Queen of the Darkness

seduction spell Hekatah had woven around him. Oh, he'd been aware of it, could have easily broken it—but he had let his body respond to it while he touched Hekatah. Kissed Hekatah. Hated Hekatah.
    Just a game. A nasty, vicious game.
    He barely made it to the chamber pot before he was quietly, but thoroughly, sick.
----
    10 / Terreille
    "It's your turn, Prick."
    Because he was looking for it, because he knew what to look for, Lucivar saw the sick desperation in Daemon's eyes.
    So he remained passive while Daemon unchained him and led him into the other prison hut, the one closest to them. And he stayed impassive while Daemon feverishly rumpled the small bed.
    Then he let out an anguished Eyrien war cry that startled Daemon badly enough to fall onto the bed.
    "Hell's fire, Prick," Daemon muttered as he stood up.
    "Convincing enough?" Lucivar asked mildly.
    Daemon froze.
    All the masks dropped away. Lucivar saw a man physically and emotionally exhausted, a man barely able to stay on his feet.
    "Why?" he asked quietly.
    "I had to buy Jaenelle some time. I needed your hate to do it."
    That simple. That painful. Daemon would regret it, deeply regret it, but he wouldn't hesitate to rip out his brother's heart if that's what Jaenelle needed from him. Which was exactly what he had done.
    "You're here with Jaenelle's consent," Lucivar said, wanting the confirmation.
    "I'm here at her command."
    "To play out this game."
    "To play out this game," Daemon agreed quietly.
    Lucivar nodded, let out a bitter laugh. "Well, Bastard, you've played a good game." He paused, then said coldly, "Where are Marian and Daemonar?"
    Daemon's hand shook a little as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Since Surreal didn't have to blast anyone with the Gray to get away from here, I have to assume she safely reached the hiding place where I had left them. They're all at the Keep by now."
    Lucivar let that sink in, allowed himself a moment's relief and joy. "So now what happens?"
    "Now I create a shadow of you, and you head for the Keep. Stay on the Red Wind. The darker ones are unstable."
    Shadows. Daemon never could have created shadows that convincing. Not by himself. And Jaenelle... Jaenelle, having grown up around Andulvar and Prothvar, would have expected an Eyrien warrior to be able to accept the pain of the battlefield, no matter what that battlefield looked like.
    "What do you need?" Lucivar asked.
    Daemon hesitated. "Some hair, skin, and blood."
    "Then let's play the game through."
    They worked together in silence. The only sound Lucivar made during that time was a sigh of relief when Daemon slipped the Ring of Honor over his cock and used it to remove the Ring of Obedience in a way that wouldn't be detected.
    Putting on the Ebon-gray Jewels Daemon had returned to him, he watched the final steps to the spell that would create a shadow of himself. And shuddered when he saw the tormented, anguished creature whose lips were pulled back in a rictus grin.
    "Hell's fire, Bastard," Lucivar said, feeling queasy. "What was it you did to me that I would have ended up looking like that ?"
    "I don't know," Daemon replied wearily. "But I'm sure Hekatah can imagine something." He hesitated, swallowed hard. "Look, Prick, for once in your life, just do as you're told. Get to the Keep. Everyone who matters the most to you is waiting for you there."
    "Not everyone," Lucivar said softly.
    "I'll get the High Lord out." Daemon waited.
    Lucivar knew what Daemon was waiting for, what he hoped for. He wanted to be told that Saetan wasn't the only one left who mattered.
    Lucivar said nothing.
    Daemon looked away, and said wearily, "Let's go. There's one more game to play."
----
    11 / Terreille
    Saetan stared at the bangles lying on the ground. Why had Daemon made such a point of them? And why did they chill him so much?
    He hissed in frustration, then jolted at the sibilant sound.
    "You wish to undersstand thiss?" Draca had asked.
    Bangles floating in a tank of water. Draca holding an egg-shaped stone attached to a thin silk cord. "A sspiral."
    The stone moving in a circular motion, spiraling, spiraling, until all the water was in motion, all the bangles caught.
    "A whirlpool," Geoffrey had said.
    "No," Draca had replied. "A maelsstrom.... Sshe will almosst alwayss sspiral.... You cannot alter her nature.... But the maelsstrom.... Sshield her, Ssaetan. Sshield her with your sstrength and your love and perhapss it will never happen."
    "And if it does?" he had