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  • Home > Anne Bishop > Black Jewels > Twilight's Dawn (Chapter 133)      Page
  • Twilight's Dawn(Black Jewels,Book 9)(133) by Anne Bishop
  • He called in a small, beautifully carved jewelry box and used Craft to open the lid. Inside was her wedding ring.

    Forcing his left hand open, he removed his wedding ring, placed it next to hers, closed the lid, and vanished the box.

    Then he went into the bathroom to shower away the grief—and hide the last tears.

    Comfortably settled in a small, sunny breakfast room, Surreal ate a solitary meal and waited. Sadi would be down soon, dressed as elegantly as usual—a contrast to the gold eyes that had been dulled by grief for the past year.

    She almost hoped those eyes, and Daemon’s highly intelligent brain, would remain dulled by grief for one more day. She would prefer having this particular fight after the fact.

    The door opened. Daemon walked into the room, followed by Beale, who set a fresh pot of coffee on the table and retreated.

    Daemon took a seat and poured a cup of coffee for himself. “Surreal.”

    “Sadi.” She topped off her own coffee, debated for a moment about the wisdom of scratching his temper, then leaned back in her seat and stared at him.

    Grief had dimmed the beauty of his face, but that wasn’t a permanent change. Seventy years was nothing to someone from the long-lived races, and since he was only eighteen hundred years old, he still looked like a well-toned Warlord Prince in his prime—seductive, sensual, washing the room with sexual heat just by passing through. She had spent the past few years discouraging idiot women who looked at Jaenelle and figured Sadi had to be looking for sex outside of the marriage bed because how could a man who looked like that want to bed an old, white-haired woman in her nineties?

    Jaenelle had gotten old in years, but she was never old, and whether those idiot women wanted to believe it or not, Jaenelle Angelline had been more than able to handle Daemon Sadi in bed and out.

    Surreal just hoped she had done her job as second-in-command sufficiently well that Sadi hadn’t been aware of those women. He wouldn’t have done anything while Jaenelle lived because that would have called attention to why those women were sniffing around him. And he hadn’t been interested in doing anything for the past year. But now? Had any of them come to his attention enough that he would hone his temper and go hunting?

    “Something wrong?” Daemon asked, sounding edgy and brittle.

    “You look like shit.”

    “You do know how to flatter me.”

    The silence that followed was uneasy on her part and chilly turning toward predatory on his. That was why she wanted to jump up and hug Beale when he entered the room and set a covered dish in front of Daemon.

    Beale lifted the cover. Daemon looked at the simple breakfast and swallowed hard.

    None of them knew if Daemon’s refusal to eat anything before the midday meal was a personal gesture of mourning or an inability to keep down food during the first few hours after waking up alone, but they had all known he would be at the breakfast table today whether he could keep the food down or not.

    Daemon said, “Thank you, Beale,” picked up his fork, and began to eat his first breakfast in a year.

    Surreal finished her own breakfast, glad of the delay, however fleeting, before she told him about the day’s task.

    “What are you doing here?” Daemon asked. “I thought you would be in Amdarh for . . . something Holt had mentioned.”

    “It’s a celebration for Lady Zhara, and it’s next week.” She swallowed some coffee, then added, “You’ll also be attending.”

    He put down his fork. “No, I will not.”

    “Zhara is the Queen of Amdarh, the capital city of Dhemlan, and you are the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. So, yes, you will be attending.”

    The room chilled, and Daemon said too softly, “No, I will not.”

    She waited. He’d regained enough of himself that his face and eyes didn’t betray the vicious internal struggle she knew had to be going on—just as she knew the decision had been made for him and who had made it.

    “So you’ll be there as my companion?” Daemon asked coldly.

    The moment he appeared at a social event, everyone would know he’d ended his year of mourning, and there would be women drooling over the chance to ride his cock—and make use of anything else they could squeeze from the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. There were also women who believed they were in love with him and wanted to gain his attention.

    And there was a woman who had loved him for a lot of years and would continue to do her best to hide it because that was still the only way to help him.

    “Actually, sugar, I’ll be there as your guard, but I have a thigh sheath for my stiletto, so I’ll still be wearing a dress.”

    Daemon blinked. The chill faded from the room. “You’ll have a knife?”

  • Romance | Fantasy | Vampire