He had never invaded Jaenelle’s privacy. Against his better judgment, against all his instincts, he had never invaded her privacy. But now…

“No,” he said with soft malevolence. “You will not take my Queen from me. You will not take my daughter.”

There was only one place from which he could penetrate the mist. Only one place he could use to amplify his strength to reach across the Realm. Only one witch who had the knowledge to help him do it.

Throwing his cape over his shoulders, he flicked a glance at the door, tearing it off the hinges. Gliding through the deep corridors of the Hall, his rage glazing the rough stones with ice, he brushed past Mephis and Prothvar, seeing no one, seeing nothing but that web.

“Where are you going, SaDiablo?” Andulvar called, striding to intercept him.

Saetan snarled softly.

The Hall trembled.

Andulvar hesitated for only a moment before setting himself squarely in the path of the High Lord of Hell.

“Yaslana.” The rage had become very quiet, very still.

This was what they feared in him.

“You can tell me where you’re going, or you can go through me,” Andulvar said calmly. Only a tiny muscle tic in his jaw betrayed him.

Saetan smiled, raising his right hand in a lover’s caress. Remembering in time that this man was his friend and also loved Jaenelle, he sheathed the snake tooth, and the hand gently squeezed Andulvar’s shoulder.

“To Ebon Askavi,” he whispered as he caught the Black Wind and vanished.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

1 / Terreille

Surreal dreamed.

She and Titian were walking through a woods. Titian was trying to warn her about something, but Surreal couldn’t hear her. The woods, Titian, everything, was silenced by the loud, steady pounding of a drum.

As they reached the edge of the woods, Surreal noticed a tree with a perfect branch, a tree sweating dark red sap.

Titian walked past the tree across a lawn filled with tall, silvery flowers. As she picked a flower here and there, it turned into a knife, sharp and shining. Smiling, she offered the bouquet to Surreal.

The drum beat louder, harder.

Someone was screaming.

Titian continued walking toward a large, mist-filled rectangle, pointing here and there. Every time she pointed, the mist drew away. Two redheads. A girl with no eyes. A girl with a slit throat whose eyes blazed with impotent fury. A girl with one leg.

At the far end of the rectangle was a mound of freshly dug earth.

The drum beat faster.

Someone was shrieking, enraged and in pain.

Surreal approached the mound, drawn by something lying over the dirt. As she approached, witchblood began to sprout and bloom, forming a crown around a length of golden hair.

“No!” Surreal yelled, flinging herself out of the bed.

The heartbeat drum pounded against her ribs.

The screaming in her head didn’t stop.

2 / Hell

“You’re going to help me,” Saetan said, turning to face Draca.

“To do what, High Lord?” Draca asked. Her unblinking reptilian eyes revealed nothing.