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  • Heir to the Shadows(Black Jewels,Book 2)(108) by Anne Bishop
  • "Considering his age, I don't think Geoffrey's balls are the problem, witch-child," Saetan said dryly.

    Jaenelle snarled.

    Stay here,a part of him whispered.Stay with her in this place, in this way. They don't love you, never cared about you unless they wanted something from you. Don't ask her. Let it go. Stay.

    Saetan closed the book and held it tight to his chest. "Jaenelle, we have to talk."

    Jaenelle fluffed her hair and eyed the closed book.

    "We have to talk," he insisted.

    "About what?"

    That she'd pretend not to know pricked his temper. "Kaeleer, for a start. You have to break the spell or the web or whatever you did."

    "When it ends is the Council's choice."

    He ignored the warning in her voice. "The Council asked me—"

    "You're here on behalf of theCouncil!"

    Between one breath and the next, he watched a disgruntled young witch change into a sleek, predatory Queen. Even her clothes changed as she furiously paced the length of her workroom. By the time she finally stopped in front of him, her face was a cold, beautiful mask, her eyes held the depth of the abyss, her nails were painted a red so dark it was almost black, and her hair was a golden cloud caught up at the sides by silver combs. Her gown seemed to be made of smoke and cobwebs, and a Black Jewel hung above her br**sts.

    She'd gotten one of her Black Jewels set, he thought as his heart pounded. When had she donethat"?

    He looked into her ancient eyes, silently challenging.

    "Damn you, Saetan," she said with no emotion, no heat.

    "I live for your pleasure, Lady. Do with me what you will. But release Kaeleer from midnight. The innocent don't deserve to suffer."

    "And whom do you call innocent?" she asked in her midnight voice.

    "The sparrows, the trees, the land," he answered quietly.

    "What have they done to deserve having the sun taken away?"

    He saw the hurt in her eyes before she yanked the book out of his hands and turned away.

    "Don't be daft, Saetan. I would never hurt the land."

    Never hurt the land. Never hurt the land. Never never never.

    Saetan watched the air currents in the room. They were pretty. Reds, violets, indigos. It didn't matter that air currents didn't have color. Didn't even matter if he was hallucinating. They were pretty.

    "Is there a chair in this room?" He wondered if she heard him. He wondered if he said the words out loud.

    Jaenelle's voice made the colors dance. "Didn't you getany rest?"

    A chair hugged him, warm against his back. A thick shawl wrapped around his shoulders, a throw covered his legs. A healing brew spiked with brandy thawed his tight muscles. Warm, gentle hands smoothed back his hair, caressed his face. And a voice, full of summer winds and midnight, said his name over and over.

    He needn't fear her. There was nothing to fear. He needed to take these things in stride and not become distraught over the magnitude of her spells. After all, she was still wearing her Birthright Jewels, still cutting her Craft baby teeth. When she made the Offering . . .

    He whimpered. She shushed him.

    Cocooned in the warmth, he found his footing again. "The sun's been rising for the sparrows and the trees hasn't it, witch-child?"

    "Of course," she said, settling on the arm of the chair.

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire