A single tear rolled down Lucivar's cheek. He was an Eyrien warrior. An ebon-gray jeweled warlord prince and he should not be crying. It didn't matter that his body was screaming from pain. It Didn't matter that he could only take short jagged breathes to breath, since his dear brother had broken ribs that were just starting to heal. And it didn't matter that his veins and other blood vessels were popping from being so dam fragile.

What mattered was he should not be crying from this. But it didn't change the fact that he was.

Marian sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. It hurt to see her husband like this. Hurt to know that just the gentlest of touch made him suffer. But she needed to do something. She needed to. Calling in a pillow she laid it on her lap. The movement of the cream colored pillow got Lucivar's attention. He didn't want to move but he did want to breathe in her scent if only for a little while. If only till he passed out from the pain.

Laying his head on the soft pillow he whined, "tell me again why I can't have a witch's brew?"

His voice was so rough, so course it made Marian wince. "I don't know but I intend to ask your brother when he returns."

Lucivar closed his eyes. There was a message there. There had to be. Daemon wouldn't have said that unless there was a message. Think. 1700 years in Terreille. 1700 years as a slave. Being forced to take drugs till the bitches learned not to. 1700 years of watching others, weaker men take the drugs. Men begging for death, begging to be let go from the pain. The drugs had been made too strong he knew that when he smelled it.

He wanted to get up he wanted to stand on a battle field now that he knew he was on a battle field. Daemon had known. Daemon had been shielding him so he would have realized or thought about how he would get better… If he would get better. Healing brews mixed with the drugs he was given were always a deadly combination, always. Another tear rolled down his cheek. If he was going to live he would have to do it while facing the pain.

Why couldn't he make the transition to demon dead? Why?

It was a long, quite ride back to the Hall. After Daemon all too carefully placed Jaenelle in the coach, That Draca had so thoughtfully left at the landing web for them. He placed her in a comfy seat, pulled a warm blanket around her, since the air was still frigidly cold, and then used a black shield to keep her there. No words were spoken and that rage behind his eyes was directed at her. So she didn't protest. Didn't try to break the shield. Didn't try to move.

Jaenelle crossed her arms and pouted. Not that Daemon saw since he was in the driver's compartment long before that. She thought to herself out of all the times both the high lord and her loving husband had been upset with something that she had done, this was the first time she didn't know how to smooth it out. That she didn't have Lucivar to back her up. She couldn't ask him to say anything to help.

She let out a quite sigh. This was the first time Daemon wouldn't even speak to her. He wouldn't say a word to order her to stay where he put her. Not a word to explain what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Nothing that would tell her what was going on in his mind. He was simply acting the part of a snarly male who served. Almost acting like Theran doses with Cassidy.

The coach came to a stop, landing gently on the official landing web outside of SaDiablo Hall. Daemon had been able to regain some control over his emotions. Not that it mattered. He knew what was going to happen now. He would carry the queen up to her room knowing that he wasn't welcome in that suite. So he would have to leave her at the door. If no one was around and the queen didn't object he could slip into the consort's room and check on his brother. And maybe help Lucivar get settled in for the night. If Jaenelle didn't object then he could sit with his brother and make sure he wasn't in too much pain, and make sure he didn't cause too much damage when they had fought earlier this evening.

If Jaenelle…. He sighed. Who was he kidding? Not only would she object to him being in that part of the hall she would have her first circle remove him , or at least try to. After all didn't he just abduct her from the Keep? Didn't he just hold her against her will?

He hesitated then slowly entered the passenger part of the coach. Jaenelle sat with her slender arms folded over her belly and a sour , pouty look on her face. But it was witch's eyes that followed him. His hand shook slightly as he picked her up. He had expected some form of objection to his touch. Some hint that his actions were unwelcome. But her arms closed around his neck and her head nuzzled on his shoulder. Then ever so lightly using the back of her soft finger she caressed the back of his neck. Calming, soothing. An unspoken reminder that she was there by her choice.

Chaosti saw them come over the last of the steps. He shouldn't be in this part of the hall. He shouldn't be , but was. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. He needed to have a talk with his cousin and if he lived through that talk then he needed to have potentially more hostile talk with Daemon.

Surprise was in her voice underling with fear that something was wrong, " Chaosti, why are you up here?"

Daemon felt her shock, thought he sensed fear. Instinct took over. A tight black shield fell around both of them. His eyes narrowed, pinning Chaosti where he stood.

Chaosti watch as Daemon's gold eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Watched as a bored sleepy expression formed on his face. It was the look that mirrored Kaelas' you are my pry look. Choking back emotions that would get him killed he too calmly said, " I need to talk to you." a short pause then he added , " privately."

