“It was time to have it done.”

“Any special reason?”

“I thought of giving a demon ball,” he replied dryly.

She tipped her chin down and looked up at him through her lashes, not realizing it was a parody of the sulky, sensuous young witch she’d been long centuries ago. “You didn’t redo the south tower.”

“There was no need. It’s been emptied and cleaned. That’s all.”

“But the south tower has always been my apartment,” she protested.

“As I said, there was no need.”

She stared at the sheer ivory curtains beneath the tied-back red velvet drapes. “Well,” she said, as if giving the matter slow consideration, “I suppose I could take a room in your wing.”

“No.”

“But, Saetan—”

“My dear, you’ve forgotten. You’ve never had an apartment in the Hall in this Realm. You haven’t lived in any house I own since I divorced you, and you never will again.”

Hekatah knelt beside his chair, pleased by the way the gown pooled around her, one shimmering wing of her sleeve draped across his legs. “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but, Saetan, you need a woman here now.” She could have shouted with triumph as his eyebrow rose in question and a definite spark of interest showed in his eyes.

He raised one hand and stroked her still-black hair, flowing long and loose down her back. “Why do I need a woman now, Hekatah?” he asked in a gentle, husky voice.

His lover’s voice. The voice that always enraged her because it sounded so caring and weak. Not a man’s voice. Not her father’s voice. Her father would never have coaxed. He would never have allowed her to refuse him. But he had been a Hayllian Prince, one of the Hundred Families, as proud and arrogant as any Blood male, and not this…

Hekatah lowered her eyes, hoping Saetan hadn’t seen, again, what she thought of him. All that power. They could have ruled all of Terreille, and Kaeleer too, if he’d been the least bit ambitious. Even if he’d been too lazy, she could have done it. Who would have dared challenge her with the Black backing her? He wouldn’t even do that. Wouldn’t even support her in Dhemlan, his own Territory. Kept her leashed to Hayll, where her family had enough influence to make her the High Priestess. All that power wasted in a thing that had to give himself a name because his sire didn’t think the seed fit enough to claim. But Terreille would be hers yet, even if she had to use a weak little puppet like Dorothea to get it.

“Why do I need a woman now?” Saetan’s voice, less gentle now, called her back.

“For the child, of course,” she replied, turning her head to press a kiss into his palm.

“The child?” Saetan lifted his hand and steepled his fingers. “One of our sons has been demon-dead for fifty thousand years, and you, my dear, probably know better than anyone where the other one lies.”