As she turned to see the pattern, the journey maid Black Widow who was staying with her for a few weeks called out, "Tersa? What are you doing outside at this time of night?"
Snarling, Tersa whirled back to face the young witch.
The journey maid studied her face for a moment. Fetching the discarded nightgown, she tore it into strips, wrapped Tersa's feet to absorb the blood, then moved aside.
Urgency pushed Tersa up the stairs to her bedroom. Opening the curtains, she looked down at the yard and the lines she had drawn in the snow with her blood.
Two sides of a triangle, strong and connected. The father and the brother. The third side, the father's mirror, was separated from the other two and the middle was worn away. If it broke fully, that side would never be strong enough again to complete the triangle.
Moonlight and shadows filled the yard. The cobalt globe and bowl that rested in the center of the triangle became sapphire eyes.
"Yes," Tersa whispered. "The threads are now in place. It's time."
Receiving Jaenelle's silent permission, Saetan entered her sitting room. He glanced at the dark bedroom where Kaelas and Ladvarian were awake and anxious. Which meant Lucivar would be appearing soon. In the five months since he'd begun serving her, Lucivar had become extraordinarily sensitive to Jaenelle's moods.
Saetan sat down on the hassock in front of the overstuffed chair where Jaenelle was curled up. "Bad dream?" he asked. She'd had quite a few restless nights and bad dreams in the past few weeks.
"A dream," she agreed. She hesitated for a moment. "I was standing in front of a cloudy crystal door. I couldn't see what was behind it, wasn't sure I wanted to see. But someone kept trying to hand me a gold key, and I knew that if I took it, the door would open and then I would have to know what was hidden behind it."
"Did you take the key?" He kept his voice soft and soothing while his heart began to pound in his chest.
"I woke up before I touched it." She smiled wearily.
This was the first time she remembered one of those dreams upon waking. He had a good idea what memories were hidden behind that crystal door. Which meant they needed to talk about her past soon. But not tonight. "Would you like a brew to help you sleep?"
"No, thank you. I'll be all right."
He kissed her forehead and left the room.
Lucivar waited for him in the corridor. "Problem?" Lucivar asked.
"Perhaps." Saetan took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Let's go down to the study. There's something we need to discuss."
"Cat!" Lucivar rushed into the great hall. He didn't know what had set her off, but after talking with Saetan last night, he wasn't about to let her go anywhere by herself.
Fortunately, Beale was equally reluctant to let the Lady rush out the door without telling someone her destination.
Caught between them, Jaenelle unleashed her frustration with enough force to make all the windows rattle. "Damn you both! I have to go."
"Fine." Lucivar approached her slowly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm going with you. Where are we going?"
Jaenelle raked her fingers through her hair. "Halaway. Sylvia just sent a message. Something's wrong with Tersa."
Lucivar exchanged a look with Beale. The butler nodded. Saetan and Mephis would be back at any moment from their meeting with Lady Zhara, the Queen of Amdarh, Dhemlan's capital—and Beale would remain in the great hall until they arrived.
"Let me go!" Jaenelle wailed.
Thank the Darkness, it didn't occur to her to use force against them. She could easily eliminate what amounted to token resistance.
"In a minute," Lucivar said, swallowing hard when her eyes turned stormy. "You can't go out in your socks. There's snow on the ground."
Jaenelle swore. Lucivar called in her winter boots and handed them to her while a breathless footman brought her winter coat and the belted, wool cape with wing slits that served as a coat for him.
A minute later, they were flying toward Tersa's cottage.
The journey maid Black Widow who was staying with Tersa flung the door open as soon as they landed. "In the bedroom," she said in a worried voice. "Lady Sylvia is with her."
Jaenelle raced up to the bedroom with Lucivar right behind her.
Seeing them, Sylvia sagged against the dresser, the relief in her face overshadowed by stark concern. Lucivar put his arm around her, uneasy about the way she clung to him.
Jaenelle circled the bed to face Tersa, who was frantically packing a small trunk. Scattered among the clothing strewn on the bed were books, candles, and a few things Lucivar recognized as tools only a Black Widow would own.
"Tersa," Jaenelle said in a quiet, commanding voice.
Tersa shook her head. "I have to find him. It's time now."
"Who do you have to find?"
"The boy. My son. Daemon."
Lucivar's heart clogged his throat as he watched Jaenelle pale.
"Daemon." Jaenelle shuddered. "The gold key."
"I have to find him." Tersa's voice rang with frustration and fear. "If the pain doesn't end soon, it will destroy him."
Jaenelle gave no sign of having heard or understood the words. "Daemon," she whispered. "How could I have forgotten Daemon?"
"I must go back to Terreille. I must find him."
"No," Jaenelle said in her midnight voice. "I'll find him."
Tersa stopped her restless movements. "Yes," she said slowly, as if trying hard to remember something. "He would trust you. He would follow you out of the Twisted Kingdom."
Jaenelle closed her eyes.
Still holding Sylvia, Lucivar braced himself against the wall. Hell's fire, why was the room slowly spinning?
When Jaenelle opened her eyes, Lucivar stared, unable to look away. He'd never seen her eyes look like that. He hoped he'd never again see her eyes look like that. Jaenelle swept out of the room.
Leaving Sylvia to manage on her own, Lucivar raced after Jaenelle, who was striding toward the landing web at the edge of the village.
"Cat, the Hall's in the other direction."
When she didn't answer him, he tried to grab her arm. The shield around her was so cold it burned his hand.
She passed the landing web and kept walking. He fell into step beside her, not sure what to say—not sure what he dared say.
"Stubborn, snarly male," she muttered as tears filled her eyes. "I told you the chalice needed time to heal. I told you to go someplace safe. Why didn't you listen to me? Couldn't you obey just once!" She stopped walking.
Lucivar watched her grief slowly transform into rage as she turned in the direction of the Hall.
"Saetan," she said in a malevolent whisper. "You were there that night. You . . ."
Lucivar didn't try to keep up with her when she ran back to the Hall. Instead, he sent a warning to Beale on a Red spear thread. Beale, in turn, informed him that the High Lord had just arrived.
He hoped his father was prepared for this fight.
He felt her coming.
Too nervous to sit, Saetan leaned against the front of his blackwood desk, his hands locked on the surface in a vise grip.
He'd had two years to prepare for this, had spent countless hours trying to find the right phrases to explain the brutality that had almost destroyed her. But, somehow, he had never found the right time to tell her. Even after last night, when he realized the memories were trying to surface, he had delayed talking to her.