Twilight's Dawn

since Rainier, and we were never lovers, never had that kind of bond. Plenty of men since then have been willing to entertain a short-term liaison, especially if it got them an invitation to sit at a dinner table with Daemon and talk about whatever grand idea they had that needed a little financial backing. But men from the short-lived races didn’t want to have children who wouldn’t reach true adulthood in their lifetime, and men from the long-lived races saw their offspring’s lives cut short if I was the mother. I never fit in to either place. Sadi knows all that, but he wants this child too, regardless of whatever life span it may have. And I have the feeling that if he doesn’t have someone soon who can make a claim on his heart, he’ll become so cold and distant we’ll all lose him. Or he’ll become so lonely, he’ll accept the illusion of love and end up like his father, with a woman who loves ambition more than him. Well, I do love him, and I know he probably will never love me. But I can keep him from being alone, and I can give him a family of his own.”
    “And what will you get?” Lucivar asked.
    “I’ll get a family too.”
    “Is that enough?”
    “I’ll find out.”
    “Then I guess I should talk to him about the wedding.”
    “I need to talk to him first. Could you stay around for a little while?”
    “All right.”
    “Lucivar? Did you know Sadi is the High Lord now?”
    Her words froze Lucivar’s heart. He’d suspected that Daemon had begun absorbing that side of Saetan’s duties years ago—Sadi was, after all, Saetan’s true heir—but he hadn’t wanted to see the evidence, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge what had been unspoken until now. He’d been afraid that once he admitted that Daemon was the High Lord, he would lose the man who was his brother.
    He understood Surreal’s decision now. The Realms couldn’t afford to let Daemon slide into an isolated, lonely existence. None of them wanted to see Daemon repeat the mistakes in Saetan’s life—or see the rise of someone like Hekatah because of those mistakes. The new High Lord of Hell needed to be kept tethered to the living because the simple truth was he was more dangerous than his predecessor.
    “Go on and talk to him,” Lucivar said. “Get things settled between you.” He paused. “And then get off your feet.”
    He thought her answer landed squarely on the side of bitchy, which pleased him because it meant she was feeling a little better—and he’d take bitchy over tears any day.

    Surreal found Daemon standing in the middle of his study, watching her with those glazed gold eyes.
    “I have some conditions,” she said. “If you can agree to them, I’ll marry you.”
    “I’m listening,” he crooned.
    Her throat closed up. She was dancing on the knife’s edge by making any demands of him, but now was the only time such things could be said—if she could get her voice working again.
    He moved toward her slowly. He probably thought his movements weren’t threatening. Unfortunately, until things were settled between them, there was nothing about him that wasn’t threatening.
    “Let me tell you what I think are some of your concerns,” he said as he stepped close enough to touch her. “The wife of the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan has to make a commitment to be faithful to her husband and take no lovers. Naturally, she would want the same commitment from her husband. Yes?”
    “Yes,” Surreal whispered, staring at the Black Jewel peeking through the unbuttoned opening of his white silk shirt.
    “But I don’t think you want to be married and celibate,” Daemon continued, his voice becoming a soothing caress. “And I think you enjoyed the pleasure I gave you in bed. Yes?”
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    “So one of your conditions is that I be a husband to my wife in every way? That I don’t deny you the pleasure and comfort of sex?”
    She nodded, still not daring to look into his eyes.
    “I was aware of that when I made the offer, Surreal,” he said gently. “I can’t promise you a husband’s love, because I don’t know if I have that in me anymore. But I can promise you all of the social courtesies, all of the physical courtesies. That much I can, and will, give you.”
    He lifted her chin with one finger, a silent command to look at him. “Is there anything else?”
    “No. Yes. I don’t want to be locked up here for the next ten months!”
    “If I agree to that, you, in turn, will try to