“Surreal?” Lucivar’s voice softened. “Until that moment, I will do everything I can to help you. You just need to tell me what’s wrong.”

He’d slept in the same bed with Sadi. If he couldn’t feel what was wrong, how could she explain it? And damn it, now that Sadi wasn’t here, now that the sexual heat that poured out of him wasn’t creating a need in her that was also a misery, she missed him. Wanted him.

“There is nothing wrong.” She pointed at the basket. “You want me to sort those for you?”

“Sure. Thanks.” As she reached for the basket, Lucivar said, “Has he told you about the headaches?”

Surreal frowned. “Headaches? Sadi?”

“For months now. Bad ones. Nurian makes a blend of herbs for a healing brew that reduces the pain and helps him sleep, but it’s not as effective as it was in the beginning, and she says it’s not safe to make the brew any stronger.”

Surreal put the basket back on the desk. “Why is Nurian making this healing mixture?”

“Because the Healer in Halaway was more interested in having Daemon come back to her for help than actually helping him.”

Now she understood why he’d insisted that she and Jaenelle Saetien be seen by the Healer in Amdarh who served in Lady Zhara’s court. Did Sadi believe the Healer in the village would be so foolish as to do something to his wife or daughter in order to insert herself into his life? Could the headaches be the reason for his cruelty in bed?

“He didn’t tell me.”

“And I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

For months now. Months. “Does Nurian know what’s causing the headaches?”

Lucivar shook his head. “She can’t find any physical reason. But I know this: Daemon can endure a lot of pain. If this gets bad enough to break something inside him, nothing and no one will be safe.”

Surreal swallowed hard. She’d married him because she was pregnant and he wouldn’t let her walk away with his child. She’d married him because she’d loved him for a long time. And she’d married him because he needed to stay connected to the living, and she’d felt strong enough to do that. Had been strong enough until sex with him had become a demoralizing addiction.

“If Manny and Tersa aren’t ready to leave . . .”

“I can get them back to Halaway.” Lucivar stepped close, rested his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “Sometimes you can’t fix things once they’re broken.”

“Are we broken? Sadi and me?” she whispered. Was he talking about her marriage or the man she’d married?

“I hope not. If you need help, I’m here.”

Manny and Tersa wanted to stay another day, so Surreal left the small Coach for whomever Lucivar assigned to take the older women home. Catching the Gray Winds, she rode toward Dhemlan and home.

At the last minute she altered direction and went to Amdarh instead of going all the way to SaDiablo Hall. She needed an evening alone to think. She needed a day at the family’s town house, away from Sadi and Yaslana.

Sadi had been in pain for months and had hidden it from her. Until the headaches were under control, she would have to endure the sexual addiction he’d created in her.

* * *

* * *

Daemon stepped off the landing web in front of SaDiablo Hall and found himself surrounded by snow-covered children and Scelties.

“Papa!” Jaenelle Saetien flung her arms around him in welcome, transferring a fair amount of snow from her coat to his.

“Hello, witch-child.” He hugged her, grateful for the welcome. “Mikal.”

“Sir.”

٭Daemon!٭ Morghann, wild with excitement, scratched at his legs for attention.

Khary, his gray and white fur blending with the snow and shadows, just wagged his tail and leaped into another snowbank, disappearing until Mikal lifted him out of the snow.

“Aren’t you cold?” Daemon asked. “I’m cold. Let’s go inside and you can tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“Lots of things!” Jaenelle Saetien sounded gleeful.

Ah, Hell’s fire. Since a quick scan of the Hall didn’t reveal any broken walls or windows or holes in the roof, the children couldn’t have caused too much trouble. He hoped.

When they walked in, they were met by Beale and a dozen maids and footmen armed with towels for drying off Scelties and children, and baskets to carry the snow-encrusted clothes to the laundry rooms, where they would be dried.

Divested of his own coat and promising to meet the children in the family room to hear all the news, he waited until he was alone with Beale and Holt, who had come out of the study when he’d heard the commotion.

“Marian was wrapped in a powerful healing spell,” Daemon said quietly. “She rose out of it yesterday evening and will recover.”

“That’s good news,” Holt said.

Daemon nodded. “For all of us.” He looked at Beale and raised an eyebrow in question.

“There were a few . . . spats . . . but differences of opinion were resolved,” Beale said. Then he added blandly, “Some teeth were involved.”

Whose teeth? Noting the steely look in his butler’s eyes, Daemon said, “Was a Healer required?”

“No, Prince.”

“Then I don’t need to know.”

“That would be for the best.”

Sweet Darkness. Daemon turned to Holt, who said, “I have nothing that can’t wait for an hour or two.”

“In that case, I’ll be up in the family room.”

It had once been a private sitting room used by adults and visiting children. Now, as the family room and Jaenelle Saetien’s playroom, it still had a lived-in shabbiness seen nowhere else in the Hall. Overstuffed bookshelves held children’s books and stories for the Scelties. Cupboards held games and toys. A hodgepodge of comfortable, worn furniture that was no longer suitable for the public rooms ended up here, where rough use by children and Scelties didn’t matter.

“We’re helping Morghann and Khary learn how to count,” Jaenelle Saetien said as soon as she and Mikal and the Scelties piled onto a sofa with him.

“They’re as smart as some of the boys at school,” Mikal said. “Smarter.”

٭One, two, three, four, five,٭ Morghann said.

“Yes, there are five of us on the sofa,” Daemon agreed.