If you recognize it, it belongs to Ms. Bishop. I just can't resist playing in her sandbox.
Chapter 1- The Letters
Lady Sylvia, Queen of Halaway wearily sank down into her favorite dark green chair. She stroked the upholstery of the arm, thinking of all the long restless nights it had seen her through and wondering if she had done the right thing.
When Saetan retreated after his ordeal and the Purge she hadn't understood why he would leave her, why he could bear to end what they had when she couldn't. She could understand the loss of her lover, understand and bear no ill will. It was the loss of her dearest friend that made her heart ache. As she had told Daemon, he had taught her what she deserved from a lover and that was the most precious gift of all. Did he, in turn, deserve the heartbreak she had sent to him so impersonally?
He had a right to know of the child they had created together. She had planned to tell him before the Purge, but after it was all over he refused to see her and her courage withered. Her next thought had been to tell him after the babe was born and she could present him with his child without the awkward months of pregnancy that he would feel obligated to protect her through. But then that too had not come to pass.
After hours of agonizing labor unlike any she had ever experienced, she had given birth to a stillborn daughter. The midwife had whisked the tiny body from the room to protect the queen from the sight of her dead child so she never even knew whether the girl favored herself or Saetan. The only thing she had been able to do for her baby was give her the name she had been stitching onto blankets and onesies for months. Andulvarian. The feminine spelling of Saetan's best and oldest friend, one of the demon dead who had sacrificed himself for all the Blood. The name was carved on a little grave stone in Sylvia's garden in a place only she knew of.
Saetan so would have loved a baby girl to spoil and dote upon as he had been unable to with Jaenelle. And her brothers, all four of them would have driven the girl to distraction with their incessant fussing. Throughout her pregnancy, which she had hidden with a series of illusion spells, she had written daily letters to Saetan about the baby and all her hopes and dreams for the child. After the birth however, she had succumb to grief. She cut her hair with a kitchen knife, unable to bear looking at herself in the mirror every morning and seeing the same woman who had been so happy for so brief a time. It had taken a horrified hairstylist hours to salvage a fashionable cut from the wreckage. During this time she had written a last letter to Saetan detailing the events that took place and her own grief. He should have the right to mourn this child as he had mourned the loss of his sons centuries ago.
She had never intended to give the letters to Daemon, perhaps she never truly meant to send them at all. After all, sometimes ignorance is bliss and as much as Saetan had the right to mourn his child she had no desire to confront him. No desire to cause him undue pain, despite how much his actions had hurt her. Nothing could be done for Andulvarian now, other than to honor her memory the best she was able.
Mother Night, let her have done the right thing.
20 years later
Shock, excitement, and anger danced along Witch's nerves as she looked into the tangled web before her. Some secrets should be kept, she knew, but not at the expense of her family.
Ice bloomed along the walls of her workroom as dark power rolled through the Hall. Jaenelle felt her husband's attention shift her direction. Lady? She leashed her anger and stepped back from the killing edge knowing that her snarly male would insist on accompanying her if he believed she had need of him.
It is of no importance, she replied on a private thread, I have business to attend to but I will return later. She felt his psychic nod of deference to her answer, acknowledging that she would tell him what had momentarily sent her to the killing edge when she was ready.
Why would Sylvia do something like this? She had seemed so in love with Saetan. Too in love to play the bitch and hide his only blood daughter from him. She would have to question Sylvia herself to find the answers she needed.
Sylvia sat in her study staring at the closed door. She had sent her servants away earlier that day when she began to notice that things were not quite right. Her sons, thank the Darkness, were living on their own now and were out of the way of what would happen next. Of whatever was coming.
In the silence of the house the quiet footsteps sounded like thunder. A simple courtesy, letting her know she was no longer alone. Using craft to open the door Sylvia prepared herself to face Witch.
"Lady Angelline," she greeted cautiously, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where is she?"
"I don't understand. Who are you looking for Lady?" Sylvia watched as ice spread across the walls and windows. Witch had gone cold and until Sylvia knew how to appease her no one was safe in Halaway.
"The girl, Lady Sylvia, your daughter, my father's daughter," came the midnight reply. "I wish to know where you have hidden my sister." Sylvia's heart stopped.
Witch took a seat across from her, a carefully calculated distance that gave the illusion of companionable conversation but kept the other woman within reach of those deadly nails. No, Witch was not here as a friend this night.
But how to answer the question? Had she talked to Saetan and misunderstood that the baby had died? Why now? Surely he would not wait twenty years to tell his children about their baby sister. Taking a deep breath she answered, "Jaenelle, I'm not sure what you've heard but the child was stillborn. I never even had the chance to hold her. I wrote all of this to Saetan twenty years ago."
