Author's Note 4/22/18: Similar to the previous few chapters, I've made some significant edits to this one, and added two new POV's. It's well-worth having another look for anyone who's already read it.

1/Terreille

Time passed, although Lilith hardly paid attention to it beyond counting the minutes while the safframate gripped her. She tried to tell herself that they were only minutes, but the agony seemed endless. She exhaled slowly as the most recent one finally receded enough for her to think again. Small comfort there. That only led Lilith back to her conversation with the Prince. Although she didn't want to admit it, she couldn't deny that DeSade had been right.

The pain had indeed gotten worse, just as he predicted it would. Earlier in the evening, the spasms- though painful- had come and gone relatively quickly. In the hour or so since he'd gone to sleep, they'd gradually lengthened. Now they would last for several minutes at a time. And when they hit…Lilith had tried to suppress them, but more than one time she couldn't stop the shuddering sobs that wracked her.

It was too late to run away from here, even if she thought DeSade wouldn't notice her pass through the Red shield. Guaranteed that he would. But that wasn't what kept her from leaving. In truth, she couldn't afford to be exposed in Draega when she was this defenseless. The safframate had drained her almost as bad as any moontime; she couldn't possibly defend herself from hostile attack. And so she was stuck here until it passed- stuck here with the Prince in the next room.

He'd invited her to share that room with him. With the pain as bad as it was, she'd almost let the temptation of that offer melt her resolve. But she wouldn't give in. Couldn't afford to give in, because turning down that path would only lead to regret. Another day or so and this would pass. Didn't sound like a long time, but it might as well be a year for how tired she felt. Tired of fighting against the safframate and just…tired. Lilith took a shaky breath and gripped the edge of an end table.

Here's another one.

Warmth. A hand on her shoulder. Lilith bolted like a spooked horse, but the hand held her in place.

"Lilith," she heard the Prince say from behind her. "Nothing is worth torturing yourself like this."

Oh hell's fire, she cursed inwardly. This is the last thing I need right now.

It really was. Despite her exhaustion, Lilith was still prepared to keep fighting this battle on her own. So long as the Prince stayed in his room and left her alone. She'd thought their previous argument had convinced him to do that, but now here he was again. And given his tone, DeSade intended to revisit the very topic she so desperately wanted to avoid. Lilith tried to derail him as best she could.

"I'll remind you that I'm not the one who did this to me. They did."

Didn't deter him one bit. DeSade countered almost immediately, arguing, "But you're the one making it worse."

"I already told you, I can't accept the help you're offering."

A pause. Lilith realized she'd made a tactical error. The Prince was too intelligent not to pick up on her choice of words, or what they could mean. Sure enough, his tone conveyed that he intended to discuss that difference when he replied, "Before, you said 'won't'. Now you say you can't."

"Same thing."

That did not work at all. She couldn't see it, but Lilith knew his expectant stare burned straight through her shoulder blades as he waited for a proper answer. She couldn't bring herself to give one, nor did she look away from the wooden table. Maybe if she stalled long enough she could think of a plausible explanation- one that didn't involve the truth. Nothing came to her, and finally, the Prince's patience ran out.

"Nooooo, it's not." He turned her around and lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. "So which is it?"

Caught beneath his intent, golden gaze, Lilith tried to calm the fluttering nerves in her stomach. If it hadn't been empty, she might have thrown up. DeSade clearly expected an answer, and was prepared to stand here all night until he got it. Seeing no way out, Lilith caved.

"All right, all right. I can't. Are you satisfied?"

"Not yet. We haven't gotten to your reasons why."

Oh no, I can't. I just can't say that. Not to him. Not here and certainly not now. Not ever.

But he wasn't going to let her go without an answer. She could see that in his expression. The safframate was pulling at her, meaning Lilith was in no condition to fight him about it. If she didn't answer him soon, she'd do far worse than spill out this particular truth- inconvenient as it was. She was on the verge of answering when DeSade prompted her again.

"Lilith?"

"I-I-" she tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She swallowed carefully and tried again to offer an explanation. "I haven't, um, that is to say…you see there hasn't been a convenient time to…" Lilith trailed off in embarrassment, a blush rising in her cheeks. "Please don't make me say it."

2/Terreille

As the meaning of Lilith's half-given explanation became clear, Alex was left stunned. Completely and utterly stunned. He couldn't have been more surprised if she'd brained him with a rock. A virgin. Those words warred against his disbelief that it could be true. But the longer he thought on it, the more he realized that not only was it true, but he should have guessed from the beginning.

It all makes sense now.

Alex measured everything Lilith had said and done since they met. Her rejection of his first offer had been the most obvious by far. Even so, other telltale signs should have cued him to her condition much sooner. Her uneasiness and shyness around him, and Lilith's attempts to escape staying in the suite. The reaction to wearing his clothes- and how rattled she got about the undressing in front of him.

