Yes, she had been able to sense the ruthlessness, the ambition, the cruel sexuality in Daemon Sadi. It frightened her a little. It excited her even more.

“He’s never been interested in using his strength to acquire power. He fought against every attempt I made to bring him around.”

“That’s because you handled him wrong,” Hekatah snarled. “If you had doted on Sadi the way you had doted on that excuse for a son—”

“You used to think it was amusing that I was playing bedroom games with the High Lord’s boy. You said it would make a man out of him.”

And it had. It had honed Sadi’s cruelty, his taste for perverse pleasure. She had sensed that, too. Just as she had sensed that it wouldn’t be easy to get around his deep hatred for Dorothea. Well, she wouldn’t let that interfere with her own ambitions. Besides, Dorothea was becoming difficult, unreliable. She would have had to eliminate the bitch after the war was won anyway.

“I tell you, he’s up to something,” Dorothea insisted. “And you’re just letting him wander around the camp to do who knows what.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Hekatah snapped. “Without any leverage, we can’t go up against the Black and expect to win.”

“We’ve got leverage,” Dorothea said through clenched teeth.

Hekatah let out a nasty laugh. “What leverage? If he really has destroyed Andulvar, Prothvar, and Mephis, he’s not going to squirm because Saetan’s guts are spilling out on the ground.”

“You picked the wrong man, the wrong threat,” Dorothea said irritably, waving a hand. “He may not give a damn about Saetan, but he’s always buckled when Lucivar was threatened. Lucivar’s been the one chain we could count on to hold Sadi. If you threatened—” She paused, sniffed, looked toward the door, and said uneasily, “What’s that smell?”

“What’s that smell?” Surreal muttered. It was well past midnight. Were the guards roasting some meat for tomorrow’s meals? Possibly, but she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to eat anything that smelled that vile. “Do you smell it?” She turned her head to look at Saetan—and didn’t like what she saw. Not one little bit. Since Daemon walked out of the camp the first time, the High Lord had just been staring straight ahead. Just staring. “Uncle Saetan?”

He turned his head, slowly. His eyes focused on her—too slowly.

Checking to make sure there weren’t any guards around at the moment, she leaned toward him as much as she could. “Uncle Saetan, this isn’t exactly the time to start taking mental side trips. We’ve got to think of a way to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry you’re here, Surreal,” he said in a worn-out voice. “Truly, I am sorry.”