Dreams Made Flesh

witnessed by fire-breathing dragons and man-eating cats?
    Although, he probably shouldn't have snarled at Jaenelle when she suggested that he take off his wedding ring so that she could give it back to him. Guests be damned, he wasn't giving up his ring.
    "Would you like some brandy?" Saetan asked, his bland tone accenting his amusement.
    "No," Daemon snarled.
    "A sedative?"
    "No."
    "A whack upside the head?"
    Daemon glared at his father. "You're finding this too amusing."
    "Oh, I think I'm entitled," Saetan replied dryly.
    Suddenly feeling as if the ground was about to get yanked out from under him, Daemon stopped moving.
    "Anything you want to tell me?" Saetan asked.
    "No," he said, feeling wary.
    "In that case, since the guests are all assembled and Jaenelle will be own at any moment, let's go out and get you married. Again."
    Daemon winced. "It's not that we didn't…I mean, I meant to tell you before…Ah, Hell's fire."
    Saetan laughed. "It's just as well you are married already. If your nerves don't settle, you're going to be useless tonight."
    "Thank you. I so appreciate your confidence in me."
    Saetan's amusement faded. "I do have confidence in you, Prince. More than you realize." He walked over to the glass doors.
    "Wait." He crossed the room to stand next to his father. "There are a couple of things I wanted to tell you." He hesitated, not sure how to begin. "Lady Zhara came to see me last week, on behalf of all the Queens in Dhemlan. They asked me to rule as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan." He snorted softly. "I suspect they're asking out of fear rather than any real desire to have me rule…"
    "But?"
    Daemon looked out the door. The Queens who ruled the other Territories were out there, laughing and talking. The strongest Warlord Princes in the Realm were out there. All of them were connected to each other by the woman who was Kaeleer's Heart. Just as he was connected to all of them because of her. "But that was your place," he said.
    "That is correct. It was my place." Saetan paused. "Is it going to be yours? Are you going to accept?"
    "I told Zhara I would consider it, but I wouldn't make any decision until after Jaenelle and I returned from our honeymoon."
    "Are you going to accept?"
    He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Yes, I'm going to accept. It… feels right."
    Saetan rested a hand on Daemon's shoulder. "I think it is the right choice. For you…and for Dhemlan. Just don't expect Jaenelle to be cheerful whenever she has to dress up for a formal occasion."
    "She's already explained that."
    After giving Daemon a sympathetic pat, Saetan stepped back. "What's the second thing?"
    This was harder. If Jaenelle had wanted everyone to know why she no longer wore Ebony Jewels, she would have told her friends and family.
    Maybe it was fear on her part that if they knew it was possible for her to be exactly like she'd been, they'd want it so much, she'd give in to their desire instead of holding on to her own. But Saetan needed to know. At least, enough to let go of any regrets.
    "It's about Twilight's Dawn," Daemon said carefully.
    "A Jewel for Kaeleer's Heart," Saetan replied just as carefully.
    "She is what she wants to be."
    "And has lost nothing she regrets losing?"
    Daemon nodded. A cautious dance of words, so that neither of them would break faith with their Queen. "She's dreamed of having an extraordinary, ordinary life. Wearing Ebony Jewels, she could only have half of that. With Twilight's Dawn, she'll have all of it."
    "Do you know that for certain, Prince?"
    "Yes, High Lord. I know that for certain."
    They smiled at each other.
    "There is one more thing," Saetan said, calling in a folded piece of parchment and handing it to Daemon. "It isn't what you had originally intended, but I think it will do."
    Daemon unfolded the parchment and studied the words in the Old Tongue.
    A light brush against his inner barriers. He opened the first barrier, and his father's deep voice rolled through his mind as Saetan spoke those fluid words.
    Suddenly he was a child again, listening to that voice teaching him phrases in the Old Tongue in exactly the same way. He thought he'd learned the language from the scholars, but they'd only awakened the memories of what he'd learned from the man standing before him.
    He said the words over and over, until he wasn't sure if he was hearing his father's voice or his own.
    Another light brush against his mind, and Saetan withdrew.
    Folding the parchment, Daemon