Chapter 3
Her eyes snapped open, and the sudden light that flooded into them made her head pound. Blinking, she took a deep breath and tensed her muscles to sit up, but she had barely lifted her shoulders an inch from the mattress when nausea consumed her. She quickly let her head drop softly onto the pillow, waiting for what seemed like hours for the sick felling in her stomach to recede. When she no longer tasted bile in the back of her mouth, Ana grimaced and sat up, the nausea immediately coming back full force. This time, there was no restraining it. She threw back the covers, one hand clamped to her mouth. Moving intensified the pain in the back of her head, but she ignored it, her sole focus on the bathroom door. She barely made it in time.
When she had finished heaving up last night's dinner, she sat with her back against the door, her head in her hands. Was she sick? Her hand traveled to her hair, and she felt dried blood. She felt her stomach turn unpleasantly, but managed to keep the nausea from overtaking her again. After taking a few deep breathes, Ana thought back, trying to remember how she had ended up as she was. When her memory finally let her see the events of the night before, she felt the keen edge of panic rip through her. Her father, Elise, her brothers…Oh God, what if Nathan was hurt? She jerkily got to her feet and pulled open the bathroom door, running as fast as she dared out of the room. As she was passing her bed, her foot caught in the sheets she had so recklessly thrown off, and she went sprawling on her floor. Her head hit the hard wood with a loud thunk, and for a moment she was blinded by the pain. She pushed herself off from the floor with cautious care, stopping every few seconds so that the constant waves of nausea could pass. When she finally made it to her feet, she gave up on running and walked charily out of her room.
She stopped before the door to the room that Nathan shared with Marcus, afraid to look inside. They wouldn't hurt a child, would they? Her hand moved towards the doorknob seemingly of its own volition, and when she saw what was inside the room, Ana forgot to breathe. Nathan lay face up in his bed, his chest rising and falling in the slow, gentle rhythm that signals sleep. She leaned against the doorframe, trying to stop tears of relief from running down her cheeks. Naively, she was sure that if Nathan was untouched, then the others would be okay. How could they not be? Saying this over and over to herself, she shuffled painfully back to her room, sitting on her bed for a while with her back against the headboard. She could hear movement and muffled voices coming from the kitchen, but she was too exhausted to try and identify them. Ana gradually stood up, her steps small and stiff as she made her way towards the bathroom once more.
She leaned against the cool countertop and gazed at herself in the small mirror above the sink. Her long black hair was tangled and knotted with blood, and it was pulled back in an impromptu knot at the nape of her neck. She hadn't tied it back, so someone else must have done it. Her face was mostly untouched except for a few scratches on her right cheek, but her normally tanned skin showed a paleness that indicated herunhealthy state. Her eyes, normally large and golden, were a dull, tired yellow, and the lids that framed them were halfway closed. Her gaze traveled to her throat, where a rivulet of dried blood trailed down below the neckline of the tattered camisole she had worn to sleep in the night before. The shirt was stained with a few haphazard splotches of red, and she would probably have to burn it. Oddly enough, she couldn't find the cut.
The rest of her body looked and felt unscathed. She needed to take a shower, but when she pulled back the curtain and stared at the tub for a while, she changed her mind. It would take to long, she told herself, and standing up for the thirty minutes it would take to get herself sufficiently blood free would be pure torture. Instead, she moved back to the sink and turned the hot water knob to its fullest extent. She quickly put her head underneath the stream of water, not wanting to waste too much. It probably wasn't her smartest idea. Blood rushed to her head, and she could taste an acute bitterness in the back of her throat. Swallowing hard, she chose to ignore it and used her hands to scrub the dirt and dried blood from her hair. She prodded and probed, but no matter how thoroughly she searched, she couldn't find the wound. Confused, she ran her hands through her hair once more, aware of a tenderness at the back of her head but she unable to find the cut she knew should be there. It was the same with her neck. She couldn't have been asleep long enough for her wounds to heal, so someone must have done something to speed the repair.
There were kindred horses that resided close to her village, that much she knew. They couldn't…heal…could they? After all, they were, well, horses…Shaking her head, which again caused her brain to pound, she pushed it to the back of her mind. She certainly wasn't going to complain about a lack of abrasions.
Ana walked slowly out of the bathroom and began to rummage through the small chest of drawers opposite her bed. She was looking for something large, fluffy, and comfortable. She searched quickly, resembling a hawk looking for the tastiest mouse. Almost immediately, she spotted her prey and her hand snaked out and snatched it. After painstakingly removing her camisole, she threw on the huge sweater that had once been her brother's over her head. For a moment, she just stood their, wallowing in the instant comfort and warmth that surrounded her. Candy…cake…a good book…not even chocolate could equal the pleasure she got from extremely cozy clothes. It was something that her brothers and father could never understand. Actually, neither could Elise. She usually favored tighter, lower cut, and much more provocative clothes, but then again, Elise really wanted to get married.
