Anne Bishop - Queen of Darkness

They broke through the Sapphire, but they weren’t falling as fast now. He had a little more time to brace, to plan, to pour the strength of his Black Jewels into fighting the fall.

They hit the Red, rolled, clung for a second before falling to the Gray. Only half the Gray strands broke immediately. He strained back as hard as he could. When the other half broke, he rolled them upward while the web swung them down toward the Ebon-gray. He pulled against the swing, slowing it, slowing it.

When the other side of the Gray broke, they sailed down to the Ebon-gray. The web sagged when they landed, then stretched, then stretched a little more before the strands began to break.

His Black Jewels were almost drained, but he held on, held on, held on as they floated onto the Black web.

And nothing happened.

Shaking, shivering, Daemon stared at the Black web, not quite daring to believe.

It took him a minute to get his hands to unlock from their grip. When he was finally able to let go, he floated cautiously above the web. Near her shoulder, he noticed two small broken strands. Very carefully, he smoothed the Black strands over the other colors that cocooned her.

He could barely see her, only just enough to make out the tiny spiral horn. But that was enough. We did it,he whispered as his eyes filled. We did it.

Yess,Lorn said very quietly. You have done well.Daemon looked up, looked around. When he looked back at Witch, she faded. Everything faded.

Saetan opened his eyes, tried to move, and found himself trapped by two warm bodies curled up around him. His sons.

Oh, witch-child. I hope it was worth the price.

He tried to move again, growled when he couldn’t, and finally jabbed Lucivar with an elbow.

Lucivar just growled back and cuddled closer.

He shoved at Lucivar again because he couldn’t, even in this small way, push Daemon aside. Not now.

Lucivar’s growl turned into a snarl, but he finally stirred. And that woke Daemon.

”I’m delighted you find me such a comfortable pillow,” Saetan said dryly, ”but a man my age prefers not to sleep on a cold stone floor.”

”Neither does a man my age,” Lucivar grumbled, getting to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his back.

Daemon sat up with a groan.

Watching him, Saetan saw the light fill Daemon’s eyes, the joy, the eagerness. It broke his heart.

He accepted Daemon’s help in getting to his feet-and noted Lucivar’s coolness toward his brother. That would change. Would have to change. But Lucivar wouldn’t be approachable until he’d seen Marian and Daemonar, so there was no point in sparking that Eyrien temper. Besides, he was too damn tired to take on Lucivar right now.

As he walked to the doors, they fell into step on either side of him.

Twilight. The whole day had passed.

They walked across the open courtyard. Lucivar opened the gate.

A gust of wind made something flutter, catching Saetan’s attention. A scrap of cloth from a woman’s gown. Hekatah’s gown.

He didn’t mention it.

”I don’t have the strength right now,” he said quietly. ”Would you two…”

Lucivar looked toward the south, Daemon toward the north. After a minute, their faces had the same grim, deliberately calm expression.

”There are a few Blood,” Daemon said slowly. ”Not many.”

”The same,” Lucivar said.

A few. Only a few. Sweet Darkness, let them get a different answer in Kaeleer. ”Let’s go home.”

He felt the difference as soon as they walked through the Gate between the Realms. When they walked out of the Altar Room, Daemon and Lucivar both looked in the direction that would lead them to the First Circle-and the others.

He turned in the opposite direction, not quite ready to deal with what was going to come. ”Come with me.” Reluctantly, they obeyed.

He led them to a low-walled terrace that overlooked Riada, the closest Blood village.

Daemon looked down at the village. Lucivar looked in the direction of the Eyrien community.

Daemon sighed with relief. ”I don’t know how many people had lived there yesterday, but there are still a lot of Blood there.”

”Falonar!” Lucivar cried. He looked at them and grinned. ”The whole community. They’re all right. Badly shaken up, but all right.”

”Thank the Darkness,” Saetan whispered. The tears came, as much from pride as grief. Prothvar had said it was a different kind of battlefield but a good one to fight on. He’d been right. It was a worthy battlefield. Instead of seeing more friends join the demon-dead, they had gone knowing those friends would live. Char, Dujae, Morton, Titian, Cassandra, Prothvar, Mephis, Andulvar. He would miss them. Mother Night, how he would miss them. ”And the Blood shall sing to the Blood. You sang the song well, my friends. You sang it well.”

He would have to tell Lucivar and Daemon-and Surreal-about this, too. But not yet. Not now.

He dreaded it, but he knew he couldn’t hold either of them back much longer. ”Come on, puppies. I’m sure the coven’s going to have a few things to say about this.”

It was worse than he’d expected.

The coven and the boyos fell all over Lucivar, who had his arms wrapped around Marian and Daemonar. Daemon they greeted with cool reserve. Except Karla, who had said, ”Kiss kiss,” and then had kissed him. And Surreal, who had given Daemon a cool stare, and said, ”You look like shit, Sadi.” He would have lashed out at her for that if Daemon hadn’t commented dryly that her compliments were as effusive as ever-and if she hadn’t grinned at the remark.

And Tersa, who had held her son’s face between her hands and looked into his eyes. ”It will be all right, Daemon,” she had said gently. ”Trust one who sees. It will be all right.”

Saetan wasn’t sure Daemon noticed the coolness, wasn’t sure he even noticed who had greeted him and who hadn’t. His eyes kept scanning the room for someone who wasn’t there-someone who wasn’t going to be there.

He was trying to think of a reasonable excuse to get Daemon away from the others when Geoffrey appeared at the door. ”Your presence is requested at the Dark Throne. Draca would like to see you.”

As they filed out of the room, Saetan stepped in beside Lucivar. ”Stay close to your brother,” he said quietly.

”I think it would be better-”

”Don’t think, Prince, just follow orders.”

Lucivar gave him a measuring look, then moved ahead to catch up with Daemon.

Surreal tucked her arm through his. ”Lucivar’s pissed?”

”That’s one way of putting it,” Saetan replied dryly.

”If you think it will help, I could give him a good kick in the balls. Although I have a feeling that when Marian realizes what he’s pissed about, she’ll do a better job than either of us can.”

Saetan let out a groaning chuckle. ”Now that will be interesting.” Then he sobered. ”Daemon played the same game with you.”

”Yes, he did. But sometimes the best way to fool an enemy is to convince a friend.”

”Your mother said almost the same thing to me once- after she punched me.”

”Really?” Surreal smiled. ”It must run in the family.”

He decided it was better not to ask her to clarify that.

Baffled, Daemon waited for whatever announcement Draca was going to make. Not that it mattered. He would have to slip away to Amdarh in the next few days, talk to that jeweler, Banard, about designing a wedding ring for Jaenelle. He’d gotten her some earrings there for Winsol and had liked what he’d seen of the man’s work.