A/N: ::smiles hesitantly:: Hi all! Yes, it's true! I am officially back from the dead!! ^.^ Unfortunately, this is gonna be another short chapter. But, hey. Better than nothing, ne?
I'm not particularly proud of this chapter. (To be bluntly honest, I don't like it.) Still, I'd appreciate it if you suffered through it and told me your views. Pretty please?
A million thanks to everyone who reviewed. You people are the ones getting this story out, since I have evidently lost my drive. ^.^` In any case, lots of affection! Try not to flame overly much. Ja!
"Lucifer's just reported in," Saetan said suddenly into the silence.
Tori sat at attention, waiting. They had retired to the living room when they had finished dinner, and Tori sat curled up against the arm of the long couch. Saetan was, in all appearances, calmly catching up on his paperwork at the small desk. Jaenelle, also, seemed preoccupied with other things.
However, when Saetan made that announcement, all appearances dropped and the High Lord of Hell found himself under the intense scrutiny of two powerful women.
"They just took the winds to get here," Saetan continued, looking weary suddenly. "The ladies will need to prepare for some heavy casualties, Lady."
"Do you know who was killed?" Jaenelle asked in a carefully empty voice.
Saetan hesitated for a long moment before turning to Tori. "Lady…"
Tori's shoulders tightened, the only thing that betrayed her sudden anxiety. She gazed at Saetan, her blank, uncaring mask sliding over her features for the first time in a long while. Looking at the High Lord, Tori forced her emotions and feelings behind a solid wall, preparing herself not to feel the pain. It didn't matter, she chanted to herself. They were males. They didn't…
"Well?" Tori demanded, her voice harsh.
"I regret to inform you, Lady Tori," Saetan continued formally, "of your Head of Guard's death."
Tori twitched, but otherwise remained unaffected. "Who else?"
Saetan silently stood and handed her a sheet of paper. For a moment, Tori hesitated, knowing what was on the sheet of parchment. Taking a deep breath, she looked down and felt reality around her reel. She grabbed desperately at the arm of the couch and closed her eyes, not knowing if she was going to start screaming or crying.
When she felt that she had a measure of control again, Tori sat back and once again looked at the two lists. They were both, mercifully, short. To the left, in Saetan's precise, neat handwriting, was the list of those in her court who had died in battle. Kontar was a blow. She had only just begun to truly bond to him, and now he was dead. And Lex would need some desperate solace for the loss of Maeve, her twin. Tori recalled the young man's shy, eager-to-please nature and winced deep inside.
The second list was of the injured, in which there were more. Merrick took a blade to his left shoulder, and had exhausted much of his Jewel strength. Tori was more than certain Lucia would take care of him, and berate him on overtaxing himself as well. Arahn, Prothivar, Sathe, and Rine, had minor injuries. Major enough to merit fussing, though.
But none of that was enough to make Tori's carefully placed control vanish like it had. As deeply concerned as she was of their well being, it was the name she had feared to see most of all. Daemonar. And it was nowhere on the black-marred white paper. The relief of it had hit her with the force of a physical blow. He was okay, she thought, dizzy for a moment with the euphoria. Daemonar was okay.
Tori rose without a word and sent herself from the room. She didn't care what they thought of her abrupt departure, only that they not be around to see her emotions spilling out. Relief, grief, and pain chased each other in a seemingly endless circle.
A half hour later, Tori pulled herself from her thoughts and went to seek out her court. She knew, without question, that they had gathered in the healing rooms, some as patients and others as the Healers.
Inside, everyone was busy either administering the potions or snarling at the males to rest. Tori wordlessly started in to help them, a coldness seeping into her bones. These males, these people, had fought for her. To the death, for Kontar and Maeve. It still seemed unreal to Tori, to possess such loyalty without earning it.
There wasn't much to be done, with the exception of bullying the men into taking the rest of the day for rest. Even then it wasn't much of a battle, since all Tori did was look at them with the strange new sadness her eyes held, and say please. None had the heart to refuse her.
That night, Tori sat balanced on the ledge of the window, staring sightlessly out into the back yard. Tears made two steady streams down her cheeks over the hours since she had come to sit here. She listened as Witch sang a gentle song of soothing, a song made to heal the wounds of the soul, or at least make them more bearable. And it help. She had skipped dinner, not surprised to find her stomach revolting at the thought of a meal.
Tori tensed when her door opened and someone entered silently. The psychic scent of Daemonar teased at her, and Tori listened to his heavy footfalls as he moved surely about her room, and the light tinkling sound of silver hitting against silver. The aroma of a well-cooked meal filled her room, making her stomach retch almost violently.
"Eat."
Tori ignored the soft command, and returned her attention to the night.