All very clear clues that she was definitely a virgin. And one who'd been trying very hard to keep him at arm's length. Lilith likely knew as well as he did that this was not the time for a Virgin Night, which was tricky under normal circumstances. Drugged with safframate, it would almost certainly end disastrously. He wouldn't put it past Meredith to have engineered the timing of her 'punishment' to take advantage of that fact.

Alex found himself in an awkward and altogether unsettling position. Knowing Lilith was a virgin hadn't doused the desire to take her to bed. Quite the opposite, to his mortification. He caught himself thinking about what it might be like to be the first- to be her first. She'd be his in a way that she wouldn't be for any other man. A memory Alex could hold onto in the never-ending years ahead of him in Meredith's clutches.

Caught off-guard by those thoughts, he tried to bring himself back to reality with a stern self-lecture.

Do you hear yourself? This is a witch.

Lilith's different, some part of him argued back.

Maybe not a bitch like Meredith and her coven, but she's still just a witch. And you're still a ringed pleasure slave. You don't get to claim anything for yourself- and you never will. Even if you did, she's the last thing you should want.

You're wrong.

Wrong about what, Alex queried dismissively.

About everything.

Something about the vehemence in those words cut through him. Scared him. And so he backed away from the internal debate to avoid facing whatever they might mean. Far more productive to stay focused on the situation at hand, rather than to tread down that path of make-believe. Lilith helped in that respect, once again caught in a drug-induced spasm.

Obviously, she couldn't keep on like this. The question was, what to do about it. Lilith, it seemed, had decided that their discussion was over. She leaned away from him and tried to take a step backward.

"Look, if it's all the same to you, can we just forget all of this?"

As much as he wanted to do just that, Alex couldn't. He shook his head and answered, "No."

"No?" she repeated warily.

"No."

"But…there's no point," she sputtered in protest. "I already told you I can't possibly…I just can't."

He knew he wasn't going to change her mind about sex. Nor was it his intent to try. And so Alex weighed their remaining options before coming up with one that he deemed a fair compromise.

"There are a lot of things we could do without crossing that line."

Lilith's knees gave way. If he hadn't been standing so close, she would have collapsed; only the speed of his reflexes caught her before she fell to the floor. The second she was steadied, however, Lilith was pushing him away. Alex released her immediately, allowing her to retreat a fair distance away as she regarded him with an expression of incredulous shock.

"Have you lost your mind? Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"You said you were a virgin. But surely you've-"

"I've never done any of this before."

And that was the second time she'd caught him by surprise. At her age- which he put at two or three centuries at most- Alex expected Lilith to have some experience with men. Odd that she'd avoided sex, but no experience at all? Unheard of in a territory like Hayll, where witches learned how to toy with blood males by the time they had their Birthright Ceremonies.

So how did Lilith escape those lessons- and more importantly…why? Both were questions that Alex doubted she would answer if he asked. He set them aside as his thoughts moved into an idea far more dangerous. Perhaps it's time she learned them, and who better to be her teacher? Alex tried to stop himself, but it was already too late.

"Maybe now's a good time to start," he suggested while raising an eyebrow.

"Don't joke about something like this." Her voice shook. "Don't you dare."

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Yeah, well, that may be, but I'm telling you it's still not happening."

Lilith's tone was deathly, expression closed and strained. She was prepared to fight this, safframate be damned. Arguing with her would do no good- not even if he spent all night. Which left him with one last weapon in his arsenal that could possibly melt her resolve. Only he'd already been down that road before, and his mind hadn't changed. Alex refused to coerce her in that way like he had with the coven bitches; if she agreed, he wanted it to be because she wanted to.

Oh the irony. Meredith and her trained bitches had spent centuries wanting- and having- him. They would have sacrificed anything if even once he'd admitted that he had enjoyed it. Now he actually wanted a witch to want him, and she refused to do it.

But it wasn't the same thing, was it? The other witches- all they wanted was to use his body and to say that they had control of him. They didn't want the Warlord Prince or the man that was him, preferring to ignore what they couldn't admit they feared. That's what he caught himself wishing Lilith wanted. Setting aside the danger of even having that kind of wish, Alex wondered if he was hoping for the impossible.

If witches who wore Red and Gray were afraid, he held little hope that a witch who wore no Jewels at all might accept the kind of Warlord Prince he was. Hell's fire, she didn't even know he wore Jewels darker than the Red and she was already shying away from him. What would she do if she knew he wore Jewels darker than Meredith's…Jewels darker than any Blood known to ever live in Hayll?

Alex knew what she'd do; She'd run. He sighed dispiritedly and gave up pursuing the conversation. Just as well.

"So now what?"

3/Terreille

Paeter glanced over his shoulder to the tiny room he called his own, clearly thinking that she meant they both intended to stay with him. Needless to say, his offer wasn't the most enthusiastic he could have given them.

