Author's Note 1/12/19: Much quicker in getting this chapter revised compared to the last three. As with most of the other chapters, I've incorporated a few new POV's- this time from Paeter and Dahlen. Definitely recommend a re-read.

Terreille / 1

Lilith awoke early, ripped out of a fitful sleep as a spasm gripped her body. Just as it had done several times since Alex persuaded her to sleep in his room. She clenched her jaw and emptied her mind of all thought while she waited for it to pass. When it did, she released the breath she'd been holding. Not half as strong as the last one and hadn't lasted more than a minute. Lilith guessed that she might have to endure a handful more of them before the safframate faded completely.

Thank the Darkness for that. She slipped out of bed, hoping not to wake Alex. While she'd been willing to placate him on the subject last night, Lilith was in no mood to argue about clothes this morning. It's long past the time we should have been gone from here, anyway.

She called in a loose, summer tunic the color of ripe plums and a pair of grey trousers. Took her a minute to locate the black, ankle-high boots that went with them and a matching pair of socks. Probably not the best ensemble for strolling around Draega if Lilith didn't want to draw attention to herself- at least not in Meredith's district. But they were the only clothes she thought she could tolerate right now.

And they're a damned sight less conspicuous than prancing around Draega in a man's dress shirt, she grumbled as she hitched the trousers up and buttoned them.

All in all, her luck held. Wasn't until Lilith was pulling the tunic over her head that she heard movement from the direction of the bed- a rustle of bedcovers that told her Alex was awake. Although she knew she ought to wait long enough for him to get dressed, she just couldn't make herself do it. With a deprecating sigh, she poked her head out just as he'd thrown back the blankets and rose to his feet.

Damn. It really wasn't fair for a man to look that beautiful. Just seeing him rekindled memories of last night, causing her next inward breath to hitch in the back of her throat. Lilith prayed to the Darkness that Alex would assume she was fighting off the safframate. Even if it meant arguing about whether or not she was stable enough to leave the suite. Far better than…

Admitting that you want him?

The sly question posed to her held more than a touch of cold rebuke. Lilith's temper spiked in response and she shot back, I can't have him, so what's it matter?

Who says you can't? Couldn't have been Alex, because you haven't even asked for his opinion, have you?

Only because I already know what he's going to say.

You know- or you assume?

Unwilling to answer, Lilith concentrated on a much simpler task. She pulled at the laces of her boots and threaded them through the eyelets with dogged persistence. Had only finished the first one when Alex greeted her with a neutral, "You're up early."

"It's time to leave," she replied while keeping her gaze averted. In the pause that followed, Lilith heard a drawer open and silently thanked Mother Night that he had taken the hint to get dressed himself. She continued with her point as she started on her other boot. "Meredith won't come back for another day, but no sense wasting a decent head start before she and Valinna realize you're gone."

Alex made no comment at first. His footsteps carried him over to the wardrobe in the corner. Lilith didn't dare look up, but her mind was all too happy to provide her with images to accompany the tantalizing sound of a zipper. Preoccupied as she was, she almost didn't catch his answer.

"It's a moot point, really. As soon as Meredith wakes up, she will notice I'm not wearing a Ring anymore."

Apparently, she hadn't made it clear last night which rings she'd stolen. Gambling that it was safe enough to look at him, Lilith got to her feet and cast a glance in his direction. She was wrong. Granted, Alex had at least put on a pair of pants and was in the process of buttoning an emerald dress shirt. The clothes only served to emphasize his fine build rather than conceal it. She gave herself a mental shake and cleared her throat.

"No, she won't. I stole the primary and secondary controlling rings when they were drugging me."

Alex's fingers stilled on the last button as he stared at her. Lilith struggled to find the right adjective to describe his expression. Shock, definitely that- but something more, too. Although why he found her admission surprising remained a mystery. How did he expect her to get him out of Draega if she didn't sever Meredith's ability to monitor him through his Ring?

He attempted to speak twice before he managed to choke out an uneven, "You had them the whole time."

"Yes, I did."

"You could have used them any time over the past few days to have gotten your way." Too startled at the unexpected direction the conversation had taken, she couldn't form a response before he queried, "You never once thought to use them, did you?"

Bile rose to the back of her throat at the thought of ever using something so hideously cruel. Mother Night, it had been hard enough for her just to touch them. The moment she had, the gold bands had pulsated with Meredith and Valinna's malicious glee. And beneath theirs, she'd felt traces of Dorothea and Hekatah, too. These rings had a long, tainted history in the Blood. Millennia of witches channeling their malevolence and hate into them. It had tried to hook into her the moment she held them- tried to goad her into using them.

"I could never use one of those...things-" she spat out vehemently- "to inflict pain on someone." Appalled at the mere suggestion she would, Lilith shook her head at him. "I never intended to use them."

Alex regarded her in considering silence before asking, "Well, then, what were you planning to do with them?"

While she knew the answer to his question, the timing of it was somewhat awkward. If would have been better to deal with all of the rings at once. The controlling rings were all in her possession, but Lilith hadn't yet collected the corresponding Rings worn by the other pleasure slaves. Even though they didn't work, she couldn't risk removing them until after she'd freed Alex. Couldn't risk that one of Meredith's coven bitches would notice. Not only would it alert the witches to her plan, it would also result in the untimely- and no doubt excruciatingly brutal- death of whomever got caught not wearing one.

Will just have to deal with the rest of them separately. For now…

Lilith called in a large silver bowl and used Craft to float it waist-high in front of her. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she floated his Ring from atop the bureau over to her and placed it in the bowl. Then she called in the rest. Gold bands of all sizes filled the bowl to the brim- most of them controlling rings. Enough to enslave several dozen Blood males.

Ignoring Alex's whispered prayer to the Darkness, Lilith unleashed a blast of deadly witchfire. It ignited in a flash of white-blue flames, over which she placed an Ebon-gray shield. The witchfire burned hot and fast, causing the bowl and its contents to glow. And when it finally burned itself out, every ring had been reduced to flaky metallic ashes. Lilith raised her eyes to his.

"That's what I planned to do."

Terreille / 2

Alex broke eye contact to stare at the bowl. Rather, to stare at what remained of the rings that had been torturing Blood males for millennia. When Lilith had called them in, he'd been staggered by the enmity radiating from those rings. It had tried to slip past his inner barriers. Tried, but Alex had closed them tight the moment he felt the first intrusion, and had even taken a physical step backward to distance himself from them. Lilith, by contrast, hadn't been affected. Or at least didn't appear to be.

She actually destroyed them.

What did you expect her to do? You heard the tone in her voice when you suggested that she could have used them.

Oh yes, he'd heard it. A blend of horrified disgust and fury that still hung in the air around them. No mistake that she felt almost the same animosity towards those rings as he did. And yet Alex still found it difficult to understand why she'd willingly destroyed the one tool witches had to subdue Blood males. Even if she never used one herself- or let anyone else use them- she could have kept those rings and reserved them as a threat to hang over the head of any male who resisted the authority of the witches who ruled.

So why didn't she?

"Those were the last," he heard her murmur, as if she were talking to herself.

"The last what?"

"The last remaining controlling rings in all of Hayll- in all of Terreille, actually. It's taken me decades to locate them all. But those were the very last."

"Maybe for now, but Meredith or any of her coven bitches could just create new ones."

"Not anymore."

Now he forced his gaze up to hers again, noting the unnerving intensity that burned like tongues of witchfire in her eyes. Alex waited for a moment or two to pass before he realized she wasn't going to explain her enigmatic comment without being prompted. He took a breath and asked, "How are you sure of that?"

"No one has forged a Ring of Obedience since Dorothea ruled Hayll. It's what one might call a lost art now. Meredith and Valinna inadvertently helped keep it that way, closely guarding the Craft knowledge needed to do it so that no one could seize control from them." Lilith paused, her lips curving into a subtle and terrifying smile. "But I found where they'd hidden the texts. Rest assured, Alex, that Craft knowledge will remain lost."

Mother Night.

He wasn't sure whether he ought to be grateful or frightened. No Blood male would ever endure the agony of wearing a Ring of Obedience again. Without them, Meredith and her bitches were going to find it much more difficult to maintain absolute control of Hayll. That was something to celebrate. But that smile…

Mother Night.

"Why?" The question left him before Alex realized he'd said anything. Some of the feral intensity left Lilith's eyes and her brow wrinkled in mild confusion. He tried to phrase what he'd meant in a way that she could understand. "Why did you take such a dangerous risk on our behalf?"

"Because Hayll is not meant to be this way," she admitted with a reluctant sigh that turned into a snarl when she added, "And those damned rings are part of why this territory wasn't healing the way it should." Alex wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but Lilith pressed on. "It's not important now. We need to get out of here."

