* * *
"Fortune smiled upon us when we managed to destroy Xenides so easily," Merrill pushed a wineglass toward Wlodek. Wlodek was moving out of Merrill's basement—Charles, Rolfe, Radomir and Russell had come to help load equipment and records into waiting trailers.
"I find it fortunate that you were able to get close enough to lay compulsion," Wlodek sniffed the wine before tasting. "After that, it was easy to destroy him. I believe I enjoyed handing him his death more than any other."
"We lost many in the battle," Merrill pointed out.
"I have Charles searching the records already, looking for suitable replacements. The Aristocracy will be complete again for next year's meeting."
* * Present * *
"I don't know whether he will wake," Darvul was beginning to lose hope that the unconscious common might live. Nine days had passed and still the young common had not moved or wakened. Darvul and his assistant, Noff, had finished bathing the young one. He might have been older than Darvul thought, Noff decided; the common demon had pubic hair, which normally arrived at age twenty or so. Common demons were slow to mature, since they lived six hundred years or more. Still, they had no genitalia, although they had pubic hair. Should a Vampire Queen ever come to rebuilt Le-Ath Veronis, the common demons might have a chance of becoming something other than the comesuli they were.
"The tale is spreading that Kifirin woke from a long sleep and in his grief at seeing his planet nearly destroyed, he caused Baetrah to erupt. Thousands from the Southern Continent are fleeing northward," Darvul said softly at Noff's side. Noff heard that rumor as well and nodded at his master, his dandelion-fluff hair shining in the early morning sunlight.
"Raoni Jaydevik and his eldest brother, Gardevik, are already executing rogue High Demons," Noff offered information he'd gleaned earlier while searching for herbs and other medicines in what remained of the marketing district. The common demons were scrambling to rebuild, but so much of their city was destroyed in the attack. The smaller cities and farms outside Veshtul were shipping in extra supplies as quickly as they could, but it was taking time to collect and transport the items to the capital city.
"What happened to Rorevik?" Darvul asked about the former High Demon monarch. Rorevik had taken the throne after Lendevik's death, while Jaydevik, Lendevik's designated heir, had gone missing for centuries. Once Jaydevik returned to Kifirin, Rorevik had stepped aside in favor of his older brother.
"Rorevik is dead, I hear," Noff sighed.
"He allowed Kifirin to get away from him," Darvul nodded. "He was inexperienced and perhaps too lenient with the High Demons. Jaydevik has not held back in his punishment of the High Demons who have broken the laws. Gardevik too. Garde should have been advising Rorevik all along. Perhaps the oppression of the common demons would have been less."
"Perhaps they realize now what we do for them," Noff snorted softly, his dark-brown eyes narrowing in contempt. "The latest death toll stands at fifteen thousand, and even the palace is short-handed."
"So many of our kind gone," Darvul shook his head sadly.
* * *
Glindarok, member of the Saa Thalarr and Raona of Kifirin, sat on a comfortable chair in her suite, absently rubbing her belly—Karzac had already announced she was having twins, something unprecedented in High Demon history. It was too early to determine the babies' gender, however. "Three more weeks," the Saa Thalarr's chief physician said. She'd been left behind in her suite, feeling useless. She wanted to be with Jayd and Garde while they questioned Drith and Croth rogues. She wanted to question them herself concerning their knowledge of the treason committed by both Houses. Few had been innocent or unknowing of the alliance with the Ra'Ak.
"Raona, you must trust the Raoni in this," Roff came to sit beside her, little Toff in his arms. Toff was a scant four weeks old and slept peacefully in the crook of Roff's elbow. Glinda reached out and gently stroked the child's head—he had the barest bit of fuzz there—a promise of Roff's thick, dark hair, perhaps. Giff, Roff's oldest child, had lighter hair. It often happened that way.
Glinda sighed as she studied her sumptuous prison. That's what it was to her—a prison. Rich hangings on the walls and windows, rare marble on the floors, beautiful fabrics covering the chairs and the bed—all hid invisible bars. Jayd was overjoyed at the news of her pregnancy, and then became an autocrat in his worry to keep her safe. Too many Drith and Croth still lived for his liking. Jayd and Garde left the palace, grim-faced each morning, to question more traitors.
Two High Demon guards were stationed outside Glinda's suite at all times, so she couldn't sneak away. Karzac had already warned her—pregnant Saa Thalarr weren't allowed to use any of their real power; therefore, she couldn't fold outside the palace. Roff, Giff and a few other commons were assigned to Glinda; they delivered her food, cleaned her suite, carried messages back and forth and did their best to see to her comfort. It did nothing to alleviate her sense of confinement.
