“Don’t waste your tears on them, little witch,” Daemon said quietly. “You’re next.”

She watched him walk away, disappear once more into the darkness. I may be next, you cold-hearted bastard, but I won’t go down without a fight. I can’t win against you, but I swear by all that I am that I won’t go down without a fight.

Saetan closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the still figures lying a few feet away from him.

I knew he was dangerous, but I didn’t know he had this in him. I helped him, encouraged him. Oh, witch-child, what kind of monster did I allow into your bed, into your heart?

As soon as they returned to Hekatah’s cabin, Dorothea fell into the nearest chair. She had done some cruel, vicious things in her life, but this…

She shuddered.

Hekatah braced her hands on the table. “Do you still think he’ll buckle if we threaten Lucivar?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“No,” Dorothea replied in a voice just as shaky. “I don’t know what he’ll do anymore.” For centuries, the Blood in Terreille had called him the Sadist. Now she finally understood why.

2 / Kaeleer

Karla watched Tersa build strange creations with brown wooden building blocks. She was grateful for the older woman’s presence, and knew Gabrielle felt the same way.

Jaenelle had disappeared shortly after she had talked to them. They, in turn, had talked to the rest of the coven, only telling them that the boyos needed to be held back for a few more days. They hadn’t told the others about Witch’s intention of going to war with Terreille—alone. They had understood the unspoken command when Jaenelle had finally shown them the dream that lived beneath the human skin.

So the coven, unhappy but united, had rounded up the boyos before any of them could slip the leash. It hadn’t been easy, and the males’ hostility toward what they considered a betrayal had been vicious enough to make Karla wonder if any of the marriages in the First Circle would survive. Some of those marriages might have been destroyed right there and then if Tersa hadn’t come along and scolded the boyos for their lack of courtesy. Since the males weren’t willing to attack her, they had given in.

Almost twenty-four hours of enforced togetherness hadn’t made things any easier, but it was the only way to ensure the males’ continued presence. Even by the Keep’s standards, the sitting room the coven had chosen as a place of confinement was a large room with several clusters of furniture and lots of pacing room—and it wasn’t big enough. The coven mostly kept to the chairs and couches to avoid being snarled at by a pacing male. And when the boyos weren’t pacing, they were huddled together, muttering.