"I suppose if you felt uneasy about staying in the servant wing you could spend the night here." He shrugged. "Bit cramped, I'll warn you, but I doubt Meredith and the coven bitches will come down this way tonight. Not after what Cassel did."

"I'd be more than happy to take you up on that offer," Fawne replied with a wink. "But I think Kareal just came with me because I told her you might know someone. A friend of yours who might be willing to let her stay with him, perhaps?"

Oh the look on Paeter's face. His relief was so palpable that she almost couldn't hold in her laughter. A half-stifled chuckle managed to escape, none-the-less, earning her an aggrieved sigh from him. But Paeter let it pass without comment as he turned his attention to her friend, who was hovering at Fawne's heels and fidgeting nervously.

"Interesting that you should ask, since I've been meaning to bring it up myself."

"Oh?"

"You know Dahlen?"

"Uh huh," she answered, wondering why he'd bring that name up.

Of course she knew Dahlen. Nearly every witch serving in the hall had heard of him. He was Idrina's current favorite, and had been since he arrived. Of the pleasure slaves in residence, his Jewels were the darkest- except for DeSade- having made his Offering before he was ringed. His Purple Dusk out-ranked Fawne's own Jewels, and she considered hers very dark for anyone serving Meredith's coven.

That alone would have given any witch enough reason to be careful in how she interacted with the Warlord; his sharp-edged temper and hostility made him even less approachable. She wasn't sure if he hated all witches, or just the ones like Meredith and Idrina, but she couldn't afford to find out which theory was true. And so like most of the other serving witches, Fawne opted in favor of keeping her distance.

"He's been asking me to talk to you. About your friend."

"About me," Kareal squeaked.

"Yes, you."

"But I'm…" her face reddened, clearly self-conscious. She shook her head and began again. "I'm sure I don't have anything that could interest someone like him."

"You'd be wrong, then," Paeter told her with a bemused shrug. "Because he is interested."

"But why?"

"You'd have to ask him."

Kareal chewed on her bottom lip, clearly debating whether or not to abandon the whole idea. Fawne wouldn't blame her for having second thoughts. Knowing Dahlen's pointed dislike for witches, she could well imagine him looking for someone weaker. A witch he could hurt in ways he couldn't when he was servicing Idrina. And for Kareal, whose rank Jewels were Tiger Eye, he could easily overpower or even break her if he wanted to.

*Paeter, is he safe?* she risked sending on a private thread. Ringed males didn't use psychic communication often, as the coven tended to monitor it. But she needed to get answers from him, and didn't want to discuss it aloud. *I've seen how he is around witches- you're sure she'd be all right with him?*

*It's not what you think*

*What's that supposed to mean?*

*I'll explain later, but just know that I vouch for him, Fawne. Nothing to worry about, I promise*

If Paeter was confident enough to promise Kareal's safety, then she was willing to trust him on this. Fawne knew that the pleasure slaves would say things to one another that they wouldn't admit in front of a witch. She glanced to her friend.

"What do you think? Paeter wouldn't recommend him if he had any concerns."

After thinking for several long minutes, the witch nodded.

"All right."

Paeter stepped out into the hall and shepherded them down a ways to another door. Very quietly, he rapped his knuckles against the wood in a distinct rhythm. A secret knock. Blood males serving in the hall used them to communicate with one another. They had different knocks for warnings or reminders- even for a general greeting. Fawne had learned a few, but didn't know the meaning of this particular one.

The three of them waited in the hallway, each casting nervous looks to either end. Expecting at any moment to be caught by someone in the coven. A minute or so later, they heard the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. Kareal kept well behind Fawne, obviously still not sure about meeting the Warlord. But for good or bad, the decision was made.

"Paeter," Dahlen greeted him, largely ignoring Fawne and Kareal. "I didn't expect to hear from you tonight."

"I wouldn't have disturbed you so late, but it's important."

"What's important?"

"Grael. The whole upset with him has the witches on edge. They came seeking an alternative place to spend the night."

Dahlen's expression visibly hardened, his golden gaze sharp as he demanded with icy politeness, "Which witches?"

A hand clutched the back of Fawne's sleeve and tugged. She risked a backward glance to see Kareal's wide-eyed stare, silently begging her to get them out of here. She wanted to do just that, but had to trust that Paeter knew what he was doing.

"There's no need for that tone. Not unless you want to scare her off from the start. Believe me, you'll regret it."

"Will I?"

Paeter leaned closer to whisper in a hushed voice, "Dahlen, it's Kareal."

The mention of her friend's name completely transformed Dahlen's expression. If Fawne hadn't seen it for herself she might have thought she was looking at two different men. Gone was the cold-eyed, indifferent stare, replaced by a yearning that softened his features and gave her a glimpse of who he might have been before Meredith got her hands on him.

