"Do you know that for certain, Prince?"
"Yes, High Lord. I know that for certain."
They smiled at each other.
"There is one more thing," Saetan said, calling in a folded piece of parchment and handing it to Daemon. "It isn't what you had originally intended, but I think it will do."
Daemon unfolded the parchment and studied the words in the Old Tongue.
A light brush against his inner barriers. He opened the first barrier, and his father's deep voice rolled through his mind as Saetan spoke those fluid words.
Suddenly he was a child again, listening to that voice teaching him phrases in the Old Tongue in exactly the same way. He thought he'd learned the language from the scholars, but they'd only awakened the memories of what he'd learned from the man standing before him.
He said the words over and over, until he wasn't sure if he was hearing his father's voice or his own.
Another light brush against his mind, and Saetan withdrew.
Folding the parchment, Daemon tucked it in his jacket pocket. "What does it mean?"
" 'You are my breath, my life, my heart.' " Saetan smiled. "Does that say enough?"
Tears stung his eyes. "That says everything."
Saetan kissed him. "Your Lady is waiting for you."
They opened the glass doors and walked across the terrace, side by side. Then Saetan stepped back and he was alone, walking the rest of the way across the grass to where his finest dreams waited for him to begin the next season of their lives.