“There’s no reason for her to draw anyone’s attention,” Alexandra said, fear making her voice sharp. “There’s no reason for her to accept a contract outside of Little Terreille.”

“There are two reasons: the High Lord and the witch he controls. If you don’t find her quickly, Wilhelmina will end up in his dark embrace, and there will be no hope for her then.”

Despite the warm room, a chill ran down Alexandra’s spine.

Dorothea just looked at her for a long moment. “I told you—Sadi and the High Lord achieved their goal. No one hunts very long for a corpse when the living need care. And your granddaughter’s body was never found.”

Alexandra stared at Dorothea. “You think Jaenelle is this powerful witch under the High Lord’s control? Jaenelle?” She laughed bitterly. “Hell’s fire, Dorothea, Jaenelle couldn’t even do basic Craft.”

“If you know how to read between the lines of some of the…less available…records of the Blood’s history, you’ll find that there have been a few women—very few, thank the Darkness—who had enormous reservoirs of power that they were unable to tap by themselves. They required an…emotional…bond with someone who had the skill to channel the power in order to use it. But they didn’t always have the choice about how it was used.” Dorothea paused. “The gossip that has recently filtered in from Little Terreille about the High Lord’s pet describes her as ‘eccentric,’ ‘somewhat emotionally disturbed.’ Does that sound familiar?”

Alexandra couldn’t catch her breath. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Why wasn’t there enough air?

“If you’ll take it, I’ll give you whatever help I can.” Dorothea looked at her sadly. “You can’t ignore this, Alexandra. No matter what you want to think or what you want to believe, you can’t ignore the fact that the High Lord’s pet witch, the witch Daemon Sadi helped him acquire, goes by the name Jaenelle Angelline.”

5 / Terreille

Dorothea pulled aside the dark, heavy curtains and stared out at the night-shrouded garden. She felt drained, physically and emotionally. Oh, how she had wanted to dig her nails in and scratch out the pathetically hopeful look in the eyes of the males in her First Circle. They wanted to grasp at any excuse for her behavior over the past centuries. They wanted to believe that a male had made her cruel, a male had manipulated her and controlled her thoughts, a male had been behind her rise to power and the viciousness afterward that had made it possible to soften and harvest most of the other Territories in Terreille.