Only then did Dahlen really look at her. Rather he looked beyond her, to where Kareal cowered nervously in her shadow. He muttered a curse under his breath- probably directed at himself.

"Forgive me, ladies," he apologized in a louder voice. "I spoke without thinking."

Since Kareal was too unnerved to answer, Fawne replied for both of them.

"We understand, Warlord. And Kareal and I don't want to impose, either, so if you'd prefer we left, I'm sure I could find-"

"No," he protested emphatically. Far louder than he intended, she guessed, for his next words were spoken with less force. "Please don't go."

The words might have been directed at her, but the Warlord's eyes were on Kareal. Paeter hadn't lied about his interest; she could read it plain as day. And yet she felt a duty to her friend to make sure she'd be all right. If Kareal had changed her mind and would rather take her chances on her own tonight, she had the right to make that choice. Fawne turned to the witch and met her gaze.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to. But either way, you'll have to make up your mind quickly. We can't stand out here all night."

She thought she heard Dahlen holding his breath as they waited for her reply.

"I'll stay."

"You're sure?" Kareal nodded. "Okay. Paeter and I have to go."

*Send me word if he does anything you don't want him to do* she sent on a distaff thread.

*I'll be fine, Fawne, but…thanks*

And that was that. Paeter took her hand and drew her back to his room. Fawne managed only one last glance at her friend as he passed through the thresh hold of Dahlen's door and he closed it behind her.

I hope I haven't made a mistake.

4/Terreille

Now what, indeed? That was a good question. Lilith really didn't have an answer for it, but she was grateful that the Prince had given up on his idea that they should do anything about her lack of experience. A temptation best left unexplored, even without the safframate. Of course, if not for the current circumstances, he wouldn't have offered at all.

Made it easy not to accept. Well, easier. Nothing about the decisions she had to make could be called easy. Straightforward would be the better word, she supposed. But turning him down would be far more difficult if she thought he might be offering out of desire; Lilith tried not to feel sorry for herself that she needn't ever worry about what she'd do then.

Pushing those regrets aside, she tried to think of something else to pass the unending hours before morning. An idea came to her, and she felt herself smile for the first time since seeing him. DeSade eyed her warily, obviously unnerved by whatever she was going to suggest.

"That look does not bode well," he said.

"Well, I have an idea of a way to pass the time if you're not tired," Lilith admitted, trying to sound innocent. "But I'm not sure you'd enjoy it."

"And why would that be?"

She smiled again, remembering the last time she'd had an evening to do something other than work. It had ended with several males swearing that they'd find some other means of occupying her time from then on. Lilith called in the cards and game pieces she carried with her, even in Terreille. The Prince looked at them in disbelief, and then back to her.

"A game? What in the name of Hell could put that look on your face about a game?"

"It's called Cradle. Witches have been playing it for a long time. But the rules of the game drive blood males crazy, and they don't always find it fun to play."

"What kind of rules?"

Lilith shrugged. "Well, since you asked…"

A half hour or so passed before she'd finished explaining the game to him. In addition to the basic rules, Lilith told him every variation of the game she knew. All except one, that is; no need to hand him twenty-seven from the outset.

"I think you're right," DeSade agreed with a dubious look. "There's something off about this game that defies logical rules."

"I hear that from blood males all the time, so your complaint doesn't surprise me at all."

As they set the pieces on the board for the opening moves, he regarded her in contemplation before asking, "Just curious, but where did you learn this game? It's definitely not played in Hayll."

Lilith knew that only too well. Not since before Dorothea had wrested control of the territory. Maybe longer than that. But it wasn't so much its fall into obscurity that bothered her as much as the reasons why. She couldn't quite keep the disappointment and anger out of her voice when she finally replied.

"It used to be. But it's been a long time since witches here have found games that didn't involve a human life interesting."

DeSade raised an eyebrow at the snarl in her tone, but merely returned to his original question.

"So, if not Hayll- where is it played?"

Far better if he'd kept on the subject of Hayll. Lilith knew where this line of inquiry would lead, and did not look forward to it. She suppressed a sigh as she gave him an answer that she hoped would end the discussion.

"They've started playing it in some of the other territories- Askavi, Challiot and a few of the others."

"So are you from one of those territories, then?"

Obviously that didn't work, did it?

"No, I'm not," Lilith replied shortly as she made an opening move on the board. Her eyes remained fixed on the pieces, but she could see him studying her in her peripheral vision.

"You're not going to tell me where you're from, are you?"

"Not today."

The Prince made a move of his own and frowned. She couldn't tell if he was frowning at the cards he'd drawn, or at what she'd said. Hopefully, the tone of her reply would be enough to keep him from asking her about where she was from. Questions like that were too dangerous to answer openly until they were away from here- away from Meredith and on the journey home.

