Mistress
Jennsen sat in Cara's suite, dressed in a soft gown of ocher. Her hair was brushed and styled. A soothing lotion had been applied to the ring of inflamed flesh around her neck.
Her slave collar shone in the light.
Darken Rahl stepped through the door.
He was as handsome as she remembered.
And as intimidating.
He smiled at her, his eyes like chips of ice melting in the sun, "Sister. It's so good to see you again."
Jennsen inclined her head, nervous and awed.
Darken Rahl was the true ruler of the Midlands. The leader that would deliver peace from war.
The brother she had betrayed.
He approached, slowly, quietly, silently.
A hunter stalking his prey.
Guilt flowed through her, an inexorable tide. The push and pull of the sea.
She looked up to find Darken Rahl on his knees before her, her small hands in his larger ones. They had the same eyes. Jennsen had never noticed before.
She wondered if they were their father's eyes.
"Jennsen," he said, and his voice sent shivers down her spine. He was so gentle. So noble.
So terrifying. So great was his aura, so all consuming the fire in his eyes. He towered over her, not in body but in spirit.
She was made of wax and he was an open flame.
A drop of water appeared on their clasped hands and she realized she was weeping. Weeping for the pain she had wrought.
His thumb wiped the drop away, spreading the salty essence of her sorrow across their skin.
"Jennsen," he said again, his voice soft, though his face held a sharp edge.
It was in the line of his brow, the curve of his lips.
The face she had betrayed.
She crumpled, leaning forward to weep into his chest. He shifted to sit on the bed with her, strong arms sheltering her from the world.
Locking her away.
It was so familiar. So like before.
The brother who had never been anything but kind.
"I'm sorry," she moaned into his vest. She had thought it would ease the ache she felt to actually say the words aloud.
But it did not.
Darken gripped her chin in fingers like steel, nails lightly grazing her flesh. Her chest heaved, her face a splotchy red as he forced her to look at him.
He stared, a hawk gazing at a mouse. For how long, Jennsen could not say. They seemed frozen in time.
And then suddenly her brother pressed a kiss to her forehead, reassuring her without words that she was forgiven.
She looked up at him in shock, and he smiled a small razor smile.
"Now sister, tell me where it is our wayward brother goes, and what he plans to do when he gets there."
Filled with a fragile happiness made of the shards of her former self, Jennsen told him.
When she had finished, he stroked her cheek. "It is good to have you back, Jennsen."
"Yes, Lord Rahl."
She wished she had never left his side.
-l-
Cara entered the chambers she shared with Jennsen when Lord Rahl called for her. They spoke of the Seeker's plans, and a way to stop them. Cara had to struggle to hide her anticipation of flying as a hawk.
She loved the wind in her feathers, the sharp cry and stooping dive, the pulping squeeze that ended her prey's squealing and coated her talons in blood.
She saluted and turned to make her preparations.
"Cara."
She looked over her shoulder, one hip cocked, her voice a throaty purr, "My lord?"
"Have Dahlia see to the arrangements. Until the time comes to strike…" his eyes tracked to Jennsen, who sat perched on the edge of the bed looking woefully innocent.
His gaze pierced her, his vest hanging open, his hair sooty black against his cheek.
"Amuse me."
Cara smiled, "Yes, Lord Rahl."
She approached Jennsen, firmly grasping her arms and murmuring, "Everything will be alright."
Jennsen returned the smile trustingly.
"Yes, Mistress Cara."
This story will be on hiatus for the next several weeks as I face my dreaded law school exams. I have not abandoned it. I will be back in good time to reply to all of your wonderful reviews which I greatly appreciate and to finish this story. I am planning five more chapters, and then the thread will be picked up in the second part of the trilogy of novellas I have planned.