He gave her a measuring look that reminded her that he wasn’t a boy anymore—that he was, in so many ways, his father’s son.
“Did Father tell you?” Daemonar asked.
“He left that to you,” she replied.
Another measuring look. Then Daemonar took a clean plate out of the cupboards, selected some of the food he’d been about to store, and set the plate in front of her before fetching glasses of water for both of them.
So she sat and ate and listened while her firstborn told her everything.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
Lucivar dropped from the Ebon-gray Wind to the stone landing web in front of SaDiablo Hall. Built thousands of years ago by Saetan Daemon SaDiablo to be his family’s seat, it was an imposing structure of gray stone, with so many wings, rooms, interior courtyards, and gardens the place could be its own village—was, in fact, the main source of income and employment for the adjoining village of Halaway, despite there being only three members of the family in residence.
The Hall was also testimony to the differences between his life and Daemon’s.
His eyrie had as many rooms as a modest mansion, but it was still small enough that Marian took care of the housekeeping and cooking, with help from him and the children. Occasionally she had “helpers” from Riada, the closest Blood village in Ebon Rih, but those were youngsters who wanted to learn hearth Craft from Marian Yaslana—or who were willing to trade time doing chores in exchange for lessons in weaving since Marian was becoming known as a “loom artist.”
For many years, he’d had one home to look after and the valley of Ebon Rih to rule. He also had a Dhemlan estate that had vineyards and made wine, but he didn’t oversee it directly any more than he oversaw the town house in Amdarh, despite having use of one side of the building.
Even now, with him ruling all of Askavi, his home and work were fairly straightforward.
Daemon’s life was so much more complicated.
The Hall, which was Daemon Sadi’s primary residence, employed close to two hundred people to take care of the building, cook the meals, work in the stables, and tend the grounds and all the gardens, both the exterior gardens and the interior courtyards that provided light and greenery to bedrooms, sitting rooms, workrooms, and all the other rooms that massive structure contained.
Besides dealing with the senior staff at the Hall—which, considering the personalities of the senior staff, was sufficiently challenging—Daemon also dealt with the town house and its staff, the family estates in Dhemlan, an estate that was run as a self-sufficient school for half-Blood children, and a school on the Isle of Scelt that trained and educated kindred Scelties. He also owned or co-owned several businesses throughout the Realm of Kaeleer, as well as a few farms and businesses he still supported in Dena Nehele and Shalador Nehele in the Realm of Terreille. Added to that, Daemon took care of the SaDiablo family’s vast wealth, working with his personal man of business and the firm that had been managing some portion of that wealth since Saetan had hired them centuries ago.
That much responsibility might have overwhelmed a lot of men, but Daemon actually enjoyed the work, the challenges of business. They were almost a way for him to relax from the duties of being the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and dealing with the Dhemlan Queens as well as the Queens who ruled Kaeleer’s other Territories.
They were almost a way for him to rest from the duties of being the High Lord of Hell—a title Daemon had shouldered after Saetan went to the final death. A title, a truth, and a secret that was only known to a few who were among the living. Sadi would give his daughter as much time to grow up as he could before that title cast a shadow over her life. That was a choice Lucivar understood, seeing the shadow his title of Demon Prince now cast on his own children.
Added to the complications of Daemon’s life was the fact that Daemon Sadi had been damaged by a savagely abusive childhood and centuries of being used as a pleasure slave, and his brilliant mind had been broken and repaired three times, the last time leaving him fragile in a way that also made him extremely dangerous to the whole damn Realm.
But Sadi was Lucivar’s brother. He loved the man and would stand with him against anyone—except their Queen.
A psychic probe at the level of the Red told him that Daemon was home and Surreal SaDiablo, Daemon’s Gray-Jeweled partner and second-in-command, was not.
Officially, Surreal was Daemon’s wife, and Sadi gave her everything a wife was entitled to have from a husband, including his body. They loved each other but had never been in love with each other, and that had made the difference when mistakes made on both sides had led to Surreal seeing the full truth about the man she had married and developing a bone-deep fear of some aspects of Daemon’s temper—and it had led Daemon into the cascading self-destruction that had ended with him splintering his mind almost beyond repair.
Daemon asking for help that should have been impossible, from a Queen that almost everyone believed no longer existed in any of the Realms, had saved all of them. Witch had intervened and repaired Daemon’s mind, as she had done twice before. But everything has a price, and having the Queen who was the love of Daemon’s life return, even as a presence without flesh, changed Sadi’s relationship with Surreal.
Daemon still referred to Surreal as his wife. Lucivar couldn’t. Once things had settled down and the routines that were set up to keep Daemon sane were in place, Lucivar discovered there were some lines he couldn’t cross. He loved Surreal like a sister, would defend her against anyone but Daemon, but he saw the differences in Daemon’s relationship with Surreal compared to his relationship with and feelings for Marian.
He and Marian had a marriage—a commitment to each other—in the truest sense of the word. Daemon and Surreal had a partnership that included sex and raising their daughter. But in Surreal’s presence, Daemon couldn’t be everything he was, and the acknowledgment that some distance was required to keep her safe—and keep her fear of him at bay—had stained everything they were to each other for the past few years.
Lucivar shook his head. No point rubbing up against rough stone until you hurt.
The door opened before he had a chance to knock. Beale, the Red-Jeweled Warlord who worked as the Hall’s butler, studied him for a moment before stepping aside.
Beale was one of the people Daemon had entrusted with telling him his control was slipping and he needed some solitary time to regain his balance. Lucivar was another who had accepted that responsibility. It wasn’t unusual for him to show up at the Hall for a meal or a quick visit, but that first meeting between butler and brother always held an unspoken question about the man who was the High Lord of Hell as well as the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan—and who, at his most lethal, was known as the Sadist.
“Prince Sadi is working in his study,” Beale said. “Should I have coffee brought in?”