Dreams Made Flesh

Her hands curled into fists as she watched Surreal take his hand.



How could he be so lost to propriety that he’d let a woman touch him like that? He might as well stand on the table and announce he was going to drop his pants for his “cousin” as soon as they got behind closed doors.



If they even waited that long.



Selfish bastard.



Well, she’d still have him because she loved him. Besides, he was beautiful and was, no doubt, magnificent in bed. But he was obviously more ripe to belong to another woman than she’d realized, so she was going to have to fan the flames and ruin his reputation faster, and more thoroughly, than she’d intended if she wanted to be sure he didn’t accept another offer from a woman who just wanted to use him.



Yes, she had to save him before he tumbled into any other bed but hers.



SIX



The next morning, rumors seeped through Amdarh’s marketplace as the servants who worked in aristo households gathered to take care of the day’s shopping. Arguments broke out between those who declared they weren’t surprised by the news that Daemon Sadi had abandoned the pose of still being the faithful, devoted lover of the former Queen of Ebon Askavi and those who hotly denied there could be any truth to Prince Sadi taking a lover, let alone escorting her to such a public place as a theater.



But they all took those rumors back to their respective houses to chew over with their fellow servants.



By midday, the stories trickled through the shopping district. Some merchants worried that the aristo Blood, especially those who served in Lady Zhara’s court, would take their business away from any shop that was patronized by Prince Sadi. Other merchants, who counted several members of the SaDiablo family as regular customers, paled at the news—and wondered how much of Amdarh would be left if Lucivar Yaslana found out about his brother’s supposed betrayal of the Queen they’d both served.



By evening, the rumors had reached the ears of the aristo Blood and were the main topic during the evening meals. Some defended Prince Sadi, saying he would never insult Jaenelle Angelline by taking a lover while she was still living with him at the Hall. Some defended him by insisting he wasn’t breaking any vows by taking a lover, that Jaenelle was now nothing more than a family member who required care, and no matter what their relationship had been, it was no longer of a nature that demanded celibacy from a Warlord Prince. Others argued that, even if taking a lover could be excused under the circumstances, holding hands with her in a dining house was hardly discreet.



No matter what anyone thought of Daemon Sadi’s behavior, they all pitied Jaenelle Angelline, who had sacrificed her body and her Jewels in order to save Kaeleer and was now being abandoned by the only man she’d ever cared for enough to take as a lover.



SEVEN



1



Surreal walked into Jaenelle’s sitting room and came to an abrupt stop when she saw the shoes scattered around the room. Jaenelle stood in the middle of the room, holding a pair of soft leather house shoes. Color brightened her face, and her eyes sparkled.



“Look,” Jaenelle said excitedly. “I can call in my shoes.”



Pity squeezed Surreal’s heart, but she smiled as she walked over to Jaenelle. “Well, that’s . . . wonderful.” Or would be if Jaenelle was a child learning basic Craft.



“Isn’t it?” Jaenelle dropped the shoes, then held out her hands. A moment later, a pair of boots hovered in the air. She took the boots and grinned. “I decided it was time to find out what I can do with Twilight’s Dawn.”



A year ago you could do things the rest of the Blood couldn’t even dream of doing, Surreal thought sadly as she looked at the shoes. And now you’re excited about being able to do basic Craft. Ah, sugar.



Trying to think of something to say that would be encouraging, she looked into Jaenelle’s eyes. It took everything in her not to stumble back a step or two.



No delight in those sapphire eyes now. There was strength there, power there. Those eyes were cold, feral, and filled with deadly anger.



Then Ladvarian trotted into the room, and Jaenelle looked away.



Witch, Surreal thought as she fought to hide a shiver of fear. She hadn’t expected to see that look in Jaenelle’s eyes ever again—and wasn’t sure what to think about seeing it now.



Ladvarian sniffed the shoes on the floor, then looked at Jaenelle. *Why is Surreal calling in your shoes?*



“She didn’t,” Jaenelle said quietly, dropping the boots. “I did.”



*You called in your shoes?*



Jaenelle shrugged, a quiet sadness draining the color from her face, leaving her looking ill and frail.



*You called in your shoes!* Ladvarian’s tail wagged madly while he danced in place. *You could never do that before!*



Jaenelle smiled reluctantly. “No, I never could.”



That admission startled Surreal. Ladvarian was right. Jaenelle never could call in her own shoes. It was a standing joke in the family and the First Circle that Jaenelle could move an entire library of leather-bound books without any effort at all but couldn’t call in something to put on her feet.



