And even after Mephis convinced his brother that it had been Hekatah and not Saetan who had slashed love into pieces, even after Peyton began returning again to visit, there was a distance between them neither of them could quite bridge . . . because he was the High Lord of Hell. And because Peyton never loved that deeply again. He’d watched from a distance as Shira made a life for herself, watched her love again enough to accept another man as her husband and the father of her children. Watched those children grow and have children. And when the war came between the Realms of Kaeleer and Terreille, Peyton hadn’t stayed in Dhemlan Terreille to help Mephis defend that Territory. He’d gone to Dharo in Kaeleer to defend the family of the woman who had died centuries before—and had taken his heart with her.

Now there was another son who was falling in love—and another mother whose intentions were suspect.

He didn’t go around to the gate in the wall at the front of the house. He simply used Craft to pass through the stones and walked straight to the kitchen door. He didn’t drop the shields until a thought blasted the kitchen door open and he stepped across the threshold.

Luthvian dropped the dish she was holding when she saw him. He measured the fear dancing in her eyes and felt a grim pleasure in seeing it. At least he wouldn’t have to put up with her pretending she didn’t know why he was there. But he would give her a chance to defend her own actions. Considering what he was about to tell her, it was the least he could do.

“Why?” he asked too softly.

Luthvian licked her lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do, but I’ll be specific since you want to pretend ignorance. Why are you trying to hurt Lucivar?”

She looked stunned, then offended. “I’m not trying to hurt Lucivar!”

“Aren’t you?”

Fear gave way to temper. “Of course not! He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, and I won’t tolerate you interfering in his life.”

“Interfering?” She stepped over the broken dish, coming closer to him. “I may be protecting him from acting rashly, but that’s hardly interfering.”

“Protecting him?” His temper slipped the leash enough that his voice became thunder. “You think undermining the bond he’s trying to build with a woman is protecting him?”

“She’s nothing but a hearth witch!” Luthvian yelled. “A nobody! Her family isn’t even a twig on an aristo family tree!”

“Who gives a damn if she’s aristo or not? Lucivar doesn’t. I certainly don’t. I came from a street whore who wasn’t even skilled enough to work in a Red Moon house, so I never had an obsession for bloodlines.”