Each plant had a carefully written label attached to its pot. Gray touched each one gently, moved that strangers would be willing to help him make this special part of the garden.

He looked up, and was about to ask why Ranon was acting so uneasy about offering the plants. But when he looked into the other man’s dark eyes, he understood the risk—and the hope—that had been carried with these plants.

Would someone from the house of Grayhaven accept plants that came from the Shalador reserves? Would the new Queen accept a gift from the Shalador people?

“Thank you,” Gray said. “This will make the flower bed even more special.”

Ranon’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled.

“I’ll be ready to plant tomorrow,” Gray said. “I just need to talk to Theran about keeping Cassie occupied for a few hours.”

“Won’t that be interesting?”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but judging by Ranon’s amusement, he didn’t think Theran would share the opinion that tomorrow would be “interesting.”

Ebon ASKAVI

When Daemon arrived at the Keep at sunset, he didn’t know what to expect.

What he found scared him to the bone.

A sparely furnished room that was heavily shielded, but he couldn’t tell if the shields were Black or had been made by a power more ancient than the Blood—the power of the dragons, who had gifted the Blood with their magic long, long ago.

He also couldn’t tell if the shields were meant to contain the man who waited for him in that room or contain the rage. The cold, dark, glittering rage.

He entered the room and walked toward the table that was set a few paces from the door. An awkward place for the thing, which made him think it had been placed there so that no one would have to cross the room under that feral gaze.

He moved toward the table and the man waiting beside it, and he swallowed hard. When he looked into Saetan’s eyes, he saw the Warlord Prince who had destroyed an entire race so completely, there had been no trace of them left behind—including the islands they had called home.

And he saw a truth about himself.

“Prince,” the High Lord said.

Oh, no. He had no chance of reaching the man if they kept to formal titles.

“Father,” Daemon said—and saw a flicker of emotion in those glazed gold eyes. He stopped when he reached the edge of the table, still out of reach of lethally honed nails—and the venom in the snake tooth under Saetan’s ring finger nail. “Father, talk to me. Please.”

No response. Just a terrifying assessment being made by a powerful man who was walking who knew what roads in the Twisted Kingdom.

I can take him. If it comes to that, I’m strong enough to stop him.