"Ido love her." Daemon's eyes held a shadow of doubt, a hint of fear. "I had to lie. She wouldn't listen to me. I had to lie."

"And then you seduced her to get close enough for the kill."

Daemon exploded into motion. He paced the small cell, fiercely shaking his head. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "No, no,no!" He spun around, grabbed Lucivar's shoulders, and shoved him against the wall. "Who told you she was dead?who?"

Lucivar snapped his arms up, breaking Daemon's grip. "Dorothea."

Pain flashed over Daemon's face. He stepped back. "Since when do you listen to Dorothea?" he asked bitterly. "Since when do you believe that lying bitch?"

"I don't."

"Then why—"

"Words lie. Blood doesn't." Lucivar waited for Daemon to absorb the implication. "You left the sheet, Bastard," he said savagely. "All that blood. All that pain."

"Stop," Daemon whispered, his voice shaking. "Lucivar, please. You don't understand. She was already hurt, already in pain, and I—"

"Seduced her, lied to her, raped a twelve-year-old girl."

"No!"

"Did you enjoy it, Bastard?"

"I didn't—"

"Did you enjoy touching her?"

"Lucivar, please—"

"did you?"

"yes!"

With a howl of rage, Lucivar threw himself at Daemon with enough force to snap the chains—but not fast enough. He crashed to the floor, scraping the skin from his palms and knees. It took a minute for him to get his breath back. It took another minute for him to understand why he was shivering. He stared at the thick layer of ice that covered the cell's stone walls. Then he slowly got to his feet, swaying on shaking legs, feeling a bitterness so deep it lacerated his soul.

Daemon stood nearby, his hands in his trouser pockets, his face an expressionless mask, his golden eyes slightly glazed and sleepy.

"I hate you," Lucivar whispered hoarsely.

"At the moment,brother, the feeling is very mutual," Daemon said too calmly, too gently. "I'm going to find her, Lucivar. I'm going to find her just to prove she isn't dead. And after I find her, I'm going to come back and tear out your lying tongue."

Daemon disappeared. The front of the cell exploded.

Lucivar dropped to the floor, his wings tight to his body, his arms protecting his head while pebbles and sand rained down on him.

There were more shouts now. More running feet.

Lucivar sprang to his feet as the guards poured through the opening. He bared his teeth and snarled, his gold eyes shining with rage. The guards took one look at him and backed out of the cell. For the rest of the night, they blocked the opening but didn't try to enter.

Lucivar watched them, his breath whistling through clenched teeth.

He could have fought his way past the guards and followed Daemon. If Zuultah had tried to stop him by sending a bolt of pain through the Ring of Obedience around his organ, Daemon would have unleashed his strength against her. No matter how bitterly they fought with each other, he and Daemon were always united against an outside enemy.

He could have followed and forced the battle that would have destroyed one or both of them. Instead he remained in the cell.

He had sworn that he would kill Daemon, and he would. But he couldn't quite bring himself to destroy his brother. Not yet.

chapterTwo

1 / Terreille

The knocking sounded forceful, urgent. Dorothea SaDiablo hid her shaking hands in the folds of her nightgown and positioned herself in. the middle of her bedroom, her back to the single candle-light that dimly lit the room.

She had been searching for Daemon Sadi for seven months now. In the hard light of day, with her court all around her, she could almost convince herself that he wouldn't come to Hayll, that he would stay in whatever hole he'd found to hide in. But at night, she was certain she would open a door or turn a corner and find him waiting. He would spin out the pain beyond even her imagining, and then he would kill her. The insult underneath that violence was that he wouldn't destroy her for all the things she'd done to him, he would destroy her because of that child.

That damned child. Hekatah's obsession, the High Lord's reappearance, Greer's death, her son Kartane's mysterious illness, Daemon's fury, Lucivar's sudden hatred for his half brother—all of it came back to that girl.

The doorknob turned. The door opened an inch.

"Priestess?" a male voice called softly.

Giddy relief was swiftly replaced by anger. "Come in," she snapped.

Lord Valrik, Dorothea's Master of the Guard, entered the room and bowed. "Forgive the intrusion at this hour,

Priestess, but I felt you should know about this immediately." He snapped his fingers, and two guards entered, holding a man roughly by the arms.

Dorothea stared at the young Hayllian Blood male cowering between the guards. Little more than a boy really. And pretty. Just the way she liked them. Too much the way she liked them.

