Disclaimer: I don't own the Black Jewels, but love the characters. Any faults are mine, not Anne Bishop's.

Kaeleer – Dhemlan Province, Halaway

The sky was clear again and the sun was shining brightly. "Come on, Mama!" her son yelled from the garden. "All the snow will melt!"

She laughed. "All right, I'm coming!" she called out the window. Latching it shut, she left her room to run down the stairs, stuffing her hair under a knitted cap. She called in her gloves and winter cape, wrestling with the armholes as usual.

When was she going to remember to call in the stupid cape first, then her gloves?

Running out the door, laughing—

And smack into a wall.

"Ooommph!" she gasped, bouncing backwards. She would have fallen on her backside if two strong hands hadn't caught her, yanked her upright.

"Are you all right? You're not hurt?" a deep voice asked.

Stunned, she looked up into an achingly familiar face. Not a wall, but a muscular chest.

"What—what are you doing here?" she said faintly.

Her rudeness amused him; his lips twitched. "Preventing the Queen from falling upon her dignity, apparently," he replied in a dry voice.

Belatedly realizing what she had said, Sylvia's face flushed crimson, but she snapped her mouth shut on a sarcastic answer. No need to add fuel to the fire. She pulled her arms out of his grip – it wasn't easy – and tossed her head defiantly. "Thank you," she snapped. "But if you'll excuse me, High Lord, unless there's an real emergency, I'd prefer if you would come back another time. I'd like to spend some time with my son while the snow is still here."

Mikal was standing at the base of the stairs, watching them. Giving Saetan a curt nod, she tried to angle around him.

Saetan took a step sideways to neatly block her again. "If you might be willing to postpone your snowball fight for a few minutes, I have something for Mikal. And you," he added as an apparent afterthought.

Even from here she could see those ears had heard the magic words. Probably every child over the age of two can hear the slightest whisper that says present. Eyes widening, he took a few hopeful steps closer.

She glared at him, but it was impossible to deny her son a gift. Even if it was from—"Oh, all right," she grumbled. "Mikal, come inside! I suppose this will only take a minute."

They went into the front parlor. She stripped off her cape and vanished it with her gloves, then sat down. It would have looked perilously close to a flounce, if she were silly enough to have on one of those ridiculous old-fashioned long skirts that Sae—that some stuffy traditionalists thought women should still be wearing.

The High Lord called in a long slender box, neatly wrapped and tied. "For you," he said, handing it to her son.

The boy took it, and looked up at him. "Did you really like my present?" he demanded. "Or did you just say that to be nice?"

Saetan sat down so he could be at eye level. "No. I do like it, very much," he replied sincerely. "Nobody ever gave me a toy boat of my own before. And you made a very fine boat, boyo. You have a real talent for working with wood."

He nodded at the box in Mikal's hands. "I hope you like your present as much as I liked yours."

Needing no further encouragement, her son tore into his gift. His face lit up as he found a pair of Eyrien war sticks. "Mama, Mama, look! Look what Uncle Saetan gave me!"

Sylvia shot 'Uncle Saetan' a glance, then said firmly, "Yes, Mikal, they're very nice. Say thank you properly, please."

Mikal bobbed an awkward bow. "Thank you, my lord! They're wonderful! Now I can learn how to use them!"

A smile playing around his mouth, Saetan answered, "Yes, you can. They're sized for you, by the way. Not quite as long as an adult uses."

"Do you think I can learn to be good with them?" Mikal asked hopefully.

"If you're willing to practice steadily. Lucivar said he's willing to add you to his class of youngsters, if you'd like."

The prospect of learning weapons from the greatest Eyrien warrior alive left Mikal speechless. All the boy could do was nod, clutching the sticks to his chest.

With a chuckle, Saetan turned him around and gave him a little push. "I think your mother's Captain of the Guard is outside. Why don't you ask Brand to show you some of the basic moves?"

Her son shot out the door, so excited he forgot to ask for permission. She couldn't blame him. Her little boy was growing up, and she couldn't hold him with her forever. She eyed her unwanted guest with a touch of resentment. Men! They always stuck together. And now her son was starting to join them.

He looked back at her, face calm.

Hell's fire and the Darkness save her, but he was handsome. Prince Sadi was more beautiful, but there was a cold deadliness about the man which she found faintly repellent even as she acknowledged that astounding sexual appeal.

The High Lord was not as tall as the Prince. But he had given his eldest son that same slender build, the same feline grace. The father had the light brown skin of the Hayllian race, midway between Sadi's warm gold and Yaslana's rich brown. The startling white at his temples highlighted those striking eyes, with their thick dark lashes. He sat relaxed, at ease. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, and perhaps that was the true difference between him and the son he called his mirror.

The words were hard to get out, but she managed it. "Thank you for giving him the sticks. I didn't realize...it means a lot to him."

His tone was sympathetic. "Children always grow up too fast. It's hard being a parent."

"Yes, it is, sometimes. He's all—the only one who's still a boy."

He did understand, damn him. She knew he truly understood how she felt. There was no false sympathy in him. Perhaps it was why she'd fallen in love with Saetan Daemon SaDiablo. There was no falseness there, unlike Flynt Darwell.

What you see is what I am, he'd said to her long ago.

And what do you think I see? She had retorted, arching a brow.

What everyone else sees, Saetan replied flatly. Death.