A long minute passed where he debated with himself how he was going to answer. How to tell her that he wouldn't be going with her without sounding ungrateful for what she'd gone through on his behalf. How to not sound like a heartless bastard who didn't care about seeing his family. He did care and he was grateful- more than he could ever express. And yet he couldn't possibly go with her.

But how do I say it without telling her why?

As it turned out, his silence had already given her his answer. Alex saw the moment it registered as something akin to regret flashed in her eyes. Lilith took a step backwards. "I see. So you'll be remaining in Hayll, then."

"I need…time." The end of that sentence landed awkwardly between them, even though it was somewhat true. He groped for some kind of response that would reassure her this wasn't her fault. "Time to think about what I want to do with my life- if going to live with my family is the right choice."

Lilith didn't look as though she believed him. But she didn't push back- didn't argue to know his true reasons as he'd expected her to. She just agreed with him, voice quiet and resigned as she said, "All right. You should do what is best."

"Lilith…"

"But," she continued with slightly narrowed eyes. "If you're staying in Hayll to kill Meredith and her coven, I should warn you that you can't do that."

While he hadn't quite thought through his plans to that point yet, he wasn't surprised that Lilith had. Her order didn't sit well, and he fired back, "The hell I can't! The bitches deserve a well-earned trip to the Darkness, and I'm more than capable of giving it to them. Besides, you can't expect Hayll to recover if Meredith continues to rule."

"Killing them won't fix what's wrong with Hayll. It'll only make things worse." Lilith shook her head sadly. "Don't you think I would have done it myself by now if that weren't the case?"

She had a point. Wearing the Ebon-gray, she could have easily taken out Valinna on her own. Even Meredith, under the right circumstances. So Alex bit back the snarl of protest he wanted to make and forced himself to consider how she knew that sparing the bitches was the right path. Only one answer came to him: tangled web. He made a point of looking at her right ring finger before raising an eyebrow at her in question.

"I came to Hayll and saw what Meredith had done to it. Was just as eager to send her to Hell as you are…but instinct cautioned me against it. So I wove a tangled web to understand why. What I saw in it is the reason why I've let the bitch live."

Alex didn't ask what she'd seen. There were some things one Black Widow didn't ask another. But once he was free of this place, he fully intended to weave a web of his own- to have the question answered for himself. He made no mention of his plan to Lilith. If she hadn't sensed that he was a Black Widow, he wasn't about to reveal that to her. Instead, he raked a hand through his hair and let out a rumbling sigh.

"Fine, the bitches will live- for now."

"I'm glad that we can come to an agreement on that," she mused wryly. After a moment's pause, she ventured to ask, "Would you consider doing me a favor?"

"What sort of favor?"

"I need you to use whatever means necessary to convince Meredith that I'm dead."

At first, Alex didn't think he'd heard her correctly, but as the seconds ripened into minutes, he realized she was serious. After a few more had passed, he reluctantly admitted that her plan made sense. It would be safer for her if Meredith thought she was dead. Didn't make it any easier to accept. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice even when he said, "To do that, I'd need-"

"A Shadow. I know. And I've already got one that you can use. I'd made one to keep an eye on things here when I went home to talk to your sister."

Actually, I'd been about to say 'a corpse'.

"A Shadow won't work if anyone tries to touch it. They'll know it's not real."

"Not this one."

Alex studied her warily, not quite willing to ask her what she meant by that. Not that he doubted her. He just wasn't sure he wanted to know how she'd learned to weave a Shadow with enough substance that it could be touched. Or why, for that matter.

"It's okay if you'd rather not," she told him. "I can do it myself once you've left."

The thought of her imitating anything he might do to a witch made him physically ill. Even if it was just a Shadow. He shook his head. "Absolutely not. If it needs to be done, I'll do it." And may the Darkness have mercy on me. "Can you call it in- the Shadow, that is?"

"Of course."

Lilith called in a large, flat case containing a tangled web. He busied himself in studying it until she jabbed her thumbnail into her index finger. The scent of blood drew his attention, and he suppressed a snarl as Lilith let three drops fall onto the center of the web. She sealed the wound with healing Craft, vanished the case and turned around. Alex turned as well, and wasn't quite prepared for what he saw.

"Well, that's it, I think. Probably best if I leave you to…whatever." By the time he'd dragged his eyes away from the Shadow, Lilith had already taken several steps towards the bedroom door. She hesitated for a moment. "I'll be in and out of the city. If you change your mind, send a message on an Ebon-gray thread and I'll get it."

