He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the man settling on a stone that time and the elements had weathered into a natural seat. He looked like a handsome man at the end of his prime, his black hair silvered at the temples and faint lines around his golden eyes—an aristo Hayllian male who would be in his element at a dinner party and wouldn’t know what to do on a killing field.

Looks could be deceiving. This was Saetan Daemon SaDiablo, a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince who was the Prince of the Darkness, High Lord of Hell, Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, Steward of the Dark Court at Ebon Askavi ... and his father.

It was the last title that made Lucivar wary. There weren’t any clear rules when it came to sons dealing with fathers. Not that he paid much attention to rules, but it would have been nice to know when he was about to do something that would stomp on Saetan’s toes and end with them yelling at each other. Which he did know, actually. Every time Jaenelle said, “Lucivar, I have a wonderful idea” and he went along with it, he could pretty much count on ending up in Saetan’s study to receive a blistering lecture. Too bad he enjoyed squaring off with his father as much as he enjoyed getting into trouble with the golden-haired, sapphire-eyed witch who was Saetan’s adopted daughter—and, therefore, his sister. The fact that Jaenelle was the Queen of Ebon Askavi and they both served in the First Circle of her court just added spice to their shouting matches.

“It’s none of my business, but I am curious,” Saetan said. “Why are you standing out here displaying your assets?”

“I’m standing out here because my home has been invaded by two dozen women with brooms and buckets—”

“Two dozen? I wasn’t aware Helene brought that many from the Hall.”

“She didn’t. Some of the women from Riada showed up right after Helene did. And this is how I was dressed—”

“—or not dressed,” Saetan murmured.

“—when they showed up.” Lucivar took another gulp of coffee and shuddered. “And getting dressed after I’d been assured I wouldn’t be a distraction seemed like . . . bragging.”

“I see. Who told you this?”

“Helene. She said she’d seen just as good.” Lucivar eyed his father.

Saetan shook his head. “No. I will not indulge in a pissing contest with you to appease your curiosity. Besides, you’ve seen me naked.”

True enough, but he’d only noticed Saetan looked damn fit for a man who’d seen over fifty thousand years. He hadn’t paid attention to particulars.

“So Helene said you wouldn’t be a distraction,” Saetan said, looking more amused. “And you believed her because . . . ?”

“Well, Hell’s fire, she’s your housekeeper.”