"You have to eat something," Daemonar stated, beginning to sound irritated.
"It wouldn't stay down," Tori replied quietly. "So what's the point?"
Daemonar was silent for a long time, and after a moment, Tori felt him come to stand just behind her shoulder. "Lady, he was a good man, and a strong warrior. He died with honor for his Queen. There is no better way to die."
"Old age," Tori replied immediately. "He shouldn't have been there." She paused a minute before adding, almost voicelessly, "We shouldn't be here."
Daemonar's hand closed over her shoulder almost convulsively. "Don't say that," he growled harshly. He softened his tone a little. "My Lady, please. Do not say such things again."
This was something new from Daemonar, Tori thought absently. The arrogant Eyrien saying please. She said nothing for a long time, and merely sat there, letting the tears make their way down her face, with Daemonar's hand on her shoulder. Throughout all of this, the tears never stopped
Daemonar jerked when the first drop landed on his hand, perhaps realizing for the first time that she was crying. Tori didn't know what he would think, and tried to stop the salty drops. They continued to come. Mercifully, though, her formidable shielding still held her emotions away from the prickly Eyrien.
Tori gave an unsteady chuckle, scrubbing at the tears with the back of her hand. "It's funny. They just…won't stop," she said, not meeting his eyes as she tried to suppress a sob.
Daemonar looked down at his Queen, at Tori, in shock as she struggled so hard to hold herself together. He golden eyes grew dark with worry as she seemed to sway a little on the railing.
Hardly aware of making a decision, Daemonar half sat, half leaned against the railing next to her, and pulled Tori into his lap, wrapping her firmly, safely, in his arms.
"It's alright to cry," he murmured gently. "It's alright. I'll hold you until you're done."
Tori shuddered against his chest before surrendering to everything and doing as her Eyrien commanded. She wrapped her arms around his neck as an anchor, and felt his arms tighten on her waist. And she cried. She sobbed all of her grief and pain and anger into Daemonar's soft leather shirt until she felt too tired to even think.
Finally, the tears slowly, and the numbing pain in her heart eased. The feel and smell of Daemonar holding her helped to heal the places Jaenelle's song hadn't been able to reach earlier.
"Better?" Daemonar asked hoarsely when she had been silent for a few minutes.
Tori nodded slightly against his shirt, not wanting to particularly move. She realized from his voice that she hadn't been the only one to grieve.
"Good."
With that, Tori was only mildly surprised when Daemonar swept her up and carried her to bed. She lay against him silently, and wondered if she would ever find the courage to give him the only ring she had left to give out to a member of her court.
Tori winced as she silently amended that. She now had two rings to give out. The one she wanted to belong to Daemonar, and the one that belonged to her new Head of Guard.
"Tori…"
Tori blinked away from her thoughts and looked up at Daemonar for the first time that evening. His face seemed taunt and there were deep, dark bags under his eyes. She frowned at him, wanting to rebuke him, but knowing she was in no position to point fingers.
"We both need to get some sleep," Tori said quietly, looking away again.
Daemonar gently pulled the covers over her, and then scowled blackly at her when she sat up, feeling at a disadvantage with him looming over her.
His scowl turned to a worrying frown. "Are you going to be okay now?" He asked her, using a knuckle to brush at drying tears.
"I'll live until tomorrow," Tori whispered, feeling a blush building in her cheeks.
"I'm counting on that," Daemonar said lowly, leaning closer to her slightly.
Tori's eyes seemed to grow impossibly large as she sat there watching him. But all he did was brush his lips across her temple. The blush she had been fighting back returned worse than before, and Tori glanced down, letting her hair fall over her shoulders and cheeks.
Daemonar rose and left without a word, but as he left the room, letting the door slide shut quietly behind him, he grinned at empty hallway. Who would have thought that the Lady Tori, with her standoffish attitude and outright cold demeanor in regards to the males, could blush from a simple gesture? And what a lovely blush she had, he thought. He would have to remember to bring it up again.
Daemonar Lucivar SaDiablo was a man who knew what he wanted. He was an Eyrien who loved the thrill of the chase and battle. And Tori, he had long decided, was the only woman he wanted to chase. But it would have to be a careful hunt, he told himself. She couldn't know what the game was. Not yet.
With another grin, Daemonar went in search for his father and namesake. He would need their advice in this.
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A/N: ::makes a face:: I really didn't like the way this one turned out. It seems too disjointed in my mind. But you all wanted another chapter. So…bleh. I'll probably tear it down and repost it later. In any event, I'll give a cookie to whoever can guess who the next Head of Guard will be! ^.^ Awww……c'mon. It's not hard. (I'm not at all that great with subtlety. ~.~)