Stung, Saetan took a step back, straining to hold his temper. “Are you saying I’m selfish because I want her to be everything she was? That Daemon and Lucivar and the coven and the boyos are selfish because we regret what she lost in order to save us and Kaeleer?”

The chamber grew cold. *The kindred undersstand. But they ssee ssome thingss more clearly than humanss do.*

They stared at each other, anger and frustration swelling on both sides.

Then Lorn sighed. *Look up, Ssaetan.*

Reluctantly, he obeyed.

The torches lit the lower part of the chamber, but where the light began to fade, he saw the colors of twilight—rose and bright blue deepening to sapphire and red and dark lavender, which gave way to night black.

*Twilight’ss Dawn,* Lorn said softly. He closed his eyes, a clear sign of dismissal.

More frustrated and uncertain than when he entered the chamber, Saetan walked back to the double doors. As he reached them, Lorn said, *Look with your heart, Ssaetan. You already know the ansswerss.*

But he didn’t. He didn’t. And it was clear Lorn wouldn’t tell him anything more.

The kindred understood? Maybe it was because they had seen something he hadn’t.

It was dangerous, but there was one other place he could look for answers, one other . . . person . . . he could ask.

Not giving himself time to consider what might happen if things went wrong, he left the Keep, caught the Black Wind, and headed for the island ruled by the Weavers of Dreams.

4

“Well,” Surreal said cheerfully, “look who’s back among the living. Not that you actually are among the living anymore, but why quibble?” Looking down at the Warlord on the floor, she bared her teeth in an insincere smile. “At any rate, your brain is working again—at least as much as it ever did.”

“Bitch,” the Warlord snarled.

“Right on the first guess.”

Struggling to sit up, the Warlord got a good look at his naked torso. “You filthy bitch! You cut off my cock!”

“And your balls. Not to mention your arms and legs. So relax, sugar. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

Using Craft, Surreal lifted a chair and settled it near the Warlord.

“And just so there’s no further misunderstandings, the Green are my Birthright.” She tapped the Jewel hanging from a gold chain around her neck. “I wear the Gray.”

His Sapphire Jewel glowed as he tried to strike her with a bolt of power. She slapped the power back at him with interest—and heard his rib cage snap in several places.

He lay still, taking shallow breaths. Being demon-dead, he didn’t actually need to breathe, but she imagined it took a little while for the brain to stop trying to do what it had once needed to do.