Disclaimer: The worlds of the Blood do not belong to me, sadly, and neither do the original characters. All hail Anne Bishop.
Chapter One
The Keep
"Daemon?" Karla's voice, raspy with old age, called to him from Jaenelle's bedroom. He didn't move. A few seconds later, he heard soft footfalls and looked up to see his brother, Lucivar, standing in the doorway, his normally stoic face contorted with emotion.
"Come on Bastard, your needed."
Daemon slowly got up and felt his body scream in protest, not only from the sudden movement but from a keen reluctance to go into the connecting room. He had been sitting on the consort's bed for the past nine hours, his head cradled in his hands, ever since the healers had kicked him out of Jeanelle's room. They had said he was too emotional and would interfere with their work, which was more true than they could have ever imagined. Jaenelle had been bedridden for the past two weeks after collapsing during dinner. She still hadn't woken up.
He had known this day would come eventually, had known it would devastate him, perhaps even kill him, but he had hoped for more time…just a little more time. She was only ninety…even the short-lived races usually lived past one hundred. Of course, none had ever put their body through as much pain and exertion as Jaenelle had. It was no wonder her body was failing sooner than expected. But that still didn't ease the pain.
He walked slowly towards the door, each step harder to take than the last. When he reached Lucivar, he felt his brother's hand clasp his shoulder in an unsuccessful attempt at comfort. Daemon shrugged him off and kept going, trying not to let the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes overtake him. He stopped in the doorway of Jaenelle's room, unsure if he could take another heart wrenching step. But when he saw her, his love, his wife, his Queen, laying so serenely on the bed, he could not turn away. He heard others come in to the room behind him, but he paid them no notice. Sitting on the bed next to her, he took her hand in his and simply looked at her, drinking her in with his eyes as a man starved for water drinks the last drop from his canteen.
"How much longer?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of Witch.
"It…it would be cruel to keep her alive much longer. There is no more we can do." Karla said softly, her voice breaking with emotion. He nodded slowly, comprehension finally sinking in that this would be the last time he ever saw her, the last time he ever touched her.
He tore his eyes away from Jaenelle for just a moment, to see if everyone was in the room that should be. His father, the High Lord of Hell and Jaenelle's adopted parent, was standing on the opposite side of the bed, his jaw clenched tightly and tears silently rolling down his face. Lucivar stood behind Daemon, his hand once more resting on his shoulder, and his wife and son stood with him. This time, Daemon didn't shrug him off. The First Circle, all that had lived this long, stood along the wall. Haskavi, Kaelas' great-grandson, lay at the foot of the huge bed, his giant body sagging with grief. And finally, Draca, the Keep's Seneschal and Lorn's Queen, stood at the foot of the bed, her reptilian eyes staring intently at the Witch who had cleansed the Blood. A few were missing who should have been present, but nothing could be done about it.
Looking at Karla, he nodded once and then turned back to Jaenelle, letting his eyes rove over her frail body. Her skin, wrinkled and paper thin, was white, and her breathing labored. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the healers break the healing web, felt their Craft being drawn back to them. Ever so slowly, her body seemed to relax against the bed and her breathing became increasingly less frequent. Sobs he refused to voice racked his body, and he bent his head over her hand, kissing it and whispering, "I love you sweetheart, I love you." He heard her take one large, ragged breath, and he knew it was her last. The tears he had held back until then coursed down his face, and his body shook with sobs. Someone was calling his name, and at first he didn't listen. But that voice…the voice he knew he would never hear again, whispered inside his head.
Daemon… she said, her voice a soft, loving caress.
