Twilight's Dawn

his heart.
    “Prince,” Witch said, smiling.
    “Jaenelle,” he whispered, reaching for her.
    His hand went through hers, but when she reached up and rested that same hand against his face, he felt the warmth of her, breathed in the familiar scent of her. She had chosen to show him the Self that lived in the Misty Place deep in the abyss, to show him the dream that had lived within the human flesh.
    She was showing him his Queen rather than his former wife.
    “How can you be here?”
    “This is a shadow, an illusion.”
    “I know, but . . .”
    She looked at him with those haunted, ancient sapphire eyes. One hand still rested against his face; the other now rested against his chest, over his heart.
    “Jaenelle Saetien . . .”
    “Is the daughter of your blood, the daughter of your heart, and the daughter of your dreams. She is those things to Surreal as well. Two dreamers, Daemon, yearning for the same dream.”
    His brain felt sluggish. He couldn’t get past that he was seeing her again, feeling her touch—but he had to try because his daughter waited for him.
    His daughter. And Surreal’s.
    “You know about me and Surreal?”
    Her cat claws pricked his chest. “The Arachnian Queens tended the web until it was ready to be more than dreams, but I’m the one who first gave it shape because of what I saw in a tangled web years before I became a song in the Darkness. You could have married someone else, and you might have had children. But not this child, Daemon. Not this one. This one needed a mother who had known you before you came to Kaeleer, who had known me.”
    “This one?” Words tumbled through his mind. Webs. Visions. Dreams.
    He turned his head and looked toward the spot where he’d left his little girl—and suddenly it made sense. “Jaenelle Saetien is . . . ?”
    “Dreams made flesh.” Witch smiled. “Your dreams. Surreal’s dreams. And my dreams for both of you.”
    Like Jaenelle Angelline, but not the same.
    “Daemon.”
    He turned back to her. “I don’t know what to do.”
    “Don’t you? It’s simple, Prince. Listen to your heart. It’s healed. It’s whole. You loved me as a wife with all your heart for the whole of my life. You will love me as your Queen for the whole of your life. But there is someone else you love now, Daemon, and it’s time for you to share your heart with more than your daughter.”
    He closed his eyes and said nothing.
    “Stubborn snarly male. Do you need my permission to love the woman who is now your wife, to acknowledge what you feel for her?”
    “I don’t love Surreal the way I loved you. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you.”
    “I know. But you do love her, Daemon.”
    “Yes. I do.”
    Her voice softened. “Then it’s time you told her.”
    She stepped back, and the loss of her touch raked his heart.
    He opened his eyes and studied her, drinking in her face. “Will I see you again?”
    She hesitated, then said, “Your daughter will, when she needs to, but you need to let go of the past. However, you won’t be alone. No one understands what it’s like to stand so deep in the abyss. No one understands what it’s like to know there is no one who can touch the most private part of your Self. Saetan was the strongest protector the Realms had ever known, but he also made mistakes because even Andulvar’s presence at the depth of the Ebon-gray wasn’t enough to keep him from feeling isolated and alone. You’re not alone there, Daemon.”
    “How can I not be . . .”
    What had Jaenelle Saetien called the Lady in the Misty Place? The Song in the Darkness. He’d heard it when he stood in the abyss at the full depth of his power, when he knew, with absolute certainty, that he was alone. But that song had been there, a voice that wrapped around him down where it wasn’t possible for anyone else to be. He thought he imagined it being Jaenelle’s voice because he missed her so much, but she’d been with him all along.
    “You won’t be alone,” she said again.
    “For how long?”
    Witch smiled. “Long enough.”
    He thought about that web of power that spiraled from the Misty Place down into the Darkness. Enough power to keep her with him in this one way, to keep him balanced for a lifetime.
    And because he had this assurance that she was still with him in some way, he began letting go of what could no longer be.
    “May I tell Lucivar about any of this?”
    “He’s your brother. You can tell him anything.” She took a