Inside the shattered throne hall of Blackshade Demon Palace the metallic smell of blood still clung to the stone like sweat to a dying man.

Varek surveyed the sprawled bodies, then let his gaze drift toward the side chamber where Jared had vanished, the politeness that had painted his features earlier was gone, replaced by a vulture’s chill watchfulness.

He straightened. Beneath the folds of his black cloak his fists whitened, and the supplicant who had bent his back before Jared only hours ago seemed to have never existed.

“Father…” Lunaria edged forward, voice scarcely louder than a sigh, skirt still stained with drying filth. She kept chin down, unwilling, perhaps unable, to meet father‘s simmering eyes.

Varek whirled. The crimson glare that leapt from his pupils made Lunaria flinch. He lunged. clamping a bruising grip around wrist.

“Failure!” hissed, each word ground through clenched teeth. “A century of Blackshade pride, ruined, because I was too weak to stop that lecherous old ghoul…”

“Please, do not torture yourself,” Lunaria murmured, suddenly calm.