Queen of the Darkness

fill the vessel inside that space.
    Alexandra felt that rushing flood of power start to crush her, then felt another source of dark power balance and control that flood, to keep her mind from shattering. Something inside her snapped and, for a fleeting second, she felt intense pain and agonizing grief.
    And then she felt nothing at all.
    Alexandra woke slowly. She was lying in a bed, covered up and comfortably warm, but it only took a moment for her to realize something was wrong. Her head had an odd stuffed-with-wool feeling, and her body ached as if she had a fever.
    She opened her eyes, saw Saetan sitting in a chair near the bed, and said hoarsely, "I don't want you."
    "I don't want you either," he replied dryly as he reached for a mug sitting on the bedside table. "Here. This will help clear your head."
    With a grunt, she propped herself up on one elbow—and saw her Opal Jewels, the pendant and ring, lying on the table. They were empty, completely drained of the reservoir of stored power.
    Instinctively, desperately, she turned inward, reaching for the depth of her Opal strength. She couldn't even reach the depth of the White. She was sealed off from the abyss, and her mind felt as if it had been encased in stone.
    "You still have basic Craft," Saetan said quietly.
    Alexandra stared at him in horror. "Basic Craft?"
    "Yes."
    She continued to stare as she remembered that crushing flood of power and the fleeting moment of pain. "She broke me," Alexandra whispered. "That bitch broke me."
    "Take care what you say about my Queen," Saetan snarled.
    "What are you going to do?" she snapped. "Rip my tongue out?"
    He didn't have to answer. She saw it in his eyes.
    "Drink this," he said too quietly as he handed her the mug.
    Not daring to do otherwise, she drank the brew and handed the mug back to him.
    "I'm not even a witch anymore," she said as tears filled her eyes.
    "A witch is still a witch, even if she's broken and can no longer wear the Jewels. A Queen is still a Queen."
    Alexandra laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's so easy to say, isn't it? What kind of Queen can I be? Do you really think I can hold a court around me?"
    "Other Queens have. Psychic strength is only one factor that attracts strong males and entices them to serve. You don't need that kind of strength if you have the use of theirs."
    "And do you think I can hold on to a strong-enough court to remain the Queen of Chaillot?"
    "No," Saetan replied quietly after a long pause. "But that has nothing to do with your ability to wear Jewels."
    She choked on the insult, not daring to do anything else. "Do you realize what's going to happen to Chaillot now?"
    "Your people will, in all probability, choose another Queen."
    "There isn't another Queen strong enough to be accepted as the Territory Queen. That's why—" — I still rule. No, she couldn't say that to him.
    She pushed herself into a sitting position, then waited for her head to clear. That odd, muffled feeling would go away eventually, but the sense of loss never would. The bitch who had masqueraded as her granddaughter had done this to her. "She's monstrous," she muttered.
    "She is the living myth, dreams made flesh," Saetan said coldly.
    "Well, she wasn't my dream," Alexandra snapped. "How that repulsive, distorted creature could be anyone's dream—"
    "Don't cross that line again, Alexandra," Saetan warned.
    Hearing the edge in his voice, she hunched to make herself smaller. She could grit her teeth and hold her tongue because she had no choice, but she couldn't stop thinking about that creature. It had lived in her house. She shuddered. Every year at Winsol, we dance for the glory of Witch. Every year, we celebrate that.
    She didn't realize she had spoken out loud until the room turned to ice. "I want to go home," she said in a small voice. "Can you arrange that?"
    "It would be my pleasure," Saetan crooned.
----
    4 / Kaeleer
    Daemon stared with intense dislike at the blackwood hourglass floating outside Jaenelle's door. When he'd noticed it the first time he'd tried to check on Jaenelle, Ladvarian, the Sceltie Warlord, had explained what it meant. So he had accepted Ladvarian's offer to act as guide and had done a little exploring of the Keep. Returning an hour later, he'd discovered that the hourglass had been turned, the sand trickling into the base to mark another hour of solitude. This was the third time the sand had almost run out, and this time he was going to be waiting at the door when the last