Fallen So Far

Chapter 1

Daemon Sadi did not know how to show emotion. Centuries of hiding pain, fear, and doubt had rendered him useless when it came to expressing anything beyond cruel amusement. Before this, he had never felt the lack.

He stood in front of the shiny wooden door, his hand raised to knock, and hesitated. How could he expect the fearful men and women inside to believe him, trust him? How, when he had spent years cultivating a reputation that made children run in fear?

Daemon felt a faint sheen of sweat on his golden skin, and felt a rush of cold amusement. He was frightened. He, the nightmare and dream of Jeweled aristos throughout the Realms—he was practically pissing himself with fear.

That, more than his need, pushed him to knock on the door.

And then he waited.

He waited while the people inside smelled his psychic scent. He waited as they whispered in shock at realizing his depth of power. He waited, patiently, while the familiar scent of fear drifted by him on the air. And when he began getting impatient with the waiting, the door opened a crack.

"What do you want?" came the gruff question from inside. A Jeweled man, not even a Warlord. Not the one he wanted then. This man was...weak. Daemon snarled. The stench of fear grew.

Daemon took a deep breath to leash his anger. "I am looking for a Red-Jeweled warlord, called Jared."

A quick intake of breath from inside, a barely restrained gasp. And then, in a husky whisper, "We know of no such man."

Daemon slammed his fist into the stone wall, his half-restrained anger freed for a moment. "Do not lie to me!" The wall shook and the stone cracked under the force of his hand. The stench of fear became overwhelming, and the door began to close. Daemon caught it with his bloodied hand. When he spoke again, it was in a soft, but nevertheless deadly tone. "Tell me where he is."

The man mumbled something—a prayer to the Darkness perhaps?—and finally said, in a voice that cracked. "He is not here."

"I know."

"But I know where he is."

Daemon's anger faded, replaced by satisfaction. "I know."

The door opened a little more, showing the face of an aged man with Shalador coloring. Just like Jared. The man did not meet Daemon's eyes. "He is a countryman of mine—a good man, a good warlord," he whispered.

Daemon gave a slow, cruel smile. "I know."

Lia carried the basket at her side, walking slowly and carefully on the cleared path in the woods. Usually she avoided the paths, walking instead in the rough terrain that was so much more natural. Ever since she'd found out, though, she was being more careful.

Her pregnancy didn't show, not so early on, but she was beginning to feel the effects. Sickness in the mornings, drowsiness early at night—Thera, she thought, might suspect the truth. Jared, of course, was utterly oblivious.

She gave a slight, loving smile. Jared might be a fine warrior and a wonderful husband but he could be awfully dense sometimes. Especially, it seems, when it came to her.

Two years since Jared had come to Grayhaven. Two wonderful, beautiful years. He would be happy about the baby, she was sure. Surprised—oh yes, how he would be surprised! She anticipated the look on his face when she told him. He'd probably look as though he'd had the rather unusual experience of having a poleax slammed over his head. But he'd be happy, and he'd be excited, and he'd—

Fuss. That was the only reason Lia hadn't told him yet. Jared would fuss, and brush her hair, and feed her milk, and keep her strictly to her bed for days at a time. He was bad enough when it came to moontimes, but put a baby in the picture and, well, she'd be bored out of her mind after a day!

So Lia would enjoy her few weeks of freedom, and when she'd tell him, she wouldn't be nearly so bad natured as she would be if she'd have to endure it for eight months instead of seven.

Quite pleased with her solution, she was just approaching the house she shared with Thera and Blaed when she smelled something—different. Something powerful, cruel, and, well, wanted all at once. And the psychic scent was...

That was impossible. It couldn't be darker than her own. Nobody wore Jewels darker than the Gray. Nobody except...

Heedless of her delicate condition, she ran to the door.

Jared sat stooped over his desk, rubbing his eyes irritably. He had been stuck inside all day, going over the damned finances. Who had expected that by marrying Lia he was marrying into her twice-be-damned estate? He hadn't thought of it. Lia hadn't thought of it. The only person who had probably thought of it at all was her grandmother, and he doubted that the Gray Lady would have mentioned such a thing to her granddaughter's new husband. She probably had thought it a capital joke to stick a trained pleasure slave into the office, and never mind that he was a free man now. The only training he'd ever gotten was strictly inside the bedroom.

A soft knock came at his study door. Grateful for the interruption from the increasingly-blurry lists of numbers and dates, he called, "Come in," and settled back in his chair.

His assistant, an Opal-Jeweled Warlord named Jaisan, entered diffidently. "My lord, you have a visitor."

Jared gave a shrug. "Show him in." He frowned. Jaisan usually didn't announce visitors. He knew that Jared could always be approached. And now that he was paying more attention...

"Jaisan, what is it?" The man was pale under his dark tan, and he stank of raw terror. "Jaisan?"

"Sir, it's—"

And that was when Jared could smell the familiar, predatory scent of Daemon Sadi, the Sadist.