She was right about that. The coven and the boyos would need Saetan’s wisdom and experience to mend the wounds already inflicted on Kaeleer. So he couldn’t tell his friend what Jaenelle intended to do, couldn’t take the chance that Saetan might choose to throw his strength in with the rest of them instead of staying behind. He couldn’t do that because, after everything was over, the High Lord would be needed by the living.

Ladvarian waited in the shadows until he was sure Andulvar was really gone. Then he slipped into Jaenelle’s sitting room.

She was staring out the window. He wanted to tell her it would be all right, even though he wasn’t sure it would be. Yes, he was. It would be all right. The kindred would not doubt. The kindred would be strong. But he couldn’t tell her that because this was a time for fangs and claws. This was a time for killing. And they weren’t sure she would be able to kill if they told her what was going to happen afterward.

But there was something else he had to tell her.

*Jaenelle?*

There was as much sadness as pleasure in her eyes when she turned and saw him. “What is it, little Brother?”

*I have a message for you—from the Weaver of Dreams.*

She went absolutely still, and he was afraid Witch might look right into him and see what he wanted to hide.

“What is the message?”

*She said the triangle must stay together in order to survive. The mirror can keep the others safe, but only if they’re together.* He hesitated when she just stared at him. *Who is the mirror?*

“Daemon,” she replied absently. “He’s his father’s mirror.”

She seemed lost for a moment, long enough to make him nervous. *Do you understand the message?*

“No,” she said, looking very pale. “But I’m sure I will.”

9 / Kaeleer

Luthvian heard her bedroom door open, but she continued stuffing clothes into a travel bag and didn’t turn around. Damn Eyrien pup, coming up to her room without permission. And damn Lucivar for insisting that she come to the Keep and insisting that she have an escort. She didn’t need an escort—especially not Palanar, who was barely old enough to wipe his own nose.

As she started to turn around to tell him just that, a caped figure rushed at her. Instantly, instinctively, she threw up a Red shield. A blast of Red power struck her at the same moment, preventing the shield from forming, and the figure was on her. They tumbled to the floor.

Luthvian didn’t realize she’d been knifed until the enemy yanked the blade out of her body.

Being a Healer, she knew it was bad—a killing wound.

Furious, knowing she didn’t have long, she ripped the hood off her enemy and then stared for a moment, frozen. “You.”