Lucivar stared at the study door. Everything has a price. He’d wanted this since coming to Kaeleer and being reunited with his father three years ago. Now he would finally get the answer to a question that had haunted him.

Now he wasn’t sure he wanted it.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he walked into the study.

Saetan rose from the chair behind the blackwood desk and came around the desk so that he could lean against the front of it. “You did well, Prince.”

He nodded, warmed by the praise but too edgy to respond to it.

“What’s your price, Lucivar?” Saetan asked softly.

“The answer to a question.”

Saetan raised one eyebrow and waited.

“Why?” Lucivar asked, thoughts and feelings swelling that one word until he wasn’t sure what else to say. But when Saetan just looked at him, he tried to shape the question. “When Daemon and I were taken away from you, why didn’t you fight to get us back?”

He watched in amazement as Saetan paled.

“I couldn’t,” Saetan said after a long pause, his voice rough.

Lucivar took a step toward him. “Why? Even if you couldn’t have fought back at that instant, you’re a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. You could have—”

“I couldn’t.” A tremor of some strong emotion went through Saetan. He wouldn’t look at Lucivar. His deep voice was barely a whisper. “I couldn’t. Because of Zuulaman.”

Puzzled by Saetan’s obvious distress, Lucivar said, “Who is Zuulaman?”

“Not a person. A place.” Saetan moved fast and was at the door before Lucivar could raise a hand to stop him. But he hesitated as he opened the door. “If you want to know about Zuulaman, ask Andulvar. In some ways, he remembers better than I do what happened.”

Then he was gone, and Lucivar stared at that closed door a long time, wondering what had happened in that place that could make the High Lord run away.

He found Andulvar near the small lake that was part of the estate. He could have pounded on the door of Andulvar’s rooms, but the coven had gathered to be with Karla, and he suspected it was better to keep this conversation private. So he’d waited until sundown when the Demon Prince rose from his daylight rest and followed Andulvar to the lake.

“Zuulaman?” Andulvar growled. “Why in the name of Hell are you asking about Zuulaman?”

“I asked my father why he didn’t fight to get us back when Daemon and I were taken from him. He said it was because of Zuulaman. He said you’d tell me what that means.” Lucivar waited while Andulvar stared at the lake. “Do you remember it?”

Andulvar snorted. “Yeah. I remember Zuulaman.” Turning his head, he studied Lucivar for a long time. “Are you sure you want to know this?”

No. “Yes.”