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  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > Heir to the Shadows (Chapter 131)      Page
  • Heir to the Shadows(Black Jewels,Book 2)(131) by Anne Bishop
  • Anger flooded Lucivar. How dare the High Lord threaten her!

    Except his darling Cat didn't seem the least bit intimidated and Saetan seemed to be fighting hard to keep a straight face.

    "Sixth time?" Saetan said, his deep voice still mild but laced with an undercurrent of amusement.

    "Twice from Prothvar, twice from Uncle Andulvar—"

    All the blood drained out of Lucivar's head.Uncle Andulvar?

    "—once from Mephis, and now you."

    Saetan's lips twitched. "Prothvar always wants to throttle you so that's no surprise, and you do have a knack for provoking Andulvar, but what did you do to annoy Mephis?"

    Jaenelle stuffed her hands in her trouser pockets. "I don't know," she grumped. "He said he couldn't discuss it while I was in the room."

    Saetan's rich, warm laugh filled the room. When his laughter and Jaenelle's temper were both at a simmer, he looked knowingly at Lucivar. "And I suppose Lucivar has never threatened to throttle you, so he wouldn't understand the impulse to express the desire even when there was no intention of ever carrying it out."

    "Oh, no," Jaenelle replied. "He just threatens to wallop me."

    Saetan stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" he asked softly, coldly.

    Lucivar shifted back into a fighting stance.

    Startled, Jaenelle looked at both of them. "You're going to argue about theword when you mean the same thing?"

    "Stay out of this, Cat," Lucivar snarled, watching his adversary.

    Snarling back, she threw a punch at him with enough temper behind it that it could have broken his jaw if he hadn't dodged it.

    The tussle that followed was just turning into fun when Saetan roared, "Enough!" He glared at them until they

    separated, then he rubbed his temples and growled, "How in the name of Hell did the two of you manage to live together and survive?"

    Eyeing Jaenelle warily, Lucivar grinned. "She's harder to pin now."

    "Don't rub it in," Jaenelle muttered.

    Saetan sighed. "You might have warned me, witch-child."

    Jaenelle laced her fingers together. "Well, there really wasn't any way for Lucivar to be prepared, so I figured if you both were unprepared, you'd start out on even ground."

    They stared at her.

    She gave them her best unsure-but-game smile.

    "Witch-child, go terrify someone else for a while."

    After Jaenelle slipped out of the room, they studied one another.

    "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you," Saetan said, breaking the silence, "but you still look ready to keel over." He pushed away from the desk. "Care for some brandy?"

    Turning toward the less formal side of the room, Lucivar settled into a chair designed to accommodate Eyrien wings and accepted the glass of brandy. "And when was the last time you saw me?"

    Saetan sat on the couch and crossed his legs. He toyed with the brandy glass. "Shortly after Prothvar brought you to the cabin. If he hadn't been standing guard duty at the Sleeping Dragons, if he hadn't managed to reach you before—" He stroked the rim of the glass with a fingertip. "I don't think you realize how severe the injuries were. The internal damage, the broken bones . . . your wings."

    Lucivar sipped his brandy. No, he hadn't realized. He'd known it was bad, but once he was in the Khaldharon Run, he'd stopped caring what happened physically. If what Saetan said was true . . .

    "So you let a seventeen-year-old Healer take it on alone," he said, struggling to keep a tight rein on his rising anger. "You let her do that much healing, knowing what it

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire