Saetan exhaled slowly. “How many others know about the child?”

“Too many…or not enough. It depends upon the game.”

“This isn’t a game!” He became very still. “Let me in.”

Loathing twisted Titian’s face.

Saetan leaned forward. “I understand why being touched by a male disgusts you. I don’t ask this lightly…or for myself.”

Titian bit her lip. Her hands dug into the chair. “Very well.”

Focusing his eyes on the fire, Saetan made the psychic reach, touched the first inner barrier, and felt her recoil. He patiently waited until she felt ready to open the barriers for him. Once inside, he drifted gently, a well-mannered guest. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for, and he broke the link, relieved.

They didn’t know. Titian wondered, guessed too close. But no one outside his confidence knew for sure. A strange child. An eccentric child. A mysterious, puzzling child. That would do. His wise, cautious child. But he couldn’t help wondering what experience had made her so cautious so young.

He turned back to Titian. “I’m teaching her Craft. And I serve.”

Titian looked around the room. “From here?”

Saetan smiled dryly. “Your point’s well taken. I’ve grown tired of this room. Perhaps it’s time to remind Hell who rules.”

“You mean who rules in proxy,” Titian said with a predatory smile. She let the words linger for a moment. “It’s good you’re concerned, High Lord,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “It’s good she has so strong a protector. She’s fearless, our Sister. It’s wise to teach her caution. But don’t be deceived. The children know what she is. She’s as much their secret as their friend. Blood sings to Blood, and all of Kaeleer is slowly turning to embrace a single dark star.”

“How do you know about the children?” Saetan asked suspiciously.

“I told you. I’m Gabrielle’s kinswoman.”

“You’re dead, Titian. The demon-dead don’t mingle with the living. They don’t interfere with the concerns of the living Realms.”

“Don’t they, High Lord? You and your family still rule Dhemlan in Kaeleer.” She shrugged. “Besides, the Dea al Mon aren’t squeamish about dealing with those who live in the forever-twilight of the Dark Realm.” Hesitating, she added, “And our young Sister doesn’t seem to understand the difference between the living and the dead.”

Saetan stiffened. “You think knowing me has confused her?”

Titian shook her head. “No, the confusion was there before she ever knew of Hell or met a Guardian. She walks a strange road, High Lord. How long before she begins to walk the borders of the Twisted Kingdom?”

“There’s no reason to assume she will,” Saetan replied tightly.

“No? She will follow that strange road wherever it leads her. What makes you think a child who sees no difference between the living and the dead will see a difference between sanity and the Twisted Kingdom?”

“NO!” Saetan leaped out of his chair and went to stand before the fire. He tried to suppress the thought of Jaenelle sliding into madness, unable to cope with what she was, but the anxiety rolled from him in waves. No one else in the history of the Blood had worn the Black as a Birthright Jewel. No one else had had to shoulder the responsibility—and the isolation—that was part of the price of wearing so dark a Jewel at so young an age.