Queen of the Darkness

hold on her tightened. "Not yet. Sit with me a little while longer. Please."
    She relaxed against him. "We'll get them back, Daemon."
    Father. Brother. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her head, needing the warmth and contact. "Yes," he murmured, "we'll get them back."
----
    17 / Kaeleer
    Ladvarian studied the chamber that would be Witch's home for a while. An old carpet that he had brought from the Hall covered the stone floor. He had also taken a couple of lamps that used candle-lights and lots of scented candles. The narrow bed Tersa had given him was in the center of the chamber. The trunk was beside it and held a few changes of clothes, a couple of the books Jaenelle liked to read when she needed to snuggle up and rest for a day, her favorite music crystals, and some grooming things.
    He had brought no pictures because three walls and the ceiling of the chamber were covered with layers of healing webs. The back of the chamber was filled with the tangled web of dreams and visions that had shaped the living myth, dreams made flesh, Witch.
    *Is it ready?* he respectfully asked the large golden spider who was the Weaver of Dreams.
    *Web is ready,* the Arachnian Queen replied, delicately brushing a leg against one of the drops of blood sealed in shielded water bubbles. *I add memories now. But... Need human memories.*
    Ladvarian bristled. *She was our dream more than theirs.*
    *But theirs, too. Need kindred and human memories for this Witch.*
    Ladvarian's heart sank. It had been easy with the kindred. He had told them what was required and that it was for the Lady. That's all the kindred had needed to know. But humans would want to know why, why, why. They would take time to persuade—and time was something he didn't have.
    *The Strange One will help you,* the spider said.
    *But the Lady knows packs of humans, whole herds of humans. How—*
    *The First Circle have strong memories. They will be enough. Ask the Gray Black Widow. For a human, she is a good weaver.*
    She meant Karla. Yes. If he could persuade Karla...
    *Wait for the right time to ask. After Witch has gone to her own web. The humans will listen better then.*
    *I'll go to the Keep now and wait.* Ladvarian looked around one more time. There was nothing left to do. The chamber was ready. The tangled web was ready. The kindred who belonged to the Lady's court were gathered on the Arachnians' island to give their strength to the Weaver's web when the time came.
    *One more thing,* the spider said. *Gray dog. You know this dog?*
    An image appeared in Ladvarian's mind. *That's Graysfang. He's a wolf.*
    *Send him to me. There is something he must learn.*
----
    18 / Terreille
    It was a war camp, not the sort of place he would have looked for Hekatah or Dorothea. Around the wide perimeter, metal stakes had been driven into the ground every few yards. Embedded in the stakes were two crystals, one on each side, spelled so that anything going between them would break their contact with the crystal in the next stake and would alert the guards. The camp itself had clusters of tents for the guards, a few small wooden cabins built close together near the camp's center, and two wooden huts that had heavily barred windows and layers of guard spells around them. In front of the cabins were six thick wooden stakes that had heavy chains attached to them. For prisoners. For bait.
    As soon as he walked past the perimeter stakes, they knew he was coming. On the journey there, he had thought again about what he was going to do. He could kill Hekatah and Dorothea. He could unleash the strength of his Black Jewels, destroy everyone in the camp, and take Lucivar, Marian, and Daemonar home. But it wouldn't stop the war. Terreille needed to be confronted with a power that would terrify the people sufficiently that they wouldn't dare fight against it. So it always came back to provoking Jaenelle enough for her to unleash her Ebony power and give the Terreilleans a reason to stay in their own Realm.
    As he walked toward the center of the camp, guards followed him. No one approached him or tried to touch him.
    Round candle-lights set on top of tall metal poles lit the bloodstained bare ground at the exact center of the camp. Lucivar was chained to the last stake. The lash wounds on his chest and thighs had scabbed over and didn't appear to be deep enough to cause him serious harm. There were bruises on his face, but those, too, would cause no permanent damage.
    Saetan