And he knew she had already seen things a child shouldn’t see. He had seen the secrets and shadows in her eyes.

“Is there no one in Terreille you can trust to watch over her?”

Saetan let out a pained laugh. “Who would you trust, Titian?”

Titian rubbed her hands nervously on her trousers.

She was barely a woman when she died, he thought with tender sadness. So frail beneath all that strength. As they all are.

Titian licked her lips. “I know a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who sometimes looks after those who need help. If approached, he might—”

“No,” he said harshly, pride warring with fear. How ironic that Titian considered Daemon a suitable protector. “He’s owned by Hekatah’s puppet, Dorothea. He can be made to comply.”

“I don’t believe he’d harm a child.”

Saetan returned to his desk. “Perhaps not willingly, but pain can make a man do things he wouldn’t willingly do.”

Titian’s eyes widened with understanding. “You don’t trust him.” She thought it over and shook her head. “You’re wrong. He’s—”

“A mirror.” Saetan smiled as she drew in a hissing breath. “Yes, Titian. He’s blood of my blood, seed of my loins. I know him well…and not at all. He’s a double-edged sword capable of cutting the hand that holds him as easily as he cuts the enemy.” He led her to the door. “I thank you for your counsel and your concern. If you hear any news, I would appreciate being informed.”

She turned at the doorway and studied him. “What if she sings to his blood as strongly as she sings to yours?”

“Lady.” Saetan quietly closed the door on her and locked it. Returning to his desk, he poured a glass of yarbarah and watched the small tongue of fire dance above the desktop, warming the blood wine.

Daemon was a good Warlord Prince, which meant he was a dangerous Warlord Prince.

Saetan drained the glass. He and Daemon were a matched pair. Did he really believe his namesake was a threat to Jaenelle or was it jealousy over having to yield to a potential lover, especially when that lover was also his son? Because he honestly couldn’t answer that question, he hesitated to give the order for Daemon’s execution.

As yet there was no reason to send for Marjong the Executioner. Daemon was nowhere near Chaillot and, for some reason, Jaenelle didn’t wander around Terreille as she did Kaeleer. Perhaps Titian was right about Daemon, but he couldn’t take the chance. His namesake had the cunning to ensnare a child and the strength to destroy her.

But if Daemon had to be executed to protect Jaenelle, it wouldn’t be a stranger’s hand that put him in his grave.

He owed his son that much.

PART II

CHAPTER THREE

1 / Kaeleer

Saetan smiled dryly at his reflection. His full head of black hair was more silvered at the temples than it had been five years ago, but the lines left in his face by illness and despair had softened while the laugh lines had deepened.