Twilight's Dawn

service fair in the first place. Eyrien culture and tradition were already rooted here, Falonar. It’s just not the same as what you left.”
    Falonar’s mug shattered. “Back in Askavi, if a bitch like you spoke to me like that, I’d have you whipped.”
    Surreal called in a towel and tossed it on the bar to sop up the coffee. “Bitch like me. Yes, let’s address that final topic before you go. Well, two topics really, and that’s the second one. You know what none of you big strong Eyriens have admitted? Except Lucivar. The man may be a pain in the ass, but he does have brains. You all came to the Shadow Realm expecting the other races to be cowed by a warrior race. Because that’s what the Eyriens are, aren’t they? Warriors, bred and trained. But no one was cowed by Eyriens because, in Kaeleer, you are not the race that is feared.”
    Surreal slowly reached up and hooked her long black hair behind one delicately pointed ear. “They are called the Dea al Mon. The Children of the Wood. They know as much about fighting as you do. Maybe more, since they have always followed the Old Ways of the Blood. Which brings us to the last topic—my bloodlines.”
    “You have no bloodlines.” Falonar’s voice was harsh, and his hands were clenched.
    “On my sire’s side, you’re probably right.”
    “You have no connection to the SaDiablos beyond what they give you.”
    “That’s true too. I don’t have one drop of blood in common with Lucivar or Daemon or the High Lord. I only used that name when I came to Kaeleer as a way to spit in Dorothea SaDiablo’s face. But the High Lord decided to let that claim stand and accepted me as family. So you’re correct that calling myself a SaDiablo doesn’t give me the right to call myself aristo. My mother, on the other hand ...” She brushed her finger over the curve of her ear. “My mother was a Dea al Mon Queen and Black Widow. If she hadn’t been broken by Dorothea’s son and then murdered by one of the bitch’s assassins, she could have been the Queen of the Dea al Mon’s Territory. As it was, when she made the transition to demon-dead, she became the Queen of the Harpies. So no matter how you turn it, my mother’s bloodline is more than aristo enough to make up for any lack by the cock and balls who sired me.”
    She straightened up and stared at him across a slab of wood that either of them could destroy in a heartbeat.
    She vanished her Green Jewel and called in her Gray. Then gave him a moment to remember just whom he’d been trying to play with.
    “My mother and I skinned my father and hung him up as meat for the Hell Hounds while he was still alive. We soaked in a hot spring and listened to him scream while they fed. So I think I come by my interest in, and skill with, a knife honestly. Don’t you?”
    He backed away from her. Backed all the way to the door.
    She waited until he flew away before she used Craft to turn the physical lock. Then she added a Green lock on the door.
    She cleaned up the coffee and broken mug, relieved that Briggs must have some kind of shield on the wood to keep it from being damaged by spills.
    Then, having made her decision, she sent a Gray psychic thread to a Black mind.
    *Sadi?*
    *Surreal?*
    *Are you busy?*
    *That depends on what you want.*
    She heard the amusement in his voice and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was better if he felt amused. *I’d like you to find out what you can about Falonar’s bloodlines.*
    Cold now shivered along that psychic thread.
    *Why?* he asked too softly.
    *I have a suspicion that one of the things that bothers him the most about Lucivar—and now me—is the realization that we come from families that are far more aristo than his, and I’m curious why that matters so much.*
    *If you want this to stay between the two of us, it will take a couple of days. You know what Lucivar is like when he has to deal with paperwork, and I think this particular deluge is going to test his self-control. Besides, Father and I promised to work up a rough draft of a contract for serving the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.*
    Yes, she knew what Lucivar was like. A tiger with a sore paw was more agreeable than Yaslana confronted with a stack of paperwork. *It can wait.*
    She broke the link and went back to preparing The Tavern for business. A few minutes later, Rainier tapped on the door. He had two loaves of sweet-and-spice bread to serve with the soup, along with some pastries just for her.
    Pushing Falonar to