"You are the most unusual witch I've ever met," he said finally.

"Ah well," she replied with a wry smile. "I've heard that said about me before. I'm sure you won't be the last."

Lilith looked at the cards in her hand, and saw a move that would pretty much guarantee her the win. She made it, and watched for his reaction. It took DeSade only a minute to realize that he would be fighting a losing battle for the rest of the game, and had a very slim chance of overcoming her advantage. He growled.

"And males play this game willingly where you're from?"

"Yep."

"Are they crazy?"

"I wouldn't say crazy. My friends tell me that they turn losses to their advantage."

"How do they do that?"

Lilith waited for him to make his next move and got up from the table to pace a while. The safframate had her in its grip again, and she needed to move in order to stay focused. The Prince watched her from where he sat. He didn't agree with her choice of how to deal with it, but didn't voice his objections aloud, thank the Darkness. When the spasm passed, Lilith picked up her cards again and thought of how to answer his question.

"I've been told they use sympathy over their repeated losses to barter their way of tasks they don't want to do. Or to get something they want." DeSade's slightly confused expression led her to think of an example. "Okay, so let's say he loses six games and his lady wants to play again. He might agree on the condition that he won't have to stand as her escort to a play he doesn't want to see. That sort of thing."

He considered her words as he made another move on the board- one that sealed his loss in the game. DeSade seemed to be more focused on what she had said than his strategy. She wasn't sure that she'd really helped him understand at all. Most of the concepts were completely outside anything he'd ever experienced while living in Hayll. Lilith was about to try again when he spoke up.

"Wherever it is you're from, Lilith, I wish I could see it. Because that sounds very different from what it's like in Hayll."

All in good time, Prince. Very shortly, you'll get your wish. If all goes as planned. Lilith said none of that aloud, and they continued to play. When it was over and he lost- as she knew he would- she shrugged.

"That's Cradle for you. Had enough?"

"No," DeSade said, surprising her. "We're going to play this until I win."

Lilith couldn't resist a jest at his expense.

"If I heard right earlier, Meredith only gave you a few days. I hope you can figure out a way to win by then."

"Did you just…"

"Yep."

"Set up the board. We're going to play until I make you take back that smartass comment."

And play they did. Lilith found that the game helped keep her mind focused on something other than the safframate for a while. Not perfectly, of course. It still wrung her breathless with a merciless grip every so often. During those times, there was nothing to do but pace and stare vacantly ahead. But the few moments in between those fits were almost bearable.

The Prince took his continued losses with grace, but she could see that he was piecing together how the game worked. It was well past four in the morning when a look crossed his face that made her pause.

"I think this time I've found a way to beat you, Lilith. We're going to play a different variation."

It was his deal, and he began setting up the board. As he did so, he explained to her how he intended the pieces and cards to interact. Didn't take long for her to recognize it, and she couldn't stop herself from whispering, "Variation twenty-seven."

5/Terreille

Alex heard the hushed whisper and raised an eyebrow. Variation twenty-seven. So, it had a name already. Meaning Lilith had already known about it before they'd started playing. Interesting.

"I take it that you've played this variation."

Lilith shook her head. "Never played it myself."

"But you've heard of it."

"Yes."

"And you failed to mention it before because?"

A guilty look flashed across Lilith's face before she mumbled, "I was rather hoping you wouldn't figure out that the game could be played this way."

"Looks like I did."

"Yes, seems so."

That he had figured it out meant something. Alex was sorely tempted to ask her why, but he had the feeling she'd dodge the question. Just like she'd dodged so many others this evening. So for now, he'd let it pass. Instead, he threw her a confident smile.

"Well, I think I'm finally going to pay you back for that remark earlier. Just try to work your sideways female logic on this. I guarantee you won't win."

Lilith stared at the board and sighed heavily.

"I resent the term 'sideways logic', but I will concede that it will be a challenge to beat. This version was invented over eight hundred years ago and witches have yet to find a way around it."

Eight hundred years. Back in the days before the Purge scoured Hayll, when Dorothea and Hekatah had ruled Terreille. Alex could hardly conceive of the idea that such a game had survived that long, and where in the realm it could have been played in those days. Or who would have been playing it. Yet another mysterious clue to add to his puzzle. And another one he had to set aside.

"Well, then I say my odds are very good it won't happen tonight."

"We'll see," she answered back with a smirk. "In all that time, I haven't played it for myself."

"So you'll single-handedly rout a variation that no other witch has beaten in almost a millennia?"

"I guess you'll find out, won't you?"

Alex couldn't help being amused. If he set aside the safframate complications, the night wasn't all bad. It was a unique experience to see a witch as a person instead of prey- and to be seen as a person himself. He had a suspicion that for Lilith, this was not quite so unique. What kind of territory did she come from if this was normal? And why in the name of Hell did she leave it for a place like Draega? That piece of the puzzle made no sense at all to him.

