Strong enough to win—maybe—but not strong enough to come out of that fight intact. Not when he’d be pitting a little extra raw power against thousands of years of experience.

Which made him glad Jaenelle had held Lucivar back instead of having both of them go to the Keep. One of them needed to survive to take care of the rest of the family.

If it came down to that.

Sweet Darkness, please don’t let it come down to that.

“Father,” Daemon said again.

Saetan looked at the table. Pressed the fingertips of his right hand on the polished wood. Two sheets of paper appeared beside his fingers.

Wary, Daemon took a step closer. “What are these?”

“Names,” Saetan said, his voice a hoarse, singsong croon. “The names of men who didn’t take the bait but were still caught by the trap.”

Moving slowly, painfully alert in case a simple action gave offense, Daemon drew one of the sheets closer so he could read it.

Names and places.

He took her head, Daemon thought. All he needed. What kind of pain did the High Lord extract along with these names in order to collect the full debt Vulchera owed the people she had harmed?

“Words that were said cannot be unsaid,” Saetan whispered. “But sometimes hearts can forgive when a lie is revealed, and maybe, for some, the truth will let them hold what is most dear.”

Daemon frowned at the list as he sorted through the layers of messages in those words. Marriages had been broken by Vulchera’s games. There weren’t many women who would forgive a husband’s betrayal of the marriage bed, especially when fidelity was one of the things a man offered as part of the marriage contract. But Jaenelle was sure Saetan’s slide into the Twisted Kingdom was about him and was personal. So if it wasn’t about the wives and broken marriages, it had to be about the children.

Daemon pushed aside the chill of fear. He couldn’t afford to have Saetan pick up that particular psychic scent.

Children. Dangerous ground where the High Lord of Hell was concerned.

“You want me to contact the families of these men?” he asked.

Saetan’s fingertips brushed the second sheet of paper. “Their lives were torn apart because of a lie. Because some bitch liked to play games.”

The words started softly and ended in a savage snarl.

Who are we talking about? Daemon wondered—and felt something shiver through him.

The rage still filled the room, but something else was building under the rage. Something that could be the spark that would light the tinder and unleash the High Lord’s temper.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Saetan whispered. “You don’t know the agony a man can f-feel when he hears those three words: ‘Paternity is denied.’ ”