Anne Bishop - Dreams Made Flesh

As he studied it, trying to understand, he felt a shiver of power far, far, far below him at the same moment he heard the quiet click of hoof on stone. Turning, he saw her step out of the mist. Here, her true nature wasn't hidden beneath human flesh. Here, she looked like what she was…a living myth, dreams made flesh. The same face and a mostly human body, but a tiny spiral horn rose from her forehead, her fingers had retractable claws, and she stood on delicate hooves instead of human feet. Witch.

She watched him with those ancient sapphire eyes. And waited. Turning back to study the web, he suddenly understood what he was looking at…a web made out of power. Somehow, the Ebony-Jeweled power she used to wield was being transformed into this web instead of filling a vessel of human flesh. Since it was tied to the Misty Place, surely there was a way for her to regain that power if she…

He remembered Jaenelle as a child…a girl who felt the distance between herself and other people because of the Black power that was her Birthright, a girl whose family had never accepted her because she was different. He thought about the Queen who could have destroyed them all if that had been in her nature, a Queen so strong her power was a deep chasm that separated her from the rest of the Blood…even someone as strong as a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince.

*You didn't want it,* he said, staggered by the strength of that conviction.

*No,* Witch said, *I didn't want it. Why would I want power so great I could destroy the Realms but couldn't do what almost every Blood child can do because I was so powerful?* She looked away, and added softly, *I never wanted a formal court, never wanted to rule, never wanted more power than I already had with the Black. But I made the Offering to the Darkness and formed my court to prevent the Dark Council from destroying the kindred and taking their lands. I needed that power to defend Kaeleer and be a weapon to stop a war, but I never wanted it for myself.*

He moved closer to her, wanting to hold her, wanting to offer comfort, but he wasn't sure she would accept it yet.

*How did you do it?* he asked. *How did you separate the power that was part of the dreams that made you without destroying who you are?*

She let out a pained little laugh. *I dreamed I wasn't so different from the rest of the Blood…a dream I've had all of my life. That desire was strong enough that the Weaver of Dreams added it to the web… and this is the result.*

Daemon studied Witch, who looked sad and vulnerable. People had turned away from her before because she was so powerful. Now she wondered if the friends she loved might always feel uncomfortable with the fact that she wasn't so powerful. He didn't think the coven and the boyos would turn away from her, and once they realized she still was who and what she had always been, and was truly happy, they wouldn't care what Jewel she wore.

Wrapping his arms around her, he fit his body to hers. *This is really what you want for yourself, isn't it? An extraordinary ordinary life.*

*Yes, it is.*

*Then that's what I want for you.* He kissed her softly. *For both of us.* Closing his eyes, he kissed her again.

When he shifted to nuzzle her neck, she said, "Are you sure, Daemon?"

He opened his eyes and raised his head. They were back in the sitting room.

"I want to be with you for as many years as life grants us," he said. "I want to be the warm, caring man you see in me and let the Sadist sleep."

Jaenelle brushed his hair back. "He'll never really sleep. The Sadist is a part of who you are, and he'll always be there, just under the surface… and that's the way it should be."

He never loved her more than he did at that moment when her acceptance quieted the volatile nature of a Warlord Prince.

Scooping her up, he held her close to his chest. "What do you say to locking the doors, going to bed, and making love for the rest of the night?"

"Is that going to be the extraordinary or ordinary part of our life? she asked, laughter and love dancing in her sapphire eyes.

He grinned. "Both."

Too edgy to stay still, Daemon prowled the room that opened onto the flagstone terrace at the back of the Hall. It wasn't unusual for a man to have pre-wedding jitters, even if he was already married to the woman he loved. Besides, how many men had their marriage vows witnessed by fire-breathing dragons and man-eating cats?

Although, he probably shouldn't have snarled at Jaenelle when she suggested that he take off his wedding ring so that she could give it back to him. Guests be damned, he wasn't giving up his ring.

"Would you like some brandy?" Saetan asked, his bland tone accenting his amusement.

"No," Daemon snarled.

"A sedative?"

"No."

"A whack upside the head?"

Daemon glared at his father. "You're finding this too amusing."

"Oh, I think I'm entitled," Saetan replied dryly.

Suddenly feeling as if the ground was about to get yanked out from under him, Daemon stopped moving.

"Anything you want to tell me?" Saetan asked.

"No," he said, feeling wary.

"In that case, since the guests are all assembled and Jaenelle will be own at any moment, let's go out and get you married. Again."

Daemon winced. "It's not that we didn't…I mean, I meant to tell you before…Ah, Hell's fire."

Saetan laughed. "It's just as well you are married already. If your nerves don't settle, you're going to be useless tonight."

"Thank you. I so appreciate your confidence in me."

Saetan's amusement faded. "I do have confidence in you, Prince. More than you realize." He walked over to the glass doors.

"Wait." He crossed the room to stand next to his father. "There are a couple of things I wanted to tell you." He hesitated, not sure how to begin. "Lady Zhara came to see me last week, on behalf of all the Queens in Dhemlan. They asked me to rule as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan." He snorted softly. "I suspect they're asking out of fear rather than any real desire to have me rule…"

"But?"

Daemon looked out the door. The Queens who ruled the other Territories were out there, laughing and talking. The strongest Warlord Princes in the Realm were out there. All of them were connected to each other by the woman who was Kaeleer's Heart. Just as he was connected to all of them because of her. "But that was your place," he said.

"That is correct. It was my place." Saetan paused. "Is it going to be yours? Are you going to accept?"

"I told Zhara I would consider it, but I wouldn't make any decision until after Jaenelle and I returned from our honeymoon."

"Are you going to accept?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Yes, I'm going to accept. It… feels right."

Saetan rested a hand on Daemon's shoulder. "I think it is the right choice. For you…and for Dhemlan. Just don't expect Jaenelle to be cheerful whenever she has to dress up for a formal occasion."

"She's already explained that."

After giving Daemon a sympathetic pat, Saetan stepped back. "What's the second thing?"

This was harder. If Jaenelle had wanted everyone to know why she no longer wore Ebony Jewels, she would have told her friends and family.

Maybe it was fear on her part that if they knew it was possible for her to be exactly like she'd been, they'd want it so much, she'd give in to their desire instead of holding on to her own. But Saetan needed to know. At least, enough to let go of any regrets.

"It's about Twilight's Dawn," Daemon said carefully.

"A Jewel for Kaeleer's Heart," Saetan replied just as carefully.

"She is what she wants to be."

"And has lost nothing she regrets losing?"