Queen of the Darkness

Ladvarian cringed at the anger in the room, but his eyes never left Karla.



"Why?" Karla asked.



"Why why why," Tersa said irritably as she knocked over the building blocks. "Humans can't even give a little gift without asking why why why. It is for your Queen. What more do you need to know?" Then, as if the outburst had never happened, she began arranging blocks again.



Karla shivered as she stared at Ladvarian. There were two ways to interpret "for Jaenelle." Either the dog was just the courier and was bringing these drops of blood to Jaenelle becauseshe needed them for something ... or Ladvarian wanted themfor Jaenelle. But how to ask the right questions and get something more than an evasive answer. Because she was certain Ladvarian would become evasive if she pushed too hard.



"I'm not sure I can give you a drop of blood, little Brother," Karla said carefully. "My blood is still a bit tainted from the poison."



"That will have no effect on this," Tersa said absently as she used Craft to hold blocks in the air. "But what is in yourheart... Yes, thatwill affect a great deal."



"Why?" Karla asked—and then winced when Tersa just looked at her. She turned her attention back to Ladvarian. "So, that's all we have to do? Just put a drop of blood into each bubble?"



*When you give the blood, you must think about Jaenelle.Good thoughts,* he added in a growl as he glanced at the other males.



Karla shook her head. "I don't understand. Why—"



"Because the Blood wilt sing to the Blood," Tersa answered quietly. "Because blood is the memory's river."



Exasperated, Karla looked at Tersa, but it was the structure that caught her eye first.



A spiral. A glistening black spiral.



Then the brown wooden blocks crashed down on the table.



*Karla,* Gabrielle said softly.



*I saw it.* She looked at Tersa, who looked back at her with frighteningly clear-sighted eyes.She knows. Mother Night, whatever is going to happen... Tersa knows.And so does Ladvarian.



And knowing that much, there was no longer any need to ask "why."



Glancing at Ladvarian for permission, Karla sent out the most delicate psychic tendril she could create and lightly touched the red bubble.



Ladvarian, as a puppy, being taught by Jaenelle to air walk. Being brushed and petted. Being taught...



She backed away. Those memories were private, the best he had to give.



She swallowed hard—and tasted tears. "What Jaenelle is trying to do... Is it dangerous?"



*Yes,* Ladvarian answered.



"Have other kindred given this gift?"



*All the kindred who know her.*



And I'll bet none of them asked why why why.Karla looked at the rest of the First Circle. No trace of anger. Not anymore. They would think about Jaenelle's actions over the past few weeks and reach the right conclusion.



"All right, little Brother," Karla said. Before she could use her thumbnail to prick a finger, Gabrielle touched her shoulder.



"I think..." Gabrielle hesitated, took a deep breath. "I think this should be done as ritual."



So that it would be as powerful as they could make it. "Yes, you're right." Karla set the clear bubble back into the bowl.



"I'll get what we need," Gabrielle said.



"I'll go with you," Morghann said.



As Gabrielle and Morghann walked past the males, Chaosti and Khary reached out, each one giving his wife a gentle touch of apology before stepping aside.



With a weary sigh, Ladvarian moved out of the way and lay down.



Tersa stood up.



"Tersa?" Karla said. "Aren't you going to give the gift?"



Those clear-sighted eyes looked into her. Then Tersa smiled, said, "I already have," and left the room.



That was enough to tell Karla who had shown the kindred how to create those brilliant little pieces of Craft.



Watching the males shift places and take up their usual protective stance, Karla's eyes filled with tears, and she wished, futilely, that Morton could have been standing among them.



We'll be all right,she thought when she saw Aaron wrap his arms around Kalush.The harsh words will be forgiven, and we'll be all right.



But would Jaenelle?



3 / Terreille



"It's your turn, little bitch," Daemon said as he unfastened the chains from the post.



Surreal stared at him. It was after midnight—was, in fact, almost twenty-four hours since he had killed Marian and Daemonar. The day had been quiet enough. Sadi had prowled around the camp, making everyone nervous, and Dorothea and Hekatah had played least-in-sight.



"What are you going to do with the bitch?" Dorothea said, approaching the posts.



Until now.



Daemon looked at Dorothea and smiled. "Well, darling, I'm going to use her to give you what you've always wanted."



