The Queen's Price

THIRTY-TWO

“Geoffrey searched old documents from Tigrelan and found references to three plants that had been used to make a special kind of tea,” Witch said. “That brew was used to smother desire, but not always in women. And that smothering was meant to be permanent.”

“Castration without a knife?” Lucivar said. He closed a hand over Marian’s. It was the first time she’d been in this part of the Keep. The first time she’d seen Witch in this form. After the initial shock of seeing the Self that had lived beneath Jaenelle Angelline’s physical body, Marian seemed to focus on the problem rather than the shape of the Queen she’d considered a sister.

“Yes,” Witch replied. “Not a decision that was made lightly, and was always made by a Queen’s tribunal.”

“Until it wasn’t.”

“Which was when the Tigrelan Queens decided that everyone should ‘forget’ the region of that Territory where these plants grow. That was a few generations before the Queens in the Dark Court came to rule. Apparently, the knowledge wasn’t lost, just . . . contained . . . within certain Hourglass covens. At some point, the purpose of the tea changed, became a ‘protection’ against a Warlord Prince’s heat. Or perhaps it was still intended to smother desire, but now it was aimed at some females so that breeding would be the only reason to tolerate mating with a male.” Witch paused. “It’s also possible that the Black Widows who gave the tea to Grizande didn’t know what it would do over time. Knowledge does get lost.” She looked around. “Even here.”

“Maybe if the tea was brewed weaker?” Marian suggested.

“No!” Lucivar snapped.

She turned on him with unexpected anger. “You stay away from your own home in order to protect me from the discomfort of this last phase of your heat. Do you think I don’t know that you hate staying at that hunting eyrie because you have to stay away? If I could do this, even once in a while . . .”

“No, Marian. No. Didn’t you hear what Jaenelle said about the danger of drinking that tea? Do you think I could sleep with you, have sex with you, if you no longer wanted me with the same passion that I want you with? Do you really think I could do that? Would do that? And what about other kinds of desire? If one kind of desire is smothered, would you lose the passion for your weavings?” Lucivar sprang out of the chair and began to pace. “No. I can live with having to stay away from you for however many years it will take for the heat to wane. But I won’t stand by and let you accept a possible loss of something that is part of who you are. I’ll fight you into the ground if I have to. We have those special webs Jaenelle and Karla made to absorb some of the sexual heat. That has to be enough. Will be enough.”

“The heat does wane as a Warlord Prince ages,” Witch said, looking at Marian. “What Lucivar and Daemon are going through, what your families deal with because of the heat . . .” Witch sighed. “There is no precedent. Andulvar and Saetan were the only other men in the entire history of the Blood to wear Ebon-gray and Black. Even the Gray is a rare Jewel. When Chaosti walked among the living, he spent time away from home when he reached the last phase of the heat in order to spare Gabrielle.”

“You’re talking about a few years for a man from a short-lived race,” Marian argued. “We’re talking about decades, maybe centuries, before this wanes for Lucivar.”

“I know, Marian,” Witch said. “I know. But the sexual heat will wane on its own.”

Lucivar raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish Andulvar or Saetan had said something about this. Had given us some warning.”

Witch hesitated. “Andulvar had lovers but he never tried to live with a woman. The heat worked to his advantage, as it does for most Warlord Princes. And Saetan? I don’t know if he reached the final phase while he was still married to Hekatah. But as soon as he became a Guardian, his heat began to wane along with all the other appetites of the living. I don’t think either of them experienced this in the same way you and Daemon have.”

He figured that much. “So we endure.”

“Yes,” Witch agreed. “You endure. And you show your sons that power does not come without a price.”

Nothing more to be said or done. Leaving Witch’s part of the Keep, he and Marian stopped by the office where his administrative second-in-command had left a neat stack of messages for him. He vanished the messages, and he and Marian flew back to their eyrie.

Marian immediately went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Lucivar stayed in the archway, watching her.

Finally, she turned to face him. “I love you, Lucivar.”

He opened his arms and welcomed her into his embrace. “I love you too. I’d make this easier for you if I could.”

She smiled. “I didn’t want easy. I wanted you and the life we have together.” She eased out of his arms and set out a plate of nutcakes along with the coffee. “It was strange seeing Jaenelle’s Self and realizing what your father meant when he said not all the dreamers had been human. But then you hear her voice and listen to what she says, and it’s Jaenelle. She’s still Jaenelle, just in a different shape.”

Lucivar stared out the window and wondered if Marian had forgotten that not everyone had felt the same way when they’d first seen Witch.