Lucivar sucked in a breath. Daemon tensed, and the room suddenly filled with a yearning that made Daemonar want to cry—or reveal a different secret.

“Tersa?” Daemon said softly. “You’ve seen something like this before?”

“She gave me some beacons before she left the Realm of the living. Like but not the same. A special brew that helps Tersa find the path back to the boy and the winged boy and the Mikal boy when Tersa wanders too far. She saw. She knew.” Tersa laid a hand over Marian’s. “Once the black water washes away what doesn’t belong, the hearth witch will be shown the path home.”

“So we wait,” Lucivar said.

“We wait,” Daemon agreed.

Tersa pointed at the clear Jewel. “The beacon must be returned to the Keep. That is part of the bargain.”

Daemon rewrapped the Jewel in the towel, vanished it, then tapped Daemonar’s shoulder. “Come with me.” He looked at Lucivar.

Daemonar wasn’t sure what was said on a psychic thread, but as he walked out of the room with his uncle, he looked back to see his father kneel beside the daybed.

 

* * *

 

* * *

Daemon kept a hand on Daemonar’s shoulder as they walked through the eyrie toward the front room, where Lucivar would join him in a few minutes. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, needed to ask. But he couldn’t ask any of them.

Did you talk to her? Can you see her?

Witch had told him after Jaenelle Saetien’s Birthright Ceremony that she wouldn’t come to him again, because he needed to stay connected to the living. But when he stood in the Black at his full strength, she was a song in the Darkness, a reminder that he wasn’t alone. He had to accept that was all she could—would—give him.

He wouldn’t jeopardize whatever gift Witch had granted the boy, but there might be a way to find specific answers to this particular puzzle.

“You probably saw one of those clear Jewels when you were younger,” he said, keeping his tone conversational. “You would have seen them used in village landing webs and could have wondered what other use might be made of these smaller pieces. Your aunt Jaenelle might have explained that pieces of clear Jewels could be used to hold spells for a long time.”

Daemonar said nothing, but he felt the boy tensing under his hand.

“Things you’d been told, memories of seeing Jewels like that, might have woven themselves into a dream, which is how you thought about looking for the thing that had contained an unconventional healing spell. Does that sound possible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” Daemon felt the boy relax a bit. “Why not tell your father and me? We would have helped you look for it.”

Hesitation. He and Lucivar needed to get to the Keep before the sun got much higher, but he hoped his brother wouldn’t walk into the front room just yet.

“I didn’t want to tell him unless the Jewel was clear again,” Daemonar finally said.

“If it wasn’t clear?”

“It meant Mother didn’t have a chance to use the healing spell and it would be too late.”

“You’ve got balls, little Brother, to carry the weight of that knowledge in order to spare your father.” Daemon leaned down enough for them to be eye to eye. “But we share the weight in this family. If you can’t tell one of us, think about telling the other. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Did you talk to her? Can you see her?

Before he could ask a question that might break the boy’s willingness to tell him anything in the future, Lucivar walked into the front room and Daemonar bolted.

“You think we’ll get any answers at the Keep?” Lucivar asked as they put on their outer garments.

“That will depend on whether we get there before Karla retires for the day,” Daemon replied.

 

* * *

 

* * *

Lucivar solved the problem of Karla’s needing to retire to conserve the reservoir of power in her Gray Jewel: he opened a vein and filled a small cup with fresh blood.

Accepting the cup, she took a sip and made a face. “Next time, consider doing this when you’re calmer.”

He wasn’t sure if temper really changed the taste of blood or if she was simply commenting about the emotions she felt pumping in him. “We have questions. We need answers.”

She drank the rest of the blood. Two swallows. Setting the cup aside, she said, “Marian?”

“In a way,” Daemon replied. He called in a kitchen towel, unwrapped it, and held up the clear Jewel. “Whatever was in this Jewel is the reason Marian fell into a healing sleep unlike anything Nurian had seen before. We’re hoping that, being a Healer and a Black Widow, you have seen something like this.”

Karla took the Jewel, rubbed a thumb over the surface. “If you’re asking if a Healer like Nurian could create a healing spell and place it in a clear Jewel to lie dormant for decades, the answer is no.”

“What about other kinds of spells?” Daemon asked. “We can wrap spells into objects. Death spells and witchfire are a couple that come to mind.”

“Yes, but power fades over time and the potency of a spell fades with it. If the spells you mentioned fade, someone may survive the death spell, or the witchfire might burn out quickly. A healing spell has to work when it’s needed and be as potent as when it was made.”

Daemon nodded toward the Jewel. “Could you do this?”

“Not even when I walked among the living.” Karla studied both of them. “But you already know there was only one witch, one Healer, who had figured out how to do this.”

Lucivar felt like his heart would explode in his chest. “Jaenelle could have warned us. Warned me.”

Karla held up the Jewel. “This was between Marian and Jaenelle. I’m guessing they didn’t tell you because neither of them knew when the spell would be needed, and both of them knew that when the time came, there was nothing you could do to change the outcome for good or ill. Not saying anything to you before she drank the brew? That’s something to discuss with your wife when she’s feeling better.”

Oh, yes, they would have a discussion. “Tersa described the spell as dark water that washes away what doesn’t belong. Dark water—and a song in the Darkness.”

“Tersa also said that Marian would be shown the path home,” Daemon added.

“Are you sure Jaenelle did this?” Lucivar asked. If his sister had created the spell, then Marian would survive. But if this was an attempt to kill his wife and leave her Self imprisoned somewhere . . .