the Council. Some of the witches looked more troubled than angry. But most of their eyes glittered like feral, slithery things gathered for the kill. He knew some of them. Others were new, replacements for the fools who had challenged him once before in this room. As he watched them watching him, his regret at his decision to destroy them trickled away. They had no right to take his daughter away from him.
"—and so it's the careful opinion of this Council that appointing a new guardian would be in your best interest."
Tensed, Saetan waited for Jaenelle to turn to him. He'd gone deep into the Black before they'd reached the Council chambers. There were dark Jewels here that might hold out long enough to try to attack, but the Black unleashed would shatter every mind caught in the explosion of psychic energy. Andulvar was strong enough to ride out the psychic storm. Jaenelle would be held safe, protected in the eye of the storm.
Saetan took a deep breath.
Jaenelle looked at the First Tribune. "Very well," she said quietly, clearly. "When the sun next rises, you may appoint a new guardian—unless you reconsider your decision before then."
Saetan stared at her. No. No! She was the daughter of his soul, his Queen. She couldn't, wouldn't walk away from him.
She did.
She didn't look at him when she turned and walked down the center of the chamber to the doors at the far end. When she reached the doors, she sidestepped away from Andulvar's outstretched hand.
The doors closed.
Voices murmured. Colors swirled. Bodies moved past him.
He couldn't move. He'd thought he was too old for illusions, too heart-bruised to hope, too hardened to dream. He'd been wrong. Now he swallowed the bitterness of hope, choked on the ashes of dreams.
She didn't want him.
He wanted to die, wanted desperately, that final death before pain and grief overwhelmed him.
"Let's get out of here, SaDiablo."
Andulvar led him away from the smug faces and the glittering eyes.
Tonight, before the sun rose again, he would find a way to die.
He'd forgotten the children would be waiting for him.
"Where's Jaenelle?" Karla asked, trying to look past him and Andulvar as they entered the family drawing room.
He wanted to slink away to his suite, where he could lick his wounds in private and decide how to accomplish the end.
He would lose them, too. They'd have no reason to visit, no reason to talk with him once Jaenelle was gone.
Tears pricked his eyes. Grief squeezed his throat.
"Uncle Saetan?" Gabrielle asked, searching his face.
Saetan cringed.
"What happened?" Morghann demanded. "Where's Jaenelle?"
Andulvar finally answered. "The Dark Council is going to choose another guardian. Jaenelle's not coming back."
"WHAT?" they yelled in unison.
Their voices pummeled him, questioning, demanding. He was going to lose all of these children who had crept into his heart over the past few weeks, whom he'd foolishly allowed himself to love.
Karla raised her hand. The room was instantly silent. Gabrielle moved forward until the two girls stood shoulder to shoulder.
"The Council appointed another guardian," Karla said, spacing out the words as she narrowed her eyes.
"Yes," Saetan whispered. His legs were going to buckle. He had to get away from them before his legs buckled.
"They must be mad," Gabrielle said. "What did Jaenelle say?"
Saetan forced himself to focus on Karla and Gabrielle. It would be the last time he would ever see them. But he couldn't answer them, couldn't get the damning words out.
Andulvar guided Saetan to a couch and pushed him down. "She said they could appoint a new guardian in the morning."
"Were those her exact words?" Gabrielle asked sharply.
"What difference does it make?" Andulvar snarled. "She made the decision to walk away from—"
"Damn your wings, you son of a whoring bitch," Karla screamed at him. "What did she say?"
"Stop it!" Saetan shouted. He couldn't stand having them argue, having the last hour with them tainted by anger. "She said—" His voice cracked. He clamped his hands between his knees, but it didn't stop them from shaking. "She said when the sun next rose they could appoint another guardian unless they reconsidered their decision by then."
The mood in the room changed to a little uneasiness blended with strong approval and calm acceptance. Puzzled, Saetan watched them.
Karla plopped down on the couch beside him and wrapped her arms around one of his. "In that case, we'll all stay right here and wait with you."
"Thank you, but I'd rather be alone." Saetan tried to rise, but Chaosti's stare unnerved him so badly he couldn't find his legs.
"No, you wouldn't," Gabrielle said, squeezing past Andulvar so that she could settle on the other side of him.
"I want to be alone right now," Saetan said, trying, but failing, to get that soft thunder into his voice.
Chaosti, Khary, and Aaron formed a wall in front of him, flanked by the other young males. Morghann and the rest of the coven circled the couch, trapping him.
"We're not going to let you do something stupid, Uncle Saetan," Karla said gently. Her wicked smile bloomed. "At least wait until the sun next rises. You're not going to want to miss it."
Saetan stared at her. She knew what he intended to do. Defeated, he closed his eyes. Today, tomorrow, what difference did it make? But not while they were still here. He wouldn't do that to them.
Satisfied, Karla and Gabrielle snuggled close to him while the other girls drifted toward the other couches.