Tonight there will be no fortunes. I have the strength to say this only once. I must be sure that those who must hear it are in the room before I speak.

I wait. They don’t notice. Glasses are filled and refilled as I fight to stay on the edge of the Twisted Kingdom.

Ah, there he is. Daemon Sadi, from the Territory called Hayll. He’s beautiful, bitter, cruel. He has a seducer’s smile and a body women want to touch and be caressed by, but he’s filled with a cold, unquenchable rage. When the Ladies talk about his bedroom skills, the words they whisper are “excruciating pleasure.” I don’t doubt he’s enough of a sadist to mix pain and pleasure in equal portions, but he’s always been kind to me, and it’s a small bone of hope that I throw out to him tonight. Still, it’s more than anyone else has given him.

The Lords and Ladies grow restless. I usually don’t take this long to begin my pronouncements. Agitation and annoyance build, but I wait. After tonight, it will make no difference.

There’s the other one, in the opposite corner of the room. Lucivar Yaslana, the Eyrien half-breed from the Territory called Askavi.

Hayll has no love for Askavi, nor Askavi for Hayll, but Daemon and Lucivar are drawn to one another without understanding why, so wound into each other’s lives they cannot separate. Uneasy friends, they have fought legendary battles, have destroyed so many courts the Blood are afraid to have them together for any length of time.

I raise my hands, let them fall into my lap. Daemon watches me. Nothing about him has changed, but I know he’s waiting, listening. And because he’s listening, Lucivar listens too.

“She is coming.”

At first they don’t realize I’ve spoken. Then the angry murmurs begin when the words are understood.

“Stupid bitch,” someone yells. “Tell me who I’ll love tonight.”

“What does it matter?” I answer. “She is coming. The Realm of Terreille will be torn apart by its own foolish greed. Those who survive will serve, but few will survive.”

I’m slipping farther from the edge. Tears of frustration spill down my cheeks. Not yet. Sweet Darkness, not yet. I must say this.

Daemon kneels beside me, his hands covering mine. I speak to him, only to him, and through him, to Lucivar.

“The Blood in Terreille whore the old ways and make a mockery of everything we are.” I wave my hand to indicate the ones who now rule. “They twist things to suit themselves. They dress up and pretend. They wear Blood Jewels but don’t understand what it means to be Blood. They talk of honoring the Darkness, but it’s a lie. They honor nothing but their own ambitions. The Blood were created to be the caretakers of the Realms. That’s why we were given our power. That’s why we come from, yet are apart from, the people in every Territory. The perversion of what we are can’t go on. The day is coming when the debt will be called in, and the Blood will have to answer for what they’ve become.”