"Can they not let me go out to see the damage to the city?" Glinda grumbled softly, shoving a swath of platinum hair over her shoulder. "Roff, will you ask Giff to braid my hair?" The last was spoken in a whisper; she didn't want to wake Toff.
"Of course I will find Giff—he enjoys braiding your hair. As for the damage in the city, it is quite extensive in places," Roff replied. He'd asked Giff to watch Toff at one point and had gone to survey the devastation for himself. "It is worst on the northwest side, where the weavers and thread-makers were. Few were found alive there, Raona. I hear a request was sent to other villages, asking commons to come who know the trade so that section of the city might be rebuilt."
"Who is rebuilding it?" Glinda asked impatiently, running a hand through her length of white-blonde hair—if left loose, it would continue to fall over a shoulder, irritating Glinda.
"I hear Lord Nedevik Weth and Lord Aldavik Foth have taken that task—they approached Jaydevik with their offers to do this. Supplies and builders are coming in from surrounding areas. Do not fret, Raona, all will be well."
"What about the injured?" Glinda asked. "Are they being cared for? Has someone from the treasury offered assistance where it is needed most?"
"Lady Mayarok and Lord Fredevik Greth are seeing to this," Roff replied. "Lord Fredevik is unable to deny his lady anything she wishes, and this is what she wishes. Her personal comesuli have come to assist her and are tallying the needs in terms of money, space for the wounded and medicines and herbs to treat them. Lord Fredevik is making sure the money handed out by the treasury is spent wisely."
"Will you see that a message is carried to Lady Mayarok, then?" Glinda begged. Roff smiled at her. She'd saved his life more than once. He would do anything she asked of him.
* * *
"Brenten, they're still recovering," Amara attempted to catch Griffin's arm as he paced. "It's too soon. Give them a chance to regroup." Amara begged her mate to slow down and consider things carefully. A frown tugged at Amara's pretty mouth while worry troubled her dark eyes. Griffin ignored her pleas.
"They don't have a clue," Griffin tossed a hand out wildly. "My daughter kills their attackers and herself in the process and they're worried about everything else. Do they think Pheligar and Renegar are going to allow those rogue High Demons to escape?"
"I'm sure they have no idea what the Larentii are capable of," Amara attempted to reassure her mate. He'd only now come home from wherever he'd been, going somewhere to grieve in private. Even so, his hair was wild, his countenance angry as he paced. Amara knew Griffin had bent time and folded space to get back to this moment in time with her, and given his current state of mind, she imagined he'd come back earlier than he should. "There will be a memorial to Lissa. It will come, Brenten. You have to be patient," Amara attempted to slow Griffin's agitated pacing.
"Merrill won't speak to me now," Griffin muttered. "Wlodek either. I'm afraid to contact Gavin and the others—they may never be allowed to remember. If they did remember and were able to kill me, I'm sure they'd try. Why did they remove my memories of her, too?" Griffin tossed up a hand in resignation. He didn't say it, and would never say it, but his memories of Lissa had disappeared before the others' had. He worried, too, over why that was.
"Brenten, you're not thinking. You brought her from our past, only days before we were made to forget. Belen explained that to both of us. I can't help but believe that you somehow discovered you would forget her, back then. Otherwise, why would you take her when she was already weary from destroying Xenides?" Amara examined Griffin's face; he looked haggard and angry. "I know you had your reasons for sacrificing your daughter, but that doesn't mean I understand it any better than the others do." Amara folded away. She had that ability, just as the rest of them did.
"I don't understand it either, love," Griffin sat heavily in the chair Amara had vacated with a sigh.
* * *
"The Raona has visitors already," the High Demon guard insisted.
"She will want to see me," the visitor declared. "Tell her Erland Morphis is here. She'll tear your ears off if you don't let me in." Erland was in a huff; it wasn't often that a Karathian Warlock was turned away for any reason—if the offending party knew what was good for them, anyway. Erland's magic—or any other kind of magic or power had absolutely no effect on any High Demon—they were immune. Erland could pull the palace down around their ears, however, and he was presently considering that option.
"I will inform her, but be prepared if she sends you away," the High Demon's voice held a long-suffering tone.
"That's all I'm asking," Erland didn't hide his impatience, his beautiful face twisting in an angry frown. The High Demon guard knocked on the Raona's door. A common demon answered.