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  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > Heir to the Shadows (Chapter 133)      Page
  • Heir to the Shadows(Black Jewels,Book 2)(133) by Anne Bishop
  • Saetan lay on the couch in his study, desperately glad to be alone.

    Everything has a price.

    He just hadn't expected the price to be so high.

    Regrets were useless. And guilt was useless. A Warlord Prince's first duty was to his Queen. But Daemon . . .

    Shards of memories floated through him, pricking his heart.

    Tersa ripely pregnant, holding his hand against her belly.

    Luthvian's constant circle of anger and sexual hunger.

    Daemon sitting in his lap while he read a bedtime story.

    Lucivar fluttering around the room, laughing gleefully while just staying out of his reach.

    Jaenelle turning his study upside down the first time he tried to show her how to use Craft to retrieve her shoes.

    Tersa's madness. Luthvian's fury.

    Lucivar lying on the bed in the cabin, his body torn apart.

    Daemon, lying on Cassandra's Altar, his mind so terribly fragile.

    Jaenelle rising out of the abyss after two heartbreaking years.

    Fragments. Like Daemon's mind.

    Which explained why, during the careful searches he had made over the past two years, he hadn't been able to find this son who was like a mirror. He'd been looking in the wrong place.

    A regret slipped in, as useless as any other.

    He might be able to find Daemon, but the one person who could have brought Daemon out of the Twisted Kingdom without question was Jaenelle. And Jaenelle was the one person who couldn't know what he intended to do.

    Chapter eleven

    1 / Kaeleer

    Waiting for dinner, Saetan's stomach tightened another notch.

    Jaenelle had been home for a week, helping Lucivar adjust to the family—and helping the family adjust to Lucivar—when a pointed letter from the Dark Council arrived, reminding her that she had not finished her visit to Little Terreille.

    He still didn't understand Lucivar's cryptic remark, "Knees or bones, Cat," but Jaenelle had stomped out of the Hall spitting Eyrien curses, and Lucivar had seemed grimly pleased.

    That had been three days ago.

    She had returned abruptly that afternoon, snarled at Beale, "Tell Lucivar I used my knee," and had locked herself in her room.

    Disturbed, Beale had informed him of her return and the comment meant for Lucivar, and had added that the Lady seemed unwell.

    Jaenelle always seemed unwell after a visit to Little Terreille. He'd never been able to pry the reason for that out of her. Nothing she said about the activities she'd participated in explained the strained, haunted look in her eyes, the weight loss, the restless nights afterward, or the inability to eat.

    The only person besides Beale who saw Jaenelle after she returned was Karla. And Karla, teary-eyed and dis-

    tressed, had picked a fight with the one person she could count on to give her a battle—Lucivar.

    After enduring a vicious harangue about males, Lucivar had hauled her out to the lawn, handed her one of the Eyrien sticks, and let her try to whack him. He'd pushed and taunted her until her muscles and emotions finally gave out. He'd offered no explanation, and the fury in his eyes had warned all of them not to ask.

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire