He wasn’t thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.

He wasn’t thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire.

And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn’t able to think at all.

4 / Terreille

Dorothea held up a letter. “It seems Kartane has become acquainted with Lord Jorval and Lord Hobart.”

Hekatah’s lips curved in an awful grin. “Such useful males. One gathers Kartane got no satisfaction from the High Lord.”

“It appears not,” Dorothea replied, striving to sound indifferent while the fury of Kartane’s betrayal singed her blood. “He suggests that Lord Hobart would welcome any assistance Hayll can provide to wrest Glacia away from the bitch-Queen niece. He will remain in Little Terreille to act as a liaison.”

“It sounds as if your son finally understands to whom he owes his loyalty.”

Dorothea crushed the letter. “He’s not my son. Not anymore. He’s just a tool like any other.”

5 / Kaeleer

Lucivar walked to the far end of the low-walled garden that bordered one side of his home. Marian was reading a bedtime story to Daemonar, and the wolves had gathered in the room to listen, too, so he knew whatever Prothvar wanted to tell him wouldn’t be overheard.

Two weeks ago, Saetan had sent Surreal back to Ebon Rih with a terse—and oddly harried—note, bluntly telling him to stay away from the Hall. The only reason he had obeyed was because Saetan had signed it as the Steward of the Court. After two weeks of silence, Andulvar, as Master of the Guard, had sent Prothvar to the Hall to request more information from the Steward. Now Prothvar was here, wanting to see him away from anyone. “Problem?” Lucivar asked quietly.

Prothvar’s teeth gleamed as his mouth curved in a feral smile. “Not as long as you stay away from the Hall. I gathered it’s rather uncomfortable living there right now if you wear Jewels darker than the Red.”

“Mother Night,” Lucivar muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. What in the name of Hell had happened? “Maybe the High Lord should send Daemon here for a while.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be wise to try to shift Daemon away from the Hall.”

Lucivar just stared at Prothvar for a moment. Then he grinned. “Well, it’s about time.”

“For both of them.”

“So why does Saetan have his back up?”