*Chaosti.* He waited a few moments, then called again.

*Lucivar?*

*We need Gabrielle here in her capacity as a Healer.*

Hesitation. *How much do you need her?*

*What?*

Another hesitation. *We confirmed yesterday that Gabrielle is pregnant. If she uses more than basic Craft ...*

*She’ll miscarry.*

*Everything has a price,* Chaosti whispered.

Lucivar closed his eyes, understanding the question behind the words. If she was truly needed, Gabrielle would come and use whatever power was required for a healing, knowing it would destroy the baby she carried.

*No,* Lucivar said. *We’ll find some other way.*

*We could come to Amdarh, just to be there,* Chaosti offered.

*No. Stay away from Amdarh.*

*There’s trouble?*

He felt the change in Chaosti and recognized a Warlord Prince’s predatory nature rising to the fore. *Nothing we can’t handle.* Which was true in its own way. No one was safe while Daemon was cold, so why ask a friend to step onto a potential killing field? *Stay home and take care of your Lady . . . papa.*

Chaosti’s pleasure filled the link between them. Then he asked, *Have you spoken to your brother lately?*

*He’s here in Amdarh.*

Silence. Then Chaosti said, *Take care of yourself, Lucivar.*

*I’ll try to stay off the killing field.*

He broke the link and walked out of the sitting room just as Daemon came down the stairs and Surreal opened the front door to admit Zhara and another witch.

“I heard about the accident,” Zhara said. “I brought my Healer to offer what help we can.”

“No,” Daemon said too softly.

*Daemon, Gabrielle is pregnant,* Lucivar said on a spear thread.

Those glazed eyes stared at him for too long before Daemon focused his attention on the two witches.

The Healer tried to smile. “Why don’t I just have a look at Lady Angelline and—”

Daemon’s snarl filled the small entrance hall.

“We do have a qualified Healer in residence,” Surreal said. “I’ll go up and ask Jaenelle if she needs another Healer. You just stand there and . . . breathe . . . until I get back.” She eased around Daemon and bolted up the stairs.

Don’t do anything to provoke him, Lucivar thought, watching ice coat the windows on either side of the door. The entrance hall was so cold he could see his breath, and Zhara and her Healer were shivering.

Daemon just stood there, his hands in his trouser pockets, staring at Zhara and the Healer.

Surreal raced down the stairs. “Jaenelle says she has a few sore muscles. Nothing worse than that. Not even a bruise. She’s fine, Daemon. She really is. I’m going to help her into a hot bath to soak a bit while you cool off.” She looked around the entrance hall. “Or warm up.” She started back up the stairs, then turned. “Oh. Jaenelle also said you promised to read to her. She told me to remind you.”