Twilight's Dawn

possible?* she asked. *Have you seen signs that Jaenelle might be a natural Black Widow?*
    *She’s too young for there to be any sign that she belongs to that caste. I don’t think Tersa meant to indicate that Jaenelle was another Sister of the Hourglass.* But she could have meant exactly that. With Tersa, it was hard to tell. *Besides, Tersa stood as your witness too, didn’t she?*
    *Yes, she did,* Surreal replied softly. *Yes, she did.*
    Five minutes later, Tersa and Jaenelle walked out of the Sanctuary. Jaenelle held nothing in her hands, and there was no Jeweled pendant around her neck.
    Daemon’s heart sank, but he smiled at his girl—and the happy smile she gave him in return almost broke him.
    *Daemon . . . ,* Surreal said.
    “My Jewel hasn’t arrived yet,” Jaenelle said. “My friend said it might come late because its presence would confuse the other children.”
    “Finish the Ceremony,” Tersa said.
    Daemon looked at the Priestess. “I don’t understand what—”
    “Prince,” Tersa said. “You will have no answers until the last choice is made.”
    He moved away from Surreal until he stood in the spot where the other men had stood.
    “Come here, Jaenelle,” Surreal said. She placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and looked at him.
    “I, Surreal SaDiablo, acknowledge Prince Daemon Sadi as the father of Jaenelle Saetien SaDiablo. I grant him all paternal rights from this day forward.”
    Surreal raised her hands. Jaenelle walked the distance between them and took the hand he held out to her. Even though his hand closed around the child’s, his eyes never left the woman’s.
    *She’s yours now,* Surreal said on a psychic Gray thread.
    *Thank you.*
    *Let’s hear you say that the next time she asks an ‘interesting’ question.*
    He huffed out a quiet laugh. *Smart-ass.*
    That made her smile.
    “Well,” Daemon said, as he led Jaenelle back to the rest of the family. “Let’s finish up here so we can go to the estate and have our party.”
    “We can’t go yet,” Jaenelle protested. “We have to wait for my Jewel!”
    “Witch-child . . .”
    Jaenelle and Tersa turned at the same moment, looked in the same direction. Jaenelle pulled away from him and ran off. Before he could take off after her, Tersa froze him in place with three words.
    “She has come.”
    He stared at his mother, a Black Widow who walked the roads of the Twisted Kingdom. She had changed his life centuries ago with those same three words.
    “Daemon.” Surreal looked stricken, but she squared her shoulders and said, “Go.”
    Not sure how much pain he was leaving behind him, he ran after his daughter.
    She was walking back to him when he caught up to her, her smile brilliant as she clutched a pendant, its gold chain spilling over her hands.
    “Look at my Jewel, Papa! Isn’t it wonderful?”
    He looked at the Jewel in her hands and sank to his knees.
    “I told the Priestess that I would have a Rose and a Summer-sky and a Purple Dusk and an Opal and a Green as my Birthright, but she said I could only have one, and I knew that wasn’t right because the Lady had shown me this Jewel and said it used to be hers but now it would be mine. It even has a name! It’s called—”
    “Twilight’s Dawn,” he whispered.
    “Yes.” She beamed at him. “She said you would understand and teach me how to use it.”
    His mind was spinning. His heart was in turmoil. “Who said this, witch-child?”
    “My special friend. The Lady in the Misty Place. The one who’s called the Song in the Darkness.”
    He swallowed a sob. Pain? Joy? He couldn’t tell. “Where . . . ?”
    “She’s over there.” Jaenelle turned and pointed. “She’s waiting for you. She said I should wait for you here.” She rolled her eyes. “And that I should let you put a shield around me.”
    “She always was a wise Lady.”
    Jaenelle hesitated. “She said, when you were ready, you would tell me stories about her. About when she lived in the Realms. She said Uncle Lucivar and Mama could tell me stories too.”
    “They can. They will.”
    He stood up. After a moment’s hesitation, he put a Red shield around his darling witch-child, since Lucivar or Surreal could break it and get her out. Just in case he didn’t come back.
    He walked over to the place where she had pointed. One moment he felt nothing. The next . . .
    Not the Misty Place, but not the grounds of the Sanctuary either.
    And there she was. Witch. The living myth. His love and