She wondered if he realized how revealing those words were. Almost everyone was terrified of him – well, at first she was frightened too. He was the Prince of the Darkness, so powerful he terrified even the demon-dead. The Sisters of the Hourglass, the Black Widows, feared no one but the man who was their first and only High Priest.

Lesser Jewels like her looked at the Black with awe and fear, never considering how lonely it must be, to be almost without peer and only a few superiors. When she realized that, she stopped being afraid of the titles and power, and was drawn to the man behind them.

He wasn't what people thought...no, that wasn't right, she amended. He was every bit as dangerous as the High Lord of Hell and a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince should be.

But he was so much more. So much that other people never saw. He was funny. He was gentle. He was tender and romantic. Everything a woman could want in a man.

Passionate, protective, clever, wise, strong.

Damn him to Hell, how could she love another man after him? They were like paper cutouts compared to warm flesh. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "Thank you for coming," she said with dignity. "This meant a great deal to Mikal. I appreciate your visit today."

His smile was enigmatic. "I believe you're trying to dismiss me. I can't leave yet, sorry."

She stared. "What? You can't? Why not?"

Amusement lit those eyes. A box appeared, and he held it out. Not moving a muscle, she looked at it with suspicion, eyes narrowing.

The amusement deepened, spreading from the eyes to lift the corners of a sensual mouth. "It's not dangerous," he chided gently. "Take it, please."

Reluctantly she took it. It was rectangular, heavier than it looked. Carefully she pulled off the ribbon and wound it into a coil. She meticulously slit the tape holding the wrapping paper closed.

Saetan said nothing, but the smile widened a little as he watched her dawdle over opening her present.

It was a metal box, she discovered after finally unwrapping it. Patterned in an intricate design formed of inlaid wire and painted in brilliant enamels. It was an expensive technique which only a few craftsmen practiced. "How lovely!" she exclaimed, and meant it. She ran her fingers over the curved lid, admiring the fine detailing. "Thank you! This is beautiful."

He cleared his throat. "You're supposed to open it," he muttered.

Startled, she threw him a glance. She released the catch to lift the lid. Her mouth formed a soundless Oh!

Of all the things she might expect, this wasn't one of them.

She was a District Queen. Halaway was prosperous, but not unusually so. Her parents were lower-level Blood of modest background and ambitions. She did own jewelry, of course. Some aquamarine and a few nice topazes, in simple classic settings. None of it could compare with this.

Glittering green fires twinkled up at her. Gold and peridot flashed in the light.

Her eyes widened at the stamp clipped into the corner of the inside – this had come from Banard! The most expensive, exclusive jeweler in all of Kaeleer.

The necklace was worked in braided antique gold, with an intricate web of smaller gems surrounding a large oval-shaped emerald of amazing clarity. The earrings dangled long enough to be seen, but not so long that they would be awkward to wear.

And the ring!

She had never imagined a ring so lovely. Emeralds were more expensive than any other gemstone, for they were hard to find without flaws. This one was flawless, almost the length of a finger joint. It was wrapped with a few delicate gold wires threaded with tiny yellow diamonds, like a sparkling net of fireflies over a verdant pool.

"I hope it fits," Saetan frowned. His voice sounded odd. "Do you like it?"

"It's—too much, High Lord!" she protested. "This must have cost you a fortune!"

He raised a brow. "I have a fortune," he returned coolly. "My eldest son possesses an astonishing talent for making money. I don't think even my former wife could have spent it faster than he brings it in."

Sylvia swallowed, so hard he could hear it. "I can't," she tried to keep her voice calm and reasonable. "I really have no place to wear something so lavish."

Saetan shook his head. "Try it on," he urged, ignoring her words.

"I—" she tried to get her tongue untangled. "Truly – I can't accept such a present. This is beautiful, but it's far too expensive, High Lord. I've nowhere to wear it."

It was hard to give up, she'd never seen anything more beautiful. She closed the lid and shoved the box at him, expecting him to object, but he took it back.

"But you will. Wear it, I mean. That is, if you'll accept it." He drew in a breath. Darkness be merciful, could he sound any more feeble-brained?

Stop fumbling around, you fool. You're babbling.

"You called me Saetan, once. I'd like it if you would call me that again. There's too many people calling me 'High Lord' wherever I go. It's enough to make my teeth ache."

"If...if you wish," she stammered. "But what do you mean, I'll have somewhere to wear it?"

He opened the box and took out the ring. Picking up a nerveless hand, he slid it on her finger. "A perfect fit," he said with satisfaction. "Banard's memory never ceases to amaze me."

Then he raised a hand to cup the side of her face. Those long, elegant fingers gently caressed her cheek, her lips.

She wasn't aware her eyelids had fluttered closed. She would have known his touch in a pitch-black room. It was sensual and kind, passionate and yet gentle. As unique as the man. His lips gently brushed over hers. Even that feather-light contact made her whole body sizzle.

He straightened, and her eyes flew open.

"If you'll accept this present from me, I'd like a gift in return."

Sylvia blinked, then laughed nervously. "I didn't buy you anything for Winsol. I can't even imagine what I could buy you for a present, that you couldn't buy for yourself!"

He drew her close, even as she tried to resist. But he was so strong, and she had missed him so much. Darkness damn him, her body missed this. They had always fit so well together, from the very first.

"You underestimate yourself, as always," he murmured. "Like your son, you can give me something no one's ever given me before."

She felt her mouth go dry. "W–What's that?" she stammered.

Just before his mouth crushed down on hers and her mind went completely blank, he growled, "You."