He opened his eyes, needing to see Saetan’s confirmation. “She killed those Warlords.” Then he shook his head. “If she intended to begin the healing in order to save Marian, it would have been a fast kill.” Which meant they hadn’t suffered nearly enough to repay the debt of pain and terror they’d inflicted.

“A fast kill,” Saetan agreed. “Although, considering the condition of their bodies, it was sufficient for the initial payment.”

Lucivar said nothing, just waited for the rest.

“Jaenelle gave them to me to extract the rest of the payment,” Saetan said too softly. “And they paid the debt in full.”

The knowledge of what Saetan could do to one of the Blood after the physical death should have frightened him, but he took a grim satisfaction in knowing every wound Marian had received, every moment of terror she’d experienced, had been accounted for. While Saetan ripped their minds apart, piece by piece, he would have found out everything there was to know about why and how Marian had ended up being attacked by those men.

“What about her father?” Lucivar asked.

“I have no authority in Askavi Terreille. I can’t touch her father.”

Yet.

The word hung unsaid between them, and Lucivar knew with absolute certainty that it didn’t matter how many more centuries Marian’s father lived. The day would come when his body died, and he would make the transition to become one of the demon-dead. He would end up in the Dark Realm—and the High Lord would be waiting for him.

“So you have a choice, Lucivar,” Saetan said. “I can appreciate, quite well, what it means to have Marian’s fear scraping against the instincts that bring out the best, and the deadliest, side of your nature. If you can’t tolerate it, then you should dismiss her. Between Jaenelle and me, we should be able to find her another position. Or you can grit your teeth for a while and endure it, giving her time to settle and regain her balance. Giving both of you time to find out if it’s you she really fears.”

Lucivar turned away. He couldn’t dismiss her. Not just because of what he’d learned from Saetan, but because it would confirm that she did nothing important, that her skills had no value. That she believed it, accepted it, chafed as much as anything else.

But having her stay wasn’t going to ease the other part of his frustration—especially now that he knew there were five—the bastards!—more reasons why she’d run from him.

Lucivar started pacing again.

Saetan watched him for a while, then cocked his head. “Something else?”

He tried to think of a delicate way to say it, but in the end, he blurted it out. “She makes me hungry.”

“She—” Saetan paused. Crossed his arms over his chest.