Heir to the Shadows

could hunt him down. And once he got away far enough from the effects of the storm, he could catch the Winds and just disappear.
    "But where were you hiding that I didn't feel your presence before?" Saetan snarled, grinding his teeth in frustration as Prothvar landed beside him in the garden.
    The Eyrien Warlord held out a torn black silk scarf. "I found this near the south tower."
    Saetan stared at the scarf Greer had worn the first time he came to the Hall. His golden eyes glittered as he turned toward the south tower. "I've been too complacent about Hekatah's games and Hekatah's pets. But this pet has made one mistake too many."
    "Hekatah!" Cursing, Prothvar dropped the scarf and wiped his hand on his trousers. Then he smiled. "I don't think her pet left as intact as he came. There are also wolf prints near the south tower."
    Wolf. Saetan stared at the south tower. A wolf and Greer. Bait and an abductor? But that snarl, that clash of Jewels.
    A movement on the balcony caught his eye.
    Jaenelle looked down at them. Andulvar's arm was around her shoulders, tucking her close to his left side. His right hand still held the large, wicked-looking war blade.
    "Papa, what's wrong?" Jaenelle called.
    With a nod to Saetan, Prothvar vanished the scarf and slipped into the shadows to stand guard.
    Saetan slowly crossed the garden and climbed the stairs, frustrated that the lingering effects of the witch storm made it impossible for him to use Craft to keep anyone else from reaching her rooms.
    Andulvar stepped back as Jaenelle flung herself into Saetan's arms. He kissed her head, and the three of them went into her bedroom.
    "What happened?" Jaenelle said, shivering as she watched Andulvar close the balcony doors and physically lock them.
    That she had to ask indicated too much about her state of mind. Saetan hesitated. "It was nothing, witch-child," he finally said, holding her close. "An unexplained noise." But was it something she had seen or felt that had triggered those memories?
    Andulvar and Saetan exchanged a look. The Eyrien Warlord Prince looked pointedly at the bed, then at the balcony doors.
    Saetan nodded slightly. "Witch-child, your bed's a bit... rumpled. Since it's so late, rather than waking a maid to change it, why don't you stay in my room tonight?"
    Jaenelle's head snapped up. There was shock, wariness, and fear in her eyes. "I could make up the bed."
    "I'd rather you didn't."
    Saetan felt her reach for his mind and waited. Unless she deliberately picked his thoughts, he could keep the reason for his concern from her but not the feeling of concern.
    Jaenelle withdrew from him and nodded.
    Relieved that she was still willing to trust him, Saetan led her to his suite across the hall and tucked her into his bed. After Andulvar left to check the south tower, he poured and warmed a glass of yarbarah, and settled into a chair nearby. A long time later, Jaenelle's breathing evened out, and he knew she was asleep.
    A wolf, he thought as he watched over her. A friend or an enemy?
    Saetan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. The headache was subsiding, but the past hour had left him exhausted. Still, he kept seeing that print in the garden, a spelled message someone was supposed to understand.
    But that snarl, that clash of Jewels.
    Saetan snapped upright in the chair and. stared at Jaenelle.
    Not all the dreamers who had shaped this Witch had been human.
    It fit. If it was true, it all fit.
    Maybe, since Jaenelle hadn't gone to see her old friends, they were starting to come to her.

6 / Hell
     
    Hekatah screamed at Greer, "What do you mean she's alive?"
    "Just what I said," Greer replied as he inspected his torn arm. "The girl he's keeping at the Hall is that pale bitch granddaughter of Alexandra Angelline."
    "But you destroyed her!"
    "Apparently she survived."
    Hekatah paced the small, dirty, sparsely furnished room. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. She glanced at Greer, who was slumped in a chair. "You said it was dark, difficult to see. You never got into the room itself. It couldn't be the same girl. He told you she walked among the cildru dyathe."
    "He called her Jaenelle," Greer said, examining his foot.
    Hekatah's eyes widened. "He lied about it." Her face turned ugly with rage and hate. "That gutter son of a whore lied about it\"
    Then she remembered that terrifying presence on the cildru dyathe's island. If the girl was really alive, she could still be shaped into the puppet Queen whom Hekatah