She wasn't a queen , or at least one that ruled at the moment so his request should have been made through Daemon. Since he was her husband and she was vulnerable at the moment. A request to speak privately should have been made by protocol especially since Daemon was , unstable. In her midnight voice she wanted to remind her cousin to whom he was speaking to, "Prince?" then she felt Daemon's temper surge beneath her hands. Then thought again. Any push would have Chaosti dead and Daemon unable to walk away from the killing field.

"This is a family matter, Lady, "Chaosti used his snarly overprotective voice that he usually reserved for Gabrielle when she did something to make his heart stop.

"I see…. "a pause then ever so sweetly she continued, " Daemon if you will let me down I can see what my cousin needs while you make sure Lucivar is settled for the night."

No words Daemon just sat her on her feet and started to the Consort's room. As he passed Chaosti who had moved to the side so not to offer a challenge, he felt the soft brush just outside his inner barrier. He hesitated not knowing if he should trust opening it. * Prince Sadi, we need to talk after I discuses a matter with my cousin.*

*Yes I think we do. * Then the thread closed. He hadn't acknowledged Chaosti by caste and hadn't answered the way protocol said that he should. But he didn't care. No he wouldn't allow himself to care. At least not right now.

As the Consort's door quietly closed behind him, Chaosti blew out a breath. He had managed to step off one battle ground onto another. Knowing this he narrowed his forest blue eyes. And thoughts flooded his mind. If he was Lucivar he could haul Jaenelle into the closet form of water and dunk her in. If Jaenelle were his wife he could plop her into a chair and rant until she started to yell back or until her bow or another weapon suddenly appeared in her hand. He sighed since neither was the case he would have to do something else. He would do what was permissible as a cousin to do.

Stepping closer to her he reached out his hand and clamped it down on her wrist then pulled her towered her work room. Reaching the heavily shielded room he slammed the door behind them.

Her midnight voice didn't hide her displeasure or the rage that was beginning to swell in her eyes. "Chaosti you better have a good explanation."

He snapped. He couldn't hold his temper any longer, "you want an explanation Lady. I'll give you one and a warning as well."

"warning." amused shock swam in her voice.

"Yes a warning. One that Witch should be able to understand." he wanted to goad her, he wanted her temper. Since if she was mad then she wouldn't start to cry. And if she started to cry his instants to protect and calm would over ride his need to be angry with her.

"Speak your mind prince."

His stomach was turning. Knowing that he was about to draw a line with his queen, His cousin. Mother night what if no one would back him up on this. What if the High Lord….. No best not to think about that right now. Gritting his teeth he coldly said, "I'll say this once so listen carefully witchling……." he paused and another took a breath. He needed to calm some. Leash his temper that was starting to boil at least some. "You have always hated the snot nose bitches that played games with any male that they crossed paths with. The ones who didn't care for male feelings, so I ask you know when did you turn into one of the foul creatures that you once hated? When did it suddenly become alright to disregard your husband so that he won't even stay in the same part of the hall as you…? And yes I know where he has been sleeping." a pause then he snapped, "Hmm Jaenelle…. When?"

Pleading she tried to make him understand, " Chaosti, Listen please, you have this all wrong…"

"Do I lady? Then tell me who cleaned the Consort's room so thoroughly that it seems is it had never been used. Tell me why Daemon is sleeping in a room that was built to house servants over 50,000 years ago? Why Is your husband sleeping in a bed that is too small for a man his size, and then you can tell me why you turned him out of his room." he took a breath to regain his thoughts. To clear his mind. Then sighed. Very quietly in an almost defeated voice he continued, "Daemon is your husband so I can't tell you how to run your marriage but I will tell you this Lady. The Dea al Mon will not tolerate a snot nosed queen. We will not tolerate you lady playing this particular game with a black jeweled warlord prince. And I will not tolerate having a cousin who will deny playing the game. So I will give you a choice Lady. The only choice I can give you. Fix this or you can deal with Grandmammy Teele and you can explain why Daemon hasn't visited her. Then you my dear can explain to the coven who sire that child you are carrying." he didn't wait to hear her answer. Didn't what one. He just passed through the door not giving her the satisfaction of hearing it slam behind him.

Jaenelle sank to her knees and wept. The coven knew the truth. They all knew who sired the child, and if any of the males sat down long enough and thought about it they would know too. They would realize….. Tears fell silently down her cheek. She couldn't think. She couldn't be mad at him since he was only reacting to a friend's in pain. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She caused this. She played the game that she created. But mother night no one was suppose to get hurt. Daemon wasn't supposed to get hurt.

She had to fix this. But how? If Chaosti was falling for a web of deceit then it was going to take more than just saying the truth. Words lie, blood doesn't.

She would fix this tonight. Yes she would let all be revealed by morning. But first she needed to see the room Daemon had chosen for himself. She needed to know how much she would have to let him fuss and pamper. She needed to know how to mend his soul wounds that she caused.