Say something before she leaves. Before it's too late.

"Lilith. I should explain-"

It was already too late. He saw it in her expression as she retreated into the hallway- knew it even before she said, "I'll see you around, Prince." An indifferent shrug. "Or maybe I won't."

Terreille / 3

He'd known worse nights, but Paeter was still grateful that this one was finally over. Kaeremi had insisted that he make up for the lost evening, and so he'd only just left her suite about an hour ago. Maybe less. But for all her demands at least she hadn't added a punishment for being late on top of it. No doubt thanks to whatever excuse Dahlen had given Idrina.

I hope you survived the night with that bitch, my friend. Especially now that we're so close to the end.

Or at least he hoped so. The past two days hadn't gone exactly as Raenel had planned, and that had made everyone rather nervous. Paeter and Dahlen had been the only two summoned last night, but it wouldn't be long before others would receive similar summons. Which was why they'd all gathered in one of the seldom-used parlors in the servants' wing. Risking the coven's wrath to discuss what they should do.

Nine men paced the room with restless energy, eyes darting nervously to the door. Ten if Paeter included himself. Only two missing- Cassel and Dahlen. The former came as no surprise. Despite the healing Raenel had done for him, the man was in no condition to leave his room; he was lucky to be alive at all after what Seren and Geara had done to him for attacking Zirah. But Dahlen should have been here by now.

Can't afford to keep waiting for him, he admitted reluctantly. In a semi-hushed voice, he drew the attention of the group, "I think we'd better make this as brief as possible. The coven bitches aren't known to be early risers, but now's not the time to get careless."

Several heads nodded in agreement. Most of the Warlords looked to Paeter as their leader. He'd been serving in Meredith's hall the longest, and had made a point of helping new arrivals adjust to their duties. For the ones who listened, his advice gave them a better chance at survival. Not a guarantee by any stretch; sometimes, a man drew the short straw and couldn't have done anything to avoid it. And there were always those few who'd rather pay the ultimate price rather than submit. Dahlen had very nearly taken that path.

"Have you heard from Raenel, Paeter?"

The question came as no surprise- or that it had been the first thing anyone wanted to know. After she'd healed Cassel, Raenel had left to complete the final phase of her plan. She'd told Paeter that once she had finished, she would contact him with instructions about where they would all meet to turn over their Rings. Said it wouldn't take more than a few days- three at the most.

"Not yet, Vaughn," he said, shaking his head.

Murmurs drifted through the room, but no one wanted to ask the next question. At last, a voice called out from the back of the room, "Is it true- the rumors we've been hearing about what went on in the Queen bitch's private salon?"

"I'm afraid so."

The murmurs grew louder. More agitated. Paeter couldn't blame them for being discouraged. Every man in this room knew what safframate could do. Knew that to be given two spoonfuls was a death sentence. Even if the body survived, a person dosed with that much would most likely emerge from that excruciating nightmare with a mind so shattered that death would have been kinder.

Most likely, but not always. And that was the hope Paeter clung to- that Raenel was strong enough to recover from the ordeal. He would hold onto that hope with everything in him until the question was answered one way or another.

"So what now," Vaughn pressed. "Do we continue to wait, knowing that she's in no condition to help anyone at this point?"

"We don't know that for certain."

"Don't we?" another man cut in bitterly. "Paeter, we have to face reality. Raenel did her best, but once Meredith caught her, the game was over. We should have escaped the hall that night."

He turned to the Yellow-Jeweled Warlord and put a thread of steel in his tone as he reminded him, "She asked for three days and we all promised to give them to her, Jaeren. You may want to give up and break that promise, but I saw what Raenel was capable of doing. Things no other witch in Hayll has ever done. So I have to believe when she said she could do this that she will see it done."

Jaeren backed down, guilt heating his cheeks. Vaughn, on the other hand, followed up with a question that threatened to wither the fledgling optimism that he'd tried to give them. "And what about DeSade?" Silence fell over the room. "We all heard Othar and Larkin. Grael was supposed to break Raenel for those bitches, but DeSade got to him first. And Meredith let DeSade have her." After another pause, he continued, "Say what you want about the safframate, but no witch ever survives him."

The coven bitches wouldn't, no. The ones foolish enough to engage the Prince's services paid a brutal price for that folly; tales of his most recent victim still gave the rest of them shivers. Even if they agreed the bitch deserved what she got. But Raenel wasn't one of them. And she had one card up her sleeve that might tilt the odds in her favor.

