He ignored the young men’s protests and turned to Rothvar. ٭I’m going to find my boy. You get to shelter and take the pup with you.٭

٭Done.٭ Rothvar studied the sky and the advancing storm. ٭Not a good time to be flying.٭

٭No.٭ Turning away from all of them, he launched himself into the air and flew into the storm, heading for Ebon Askavi, the most likely place to find his son.

* * *

* * *

Hearing the quick knock, Daemon gave the Consort’s bedroom one swift look to be sure he’d eliminated all signs that he’d been hurt. Then he opened the door.

“Geoffrey?” He smiled at the Keep’s historian/librarian.

Geoffrey didn’t return the smile. “You’re needed.”

They hurried away from the Queen’s section of the Keep and continued on until they reached one of the areas reserved for guests and visitors. Spotting the boy and the Warlord Prince who stood next to him, Daemon rushed past Geoffrey.

“Daemonar! What . . . ?”

Daemon looked at Chaosti, who rested a hand on the shoulder of the defiant, bloodied, trembling boy. Still a Gray-Jeweled Warlord Prince, Chaosti had been the Warlord Prince of the Dea al Mon before he’d died in his sleep at the natural end of his life. He’d been a vigorous old man who made the transition to demon-dead with enviable ease, continuing his role as an advisor to those who now ruled his people. More important to Daemon, he had become a friend again over the past few years.

“I’m glad I beat the snot out of those wingless Jhinkas,” Daemonar shouted. “I’m glad!”

Calling anyone a Jhinka—a winged race that was an old enemy of the Eyriens—was the worst kind of insult. And calling someone a wingless Jhinka was the epitome of insults if you were an Eyrien boy.

“There’s a fire going in the sitting room,” Chaosti said, nodding to the open door. “I’ve asked for a basin of warm water and cloths, but there hasn’t been time to find out what sort of damage our little Brother has done to himself.”

They led the boy into the sitting room and stripped him out of his drenched clothes, since he’d managed to reach one of the Keep’s courtyards before the storm began pounding on the mountain, but hadn’t reached shelter. Between them they washed the simple cuts—Daemon using healing Craft on a couple of deeper ones—and examined him for injured muscles and damaged bones. Bruised ribs, a split lip, and some cuts, including ripped skin on his knuckles. The worst injury was a broken bone in the boy’s left arm.

After setting the bone, Daemon wrapped healing spells around the damage, then added a shield to hold the bone. And then . . .

“Hell’s fire, Uncle Daemon.” Daemonar stared at his arm in disgust. “What is that?”

“That?” Daemon looked mildly surprised by the question. “That, boyo, is a shield that will keep your forearm protected until the bone fully heals.” He turned to Chaosti. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Chaosti studied the arm and said solemnly, “It’s quite obvious.”

“It’s blue,” Daemonar protested. “It’s bright blue. Everything and everybody will be able to see it halfway up the mountain!”

Daemon smiled at his nephew. “Only halfway? Maybe I should . . .”

Daemonar tucked the arm beneath the blanket they had wrapped around him.

Setting aside the healing supplies, Daemon remained sitting on the footstool. “It’s time to tell us what this was about,” he said with a quiet gentleness that wasn’t any less a command made by the patriarch of the family.

Daemonar shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t tell you.”

Daemon felt cold anger whisper through his blood, saw the flash of fear in Daemonar’s eyes—felt Chaosti descend to the level of the Gray. Not that Gray could survive against the Black. Not that a man who was demon-dead didn’t understand what it meant to challenge the High Lord of Hell.

“They said mean things about Jillian and about . . . I won’t tell you. I won’t.”

“If you feel it isn’t prudent to tell your uncle what was said, are you willing to tell me?” Chaosti asked.

Did the boy realize or remember that Chaosti had a family connection to Surreal? Probably not, since Daemonar looked relieved at the suggestion.

“All right,” Daemon said. “You give Prince Chaosti a full report, including everything that was said. He will decide if it’s best that your father and I not know the details.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rising, Daemon walked to the door. He looked back to see Daemonar studying the bright blue shield—and saw Chaosti’s amused smile before the Dea al Mon Warlord Prince settled his lined face into a suitably grave expression before sitting on the footstool Daemon had just left.

He’d barely closed the door when he felt the presence of the Ebon-gray. Lucivar walked toward him, soaked to the skin, gold eyes hot with temper.

“Is he here?” Lucivar asked. “And when did you get back?”

Get back? He hadn’t left the Keep. At least, his body hadn’t left.

“He’s here,” Daemon replied. “He’s fine. Better than you.” Grabbing Lucivar’s arm, he hauled his brother into another room, dragging him the last few feet until they reached the fireplace. Using witchfire, Daemon lit the logs that were stacked in the grate before turning to his brother. “Hell’s fire, Lucivar! What were you thinking, flying through a storm like that? You could have been hit by lightning.”

“Almost was. Twice.”

“Idiot.”

“You would have done the same.”

“Of course I would have, but that doesn’t make you any less of an idiot.”

Lucivar smiled and moved a little closer to the fire. “Temperature has dropped. Almost got hit with some hailstones that would fill the palm of my hand.”

“Get out of those wet clothes.” Daemon called in a couple of the towels from the bathroom in the Consort’s suite. As soon as Lucivar stripped out of the clothes, Daemon handed him one towel and then started wiping down Lucivar’s back and legs, checking for injuries. “Are your wings all right?”

Lucivar opened them. “They’re fine.” He didn’t give Daemon time to pat the wings dry before he closed them and turned around. “The boy.”

“He’s bruised and a bit bloody. Has a broken bone in his left forearm. That’s the worst of it. What happened? I gathered he was in a fight, but he wouldn’t tell me what started it. He is giving Chaosti a full report.”