Demon's Dream (High Demon Series #6) by Connie Suttle

daughters first. There followed a heated discussion over this photograph or that. The results were inconclusive; there was no clear consensus on what Reah's chin looked like. One chin in the photographs had been round, another pointed, a third more square-like.
    "Let me see that," Jayd rose to take the photographs. He and Glinda pored over them for a while. "I think either the square or the rounded one," Jayd flipped through the photographs several times.
    "But you don't know." Kevis pointed out.
    "No," Jayd sighed, tossing the photographs onto his desk. "I don't."
    "Was it our fault, or did Kifirin do this?" Lara asked.
    "I think it may be a combination of the two."
    "And it's too late, isn't it? We should have gone when our father asked us after Mom was hurt. But we didn't." Raedah sounded ashamed.
    "I don't know what to say about that," Kevis replied. "Either you care for her or you don't. If you don't, then I ask that you don't hurt her further."
    "I don't know if it's possible to take back twenty-five years of neglect," Glinda sighed. "And any move we make might be perceived with suspicion."
    "Yes. She is very distrustful."
    "She doesn't need any of us." Kevis jerked his head in Gardevik's direction.
    "Why do you say that?" Kevis turned green-gold eyes on the eldest of the House of Rath.
    "Because it's true. She has skills that will support her anywhere. She doesn't have to rely on us for anything."
    "Does that bother you?"
    "It does." Garde tossed up a hand in frustration, turning his back on everyone in the room to stare through Jayd's huge window—the one overlooking the city of Veshtul.
    "I think she needed love. From all of you. Did you fail her?" Kevis stood and pocketed his comp-vid. "By the way, that delicately pointed chin is hers. You'd have known it if you recognized the beautiful, alabaster skin." Kevis folded away from Kifirin.
    "I don't think I've ever seen a photograph of Mom," Kara pulled the pictures to her to take another look.
    * * *
    "Child, I'm afraid I have bad news," Kaldill Schaff glanced worriedly at his youngest son. Lendill, after folding to Gaelar N'Seith, had sat down for a quiet meal with his father, the King of the Elves. Lendill held the title of Prince-Heir now, and had a standing invitation for dinner with his father whenever he wasn't busy with ASD business.
    "What's the bad news, Dad?" Lendill seldom used any affectionate term for Kaldill Schaff.
    "I'm afraid," Kaldill's green eyes were troubled as he pushed shoulder-length golden hair behind a pointed ear, "that your two oldest brothers are out to cause harm."
    "What? I thought they were held inside Gaelar N'Seith."
    "I removed Naldill's power so he couldn't go anywhere, but as usual, Reldill, ever willing to come at Naldill's command, has taken his brother out of the confines of the Elven lands. They took the shot at Reah, child. If Reldill had relied on power instead of his skill with the weapon, she might have taken a mortal blow from that stupid thing. It was something from Naldill's collection of archaic weaponry. Now that they know the Larentii has placed a shield around that farm on Campiaa, they have taken themselves off to cause other kinds of harm. They think to get back at us and Reah in this way."
    "They blame Reah?" Lendill's dark eyes held worry, which in turn worried his father.
    "They do. I should never have mentioned her when I named you Prince-Heir," Kaldill admitted sadly. "She is responsible for removing the spell that Naldill placed upon you. I should have done it myself, but when Reah came along, I knew she would accomplish the same without interference from me. So I allowed it. Now, she is a target. Their target. As are you and anyone else who might get in their way. They know they will never have the Kingship; I have locked them out of it. But they think to have their revenge this way. They never learned this lesson, Lendill. The one where they realize that petty revenge serves no useful purpose. Things come to