"Meaning what?" Dorothea asked uneasily.



"Meaning," Daemon purred, "that I'm going to break your slut of a granddaughter. And then I'm going to mount her until she's seeded with my child. She's ripe for it. It'll catch. And I'll make sure she has all the incentive she needs not to try to abort it. Your bloodline and me, Dorothea. Exactly what you've wanted from me. And all you'll have to overlook is the fact that the result might have pointed ears."



Laughing, he dragged Surreal into the same hut that had held Marian and Daemonar.



She waited until he had turned to close the door before she called in her stiletto and launched herself at him. He spun around, raised an arm to block the knife. She twisted, bringing the knife in under his arm, intending to drive it between his ribs up to the hilt. Instead, the knife hit a shield, slid right past him, and went into the door.



Before she could yank the knife out of the wood, Daemon grabbed her, shoved her back to the center of the small room. Screaming, she launched herself at him again. He caught her hands and roughly pushed her back until her knees hit the edge of the narrow bed. She went down with him on top of her.



He rolled off immediately, sprang to his feet. "That's enough."



She leaped off the bed and hurled every curse she knew at the top of her lungs before she lunged at him again.



He pushed her away and swore viciously. "Damn it, Surreal,that's enough."



"If you think I'm going to spread my legs for you, you'd better think again,Sadist."



"Shut up, Surreal," Daemon said quietly but intensely.



She felt the shields go up around the hut. Not just a Black protective shield but a Black aural shield as well. Which meant no one could hear what was happening inside.



He took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair. "Well," he said dryly, "that little performance ought to convince the bitches that something is happening in here."



She had been gathering herself to spring at him again, intending to go for his balls this time. But that tone and those words sounded so...Daemon... that she paused. And remembered Karla's warning about a friend who becomes an enemy in order to remain a friend.



He eyed her, then approached warily. "Let's see your wrists."



She held out her hands, watching him—and saw the fury in his eyes when he snapped off the manacles and looked at the raw skin underneath.



Surreal huffed. "Damn it, Sadi, what kind of game are you playing?"



"A vicious one," he replied, calling in a leather box. He looked through it, pulled out a jar, and handed it to her. "Put that on your wrists."



She opened the jar, sniffed. A Healer's ointment. While she applied it to her wrists, he called in another box. There were several balls of clay sitting in nests of paper. Two of the nests were empty.



"Do you still have the food pack you brought?"



"Yes. I haven't had a chance to eat any of it," she added tartly.



"Then eat something now," he said, still looking through the box. "I'd give you some from mine, but I gave most of it to Marian."



A chill went down Surreal's spine. There was a funny buzzing in her head. "To Marian?"



"Do you remember the shack we stopped at when we got to Hayll?"



"Yes." Of course she remembered it. It was a couple of miles away from the camp. That was where Daemon had changed into the Sadist. One minute he had been carefully explaining about the sentries and the perimeter stakes that would alert the guards, and the next thing she knew, she was tied up and he was purring threats about how she should have stayed under Falonar and stayed out of his way. He had scared her, badly. And the fact that he had made her furious now. "You could have told me, you son of a bitch."



He looked up. "Would you have been as convincing?"



She bristled, insulted. "You're damn right I would have been."



"Well, we're going to have a chance to find out. You said you wanted to help, Surreal. That you were willing to be a diversion."



Shehad said that, but she'd thought she would have knownwhen she was being a diversion. "So?"



"So now you will be." He approached her, held up a small gold hoop. "Listen carefully. This will produce the illusion that you're broken." He slipped the hoop through one of the links of the necklace that held her Gray Jewel. "No one will be able to detect that you're still wearing the Gray unless you use it. If youdo need to use it, then don't hesitate. I'll figure out some way to deal with things here."



"The High Lord will know I'm not broken."



Daemon shook his head as he turned back to search for something else in the box. "You'd have to wear Jewels darker than the Black to be able to detect that spell."



Darker than theBlack? Sadi couldn't make a spell like that. Which meant...



Mother Night.



"This"—Daemon held up a tiny crystal vial before attaching it to the necklace—"will convince anyone who thinks to check that you're not only fertile but you're now pregnant. A Healer would be able to tell within twenty-four hours," he added, answering her unspoken question.