When he reached the last one, he studied Jaenelle’s portrait for a long time, then looked at the signature. Dujae. Of course.

He turned and looked at Draca.

“They were all dreamss made flessh, Prince,” Draca said gently. “Some only had one kind of dreamer, otherss were a bridge. Thesse were Witch.”

“But—” Daemon looked at the portraits again. “I don’t see Cassandra’s portrait here.”

“Sshe wass a Black-Jeweled witch, the Queen of Ebon Asskavi. But sshe wass not Witch. Sshe wass not dreamss made flessh.”

He shook his head. “Witch wears the Black. She’s always a Black-Jeweled Queen.”

“No. That iss not alwayss the dream, Daemon. There have been quiet dreamss and sstrong dreamss. There have been Queenss and ssongmakerss.” She paused, waited. “Your dream wass to be Conssort to the Queen of Ebon Asskavi. Iss that not true?”

Daemon’s heart began to pound. “I thought they were the same. I thought Witch and the Queen of Ebon Askavi were the same.”

“And if they are not?”

Tears stung his eyes. “If they hadn’t been the same, if I’d had to choose between the Queen and Jaenelle…I never would have set foot in this place. Excuse me, Draca. I—”

He started to rush past her, but he saw her hand move as if to hold him back. He could have avoided her easily, but, being who she was, he couldn’t be that disrespectful.

Her ancient hand moved slowly, came to rest on his arm.

“The Queen of Ebon Asskavi iss gone,” she said very quietly. “But sshe who iss Kaeleer’ss Heart, sshe who iss Witch, sstill livess.”

4 / Kaeleer

“You’ll take the income I’ve provided for you,” Saetan snarled as he and Surreal walked through one of the Hall’s gardens. He’d thought this would be a simple task, something to occupy a bit of time while he waited for Daemon to return from the Keep.

Surreal snarled back. “I don’t need a damn income from you.”

He stopped and turned on her. “Are you or are you not family?”

She stepped up to him until they were toe to toe. “Yes, I’m family, but—”

“Then take the damn income!” he shouted.

“Why?” she shouted back.

“Because I love you!” he roared. “And I want to give you that much.”

She swore at him.

Hell’s fire, why were his children all so stubborn?

He leashed his temper. “It’s a gift, Surreal. Please take it.”

She hooked her hair behind her ears. “If you’re going to put it that way…”

A wolf raised its voice in an odd series of yips and howls.

“That’s not Graysfang,” Surreal said.

Saetan tensed. “No. It’s one of the pack from the north woods.”

Worry filled her eyes. “One of them has come back? Why does it sound like that?”