Ladvarian shot upward, hovering on air so that he was face-to-face with Jaenelle. *The kindred will still fetch your shoes during the moondays when you can’t use Craft, but the rest of the days you can call in your own shoes,* he said happily.



Jaenelle smiled as her hands cupped the Sceltie’s furry face. “Yes, I can.”



*And you won’t have to wear the wrong shoes because we didn’t pick the right ones.*



Well, Surreal thought, that explained why Jaenelle’s shoes hadn’t always matched the rest of her outfit.



“I never said you chose the wrong shoes,” Jaenelle said softly.



*You didn’t tell us because you love us.*



Jaenelle rested her forehead against the dog’s. “Yes, I love you.”



Surreal swallowed the lump that was suddenly lodged in her throat. Shit shit shit. Hadn’t she learned anything from seeing the kindred’s unshakable loyalty and belief in Jaenelle? She had felt pity and had spoiled Jaenelle’s pleasure in successfully performing a bit of Craft. Ladvarian was simply delighted—and had recognized that Jaenelle wasn’t regaining a piece of skill that was lost, she was exploring new ground.



*I have to tell Kaelas!* Ladvarian bounded out of the room.



“By tonight, all the kindred who were part of the Dark Court will know you can call in your shoes,” Surreal said dryly.



Jaenelle grinned. “Do you think it will take that long?” Then the grin faded. “I thought you were going to stay in Amdarh.”



“I came back to talk to you.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly—and hoped she wouldn’t see that cold, feral anger leap into Jaenelle’s eyes again. “What’s wrong between you and Daemon?”



“Nothing you can mend.”



Surreal reached out, her fingertips just brushing the sleeve of Jaenelle’s robe. “Talk to me. Mother Night, Jaenelle, the man is eating his heart out because he doesn’t know why you’re pushing him out of your life.”



Jaenelle turned away. “For his sake.” Her voice was a pained whisper. “So he isn’t trapped into staying with a woman he no longer wants just because everyone else expects him to remain loyal.”



“Trapped, my ass,” Surreal snapped. “You’re who he wants. You’re who he needs.”



“He wanted and needed what I was,” Jaenelle snapped back. “But what I am now?” She shook her head.



“Do you still love him?”



“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”



“Of course it matters! You love him. He loves you. Why are you throwing him out of your life?”



“Look at me!” Jaenelle shouted, jabbing a finger toward her chest. “I’m healed, Surreal. Completely healed. But he can’t bring himself to touch me, can’t even bear to hold my hand. Why should he be chained to someone who repulses him when he’s s-so damn beautiful it hurts just to look at him and remember what it was like when he w-wanted . . .”



Shocked, Surreal just stood and stared. Then she shook her head. She didn’t doubt Jaenelle believed what she said, but that didn’t tally up with what Daemon believed.



“Does he know you’re completely healed?” Surreal asked. “And by completely, you do mean completely?”



A gleam of anger flashed in Jaenelle’s eyes again. “I don’t need his pity any more than I need yours.”



“So you haven’t told him.”



“And have him feel obligated to service his former Queen?” Jaenelle smiled bitterly. “I don’t think so.”



Surreal raked her fingers through her hair. Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. If Daemon found out that this was why Jaenelle was pulling away from him, he’d explode six times over. And that was only if he retained a measure of self-control.



Dropping her hands to her hips, she sighed. “All right, sugar. Strip. Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”



Jaenelle stared at her. “What?”



“You heard me. Strip.”



Doubt filled Jaenelle’s eyes. “I don’t think—”



“Good, since you’re not thinking straight anyway. Come on. You don’t have anything I don’t see in the mirror every day.”



More hesitation.



“Fine,” Surreal said, turning around. “I won’t watch.” And it will give me time to brace myself in case there are any nasty surprises.



Silence. Then, finally, the sound of clothes being removed.



“All right,” Jaenelle said.



Surreal turned around. Stared. Frowned. Circled slowly to study Jaenelle from the back before continuing the circle until they were facing each other again.



“All right,” she said, “I’ll play the game. What’s wrong with you?”



Jaenelle’s mouth dropped open. “Look at me.”



“I am. What’s wrong with you?”



“I’m—”



“Skinny. You were always slender, but now you’re skinny.” Surreal tipped her head to one side. “Despite that, you’ve got a decent pair of tits and a nice ass.”



Jaenelle just gaped at her.



She growled in frustration. Jaenelle had picked a lousy time to become sensitive about her appearance. “You need to eat more to fill out a bit, need to start working out to build up and shape your muscles again. Lucivar can help with that.”



“He won’t,” Jaenelle said, looking away. “I asked him. He said no.”