Queen of the Darkness

believe it could still live. But the kindred do not doubt. The kindred will not believe anything else. That is why, if it can be done, they are the ones who can do it." She jumped up and ran out of the room.
    Surreal waited a moment, then followed. She didn't find Tersa, but she found Graysfang hovering nearby, whining anxiously.
    She studied the wolf. Kindred do not doubt. They would sink in and fight for that dream with fangs and claws and never give it up. Well, she would never have a snout that could smell tracks, but she could damn well learn how to be as stubborn as a wolf. She would sink her teeth into the belief that Jaenelle was simply recovering somewhere private after performing an extremely difficult spell. She would sink in and hold on to that.
    For Jaenelle's sake.
    For Daemon's sake.
    And for her own sake, because she wanted her friend to come back.
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    Chapter Sixteen
    1 / Kaeleer
    Daemon walked down the steps that led to the garden in the Hall, the garden that had two statues.
    When he woke up from the sedative Surreal and Saetan had given him, he had asked to leave the Keep. They had gone with him. So had Tersa.
    Lucivar hadn't.
    That had been a week ago.
    He wasn't sure what he'd done during the days since. They had simply passed. And at night...
    At night, he crept from his own bed into Jaenelle's because it was the only place he could sleep. Her scent was there, and in the dark, he could almost believe that she was simply away for a little while, that he would wake one morning and find her cuddled up next to him.
    He stared at the statue of the male, with its paw/hand curved protectively above the sleeping woman. Part human, part beast. Savagery protecting beauty. But now he saw something else in its eyes: the anguish, the price that sometimes had to be paid.
    He turned away from it, walked over to the other statue, stared at the woman's face—that familiar, beloved face— for a long, long time.
    The tears came—again. The pain was always there.
    "Tersa keeps telling me that it will be all right, to trust one who sees," he told the statue. "Surreal keeps telling me not to give up, that the kindred will be able to bring you back. And I want to believe that. I need to believe that. But when I ask Tersa about you directly, she hesitates, says it's too soon to know, says the kindred are fighting to hold the dream to the flesh. Fighting to hold the dream to the flesh." He laughed bitterly. "They're not fighting to hold the dream to flesh, Jaenelle. They're fighting to put enough of you together again for there to be something for the dream to come back to. And you knew what would happen, didn't you? When you decided to do this, you knew."
    He paced, circled, came back to the statue.
    "I did it for you," he said quietly. "I bought the time, I played the game. For you." His breathing hitched, came out in a sob. "I knew I would have to do some things that wouldn't be forgiven. I knew it when you asked me to go to Hayll, but I did it anyway. F-for you. Because I was going to come back to you, and the rest of it wouldn't matter. B-because I was coming back to you. But you sent me there knowing you wouldn't be here when I got back, knowing..." He sank to his knees. "You said no sacrifices. You made me promise I wouldn't make any sacrifices. But what do you call this, Jaenelle? What do you call this? When I got back, we were going to get m-married.... And you left me. Damn you, Jaenelle, I did this for you, and you left me. You left me."
    He collapsed on the grass near the statue, sobbing.
    Lucivar rested a fist against the stone wall and bowed his head.
    Mother Night. Daemon had gone into that game expecting to come back for his own wedding. Mother Night.
    He was here because Marian had ripped into him that morning, giving him the full thrust of the temper that lived beneath her quiet nature. She'd told him that, yes, he'd been hurt, but he'd been hurt to save them. She'd asked him if he would have preferred losing a wife or son in truth in order for his feelings to be spared. And she'd told him that the man she had married would have the courage to forgive.
    That had brought him here.
    But now...
    When they'd both been slaves in Terreille, he and Daemon had played games before, had used each other, had hurt each other. Sometimes they'd done it to relieve their own pain, sometimes it had been for a better reason. But they'd always been able to look past those games and forgive the hurt because there