Draca waited for them to absorb this. “A sspiral.”

The stone moved in a circular motion above the tank. As it touched the surface, the water moved with it, circling, circling, circling as the stone leisurely made its descent. The bangles, caught in the motion, followed the stone. The spiraling descent continued until the stone was an inch from the bottom. By then all the water was in motion, all the bangles caught.

“A whirlpool,” Geoffrey whispered. He glanced uneasily at Saetan, who was watching the tank, his lips pressed tight, his long nails digging into the table.

“No.” Draca pulled the stone straight up. The water rose with the stone, well above the tank, and splashed down on the table. The bangles, pulled out of the tank with the water, lay on the table like tiny dead fish. “A maelsstrom.”

Saetan turned away. “You said the Blood don’t spiral.”

Draca put her hand on his arm, forcing him to turn and look at her. “Sshe iss more than Blood. Sshe iss Witch.”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s Witch. She’s still Blood.”

“Sshe iss Blood and sshe iss Other.”

“No.” Saetan backed away from Draca. “She’s still Blood. She’s still one of us. She has to be.” And she was still his gentle, inquisitive Jaenelle, the daughter of his soul. Nothing anyone could say would change that.

But someone had taught her to hate.

“Sshe iss Witch,” Draca said with more gentleness than he’d ever heard from her. “Sshe will almosst alwayss sspiral, High Lord. You cannot alter her nature. You cannot prevent the ssmall sspiralss, the flashess of anger. You cannot prevent her from sspiraling down to her core. All the Blood needss to desscend from time to time. But the maelsstrom…” Draca slipped her hands into the sleeves of her robe. “Sshield her, Ssaetan. Sshield her with your sstrength and your love and perhapss it will never happen.”

“And if it does?” Saetan asked hoarsely.

“It will be the end of the Blood.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

1 / Terreille

Daemon shuffled the deck of cards as Leland glanced at the clock—again. They’d been playing cards for almost two hours, and if she followed the routine, she would let him go in ten minutes or one more hand, whichever came first.

It was the third night that week that Leland had requested his company when she retired. Daemon didn’t mind playing cards, but it annoyed him that she insisted on playing in her sitting room instead of the drawing room downstairs. And her coquettish remarks at breakfast about how well he’d entertained her annoyed him even more.

The first morning after they’d played cards, Robert had flushed burgundy and blustered as he listened to Leland’s chatter until he noticed Philip’s silent rage. After that, since a pleasure slave wasn’t considered a “real” man and, therefore, wasn’t a rival, Robert had gleefully patted Leland’s hand and told her he was pleased that she found Sadi such good company since he had to work so many evenings.