Finally, he sighed. It could have been worse. There could have been witnesses. No matter what else was said about him, he did not want to be known as the man who had reduced the High Lord of Hell to giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Saetan gasped. Calling in a handkerchief, he wiped his eyes. “I can imagine the response to that.”

“I’m sure you can,” Daemon said dryly.

With effort, Saetan regained his composure. “So, what were you trying to say?”

Daemon took a deep breath, let it out slowly—and told him.

Great. Wonderful. He’d not only made the High Lord giggle, he’d made the man blush.

“I see.” Saetan cleared his throat. “I’m . . . not sure that can be said in the Old Tongue. Let me think about it and see if I can come up with something that would let Jaenelle know she—”

“Is everything,” Daemon finished quietly. “She is everything.”

Saetan smiled. “Yes. She is everything.”

FOURTEEN

1

Shivering, Lektra called in a shawl and wrapped it around herself. So cold. So terribly cold. But no one else seemed to notice except Roxie, who had retreated to her room.

Tavey was dead. Viciously murdered. Lady Zhara’s Master of the Guard had come earlier that morning to tell her the body had been found—and to ask questions. Even through her shock and dismay, she’d realized the Master didn’t care who had killed Tavey. After all, there was no law against murder among the Blood. No, he’d come to the town house as a courtesy—and to find out if Tavey’s death foreshadowed a danger to his Queen.

She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know, and she wasn’t about to tell him anything else. What could she say? She didn’t actually know Tavey had talked to Daemon. And why would her beautiful love kill a man who was offering him a way out of an unwanted marriage? Besides, Daemon had been trained to be a lover, not a warrior.

So it had to have been someone else, someone who didn’t want Daemon free of his ties to Jaenelle Angelline.

A warrior. Like Lucivar Yaslana. Maybe Daemon had already left the parlor by the time Tavey got there. Maybe Tavey had found Lucivar in the parlor and had blurted out his little speech, thinking that telling Daemon’s brother was easier than telling Daemon himself. But Lucivar was an Eyrien warrior. Brutal. Savage. Roxie had told her over and over how mean Lucivar had been to her, threatening to kill her once he got tired of bedding her, forcing her to flee her home and family in Ebon Rih so that he could marry some hearth witch nobody.