spent the evening with demons, Guardians—and a Harpy. Can you honestly call that normal?"
"I've had this conversation before," Saetan growled. "And my answer is still the same: for her, that is normal."
Cassandra studied him for a moment before saying quietly, "Yes, you would see it that way, wouldn't you?"
He saw the room through a red haze before he got his temper tightly leashed. "Meaning what?"
"You became the High Lord of Hell while you were still living. You wouldn't see anything wrong with her having the cildru dyathe for playmates or having a Harpy teach her how to interact with males."
Saetan's breath whistled between his teeth. "When you foresaw her coming, you called her the daughter of my soul. But those were just words, weren't they? Just a way to ensure that I would become a Guardian so that my strength would be at your disposal for the protection of your apprentice, the young witch who would sit at your feet, awed by the attention of the Black-Jewelled Witch. Except it didn't work out that way. The one who came really is the daughter of my soul, and she is awed by no one and sits at no one's feet."
"She may be awed by no one," Cassandra said coldly, "but she also has no one." Then her voice softened. "And for that, I pity her."
She has me!
The quick, sharp look Cassandra gave him cut his heart.
Jaenelle had him. The Prince of the Darkness. The High Lord of Hell. More than any other reason, that was why Cassandra pitied her.
"We should join the others," Saetan said tightly, offering his arm. Despite the anger he felt, he couldn't turn his back on her.
Cassandra started to refuse his gesture of courtesy until she noticed Andulvar's and Titian's cold stares.
"Draca wants to talk with all of us," Andulvar growled
as soon as they approached. He immediately moved away from them, giving himself room to spread his wings. Giving himself room to fight.
Saetan watched him for a moment, then began reinforcing his own considerable defenses. They were different in many ways, but he'd always respected Andulvar's instincts.
Draca entered the room slowly, calmly. Her hands, as usual, were tucked into the long sleeves of her robe. She waited for them to be seated, waited until their attention was centered on her before pinning Saetan with her reptilian stare.
"The Lady iss fifteen today," Draca said.
"Yes," Saetan replied cautiously.
"Sshe wass pleassed with our ssmall offeringss."
It was sometimes difficult to perceive inflections in Draca's sibilant voice, but the words sounded more like a command than a question. "Yes," Saetan said, "I think she was."
A long silence. "It iss time for the Lady to leave the Keep. You are her legal guardian. You will make the arrangementss."
Saetan's throat tightened. The muscles in his chest constricted. "I had promised her that she could stay here."
"It iss time for the Lady to leave. Sshe will live with you at SsaDiablo Hall."
"I propose an alternative," Cassandra said quickly, pressing her fists into her lap. She didn't even glance at Saetan. "Jaenelle could live with me. Everyone knows who—and what—Saetan is, but I—"
Titian twisted around in her chair. "Do you really believe no one in the Shadow Realm knows you're a Guardian? Did you really think your masquerading as one of the living had fooled anyone?"
Anger flared in Cassandra's eyes. "I've always been careful—"
"You've always been a liar. At least the High Lord has been honest about what he is."
"But he is the High Lord—and that's the point."
"The point is you want to be the one who shapes Jaenelle just like Hekatah wants to shape Jaenelle, to mold her into an image of your choosing instead of letting her be what she is."
"How dare you speak to me like that? I'm a Black-Jeweled Queen!"
"You're not my Queen," Titian snarled.
"Ladies."Saetan's voice rolled through the room like soft thunder. He took a moment to steady his temper before turning his attention back to Draca.
"Sshe will live at the
"I've had this conversation before," Saetan growled. "And my answer is still the same: for her, that is normal."
Cassandra studied him for a moment before saying quietly, "Yes, you would see it that way, wouldn't you?"
He saw the room through a red haze before he got his temper tightly leashed. "Meaning what?"
"You became the High Lord of Hell while you were still living. You wouldn't see anything wrong with her having the cildru dyathe for playmates or having a Harpy teach her how to interact with males."
Saetan's breath whistled between his teeth. "When you foresaw her coming, you called her the daughter of my soul. But those were just words, weren't they? Just a way to ensure that I would become a Guardian so that my strength would be at your disposal for the protection of your apprentice, the young witch who would sit at your feet, awed by the attention of the Black-Jewelled Witch. Except it didn't work out that way. The one who came really is the daughter of my soul, and she is awed by no one and sits at no one's feet."
"She may be awed by no one," Cassandra said coldly, "but she also has no one." Then her voice softened. "And for that, I pity her."
She has me!
The quick, sharp look Cassandra gave him cut his heart.
Jaenelle had him. The Prince of the Darkness. The High Lord of Hell. More than any other reason, that was why Cassandra pitied her.
"We should join the others," Saetan said tightly, offering his arm. Despite the anger he felt, he couldn't turn his back on her.
Cassandra started to refuse his gesture of courtesy until she noticed Andulvar's and Titian's cold stares.
"Draca wants to talk with all of us," Andulvar growled
as soon as they approached. He immediately moved away from them, giving himself room to spread his wings. Giving himself room to fight.
Saetan watched him for a moment, then began reinforcing his own considerable defenses. They were different in many ways, but he'd always respected Andulvar's instincts.
Draca entered the room slowly, calmly. Her hands, as usual, were tucked into the long sleeves of her robe. She waited for them to be seated, waited until their attention was centered on her before pinning Saetan with her reptilian stare.
"The Lady iss fifteen today," Draca said.
"Yes," Saetan replied cautiously.
"Sshe wass pleassed with our ssmall offeringss."
It was sometimes difficult to perceive inflections in Draca's sibilant voice, but the words sounded more like a command than a question. "Yes," Saetan said, "I think she was."
A long silence. "It iss time for the Lady to leave the Keep. You are her legal guardian. You will make the arrangementss."
Saetan's throat tightened. The muscles in his chest constricted. "I had promised her that she could stay here."
"It iss time for the Lady to leave. Sshe will live with you at SsaDiablo Hall."
"I propose an alternative," Cassandra said quickly, pressing her fists into her lap. She didn't even glance at Saetan. "Jaenelle could live with me. Everyone knows who—and what—Saetan is, but I—"
Titian twisted around in her chair. "Do you really believe no one in the Shadow Realm knows you're a Guardian? Did you really think your masquerading as one of the living had fooled anyone?"
Anger flared in Cassandra's eyes. "I've always been careful—"
"You've always been a liar. At least the High Lord has been honest about what he is."
"But he is the High Lord—and that's the point."
"The point is you want to be the one who shapes Jaenelle just like Hekatah wants to shape Jaenelle, to mold her into an image of your choosing instead of letting her be what she is."
"How dare you speak to me like that? I'm a Black-Jeweled Queen!"
"You're not my Queen," Titian snarled.
"Ladies."Saetan's voice rolled through the room like soft thunder. He took a moment to steady his temper before turning his attention back to Draca.
"Sshe will live at the
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