Frustration entered Jaenelle's eyes, driving out some of the ice. "The webs never lie, Sylvia. I saw a crying child grow into a laughing woman. She is alive." Sylvia felt a brush against her barriers and willingly opened her mind. Witch visibly relaxed, becoming the woman Sylvia knew so well. "Papa never read your letters Sylvia, to my knowledge he had Daemon put them away. No one read them and no one knows about the girl…"
"Andulvarian," she interrupted hoarsely, meeting Jaenelle's eyes. "I named her Andulvarian."
Jaenelle nodded. "No one knows of Andulvarian but the two of us. I believe we have been deceived and that she is hidden somewhere."
Sylvia stood up, pacing the floor trying to hold back tears. She had to get her back, had to find the child she had mourned for so long. And Saetan never even knew about her, his youngest daughter. His living daughter. May the Darkness have mercy, she would have to tell him!
Glancing to the side she saw Jaenelle watching her with a knowing gleam in her eye. "Sylvia, while you go tell Papa the good news, I'll go round up Daemon and Lucivar. We must find her immediately." There was something in Jaenelle's expression that she couldn't quite place, some foreign mixture of emotion that she didn't understand.
Witch was gone before she could question it.
When Sylvia arrived at the Keep Draca was waiting for her at the front door. The ancient queen said nothing as she guided Sylvia to the library where she assumed Saetan spent most of his time now.
Despite her ties to the family, and the Dark Court, all those years ago she had only set foot in the Keep on a handful of occasions and was amazed at the architecture and atmosphere of the place every time. Even the corridors and public rooms held a hushed quiet that the most comfortable and familiar of guests hated to disturb. This fortress, cut from the very mountain, was the home of Witch and all who entered here knew that.
Forcing her mind away from the dark beauty of her surroundings, Sylvia was alarmed to realize how close they were to the library. Feeling her heart begin to pound she tried to calm herself. Panicking in front of a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince was never a good idea. Panicking in front of a Black Jeweled Warlord Prince who had reason to be very, very angry with you was suicide.
Draca stopped just outside of the carved double doors, her manner making it plain that Sylvia was on her own from this point on. Taking a breath to steel herself she entered the library.
He was standing at a blackwood table pouring over some text that she was sure was both obscure and ancient. His clothes were what Jaenelle had always said were good for slouching, but while he may look informal he was still nothing less than breathtaking. She must have made some sound because he glanced over his shoulder at her with a small smile. That smile was replaced with wariness as he recognized her and turned to give her his full attention.
"Sylvia," his deep voice warmed her in a moment of remembrance, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Twenty years and they still couldn't even be in the same room comfortably.
"Saetan there is something that we must discuss. Something that should have been discussed long ago." Her voice trembled slightly when she answered him, drawing a slight frown to his face. He so hated for women to fear him.
He made a motion as if to come toward her but then stepped back and gestured her to a sitting area tucked against the wall. She moved past him, careful not to brush against her former lover, and sat rigidly on the edge of a wingback chair. Saetan walked fluidly to a silver tray she had not noticed before that held two ravenglass goblets and a carafe of what she assumed was Yarbarah. He made a ritual of pouring the wine and heating it over a tiny tongue of Witchfire.
He was stalling.
Finally, he made his way back to the sitting area and settled uncomfortably into a chair after handing her one of the goblets. Fixing his gold eyes on her he watched as she took a hesitant sip.
"Now, my dear, what has you seeking me out and yet frightened to speak with me?" He had never been one to let her pretend.
She took a steadying breath. "Twenty years ago I bore a daughter. Your daughter." The words were coming faster now. "The midwife said she was stillborn, I never even got to hold her, but tonight Jaenelle said she is alive somewhere. I need to find her Saetan, we need to find her." Tears filled her eyes as the words fell out and she watched the High Lord of Hell's face go blank.
When he spoke his voice was calm, so calm. "Why did you never tell me this?"
"I sent you letters. I didn't think you would see me. I gave them to Daemon but Jaenelle said you never read them."
"You sent me letters to let me know that my child was dead. Why did you not speak to me personally, I would have met with you?" Hurt and anger warred for dominance within him that she would keep something of this magnitude from him out of sheer cowardice.
"Because it didn't matter!" She sobbed as she tried not to scream at him. "She was dead and nothing could change that, so why bring it up, why cause both of us more pain. But that's all changed now Saetan. She's alive and she needs us. Be angry with me, I know what I did was wrong, but help me find her. If for no other reason than to make sure she's alright."
The room had gone cold as she spoke. The man before her was not the same man she had shared a bed with for so many nights, this man was a predator capable of anything. But while she feared what he may do in his rage she knew he would find Andulvarian.
He was a heartbeat away from killing her for her deception and he knew it. Taking a deep breath through his mouth so not to smell her fear he took that one small step away from the edge. "I assume since Jaenelle has spoken with you that she has already gone to find my sons. We will find her and bring her home safely if that is her wish. She will be an adult by this time and capable of making her own decisions."
"Thank you," Sylvia murmured tearfully.
"Don't thank me yet my dear, this still has to be explained to the rest of my children and they just arrived."