Heir to the Shadows

a covered courtyard where he was stretched out on the stones and regularly beaten.
    But that wasn't reason enough to cry.
    He'd been punished before, beaten before, whipped before, locked in dark cells before. He'd been sold into service to cruel, twisted witches before. He'd always responded by fighting with all the savagery within him, becoming such a destructive force they'd send him back to Askavi in order to survive.
    He hadn't once tried to escape from Pruul, hadn't once unleashed his volatile temper to rend and tear and destroy. Not that many years ago, Zuultah's and the guards' blood would have been splashed over the walls of this place and he would have stood in the rubble filling the night with an Eyrien battle cry of victory.
    But that was when he'd still believed in the myth, the dream. That was when he'd still believed that one day he would meet the Queen who would accept him, understand him, value him. Meeting her had been his dream, a sweet, ever-blooming flower in his soul. The Lady of the Black Mountain. The Queen of Ebon Askavi. Witch.
    Then the dream became flesh—and Daemon killed her.
    That was reason to grieve. For the loss of the Lady he'd ached to serve, for the loss of the one man he thought he could trust.
    Now there was only an emptiness, a despair so deep it covered his soul like the slime mold was covering his wings.
    There was only one dream left.
    The ache in his chest finally eased. Lucivar swallowed the last sob and opened his eyes.
    He'd always known where he wanted to die and how he wanted to die. And it wasn't in the salt mines of Pruul.
    Lucivar's legs vibrated from the strain. He sank his teeth into his lower lip until it bled. A couple more hours and the guards would release him to take him to the salt mines. More pain, more suffering.
    He would whimper a little, cringe a little. Next week he would cringe a little more when a guard approached. Little by little they would forget what should never be forgotten about him. And then . . .
    Lucivar smiled, his lips smeared with blood.
    There was still a reason to live.

6 / Terreille
     
    Dorothea SaDiablo stared at her Master of the Guard. "What do you mean you've called off the search?"
    "He's not in Hayll, Priestess," Lord Valrik replied. "My men and I have searched every barn, every cottage, every Blood and landen village. We've been down every alley in every city. Daemon Sadi is not in Hayll, has not been in Hayll. I would stake my career on it."
    Then you've lost. "You called off the search without my consent."
    "Priestess, I'd give my life for you, but we've been chasing shadows. No one has seen him, Blood or landens. The men are weary. They need to be home with their families for a while."
    "And ten months from now an army of mewling brats will be testimony to how weary your men are."
    Valrik didn't answer.
    Dorothea paced, tapping her fingertips against her chin. "So he isn't in Hayll. Start searching the neighboring Territories and—"
    "We've no right to make such a search in another Territory."
    "All those Territories stand in Hayll's shadow. The Queens wouldn't dare deny you access to their lands."
    "The authority of the Queens ruling those Territories is weak as it is. We can't afford to undermine it."
    Dorothea turned away from him. He was right, damn him. But she had to get him to do something. "Then you leave me at the mercy of the Sadist," she said with a tearful quiver in her voice.
    'Wo, Priestess," Valrik said strenuously. "I've talked to the Masters of the Guard in all the neighboring Territories, made them aware of his bestial nature. They understand their own young are at risk. If they find him in their Territory, he won't get out alive."
    Dorothea spun around. "I never gave you permission to kill him."
    "He's a Warlord Prince. It's the only way we'll—"
    "You must not kill him."
    Dorothea swayed, pleased when Valrik put his arms around her and guided her to a chair. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down until their foreheads touched. "His death would have repercussions for all of us. He must be brought back to Hayll alive. You must at least supervise the search in the other Territories."
    Valrik hesitated, then sighed. "I can't. For your sake and the sake of Hayll ... I can't."
    A good man. Older, experienced, respected, honorable.
    Dorothea slid her right hand down his neck in a sensuous caress before driving her nails into his flesh and pumping all of her venom through the snake