Lilith stared at the board, and then back at the cards in her hand before making a move. Oh yes, this time he was definitely going to win. Alex pounced on the opportunity he saw to block her opening, and cast her a triumphant look.

"Seems to me that you're not starting out so well."

"It's early yet."

She pushed her piece across the board, and then stood abruptly. Alex watched as the safframate gripped her again, every muscle tense. The spasms had gotten more frequent during their last game, and were getting worse. But she'd continued to deflect any attempt to bring up the subject of relieving that tension.

"Lilith?"

"It'll pass," she snarled, voice strained by the effort to keep focused. "Are you going to move or what?"

"They're getting worse and you know it."

"I said it'll pass!"

Why did he bother arguing with her? Lilith was not going to see reason about this. Alex sighed and moved his own piece. As she paced, he thought of what she'd said about the times she'd played against blood males in her home territory. Maybe there was a way to work this to his advantage by making a wager against the outcome. Lilith sat down again, exhaustion plain on her face. No better time to see if this idea would work.

"I've got a deal for you, Lilith."

"What sort of deal?"

By the tone in her voice, he knew she didn't trust his offer in the slightest. Lilith obviously expected some catch in what sounded like an innocuous suggestion- as well she should. Alex sought to persuade her to agree to it, anyway.

"You think you can be the one to beat this variation, don't you?" He set his cards down and leaned over the table; she drew back in response. "Why don't we see how confident you are and lay a bet."

"And the stakes you're proposing?"

"You win and we drop the subject entirely about the safframate. Not another word."

Lilith wasn't fooled by the attractiveness of her end of the deal. Her eyes narrowed as she queried warily, "And if you win?"

"You reconsider my suggestion."

Silence fell over the table for several minutes as she stared at her cards and shuffled them around. He could almost see her turning over each strategy she could pursue in the game, and the debate whether it would win. On one hand, he wondered if he ought to be insulted. Was the thought of any physical interaction with him truly that repugnant to her?

But then if she didn't think she had a chance, Alex doubted that she'd risk taking the bet at all. It wouldn't matter either way. He was sure she couldn't win.

"Waiting for your answer, you know."

"Do you have someplace else to be? I'm thinking."

"I think you're not so sure you can make good on your boast and that's why you won't answer me. You know you're going to lose," he taunted.

"Oooooh, you think you're so damned clever, don't you? Fine, it's a bet."

And that's how it was done. He knew if he got her temper riled, she'd snap back and agree. Now it was just a matter of winning the game. He made his next move and flashed her a look of challenge.

"May the best player win."

6/Terreille

I hope I haven't made a mistake, Kareal thought as the door closed behind her.

She was alone with a Warlord she didn't know. One who wore Purple Dusk Jewels and whose reputation for hating witches made him almost as dangerous as DeSade. Certainly the greater danger to her in this given moment; Dahlen could do whatever he wanted to her. Even if she tried to send a message to Fawne, she couldn't hope that her friend could do anything to help her.

So why did I agree to this?

"Kareal?"

I shouldn't have agreed to this.

"Kareal?"

I should have told Fawne I changed my mind. I- the brush of fingertips on her shoulder wrenched Kareal out of her thoughts with a breathless shriek. Dahlen's hand jerked away, as if he'd been burned.

"I'm sorry. I frightened you. Again." He cast his eyes down to the floor and mouthed a few choice words before adding, "I truly don't mean to."

"I'm okay."

"No you're not."

She supposed she shouldn't have tried to lie. Of course he would have been able to tell that she was scared witless. Probably didn't even need the help of his Jewels to do it, either. He'd know just by looking at her. So what did she do now?

"You really don't have to stay," he told her quietly.

Kareal might have taken him up on the offer of escape if not for the sadness and regret she heard in Dahlen's voice. Mustering her courage, she dared look at him directly. His gaze was still trained on the ground, which gave her a minute to really study him. This close, she noticed things she hadn't before.

He was much younger than her initial impressions of him had led her to believe. In Hayll, you didn't ever ask anyone about their age. No one wanted to be reminded of how many years they'd lived through this nightmare- or how many they had left. Blood males, especially. And with the grimly hostile expression Dahlen wore all the time, Kareal always assumed he was close to five or six hundred years old. Looking at him now, she wondered if he was even as old as Fawne.

Life in Draega is so hard on them. Much harder than it is for us.

A lot of witches might try to argue against that view, but they'd be wrong. True, Hayll was a dangerous place for a witch, but she could survive if she knew how to play the game. She had rules she could follow that would allow her to survive this place. The same wasn't true for blood males. They had no escape from the horror Meredith and her pet Queens inflicted upon them. Could do everything by the rules, only to end up tortured, broken or worse at the whim of any one of those bitches.

