Chapter 12
Saetan felt a warmth in his heart as he looked down into the bundle of energy in his arms. Lucivar. His son. Trying to keep his grip firm yet gentle to counter the jerks of the carriage, he firmly kept the finger with the poison nail out of his enthusiastic baby's reach.
He was returning from Luthvian's, having upheld his promise of returning in two days to take his son off her disdainful hands. She had tried to charm him to get her way, yet again – the violent threat of their last meeting having fed rather than quenched her deluded expectations.
Saetan had kept his temper leashed because she had yielded the boy and accepted the terms of her visitation rights promptly. Her saucy way of requesting he return to her cottage for "dinner and drinks later that night", however, had justified slamming the door in her face.
The carriage dropped from the Black winds onto the landing web at SaDiablo Hall. Andulvar's smug face overwhelmed his line of vision the moment the carriage door opened and Saetan stepped out carefully with the baby.
"About time we were no longer in the minority around here."
"Don't just stand - "
Suddenly, Lucivar flapped his wings excitedly to be out of the stuffy carriage, catching the edge of Saetan's silk cloak. A loud tear sounded as the wing ripped the material, amusing Lucivar enough to make him gurgle happily and grab hold of the Hourglass pendant around Saetan's neck at the same time.
"I suppose nothing I say will wipe the smirk off your face and get you to help me, will it?" Saetan asked, foot caught in the now too-loosely hanging cloak, neck stooped to prevent the pendant's chain snapping.
Andulvar's uncontrolled laughter trailed behind him as he saunteered back to the Hall.
The pale yellow of the fruity, traditional brew glinted in the crystal glass which Saetan raised into the air in request of silence. The pleasant buzz of conversation died as the room containing immediate friends, family and servants turned their heads to hear him speak.
"Thank you, everyone, for gathering here tonight," Saetan began, "in honour of my son's 2nd birthday."
Fond smiles all round. Saetan continued. "Although for us long-lived races, maturity is slow and birthdays are often rounded to the nearest ten - " appreciative chuckles – "this is a special evening for two reasons."
A slight chill filled the room as Saetan's eyes glazed over. "Firstly, the woman," he said, emphasising the latter word with a poisonous croon, "who is the mother of my son Lucivar, almost made a fatal mistake during her latest visit. A mistake that would've cost, at the least, her life, and at worst, his life."
Expressions turned grim, and Andulvar's questioning look held anger on his friend's behalf and slight hurt that Saetan hadn't shared this with them before.
"I walked in to the nursery to find Lucivar in her arms, a hand poised over his wings. A hand that held a knife, sight-shielded." Saetan's voice was laden with icy fury at the memory. "She wanted to cut them off out of her own twisted sense of shame."
The Warlord Princes in the room immediately got a glazed, sleepy look in their eyes, tempers riding the killing edge at the obscenity of Saetan's revelation. Andulvar and Prothvar let out low growls under their breath. Mephis's face got that pained look which Saetan had only once before seen; when his brother Peyton had walked out on them.
"Thank the Darkness, this tragedy was prevented, and my son is with us, whole and happy, ready to grow into the Eyrien prince I know he will be."
An easing of tension in the room as Manny's sniff of emotion sounded.
"Secondly, a special guest is with us tonight." Saetan's tone lightened considerably and filled with fondness. He gestured to the large armchair in which Tersa sat, holding a three-year-old Daemon on her lap with one arm and the Birthday boy, Lucivar, with the other.
Over the last month she had steadily been improving, having longer periods of lucidity until she could go for days without retreating inside herself. Saetan had convinced her that an extended stay at the Hall over Winsol would be welcomed by everyone, and the boys had worn each other out "decorating" her room to make it festive.
As he looked at the remarkable woman with the melancholy eyes, Saetan felt, with an inexplicable certainty, that these years of happiness wouldn't last. Yet he also knew he wanted her in his life, through the good and the bad.
"Tersa."
They raised their glasses.