"There's a chance she might. If you recall, we promised to stay so she could free the Prince like she'd done for the rest of us."

Although I can't say that freeing DeSade doesn't come with its own set of risks. Paeter understood why she wanted to do it, but the Prince commanded the Ebon-gray…and harbored a deep hatred of witches. Would he really show her any mercy just because she was the one to sever Meredith's hold on him? She said he would. Said that she had dealt with men like DeSade before and understood them.

Men like DeSade. Hell's fire, he didn't want to delve too deeply into what that meant. Didn't want to think of the name that came immediately to mind when describing the kind of man DeSade was. The name Meredith and her coven bitches had whispered uneasily amongst themselves for centuries; the name pleasure slaves both hated and admired.

The Sadist.

Blood males were forbidden from uttering that name aloud. Disobedience- no matter how slight or unintentional- was met with swift punishment: Public castration and the loss of one's Jewels. Meredith and her pet Queens claimed it was a precaution to curb 'unhealthy romanticism of a dangerous murderer', but Paeter knew better. He and others like him understood that fear drove them to such extremes.

Witches of Hayll feared the Sadist, even though he hadn't walked the streets of Draega in almost a millennia. Quite possibly before most of the coven bitches were even born. Which begged the question of whether or not he had ever existed in the first place. Some speculated that he was merely the Queen's own invention- a means of justifying why the rest of them deserved to be brutalized and controlled. No one knew for sure.

But one thing they did know- the last six hundred years had given rise to a Warlord Prince to rival the legend. Not even Meredith could deny that she'd created the very monster she'd feared. So how Raenel thought she could control DeSade once he no longer wore a Ring of Obedience…

"Do you think he let her explain that," Vaughn argued. "Do you think she'd even have the presence of mind to tell him once the safframate got a hold of her?"

"I know how bad this looks, but-"

*Paeter?*

Dahlen's thought sent over a private thread cut him off mid-sentence. While holding up a hand to let the others know he hadn't finished, he sent an immediate reply. *Dahlen- where are you?*

*On my way*

*Everything…all right?*

A very long pause followed. Paeter probably shouldn't have asked, but hadn't been able to stifle his concern for the younger man. Idrina may not be as cruel as Meredith, but the bitch had a vindictive streak that set her apart from most of the coven. Before Dahlen, she'd already destroyed a half-dozen warlords. Wearing them down until they became too unstable for bedroom work and were killed for blood sport.

*I'll live*

He left it at that. *Glad to hear it. We're in the blue room*

*Be there in five minutes* Paeter was about to sever the connection and relay the update to the others when another message came through. *Better make that ten minutes- maybe fifteen*

*Why?* he asked, suddenly alarmed.

*Raenel*

*Is she with you?* Please say you've seen her and that she's all right. *Dahlen?*

*Yes, she's here*

*She's well?*

Another pause. A more ominous one than before.

*I'm going to need some time to deal with this. Will let you know when we're on our way*

The link between them broke, leaving him feeling slightly uneasy about what the other man meant. But he could at least find some comfort in knowing that the witch was alive. How she'd escaped DeSade- and what happened in the days between- remained a worrisome mystery, but she was alive. That gave him some hope that not all was lost.

"What was that about," Jaeren asked.

"Dahlen's on his way. And he says he's bringing Raenel with him."

Terreille / 4

Dahlen closed the door behind him and pressed his hands against his eyes and temples, willing the memories of last night into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind. Willing himself to forget what had been done to him- and what he'd been forced to do- before something in him broke. He didn't know how long he stood there, shaking with the effort of holding himself together, but he knew he couldn't afford to remain here much longer.

Paeter and the others will be waiting for me.

Thoroughly exhausted, he shuffled down the corridor. Thankfully, none of the coven bitches emerged from their suites as he passed by. Far too early. None of them ever surfaced before the midday meal, if then. No doubt Idrina would call to the kitchen to have Arren bring hers up in another hour or so. The witch had already been summoned to her suite once this morning, tasked with a handful of mundane errands that could have waited for a more convenient hour.

Not to mention a less humiliating one.

Humiliating for him, anyway; Idrina relished having an audience. She timed Arren's arrival to coincide with an order for him to kneel in service- one of several times she'd made that particular demand since last night- and left the witch standing just inside the room, waiting to be given a task until Dahlen had performed his own to Idrina's complete satisfaction. Didn't even spare Arren a glance as she bade her to gather up soiled clothes for laundering and tidy up the bedroom. All the while, she'd made a point of running her hands over his body with blatant possession.

