It was small, for those for whom he had brought this castle into existence didn’t need a great deal of space. It was cold, but that suited Ciarda’s icy nature although her two servants were always whining about it. She had finally given them permission to keep a hot fire in the kitchen where they slept. The fires that burned above the stairs in her hall and elsewhere were cold fire, and gave off no heat and but dim light. The Darkling sat at her High Board staring out into her hall and considering her next move. She must set her twin half brothers against one another. Whichever of them survived she would take as a mate. She would force him to give her his male heir, for, having been raised with no knowledge of his heritage, he would know no better. Then she would encourage him to a thoroughly debauched life that would soon kill him. And when he was dead she would take power in the name of her son. As for that son, she would see he was encouraged from the moment of his birth to indulge himself in every way.
