Putting those thoughts aside, Daemon concentrated on the timetable. He hadn’t really been aware of the journey from Goth to the Hall, but it had to have taken a couple of hours at the least. Going to this secret location in Dea al Mon would probably take even more time. If Lucivar was planning to leave within the hour to reach the guardhouse, he was planning to arrive so that there would be just enough time for Jaenelle to rest and eat a late midday meal before doing whatever she was going to do. Just enough time…

The Sadist in him woke up. He looked at Saetan and saw his own suspicions reflected in his father’s eyes. “When was the body found?” he asked too softly.

Lucivar jerked to attention, then swore viciously.

Saetan returned his stare for a moment. “If Jorval had been informed immediately, there would have been just enough time to pen a hasty note and send it here by courier.”

“Was it hastily written?”

“No, I wouldn’t say so.”

Which meant Jorval had known about Magstrom’s death before the body had been found. And Jorval was the one who had made these arrangements for Jaenelle to come to Little Terreille.

As soon as he and Lucivar were away from Saetan’s study, Daemon settled one hand on Lucivar’s shoulder, his long, black-tinted nails providing just enough bite to ensure that he had his brother’s undivided attention. “You will do anything you have to in order to keep her safe and take care of her, won’t you?”

“I’ll keep her safe, Bastard. You can count on that.” Then Lucivar smiled that lazy, arrogant smile. “But you’re the one who’s going to take care of her. You’ve got less than an hour to get packed, old son. Bring enough to get you through a couple of days in Amdarh as well.”

Daemon stared at Lucivar, then stepped back and slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. “She’s not comfortable with me, Prick.” Not even to Lucivar would he admit how Jaenelle had practically fled her own rooms in order to get away from him after he had spent the night with her. “My being there would only distress her.”

“You’re her Consort,” Lucivar said sharply. “Stand your ground.”

“But…”

“She isn’t going to pay attention to either of us before this meeting, and I’ll be with you when you go to Amdarh. While she’s swearing about tripping over me, she isn’t going to have time to feel nervous about being around you.” Lucivar rode over another, more feeble protest. “I want you at that guardhouse, Daemon.”

He finally understood. Lucivar didn’t want him there because he was the Consort, but because he was the Sadist.

Daemon nodded. “I’ll be ready to leave when you are.”

3 / Kaeleer