Queen of the Darkness

ruff.
    "Daemon, this is Lord Ladvarian," Saetan said. "Ladvarian, this—"
    *A Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince,* Ladvarian said as he danced around in front of them. *He's a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince. I have to tell Kaelas.* The dog dashed down the corridor and disappeared.
    "Mother Night," Saetan said under his breath. "Come on. Let's get out of here before you meet anyone else. You've already had a sufficient amount of education for your first day in the court."
    "He's kindred," Daemon said weakly as he followed Saetan. "When Lucivar said someone named Ladvarian would be pleased to see me, I thought... Unless he meant someone else?"
    "No, that's Ladvarian. He would have gone to the service fair to look for you himself, but kindred aren't well received in Little Terreille, and I wasn't willing to risk him. His ability to explain kindred behavior to humans and human behavior to the kindred makes him unique. And his influence on Prince Kaelas is not to be taken lightly."
    "Who's Kaelas?"
    Saetan gave him an odd look. "Let's save Kaelas for another day."
     
    Daemon studied the well-kept cottage and neat yard. "I'd always wanted Tersa to live in a place like this."
    "She's comfortable here," Saetan said, opening the front door. "A journeymaid Black Widow lives with her as a companion. And then there's Mikal," he added as they followed the sound of voices to the kitchen.
    Daemon stepped into the kitchen, gave the boy sitting at the kitchen table a quick glance, and then focused on Tersa, who was muttering to herself as she busily arranged an assortment of food.
    Her black hair was as tangled as he remembered it, but the dark-green dress was clean and looked warm.
    The boy hastily swallowed a mouthful of nutcake before saying in a suspicious voice, "Who's he?"
    Tersa looked up. Joy brightened her gold eyes and made her smile radiant. "It's the boy," she said as she rushed into Daemon's arms.
    "Hello, sweetheart," Daemon said, feeling swamped by the pleasure of seeing her again.
    "He's not a boy," the boy said.
    "Mikal," Saetan said sternly.
    Leaning away from Daemon, Tersa looked at Mikal, then back at Daemon. "He is a large boy," she said firmly. She pulled Daemon toward the table. "Sit down. Sit. There is food. You should eat."
    Daemon sat across from the boy, who openly regarded him as an unwelcome rival. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
    Mikal rolled his eyes. "It's not a school day."
    "But you did finish the chores your mother assigned to you before you came here," Saetan said mildly, accepting the glass of red wine Tersa offered him while his eyes never left Mikal.
    Mikal squirmed under that knowing stare, and finally muttered, "Most of them."
    "In that case, after we've eaten, I'll escort you home and you can finish them," Saetan said.
    "But I have to help Tersa weed the garden," Mikal protested.
    "The weeds will still be there," Tersa said serenely. She looked at the two "boys," frowned at the glasses of milk she held, then put both of them in front of Mikal. She patted Daemon's shoulder. "He is old enough for wine."
    "Thank the Darkness," Daemon said under his breath.
    The meal was eaten with little conversation. Saetan inquired about Mikal's schoolwork and got the expected evasive answers. Tersa tried to make mundane comments about the cottage and garden, but each time the remarks became more disjointed.
    Daemon clenched his teeth. He wanted to tell her to stop trying. It hurt to watch her struggling so hard to walk the borderland of sanity for his sake, and seeing the concern and resentment in Mikal's eyes as her control continued to crumble stabbed at him.
    Saetan set his wineglass on the table and rose. "Come on, puppy," he said to Mikal. "I'll take you home now."
    Mikal quickly grabbed a nutcake. "I haven't finished eating."
    "Take it with you."
    When they left, with Mikal still loudly protesting, Daemon looked at Tersa. "It's good to see you again," he said softly.
    Sorrow filled her eyes. "I don't know how to be your mother."
    He reached for her hand. "Then just be Tersa. That was always more than enough." He felt her absorb the acceptance, felt the tension drain from her body.
    Finally, she smiled. "You are well?"
    He returned the smile and lied. "Yes, I'm well."
    Her hand tightened on his. Her eyes lost focus, became distant and farseeing. "No," she said quietly, "you're not. But you will be." Then she stood up. "Come. I'll show you my garden."
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    7 / Kaeleer
    Saetan shifted to a sitting position on the