It could have been worse, he realized, and sucked in a painful breath. It could have been Kareal.

Mother Night, he couldn't have faced her if she'd been the one to witness…Dahlen thrust that memory back, unwilling to think of what Idrina had demanded of him next. It was over. After today, he'd never have to endure that bitch's touch ever again. Kareal wouldn't ever have to know about the price he'd paid for that chance at freedom.

Wouldn't she, a traitorous voice whispered in his ear. Arren saw enough this morning to give a graphic account of what Idrina expects as 'entertainment'. You think they don't talk to one another? By now, the stories have likely circulated to every witch serving in the hall.

His steps faltered as the truth of those words sunk in. He'd passed through the kitchen on several occasions and overheard the witches trading stories about the coven bitches. Usually about their selfish and petty demands about meals or menial tasks expected of their personal servants. But even though he'd never heard them mention anything involving the pleasure slaves, that didn't mean those stories weren't told.

Can't change it, so just move on. Dahlen picked up his stride again, only to skid to a halt a half second later. He'd forgotten to let Paeter know he was on his way. And since Idrina had kept him longer than usual…Paeter's probably worried she's figured out something is up.

He aimed a private thread at his friend, who responded right away. As expected, he had been worried. Not about their plans for escape, but for him. Concern passed over their connection when the older Warlord asked how he was; Dahlen hesitated for several seconds before answering, not wanting to burden Paeter with his problems. They were just about finished when Dahlen was nearly knocked off his feet by a witch who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Knowing the sort of witch who'd be wandering around this part of the hall, his eyes narrowed with predatory interest. Especially since he wasn't detecting any Jewels on the bitch. Could be that one of them had gotten careless- thought the Blood males were too cowed to fight back. Well, he could teach this one a lesson. Dahlen descended to the depth of his Purple Dusk, intending to strike before she could react or call out in alarm to the rest of the coven. And then the witch turned around.

"Raenel!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise as his temper drained out of him. "Raenel, what are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, and stumbled backwards in a wild-shy attempt to put distance between them. Didn't really look at him, her gold eyes sweeping the hallway in all directions. As if she expected someone else to appear at any moment. Dahlen cursed himself a fool when it dawned on him who that might be. DeSade. The safframate. He'd been so focused on surviving his own private hell last night that he'd almost forgotten what Raenel had gone through.

This might take a bit longer than five minutes. He told Paeter of the possible delay before trying again.

"Raenel, it's me- Dahlen."

Still no recognition, or even an acknowledgement that he was there. Coupled with his inability to sense her Sapphire Jewels at all, he feared the worst. Two spoonfuls of safframate and then DeSade…perhaps it had been too much to survive. Even for a witch as strong as Raenel. He didn't want Kareal to be right about what would happen. Granted, his darling Spitfire had predicted DeSade would kill the witch.

But broken and mad isn't too far off, is it?

"I have to get away from here," she whispered in a haunted voice. "Have to get away before-"

She was about to bolt. In her current condition, he doubted she could find her way out of the hall before Meredith or one of the coven bitches found her. He had to do something. Unfortunately, the one thing he could do might make things worse. But seeing no alternative, he set his hands on her shoulders and held her in place.

"We'll get you away- wherever you want to go." Although Raenel didn't respond, she was focused on him now. Calmer. Dahlen tried to keep his tone soothing as he offered her a reassuring, "Trust me, it'll be easier once the safframate has worn off."

She'd likely already seen the worst of the drug by now. One spoonful would keep a man on that frantic edge of pleasure and pain for close to a day, so he could guess doubling the dose would last twice as long. Then again, Dahlen didn't know if safframate might work differently for witches; he'd never seen one dosed before and had no way of knowing for sure. But if she was still riding the crest of it…

Despite knowing she likely wouldn't accept, he offered, "If there's anything any of us can do in the meantime to help-"

"NO!" Raenel jerked out of his grasp with a horrified cry. "Not after- I won't. Not ever again."

The pain in her voice ripped at him. Told him enough about what had happened with DeSade. The bastard had to have known she wasn't like Meredith or those other coven bitches. And instead of taking care of Raenel like he should have, he'd tortured her. Dahlen's temper threatened to snap the leash thinking how DeSade had likely enjoyed every minute of it.

