“You need to be careful,” Lucivar said. “Some of those Rings might already be in Askavi. Trust your instincts before you trust anyone else.”
Daemonar took a step back. Then he smiled a lazy, arrogant smile while his heart pounded and pounded. “Orian, this much I promise you. If you ever touch my younger brother for any reason, I will drag you into the middle of the street and gut you.”
She looked shocked—and afraid. Did she really think he wouldn’t hear her words as a call to battle?
He strode down the street just far enough to give himself wing room. Then he launched himself skyward and flew home.
Ever since Jaenelle Saetien’s last visit, he’d been thinking about spending time in Amdarh to support Titian. But he hadn’t figured out how to tell his father that he wanted to attend the same school when he wasn’t sure they had any studies of interest to him. Now . . .
As he walked into the eyrie’s big front room, he heard the rise and fall of his mother’s voice coming from the kitchen and his father’s quiet, husky laugh.
Shit. Not a good time to interrupt them. Maybe he should go to the communal eyrie and work off some of this rage before talking to his father.
As Daemonar hesitated, Lucivar stepped out of the kitchen, his gold eyes filled with a lustful heat. Then the look in those eyes changed, sharpened.
“What’s wrong?” Lucivar asked.
Marian stood in the archway. “Daemonar, what happened? You’re shaking!” She started to rush toward him, then stopped, blocked by Lucivar’s hand.
Was he shaking? He felt his heart pounding and pounding, felt a memory of pain that he was sure would never quite go away—and fury erased caution.
“If Orian tries to put a Ring on my little brother, I will kill her.”
“What?” Marian said.
Lucivar gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then focused on Daemonar. “In my study. Now.”
He strode to the study. In the minute he had alone, he thought of friends at risk. The moment Lucivar walked into the study, he said, “Tamnar. Alanar. They need to be warned.”
“They’re at the communal eyrie sparring with Rothvar and Zaranar,” Lucivar said. “They’ll be safe until I get there. Now tell me what happened.”
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, to recall every detail he could. The Demon Prince would expect that from a warrior who served him. Witch would expect that from a Warlord Prince who served her.
Then he told Lucivar about his encounter with Orian.
“Is that exactly what she said?” Lucivar asked. “That she had a Ring or that she could get one?”
“She didn’t call it a Ring of Obedience. She said she had a device that could make a man feel all kinds of things when it was slipped around his cock. What else could it be?”
The Demon Prince said nothing. Then, “Pack your trunks. I want you gone in an hour.”
“Sir, this is my fight.”
“Not anymore. This is about the safety of the Eyrien people under my hand. This is about the safety of every man in Kaeleer. If Orian wasn’t bluffing and really does have a Ring, I will execute her, and I do not want you in Askavi when that decision is made. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” It wasn’t exactly how he’d intended to approach receiving permission, but there was no point wasting the opportunity. “I could go to Amdarh for a few days. See Uncle Daemon. Visit with Titian.”
Lucivar gave him a long look. “And maybe inquire about attending that school?”
Hell’s fire. Did his father have to know everything before he did? “Maybe.”
“Get packed, boyo. I’ll let Daemon know you’re on your way.”
“What should I tell Mother?”
“That you’re going to Amdarh to talk to your uncle about enrolling in that school. It won’t come as a surprise. She thought you’d make this request before now.”
He packed in a hurry, filling one trunk with everyday clothes and weapons, and the other trunk with his better clothes and the books he valued most. His little brother was still asleep when he stood on the flagstones in front of the eyrie and hugged his mother—and said good-bye to his father.
And wondered what was going to happen in Ebon Rih after he was gone.
*Bastard, I’m sending Daemonar to you for a few days.*
Daemon stood in front of the door of Lady Zhara’s home, responding to a request for an urgent meeting. It sounded like he would need to deal with something urgent within his own family too. *What’s wrong?*
The door opened. Zhara’s butler stepped aside to let him enter, but it was Zhara’s husband, Garek, who waited for him just beyond the door.
Daemon held up a hand, indicating that he was occupied.
*I need the boy out of Ebon Rih while I take care of a problem. He might talk to you about going to that school.*
*Should I encourage or dissuade?*
*If he really wants to study there, help him enroll in the school. If he just wants to pester Titian by being a protective brother, keep him for a few days and then kick his ass back to Ebon Rih.*
*Done. When is he coming?*
*He’s on his way.*
*Do you need help?*
*Not yet. But I’ll need to talk to the High Lord and the Queen about the smuggled goods you’re holding.*
Daemon knew that Lucivar, being Lucivar, could handle any problem caused by anyone living in Askavi. He wanted to press for more information, but he needed to deal with Zhara before Daemonar arrived.
“Thank you for coming so early, Prince,” Garek said when Daemon crossed the threshold.
“There’s some trouble?” Daemon asked as they headed for the room that overlooked the back garden—a room Zhara used for personal discussions with visitors, which meant he wasn’t dealing with the Queen of Amdarh.
“Not trouble, no. Something . . . extraordinary. Zhara will tell you.”
The way Zhara clutched his hands when he held them out to her, the look on her face, in her eyes as she struggled to control her emotions . . .
“Zhara . . . ,” he began.
“Sheela,” she said, her voice breaking. “My daughter. Zoey’s mother. After all these years, after centuries of being lost, she found her way out of the tangled web. She’s been ensnared since she was a journeymaid Black Widow, but she found her way out.”
“Darling, sit down.” Daemon led her to a sofa and sat with her since she hadn’t released his hands. He glanced at Garek, who brought over a straight-backed chair and sat nearby, tears running down his face as he smiled. “That’s wonderful news.”
Extraordinary news. Learning to see the dreams and visions in a tangled web was part of a Black Widow’s training, but every year the minds of some of the witches became trapped in those webs. It was the potential price that was paid for being a Sister of the Hourglass.
“Does Zoey know?” he asked.
“She knows, but hasn’t seen her mother yet,” Garek replied. “We’d like Sheela to have some time to adjust to living in the world again before we talk to her about how much time she’s been away. Zoey was just a young girl when Sheela was lost.”
He remembered that, just as he remembered his first encounter with Lady Zoela.
“Song in the Darkness,” Zhara said suddenly. “Sheela said there was a song in the Darkness. Sometimes it sounded far away. Sometimes, when she thought it was nearby, a thread seemed to shine and she would follow it for a while, would see things, understand things. And then she would lose her way. Over and over, losing her way and finding it again when she heard the song. Until she found her way out.”
Daemon said nothing. Didn’t dare say anything. He’d mentioned Zoey’s mother to Witch and Karla once, just once, centuries ago. He hadn’t asked either of them to intervene. Wasn’t even sure there was anything to be done. Witch had led Tersa to the border of the Twisted Kingdom and helped the broken Black Widow build a life that could mesh with the day-to-day rhythm of a small village. But his Queen had been among the living when she’d done that extraordinary bit of healing.