Kareal had seen it happen many times over, but one memory stood out more clearly than the rest. She and a neighbor boy, Aeren, had been friends as children, remaining close after going through their Birthright ceremonies. He'd been a kind person, looking out for her and her mother- even after the coven bitches took over her parents' district and started changing things. Neither of them had liked the changes, but he'd done his best to obey the rules to stay out of trouble with the new Queen.

Then one day he was gone. Disappeared sometime just before their hundredth birthday.

The next time she saw Aeren, he was attending one of Queen Olivia's bitches. Ringed. By then, everyone knew what went on in the courts. The whispered stories of outright torture and abuse. But Kareal didn't see him any differently- that he could still count on her as a friend. Their eyes met from across the street, and she'd offered a tiny smile; in return, he flashed her an icy glare.

As if we'd never been friends at all.

Several months later, Kareal heard Aeren had been executed. The details of what he'd suffered leaked throughout the district, and she'd been horrified to learn what those bitches had done to him. Nor did she believe the official explanation they received from Olivia, who claimed that he'd murdered an innocent witch in cold blood. Kareal was more inclined to believe the rumor that Aeren had fought one of the coven witches who'd dosed him with safframate. Fought and killed her.

In some ways, Dahlen reminded her of Aeren. But where her friend had chosen the path of self-destruction, Dahlen had done whatever he needed to do to survive. Like so many of them did. For some reason, that revelation helped ease her apprehension. At least enough that Kareal could breathe again.

"Kareal?" Dahlen crossed the room to set his hand on the door. "Were you wanting to leave?"

Feeling braver than usual, she joined him. But when he would have released the handle to pull it open, Kareal laid her hand atop his.

"No."

Dahlen's surprise swept through her, and she didn't break eye contact when his gaze sought hers. They stood that way for a long time before either of them said anything more.

"You don't have to worry about being here," he assured her. Kareal couldn't help being somewhat dubious, which prompted him to continue. "I know…I know what you're probably thinking. What you've heard about me. But I'd never hurt you, Kareal. And I'm not expecting anything from you."

She believed him.

But that did leave the question of just what she should expect tonight. From a cursory look around, the closet-sized room really wasn't meant to accommodate visitors. Definitely not an overnight one. Aside from the bed, it contained no other furniture- like a chair or sofa- that she could curl up on. Dahlen must have seen the unspoken question.

"It's not the greatest, but you're welcome to it. The bed, that is."

"But what about-"

"I can manage."

"But-"

"Really. I'm just glad to be of help."

Kareal didn't really know what to say or how to interpret his behavior. Dahlen seemed to think nothing of giving up his bed to her, and wanted nothing in exchange. As he'd put it- she needed help and he was offering to provide it in any way he could. And from his earnest expression, Dahlen believed it to be the only course of action. She might have been tempted to call it second nature.

What would Draega have been like if this was how the Queens had viewed what it was to serve?

In the midst of that thought, Kareal heard herself protest, "I can't kick you out of your own bed!"

"I don't mind."

The thought of letting him sleep standing or on the floor didn't sit right with her, and sparked her temper. Enough that she didn't pause to think.

"Well I do," she countered with a light snarl.

That caught them both by surprise. Kareal couldn't believe she'd actually argued with him. A Purple Dusk Warlord. And over him doing something considerate for her.

I must be insane.

She expected Dahlen to be angry. Furious, even. But inexplicably, he broke into a grin and laughed.

Maybe he's insane, she amended.

"I'll have to tell Paeter that I won our wager," he declared, still chuckling to himself. "He said you'd never raise your voice to anyone- let alone me- and that I should just give up. But I knew you could do it."

Yep, definitely insane.

"I don't understand. You…want me to argue with you?"

He took both her hands in his, interlacing their fingers.

"Yes."

"But…why?"

"You're willing to stand your ground- even when you're at a disadvantage. It's the fire of a true witch, and I could see you had it from the minute I first met you. I knew then you were the one for me, Kareal."

Her cheeks warmed at his words, heated by a different kind of fire. She'd never heard herself described like that before. Few blood males saw her as anything more than a tolerable option to satisfy their desires. Pursued only if more attractive or darker-jeweled witches weren't available. But from the tone in Dahlen's voice, this went even beyond wanting. Fawne had tried to explain it to her when she spoke about Paeter. It hadn't made sense then.

It did now.

"Well, then," she answered when she could find her voice. "I hope you have a better idea than your last one, because I'm not changing my mind."

Dahlen's smile broadened.

"Oh, I can definitely come up with a more satisfying alternative."

7/Terreille

The game had gone on for a very long time- longer than she'd ever seen. Maybe it wouldn't have gone on quite so long if not for the frequent breaks in the game play. The safframate was getting worse. It wasn't just spasms now, having intensified by degrees until the drug held her body in its unrelenting grip. Lilith played half of the game standing because she couldn't bear sitting still anymore.