You should have left him shackled to that bitch, Raenel. Shouldn't have risked yourself for a lost cause like DeSade.

But she had, and look where it got her. She'd been their best chance at fighting what Meredith had done to Hayll. Hell, she'd worn Sapphire, and now…his fists clenched just thinking what she'd lost. What that bastard had taken away.

"Dahlen."

Raenel's voice pulled him away from his thoughts. Enough to realize the hallway had chilled noticeably. He made an effort to rein in his temper and met her gaze with no small amount of reluctance. The panic had left her expression, replaced by an emotion he couldn't quite decipher. Rather, that too many had gotten tangled up to separate any one in particular.

"Lady?" he queried.

"Leave it go, Dahlen." His skepticism must have been obvious, because she continued in a much firmer voice, "I know what you think DeSade has done, but I assure you that I am unharmed."

"But your Jewels. He broke them."

Raenel exhaled and shook her head at him. For the briefest of moments, she called in a pendant- the same one he'd seen when she was healing Cassel's injuries. And then she vanished it again.

"Masked, not broken. I keep them masked most of the time so witches like Meredith and Valinna don't take notice of me."

"But he still-"

"Warlord."

The command in that tone silenced his protest, although Dahlen swallowed it with difficulty. She hadn't been broken- her mind or her Jewels- which helped diffuse some of his anger. And yet he still wasn't entirely convinced that nothing happened. Something had set Raenel running from DeSade, or she would still be with him. Unlikely that she would allow him to push the subject. Dahlen pushed, anyway.

"You're sure you're okay?"

Raenel regarded him for a long moment before coming to some kind of decision about what to say. "If I admit that the past few days have been physically and mentally exhausting, and that I haven't quite shaken off the safframate, will you drop the issue about the Prince?"

"Maybe."

"Might as well have been born a Warlord Prince," she muttered under her breath. "He's got the temperament of one."

"When you say it like that, I'm not sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment," he mused.

"It's open for interpretation. Where are Paeter and the others?"

A deliberate shift in topic. Dahlen debated for several minutes whether he'd accept the diversion, or if he wanted to pursue what happened with DeSade. In the end, it came down to timing. None of them could afford the time it would take to wear her down enough to get an honest answer. Not if they were going to escape the hall before the coven bitches began to surface. And Raenel knew it.

"The blue room in the servants' wing. I told him I was on my way."

She smiled.

"Well, then, it's probably best to get going. I think it's long past time I finish what I came here to do, don't you?"

Terreille / 5

"Lilith, wait!"

He crossed the room and burst into the hallway, despite having no cause to hurry. Not with an Ebon-Black shield around the suite. Lilith wasn't going anywhere until he dropped it. And yet a feeling of dread crept over him as he traversed the short corridor to the main sitting area. Dread that ripened into panic when he reached that sparely decorated room.

Lilith was gone. Utterly and completely gone.

Impossible. She couldn't have passed through an Ebon-Black shield. Alex performed a slow turn to examine every corner of the room. Could she?

A thorough probe of his suite returned no trace of her. He widened the psychic tendril beyond his suite, reaching as far as he dared without alerting Meredith or the rest of the coven. Still nothing. As if Lilith had vanished without so much as a trace.

"I wanted to put some distance between us," he murmured. "Looks as though I've gotten my wish."

So why doesn't that make me happy?

You know why.

Alex wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. It wasn't so much the physical distance she'd put between them that he found upsetting. It was the invisible wall she'd put between them in those last moments before she'd disappeared. The distance created by her tone. Impersonal- formal- as if they hadn't met before. As if she'd never called his name in the throes of passion. As if it never happened.

Can I blame her for wanting to forget?

Call her back, the voice in his head insisted. You can fix this if you call her back.

And tell her what?

You made a mistake.

A mistake. Alex agreed that he'd most certainly made one. He just wasn't sure where to draw the line. When he'd skirted the real reason why he was staying in Hayll instead of going with her? Perhaps when he didn't agree with her plan of leaving last night? Or maybe- just maybe- when he refused to heed her reservations and coerced her into his bed in the first place. Although 'mistake' was too innocent a word to describe what he'd done wrong there; Alex couldn't bring himself to consider the damning- and yet more appropriate- words he should have used instead.

I can't.