She took a step toward the youth, pleased at the fear in his glazed eyes. "You don't serve in my court," she purred. "Why are you here?"

"I was sent, Priestess. I was t-told to please you."

Dorothea studied him. The words sounded flat, forced. Not his words at all. There were some kinds of compulsion spells that could force a person into performing a specific set of tasks, even against his will.

She took another step toward him. "Who sent you?"

"He didn't tell me his—"

Before he could finish, Dorothea called in a dagger and drove it into his chest. Her attack was so fast and so vicious, the guards were pulled down with the youth. Then she unleashed the strength of her Red Jewel against his pitifully inadequate inner barriers and burned out his mind, leaving no one, leaving nothing to come back and haunt her.

"Take that to the woodlands beyond the city for whatever wants the carrion," she said through clenched teeth.

The guards grabbed the body and hurried out, Valrik following them.

Dorothea paced, clenching and unclenching her hands. Damn, damn, damn! She should have probed the youth's mind before destroying him so completely, should have found out for certain who had sent him. But this had to be Sadi's work! That bastard was toying with her, trying to wear down her vigilance, trying to catch her off guard.

She hid her face in her shaking hands.

Sadi was out there. Somewhere. Until he was dead. . . .No! Not dead. There would beno hope of controlling him then, and once he was demon-dead, he would surely join forces with the High Lord. And she had never forgotten the threat Saetan had made, his voice rising out of a swirling nightmare: when Daemon Sadi died, Hayll would die.

Finally exhausted, Dorothea returned to her bed. She hesitated a moment, then extinguished the candle-light completely. There was more safety in full darkness—if there was any safety at all.

Dorothea threw back her cloak's hood and took a deep breath before entering the small sitting room in the old Sanctuary. Hekatah was already sitting before the unlit hearth, her hood pulled up to hide her face. An empty ravenglass goblet sat on the table in front of her.

Dorothea called in a silver flask and set it beside the goblet.

Hekatah let out an annoyed sniff at the size of the flask, but pointed one finger at it. The flask opened and lifted from the table. Its hot, red contents poured into the goblet, which then glided through the air to Hekatah's waiting hand. She drank deeply.

Dorothea clenched her hands and waited. Finally out of patience, she snapped, "Sadi is still on the loose."

"And each day will hone his temper a little more," Hekatah said in that girlish voice that always seemed at odds with her vicious nature.

"Exactly."

Hekatah sighed like a sated woman. "That's good."

"Good?" Dorothea exploded from the chair. "You don't know him!"

"But I do know his father."

Dorothea shuddered.

Hekatah set the empty goblet on the table. "Calm yourself, Sister. I'm weaving a delicious web for Daemon Sadi, a web he won't escape from because he won't want to escape."

Dorothea went back to her chair. "Then he can be Ringed again."

Hekatah laughed softly, maliciously. "Oh, no, he'd be useless to us Ringed. But don't worry. He'll be hunting bigger prey than you." She wagged a finger at Dorothea. "I've been very busy on your behalf."

Dorothea pressed her lips together, refusing to take the bait.

Hekatah waited a minute. "He'll be going after the High Lord."

Dorothea stared. "Why?"

"To avenge the girl."

"But Greer is the one who destroyed her!"

"Sadi doesn't know that," Hekatah said. "By the time I'm done telling him the sad tale ofwhy this happened to the girl, the only thing he'll want to do is tear out Saetan's heart. Naturally the High Lord will protest such action."

Dorothea sat back. It had been months since she'd felt this good. "What do you need from me?"

"A troop of guards to help me spring a trap."

"Then I'd better choose males who are expendable."

"Don't concern yourself about the guards. Sadi won't be any threat to them." Hekatah stood up, an unspoken dismissal.

When they were outside, Hekatah said coolly, "You've said nothing about my gift, Sister."

"Your gift?"

"The boy. I'd thought to keep him for myself, but you were entitled to some compensation for losing Greer. He's a most attentive servant."

"You know what to do?" Hekatah said, handing two vials to Greer.

"Yes, Priestess. But are you sure he'll go there?"

Hekatah caressed Greer's cheek. "For whatever reason, Sadi has gone to every Dark Altar, working his way east. He'll go there. It's the only Gate left before the one located near the ruins of SaDiablo Hall." She tapped her fingers against her lips and frowned. "The old Priestess there may be a problem. However, her assistant is a practical girl—a trait one finds in abundance among the less-gifted Blood. You'll be able to deal with her." -