“My presence is required at Prince Yaslana’s eyrie,” Daemon said as Holt helped him into his winter coat. “I may be there a few days.”

“Prince Yaslana asked for your presence?” Beale asked quietly.

He looked his butler in the eyes, understanding Beale’s question. Very few people knew for sure that he had become the High Lord of Hell when Saetan embraced the final death and became a whisper in the Darkness, but Lord Beale, the Red-Jeweled butler at SaDiablo Hall, was one of them.

“Not his brother’s presence,” Daemon replied just as quietly. “Mine.”

Beale dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Daemon walked out of the Hall, went to the landing web, and caught the Black Wind to ride to Ebon Rih.

* * *

* * *

The land looked bleached of all color to the point that there were barely shades of gray. It looked . . . faded. It looked like Marian felt, like all the vitality that had once filled the land had been siphoned off, leaving little more than a failing memory of what it had been.

She remembered falling, but she didn’t remember landing. Didn’t remember how she’d come to be in this lost, fading place.

Then she heard the voice, the song. The song wasn’t familiar, but she remembered that voice. Recognized that voice.

Not knowing what else to do, Marian followed the voice until she reached a cascade of black water spilling into a warm pool.

* * *

* * *

Surreal wasn’t sure what to say when Tersa walked into Manny’s cottage carrying a cloth travel bag. Since it wasn’t likely that Tersa would think to pack clothes, the Darkness only knew what was in the bag.

“My boy will need me,” Tersa said. “The winged boy will need me.”

She couldn’t argue with that. If Lucivar’s call for help was an indication that Marian’s illness had taken a turn for the worse, she would need all the assistance she could get to deal with Yaslana’s emotions. She’d been too caught up in her own grief—and the aftermath of the first night she’d spent with Daemon—to remember what Lucivar had been like when his father died. By the time she’d seen him, her pregnancy was the paramount concern, and Lucivar had been Lucivar—arrogant, demanding, and ready to stand on a killing field if that was what it took to protect someone who was a member of their family.

Manny walked into the front room with her own cloth travel bag, looked at Tersa’s, and said, “Mikal.”

Hell’s fire. She’d forgotten about the boy. Not forgotten, exactly, but she hadn’t known Tersa would be coming with her, so no provision had been made for the boy.

٭Holt,٭ she called. ٭Mikal needs to stay at the Hall for a few days. Tell him Manny and Tersa have gone with me to Ebon Rih.٭

٭We’ll take care of him,٭ Holt assured her.

She hustled the two older women into the small Coach she’d chosen for this trip. It was meant for short distances and didn’t have a toilet or sink. Hopefully no one would need such amenities.

Or was she hoping for an excuse to delay their arrival by needing to set down in a village somewhere to accommodate an older woman’s personal needs?

When had she become a coward?

When? It had happened on the day she’d realized that Daemon Sadi changed into the Sadist every time he saw her, spoke to her, made her desperate for him to take her.

Tortured her.

* * *

* * *

Lucivar knew the moment the Black arrived in Ebon Rih, knew by Daemon’s psychic scent that his brother had understood the message. By the time he reached the front room, the High Lord of Hell walked into his home—but it was his brother who reached out and held him.

“Bad?” Daemon asked.

“She’s unconscious. We can’t wake her. Nurian says it feels like a healing sleep, but it’s more, and it’s powerful, and it’s like nothing she’s seen before. She thinks if we try to break whatever this is, Marian won’t find her way back.” Lucivar rested his forehead against Daemon’s. “If the worst happens . . .”

“If her body dies, I will take care of her. If Marian no longer walks among the living, your children won’t lose their mother. It’s not like our family hasn’t included the demon-dead before. Daemonar might not remember Andulvar, but he’s old enough that he would have memories of his grandfather. We’ll adapt.”

“Right now, there’s just a body in that room, not their mother. If the body dies before Marian returns . . .”

“Then I will find her. Whatever I have to bend or break in order to do that, I will find her and bring her back.” Daemon’s hand closed around the back of Lucivar’s neck, both comfort and warning. “Do you understand me?”

Lucivar eased back enough to look at the man who held him. It didn’t matter what the rest of the Blood called Daemon—Prince, High Lord, Sadist—for him there was one word that meant all of those things and more: brother.

“I understand you.” He stepped back. “I’d better check on the children. Jillian’s been looking after them, but I’ve left her on her own long enough.”

As he turned to head for the playroom, Daemon fell into step beside him.

“I’ll check the food supplies, bring in what we’ll need,” Daemon said.

Lucivar snorted. “Give it a couple of hours. Rothvar came to find me when Nurian was called to the eyrie. By now all the Eyriens in the valley and most of the Blood in Riada know Marian is very ill. I expect the casseroles, cakes, and other offerings will be arriving anytime now.”

“Then I’ll handle that while you concentrate on the children.” Daemon hesitated. “You feel easy about Rothvar taking charge while you tend to things at home?”

“He’s a good man—and an honorable one.”

Lucivar knew why Daemon asked the question, and he knew Rothvar’s life depended on his answer. Prince Falonar had been sent away to serve in a Rihlander Queen’s court and had disappeared soon after. Most people assumed he’d gone into hiding somewhere in the Askavi mountains or, more likely, had returned to Terreille. Lucivar had always suspected that the man walking beside him was the only person who knew exactly what had happened to Falonar after he vanished from Lady Perzha’s court.

They heard the baby fussing before they walked into the playroom. Jillian looked frazzled as she rocked the baby, and Titian rushed over to them the moment they entered the room.

As Lucivar hugged his daughter, he scanned the room. “Where’s Daemonar?”