He wasn't even certain that Lilith would answer if he did. She could easily wash her hands of him and leave Alex to find his own way back to his family. Free of Meredith's control, he could leave Draega- Hayll itself- and discover for himself why she'd been so adamant to keep such a tight rein on him. Maybe travel to Dhemlan. Or as far as Askavi. He'd heard whispers of the Black Mountain and the Keep that stood watch over it.

A shuffle-step behind him forced Alex to turn around.

The Shadow.

It didn't say a word, just staring at him with an undecipherable expression- a perfect imitation of Lilith's. He had seen a fair number of Shadows- had even created a few of his own- but none of them captured the likeness of a living person as well as this one did. Mother Night, how was he going to bring himself to torture it, even if it was only a Shadow? Lilith had no idea what she'd just asked him to do.

"You don't appear to be all that keen to get started," the Shadow observed with a slight head tilt. "Why not?"

Why not? Alex could list several reasons. Hearing it speak had only added yet another; even the Shadow's voice sounded just like Lilith's. Could it feel pain? Would it scream? May the Darkness be merciful, he wasn't sure he could do this.

"It's complicated," he managed to say. "With the eyes, and the voice…I-"

She- it, he reminded himself- sighed. "How much damage were you planning to do?"

"Why?"

"Because I could make a few adjustments to my form that might make this easier for you."

"I didn't think Shadows could do Craft."

"Not usually, but it's one of the spells she set into the web." Alex didn't take much comfort in that thought, wondering what other spells Lilith might have set into the tangled web. The Shadow didn't give him time to voice any concerns. "Of course, once I change, there's no changing back."

That was no good. Meredith had to be certain that the witch she found in his suite was the one she'd left here. So as tempting as the offer was, Alex had to decline it with a reluctant shake of his head. "I'm afraid that won't do. But…thanks, anyway."

The Shadow nodded and gestured to the corridor behind it, "Shall we, then?"

He took a steadying breath and forced his feet to move. They carried him all the way back to his bedroom, where he stopped. The Shadow came up on his right side, but did not cross the threshold. Waiting patiently as Alex decided the best way to play out this deception. Should have been easy, but for the longest time, he just stared blankly into the room.

You need me, whispered a cold, savagely gentle voice. You need what I am if you're going to do this.

Alex knew who the voice belonged to- knew what he was about to unleash. Between one heartbeat and the next, something inside him shifted. And just like that, the cold rage flowed through him. Cut through the uncertainty and hesitation as a plan took shape. He slanted a cruelly amused look to the Shadow.

"I believe the first step is to set the stage."

The coverlet and sheets vanished. In their place, Alex called in the ones from last night. The counterpane slid over the far side of the bed as if thrust out of the way; the sheets completed the picture, twisted and tangled to indicate a struggle. He stood back to admire his work, noting how Lilith's blood had soaked into the fibers in erratic splotches dyed a deep shade of carmine.

Extending a long-fingered hand, he bade her, "Over here, my scheming little darling, and take what you've got coming to you."

She hesitated a second or two, which only served to hone his temper. Alex strode back to the door and seized her bicep in a punishing grip, immensely satisfied to feel flesh yielding beneath his fingers. Half-dragging the bitch towards the bed, he flung her the rest of the way. She stared up at him, gold eyes wide. He leaned in close- close enough to sense the fine tremors running through her body. The unmistakable tang of fear assailed his senses, mingling with the psychic remnants of pain embedded in the sheets beneath her.

"Was it worth it," he purred as his fingertips stroked and petted. "Was it worth dying for?" His eyes slit partially closed as a murderously gentle smile formed on his lips. "Was it worth pain so excruciating that you'll wish you were dead?"

Frightened silence.

"Well, then. I guess we'll just have to find out."

He took his time. Wrung every last drop of fear and agony that he could from the bitch. Played every game he'd been too cautious to play before. Until at last, the cold rage had been purged out of him. Alex blinked once or twice, as if waking from a mental fog. Memories surfaced as fragments: Disagreement, tension and dread; Lilith's hasty retreat; him chasing after her…and then nothing.

His gaze dropped to his hands. For the longest time, Alex just kept staring as blood trickled over the edge of his palm and dripped to the pale cream carpet below. Willed it to be an illusion, even though he knew it wasn't. Slowly, he forced his line of sight up to the bed in front of him. Finally landing on the brutally slain corpse strewn across it- in particular to the familiar gold eyes staring sightless at the ceiling above.

Mother Night, what have I done? Horror propelled him backwards until he slammed into the blackwood bureau, his whole body violently shaking as he struggled in vain not to become hysterical. What have I done?