“We head out, talk to people, and report back here each evening,” Lucivar said. “No excuses, no exceptions.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“We’re about to kick a lot of hornets’ nests, Bastard. Word is going to spread fast after we start, so it’s either reporting back or going in with Eyrien guards.”

“Well, that will make everyone eager to talk to us,” Surreal said.

They looked at her.

“I can take care of myself.” She gave them a sharp smile. “I’m good with a knife, remember?”

“And a crossbow,” Lucivar said. “We’re not likely to forget. That doesn’t change anything, witchling. My Territory, my rules.”

“Your . . . ?” She stared at him, and he knew the moment she understood what was about to change and what that would mean for him and Marian and their children. Then she nodded. “Okay, sugar. Your rules.”

“I’m going to contact Manny, see if she’s willing to stay here a while,” Lucivar said. “I’d like someone to be here with Marian while we’re checking the names on those lists, and Jillian needs some time to herself.”

“Sadi? If you have a moment?” Surreal asked.

Lucivar walked out of the front room.

Surreal had hit an unexpected patch of rough air that had thrown her into a free-fall spin. Could have caused serious, permanent damage, but this task would help her through it. She just had to find the courage to fly again—and she would. Even if she didn’t realize it yet—or appreciate it yet—Witch would help her find her balance by helping Daemon maintain his own balance.

“You’ll be all right,” he said quietly. “You’ll both be all right.”

* * *

* * *

Surreal looked at the beautiful, lethal, terrifying man she’d married. If he thought she was a danger to the Realm or the rest of the family, he would kill her without hesitation. She knew that to the marrow of her bones. But she also knew that he loved her and would protect her in every way he could. After she had come away from the Offering to the Darkness wearing the Gray, there were very few men who were powerful enough to be a threat. Daemon was one of them.

“Are you going to stay here at the eyrie?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he replied just as quietly. “I’ll stay at the Keep. Until we see this done, it’s not going to be safe to be around me.”

She nodded. What else could she do?

He stepped close, leaned in as if to kiss her, then hesitated. Before he could withdraw, she leaned toward him and touched her lips to his. Silent permission.

His kiss was warm, gentle, giving—full of affection and empty of desire.

“Will you come back to the Hall after this is done?”

“Of course.”

She didn’t press him for more of an answer. He was pulling back, a Black-Jeweled predator heading out to hunt. Better for both of them if she gave him the distance he needed.

“Tell Lucivar I’ll be in Hell for a while, but I’ll be back in time for his curfew.”

She smiled. “If you’re not, I’ll let him borrow my crossbow.”

Daemon laughed and walked out of the eyrie.

* * *

* * *

Marian didn’t know what to expect when Lucivar led her to his study, locked the door, and then put shields around the room to assure no one would interrupt them.

“We need to talk,” he said.

He looked troubled. Grim.

She struggled to keep fear out of her voice. “Lucivar? What’s wrong?”

Troubled. Grim. And not meeting her eyes, which wasn’t like him.

“I was the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih when you agreed to marry me,” he said, his voice rough with choked-back emotions. “You knew what you were walking into, what you’d have to deal with.”

“More or less,” she said dryly, remembering some of the adventures she’d had with Jaenelle Angelline.

That made his lips twitch in a hint of a smile. Then even that much humor faded. “More or less. Three Blood villages and a handful of landen villages. Farms. Rustic living compared to the fancier Rihlander towns and cities in other parts of Askavi. And Queens who formed their courts knowing they were going to be living under my hand, and if anyone crossed the lines I had drawn for what I would accept in this valley, they wouldn’t survive.”

“We’ve never had serious trouble here.” At least, not since Falonar’s attempt to kill you and take over Ebon Rih.

“You’re comfortable with the Queens and their courts, with the aristos living in the valley.” Another momentary smile. “Maybe not comfortable, but you’re used to dealing with them.”

Yes, she’d gotten used to the village women stopping by the eyrie when Lucivar wasn’t there in order to express a concern. She’d gotten used to Queens speaking to her in order to get a feel for how Lucivar might react to something that had come to the notice of their courts. They were always polite, even friendly at public events, but they didn’t have much in common with a hearth witch.

Since he seemed to be waiting for an answer, she said, “I’ve gotten used to dealing with them. They’re good women, and good people serve in their courts.”

“We’ve had a good life here. Haven’t we?”

Had a good life? “Lucivar . . .”

“I made a promise, Marian. I’m sorry for what it will do to you and the children, but I made a promise to my Queen, and I can’t break it.” The words almost sounded like a plea.

“I would be disappointed in you if you did.”

That he hadn’t moved since they’d walked into the study when he’d normally pace told her how difficult this was for him—whatever it was.

“Askavi doesn’t have a Territory Queen,” he said. “Every Province has a Queen, and there are District Queens who rule under them.”

He was right, of course. Every other Territory in Kaeleer had a Queen who ruled over the rest of the Queens. With one exception. “Is that important?”

“It wasn’t. It is now.”

“Why now?” She suspected the reason was locked in the communal eyrie, awaiting Lucivar’s judgment, but felt the question needed to be asked.

“Because the District Queens aren’t doing their jobs anymore. They’re ignoring problems, and the Province Queens are letting them get away with it because they don’t have to answer to anyone. Or they haven’t had to answer to anyone for long enough to forget what it was like to face the Demon Prince when they failed to hold the lines of acceptable behavior and live by the Old Ways of the Blood.”