For his part, DeSade said nothing about any of it. On the other hand, he was playing with a ruthless determination to win. Lilith had fought with an equal amount of determination to thwart him. She couldn't afford to lose. Hell's fire, she shouldn't have agreed to the bet in the first place, but damn him for baiting her temper that way. She'd snapped her answer before really thinking about it, and then it was too late to take it back.

They had only a few moves left, and Lilith knew her chances were slim to none. One mislaid card and she'd lose- lose more than just the game. The safframate closed in on her again, making it difficult to think. She stared at the three cards in her hand and willed herself not to lose focus again. Just a little longer. A little longer. While she repeated those words in her head, the Prince interrupted her train of thought.

"Well?"

She laid her card and moved her piece. DeSade frowned, obviously annoyed that she'd successfully parried his last move. He thumbed through his cards and studied the board for a long time. In between minutes, Lilith concentrated on breathing. Another feverish shiver raced through her and she paced the room to distract herself.

When this is over, I'm going to ache all over.

Finally, he moved his piece on the board. Lilith edged back to the table and considered her cards. A glimmer of hope; he'd made a glaring tactical mistake and must not have realized it. She very nearly sighed in relief, knowing that she had the means to win.

And also the means to lose.

Two cards. One choice. Play the wrong card first and she would lose the game; hold it back and wait for the final turn, and she would win. The entire outcome of the game depended upon which side of that choice she would take. And for a few seconds, Lilith contemplated whether she could play out a losing strategy. DeSade would never know she'd done it intentionally. Her hand hovered over the card.

I can't.

Ignoring an unpleasant tang of regret, Lilith withdrew the second card and laid it on the table. The Prince stared at it, shaking his head incredulously.

"That's impossible."

"No, it's not. And I think I know what card you have left to play."

"It's not possible," he repeated, but laid down his card to make his final move.

Lilith made hers- the winning one.

In that moment, she should have felt elated that she'd managed to do something witches had been trying to achieve for centuries. She'd won against variation twenty-seven, and guaranteed that DeSade wouldn't renew any offer that would tempt her to do anything stupid for the rest of the night. But she didn't; her victory was hollow.

The Prince gathered up the cards, saying nothing. Lilith wasn't sure what to do about that, either. Finally, she ventured a comment.

"I'm guessing that was the last game."

"It's late," he said flatly. "I should have been asleep hours ago."

Why does that sound like it's my fault he isn't? She supposed that it was. If she'd managed to elude him earlier tonight, she wouldn't even be in DeSade's suite to begin with. No need to be awake this late. But still, Lilith had thought that maybe he hadn't found the experience to be too unpleasant once they'd begun playing Cradle. Even thought he might have been having a good time. Or maybe he's just a sore loser.

"Good night, Lilith."

"Good night."

With that, he rose and left for his room without a backward glance. Lilith was glad he didn't turn around, since she wasn't sure what expression she wore. A nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that she'd just made a mistake and ruined something. But then, this whole night was filled with one mistake after another. Everything she'd come here to do had gone horribly wrong.

Night faded into morning as the hours crawled by. Lilith hardly noticed the time or whether or not DeSade had resurfaced. She hadn't gotten any sleep at all, and continued to pace the room with ferocious energy. Maybe once during that whole time, she'd managed to call in some food. Enough to keep her going, anyway.

But that was at least an hour ago- or more. Lilith didn't really know. At this point, she was aware of only the inexorable need that throbbed and burned through her. Even the light brush of the silk shirt was torture. And if she'd been able to think, she might have taken that off for what small relief that would give her. Wouldn't have even cared what DeSade might think of that.

By mid-afternoon, she didn't even remember that she was in the Prince's suite. Her world had narrowed to the task of putting one foot in front of the other. As she did so, Lilith shook constantly from the stress of trying not to feel and feeling too much. She'd tried to eat again, but nothing had stayed down. More than once, she worried that this might actually break her.

Not her Jewels. Those would survive this. But that the safframate would crack her grip on her sanity and she might slide into the Twisted Kingdom. If that happened…may the Darkness have mercy on the Blood. So she fought it, clinging to the cliff of sanity by her fingernails. Just a little while longer. The worst would pass soon.

But as the afternoon drifted back into evening again, it seemed like the torture would never end. Lilith was too exhausted to pace anymore, and collapsed to her knees near the window. She didn't remember having called in the dress she'd been wearing, but she must have at some point. In her next lucid moment, she noted that nearly half of it was now scattered in shredded strips on the floor.

Lilith stared unseeing at the night sky above her and continued to tear up the dress. The material wasn't easy to rip apart, and it hurt her hands. She didn't stop- didn't even think about the pain. Welcomed it, really, as a distraction against what the safframate was doing to her on the inside.