Dreams Made Flesh

carriage."
    "Are you going to look all snarly and fierce?" she asked, fighting against another burst of laughter.
    He rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best." And if he didn't get them away from here in a hurry, they were both going to be rolling on the floor, laughing like fools.
    After contacting the carriage driver they'd hired for the evening, he strode out of the conservatory…and almost ran into Surreal. The look in her eyes told him she was primed for a fight. She couldn't take him, but he respected her as an adversary…and she'd fight him until he killed her if she thought Jaenelle needed the protection.
    "I'm taking her home," Daemon said. "She's hysterical."
    "I am," Jaenelle bubbled. "I really am." She turned her head to look at Surreal.
    "Yeeesss, I can see that," Surreal said, narrowing her gold-green eyes.
    Because he didn't want Surreal to worry about Jaenelle, he shifted his bundle of witch, drawing her attention to his hands. Then he dropped the sight shield around his wedding ring for a moment.
    Brushing past Surreal, he said, "I'll send the carriage back for you and Lucivar."
    "You do that," Surreal muttered.
    No one else tried to stop him, no one else even dared speak to him as he walked out of the house and settled his Lady in the carriage. Jaenelle might find his fierce and snarly look amusing, but the rest of the Blood at the party finally began to realize he was a male they should fear. And very soon, they would understand why.
    Surreal stood just inside the conservatory, wanting a few moments alone to ponder.
    Had she really seen what she thought she'd seen? Sadi… wearing a wedding ring? He and Jaenelle. Married?
    "Surreal?" Lucivar stepped into the conservatory.
    "He took her home. She was hysterical."
    Grim worry filled Lucivar's eyes. "Hysterical?"
    "She was laughing so hard, I don't know what else to call it."
    The grimness faded but the worry remained.
    Wanting to ease the worry, she said, "So what did Jaenelle say that made you snort wine out your nose?"
    He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I should repeat it."
    She tipped her head to one side. "You tell me what she said, and I'll tell you what I just found out."
    So he told her, and when she managed to stop laughing, he growled, "What did you find out?"
    She took his left hand and tapped a finger against the gold band. "Daemon's wearing one of these." She wasn't sure how she expected Lucivar to respond, but she hadn't expected his concern to increase. "What's wrong?"
    He stared over her shoulder. "Do you know the only thing more dangerous than a Warlord Prince? A married Warlord Prince who has someone playing games with his life that could threaten his marriage."
    Suddenly nothing was amusing. Provoked, Daemon was dangerous enough. Pushed to defend something, or someone, who truly mattered to him…
    She shuddered. "What do we do?"
    "I don't know. I really don't know."
    "Let's split up. Maybe we can learn something that will help end this."
    Lucivar shook his head. "Daemon may already have all the information he needs."
    Shit. She had a good idea what that meant. "I'm going to the ladies' lounge and freshen up. I'll meet you at the front door. I think I'd rather wait for the carriage outside."
    He headed back to the ballroom to talk to Rainier, and she headed for the lounge. It had struck her as odd that a private home would have a "lounge" until she discovered the owners often "loaned" out the downstairs rooms for a "monetary gift." She didn't know why they couldn't just say they rented out their ballroom, but the lounge made sense, and right now, she was glad to have the privacy.
    1
    After taking care of personal needs, she sat down on a padded bench and closed her eyes.
    "Are you feeling all right?"
    Damn. She must be more tired than she thought. She hadn't even heard the woman enter.
    She opened her eyes and studied the woman who stood nearby, looking concerned. The face looked vaguely familiar, but she was certain she'd never met the other witch. She was also certain there was something about the woman that wasn't quite… right. Something that put her on edge. Something that made her want to call in a knife.
    She smiled and wrinkled her nose. "Just cramps," she lied. "Sometimes they're wicked mean."
    "I know the feeling. Let me get you something to drink."
    "No, that's all right." She shifted on the bench, prepared to get up and leave.
    "It's no trouble. Really."
    Suppressed excitement in the voice. A feverish glint in