Disclaimer : the name and places do not belong to me they do belong to Anne Bishop and her world of the black jewles.

every story has two sides. both sides can be interpreted diffrently. lies become truth and truth begomes lies. but what happens when both are truth? or is either the truth? that is for Witch to decide

R& R always welcome. I'm trying to fix what I can before going further into book 2.

Daemon Sadi the warlord Prince of Dhemlam sat behind his dark wood desk staring at a piece of parchment as if it had grown fangs. His wife and her Sceltie puppies would say he was in there brooding or sulking, and what if he was? Bah! Who cares what they thought he was doing.

He let out a sigh and read the words over again trying hard to figure out how he could politely refuse to accept this invitation… and knowing there was no polite reason to do just that with one of these kinds of letters. Not when his brother – his eyrien brother who just so happen to have the sharpest of Eyrien war blades in his territory – would kick his ass form the Hall to the Keep and back if he did refuse this blightened invitation. Not when his father – The High Lord of Hell; The High Priest of the Hourglass – Would give him that look that could break bone. And especially not when his wife – his loving wife- would lock him out of her bedroom till the sun shined in Hell and possibly longer for upsetting one of her friends.

Nope. No way around this one. Well no way that would have him living comfortably for the foreseeable future. With a sigh he called in a piece of fine parchment then shook his head. He really hated parties. Really hated getting all dressed up and playing nice with people he really didn't want or need to see. Well at least no one there wasn't going to be someone he didn't know and that helped.

Carefully he penned his response. The only acceptable response that he the Warlord Prince of Dhemlam could write. Still he didn't like it.

In less than a week he would be hosting a party to welcome the birth of Cassidy's and Gray's first child. In less than a week he would be surrounded by males that he knew and a few he only knew the names of. And worse in less than a week all those males who were born and raised in Terrielle would be coming face to face with Jaenelle .

Taking a large gulp of brandy he prayed. "Mother night, help me." He only hoped the darkness would be kind and he wouldn't end up wanting to bang his head on a stone wall. More so he hoped that the males that would come with their Queen wouldn't do too much to prick his temper.

Jaenelle had tried her best not to laugh when he told her that he accepted the request to host the party. She tried oh so very hard not to say anything that would have him regretting that decision. The only thing she had said was, "We could have it at the Keep."

And that had made him feel so much better. Since that was exactly where he was going to have it at to start with. Well at least she seemed pleased. And he lived for keeping her pleased. Yet he still wanted to snarl about something. As he glided past her so that he could speak to Draca about using the Keep he cooed, "And maybe the males that are coming are your first circle waiting to be accepted."

She watched him stunned for a moment as he left the hallway. Then called out, "Daemon? You were joking? Daemon?" It couldn't be that bad. No …nothing could be that bad. Could it?