Heir to the Shadows

that she shouldn't be channeling her power through her body right now. But he remembered that, behind the
    human mask, Witch had a tiny spiral horn in the center of her forehead, so he said nothing.
    She spent several minutes walking around, looking at the ground as if she wanted a particular site.
    Finally satisfied, she faced the north. Raising Kaetien's horn to the sky, she sang one keening note. She lowered her hands, pointed the horn at the ground, and sang another note. Then she swept her arms upward and began to sing in the Old Tongue.
    Witch song.
    Saetan felt it in his bones, felt it in his blood.
    A ghostly web of power formed under her bare feet and swiftly spread across the land. Spread and spread and spread.
    Her song changed, became a dirge filled with sorrow and celebration. Her voice became the wind, the water, the grass, the trees. Circling. Spiraling.
    . The still, white bodies of the dead unicorns began to glow. Mesmerized, Saetan wondered if, viewed from above, the glowing bodies would look like stars that had come to rest on sacred ground.
    Perhaps they were. Perhaps they had.
    The song changed again until it became a blend of the other two. Ending and beginning. From the land and back to the land.
    The unicorn bodies melted into the earth.
    Kindred didn't come to the Dark Realm. Now he knew why. Just as he knew why humans would never easily settle in kindred Territories without the kindred's welcome. Just as he knew what had created those pockets of power he'd avoided so carefully.
    Kindred never left their Territories, they became part of it. What strength was left in each of them became bound with the land.
    The ghostly web of power faded.
    Jaenelle's voice and the last of the daylight faded.
    No one moved. No one spoke.
    Coming back to himself, Saetan realized Lucivar's arm was around his shoulders.
    "Damn," Lucivar whispered, brushing away tears.
    "The living myth," Saetan whispered. "Dreams made flesh." His throat tightened. He closed his eyes.
    He felt Lucivar leave him and reach for something.
    Opening his eyes, he watched Lucivar support Jaenelle into the camp. Her face was tight with pain and exhaustion, but there was peace in her sapphire eyes.
    The coven gathered around her and led her into the trees.
    Talking quietly, the boys stirred the pots of stew, sliced bread and cheese, gathered bowls and plates for the evening meal.
    Beyond the firelight, the unicorns settled down for the night.
    Khary and Aaron took bowls of stew and water out to where Ladvarian and Kaelas were keeping watch over the foals.
    When the girls returned, Jaenelle was dressed in trousers and a long, heavy sweater. She gave Lucivar a halfhearted snarl when he wrapped her in a spell-warmed blanket and settled her on the log next to Saetan, but she didn't grumble about the food he brought.
    They all talked quietly as they ate. Small talk and gentle teasing. Nothing about what they'd done today or what still waited for them tomorrow. Despite their best efforts, they'd covered a very small part of Sceval, and only Jaenelle knew how many unicorns lived there.
    Only Jaenelle knew how many had been sung back to the land.
    "Saetan?" Jaenelle said, resting her head against his shoulder.
    He kissed her forehead. "Witch-child?" She didn't respond for so long he thought she'd dozed off. "When does the Dark Council next meet?"
    5 / Kaeleer
    Lord Magstrom tried to keep his mind on the petitioner standing in the circle, but she had the same complaints as the seven petitioners before her, and he doubted the twenty petitioners after her would have anything different to say to the Dark Council.
    He had thought that, when he became Third Tribune, his opinions might carry a little more weight. He had hoped his position would help quell the continued, whispered insinuations about the SaDiablo family.
    That none of the Territory Queens outside of Little Terreille believed there was any truth in those whispers should have told the Council something. That the Dark Council's judgments had been respected and trusted by all of the Blood races for all the years the High Lord and Andulvar Yaslana had served in the Council should have told them even more—especially since it was no longer true.
    Lord Jorval was First Tribune now, and it was disturbing how easily he shaped other Council members' opinions.
    And now this.
    "How can I settle the territory granted to me when my men are being slaughtered before they even set up camp?" the Queen