“So this is his fault.” Much better.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but you’re not wrong.”

They were alone in this part of the eyrie. When would she get another chance to ask the question? “I was told Daemon’s sexual heat is going to stay this potent for the centuries while he’s in his prime. The same thing must be happening with Lucivar. How do you endure it?”

Marian looked uncomfortable. “If this final stage has already happened, it must have been more gradual than what Daemon experienced. And Lucivar’s work takes him out of the eyrie for a good part of each day, while Daemon works at the Hall, so his sexual heat might . . . accumulate . . . despite the size of the place. A couple times each month, Lucivar stays away for a day or two, camping out on the mountain. There’s a hunting eyrie not far from here. Might have been a guard post long ago. It’s small, just big enough for a couple of men. His ‘weather bones’ don’t respond well to sleeping outside in the winter, so he’s fixed it up and keeps a good supply of wood for the fire. It’s close enough that he can be home in a few minutes if I need him, but it’s far enough away that . . .” She hesitated.

“That you don’t feel the heat,” Surreal finished.

“He’s my husband. I’ve gotten used to living with his heat, but the days when he’s away from home, it’s like breathing in crisp air after being inside a house that’s too warm. We’ve never talked about it, but I enjoy him more as a lover because of those absences.” Marian huffed out a breath. “And if we’re being honest, if Daemon is going to be spending a few days each month at the Keep in order to give you the same kind of breathing room, I hope Lucivar joins him at least part of the time.”

“Why?”

“Because things are about to change for him. He’s going to shoulder all the weight that Andulvar carried. I hope that won’t change things for him here in the valley. I hope it won’t change things for either of us here, because Ebon Rih is our home. But it’s going to change who he is to the rest of the people in Askavi—to the rest of Kaeleer.”

Surreal felt a shiver of alarm. “Marian? What are you talking about? What’s going to change? Is this more than Lucivar becoming the Warlord Prince of Askavi?”

“He told you?”

“He said enough that I heard what wasn’t said.”

“I had more time to get to know Andulvar and Saetan than you did,” Marian said. “I had more time to see why they needed each other. You wear the Gray, and there aren’t many who do, but there are some. There are some who know what it feels like to stand where you do in the abyss. But wearing the Ebon-gray and Black, Andulvar and Saetan were alone, vessels of power so dark and deep they had no one but each other. Just like Lucivar and Daemon.” She looked around. “Well. You have people waiting for you. We’ll get Morghann to the Hall when we find her.”

Nothing more to say right now and only one thing to do. Surreal hurried out of the eyrie and down to the landing web, where the Coach waited to take them home.

* * *

* * *

Daemon met Lucivar in one of the Keep’s parlors.

“Is that your first or second breakfast?” Daemon asked as he watched Lucivar shovel in a mouthful of oatmeal.

“I wasn’t expected, so I think this is part of yours.” Lucivar filled the spoon with another mound of oatmeal and held it out. “Open up.”

Taking the spoon, Daemon ate the oatmeal, then handed back the spoon. “Now I can say I ate my oatmeal and won’t get scolded. You can have the rest and I’ll have . . .” He lifted the covers off the serving dishes. “Steak, eggs, and mushrooms.”

“If Daemonar picks up that ‘one spoonful is sufficient’ piss-ass excuse from you, you and I will have words.”

“Don’t be silly, Prick. A growing boy needs his oatmeal.” Daemon filled his plate. “Besides, the last time Daemonar visited the Hall, I caught him sharing his bowl of oatmeal with Khary.” He waited a beat. “Sharing the bowl and sharing the spoon.”

Lucivar sighed. “His mother doesn’t need to know that.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell her. I wouldn’t take any bets on your boy, though.”

With a grunt that might have been suppressed laughter, Lucivar finished the oatmeal, then poured mugs of coffee for both of them.

“You sure about this?” Daemon asked. There were shadows in Lucivar’s gold eyes that hadn’t been there a few days ago.

“I’m sure it needs to be done.”

“Tonight?”

Lucivar nodded. “I brought the papers. They just need to be witnessed.”

“Then I guess we should take care of the other business today.”

“Yeah, I guess we should.”

* * *

* * *

Confined to the room in the communal eyrie, Dillon had plenty of time to think about the girls who had used him and the girls he, in turn, had used. He had plenty of time to consider the choices he’d made—and he wasn’t proud of most of them.

He should have stopped pursuing Jillian after Yaslana choked him for nothing more than a kiss and a feel—which he shouldn’t have done in the first place. At least, not in a public place, where the actions showed a lack of respect for the girl. He should have backed away from her once he realized she was too young despite being centuries old.

He should have stayed away from Blyte when she said, “If you loved me,” and then broke his heart and ruined his reputation.

He should have done—and not done—a lot of things.

They clearly disliked him for using the spell on Jillian, but the Eyriens had not been unkind. Whichever one was on guard escorted him to the showers in the morning and to the toilet a few times each day. They fed him, not that he had much of an appetite, and provided him with books to read as a way to pass the time. But no one would talk to him or tell him what was going to happen to him. He was confined and awaiting judgment.

As the days dragged on, he wondered if the waiting was part of the punishment.

The door opened. Dillon turned away from the window, expecting to finally face Yaslana. But it wasn’t Yaslana who walked into the room and closed the door; it was Daemon Sadi.

“Lord Dillon.”

Sadi’s deep voice curled around him. Tightened around him as the man glided across the room. Dillon took a step back, then another until his back was pressed against the wall and there was nowhere to go.

Sadi merely raised one eyebrow and waited a beat. “A decision has been made, Warlord,” the Prince said.