After she got a bit drunk on comfiness, Ana lazily pulled on a clean pair of soft work pants. She probably looked like a homeless waif, but she didn't care. She slowly made her way out of her room, but instead of going straight to the kitchen, where she could hear the conversation that had now had the tone of anger intermixed in it, she once more peeked in on Nathan, just to reassure herself that he was okay. Actually, she was stalling. She really didn't want to deal with her father or Marcus. Marcus would be worried and would make her sit and eat until she felt like throwing up and then he would stuff her in a chair and give her a book to read and tell her she couldn't get up until she'd finished it. Its what he always did when she or Elise had been hurt or sick. Her father would be curt to the point of rudeness, asking only the most essential questions before scurrying outside to chop wood or feed the animals. He didn't do too well with displaying emotion.
When Ana finally appeared in the kitchen doorway, the conversation screeched to a halt. Confused and annoyed, she looked around her, her eyes settling on the strange man sitting at the table, his elbows propped up on the worn wood with his long fingers steepled. To say he looked scary would be an understatement. She could deal with scary…but what sent a cold chill down her spine was the Black jewel that rested on the man's finger. When the man felt her gaze on him, he gave what me must have thought was a reassuring smile. To Ana, it looked like he was trying not to snarl. She quickly moved towards the large presence of her brother, oddly sure of his ability to protect her even though the Black jeweled man sitting at their table could kill him and her without even raising a finger. Marcus, who was leaning against the counter, glanced at her, opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, and put his arm around her shoulders in an effort to comfort her. It worked, at least slightly. He had a huge gash on the left side of his face that looked partially healed, and he looked just as bad as Ana felt. Elise also sat at the table, about as far away from the unnamed man as she could get. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and barely concealed interest. Ana couldn't blame her; the man was…beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. But at the moment, the only emotion a Blood male could install in her was panic.
Her father was nowhere in sight, but he was most likely out back giving the chickens their morning meal. For some reason, she couldn't hear their loud clucking and constant chittering, but they really weren't one of her top priorities.
"Please sit down, Analia." The man had gotten up from the table and was offering her his chair. How did he know her name, and who in Hell did he think he was, asking her to sit in her own home! She had had enough with the Blood for one day, and she was sincerely hoping the man would get his ass out of her kitchen.
"I'm fine where I am, thank you." She paused slightly, trying to calm the quaver in her voice. She wasn't completely successful. "Is there….Is there something we can help you with, because if there's not, then…"
"Ana!" Marcus said vehemently under his breath, his arm tightening around her in warning. She opened her mouth to say something smart and most likely rude, when the fear in his hard, yellow eyes made her words shrivel up into nothing before they left her mouth. It was only his stoic presence that was keeping her from bolting out the back door and hiding behind the rose bushes, and she wanted to smack him for being afraid.
Daemon glared at the young woman, anger already starting to cloud his vision. If he had been alone, he would let his anger flow into something like the big kitchen table he had been sitting at, which probably would have destroyed it, but since that wasn't an option, he settled on biting the inside of his cheek until it bled. It was bad enough when one of the females in his family was hurt, but at least he knew that most of them had the power and the knowledge to resist attack long enough for a male to come to their aid. But this was not so with the landen women. They had nothing but their fists, and he couldn't name one female who knew how to use them correctly. And this was not including the fact that the girl had been assaulted by one of the Blood. And why was she dressed as if she was some starved orphan who was looking for a place to stay overnight?
Making his voice as calm and soft as he could, he gestured towards the chair once more and said, "I'm not going to hurt you. Please, it would make things a lot easier if you would sit down."
The woman just kept staring at him, fear and indignation swirling in her golden gaze. Snarling, Daemon strode over to the girl and picked her up. He could feel her body tense against him, and after she had gotten over the initial shock, she immediately began to fight him, muttering curses and using her hands to scratch and pummel his chest. Her brother reached inside one of the drawers under the counter and pulled out a long carving knife, but Daemon knew he wouldn't use it. Probably. The boy was a male, after all, and would understand Daemon's need to see the woman sitting down and not looking like she was about to faint from pain and fatigue.
He unceremoniously dumped her into the chair he had previously been occupying, and quickly used craft to create psychic bonds that prevented her from moving. Too late, he realized his mistake. When she found that she couldn't move her arms and legs, the terror that filled her eyes and face was unmistakable. Mother Night, this was worse then dealing with Jeanelle when she didn't want to rest during her moontime! Well, maybe not worse than, but close to it.
"I'll release the bonds if you promise to stay there, understand?" Actually, he would probably let her go anyway, because if he didn't she might pass out from fear. She nodded slightly, her hands clenching the wood of the armrests hard enough to leave marks. He quickly vanquished the bonds, and he could see her visibly relax. Confucian, anger, and apprehension all vied for the dominant emotion on her face, and she finally settled on confused, apprehensive anger, if there even was such an emotion.
"Now that I'm sitting," she paused and took a breath, "what is it you want?" Her voice shook with barely suppressed fright. Marcus moved to stand behind her, his strong hands resting comfortingly on her shoulders, but it couldn't have been much help because he was visibly shaking. Elise stayed where she was, her eyes wide with terror. Damn, he hadn't meant to scare them.
"According to your neighbors, you were the only one left in the stable when the raiders showed up. Apparently, that was their first stop. Do you remember any of them? What they looked like? What Jewels they wore?" Daemon asked. As the words left his mouth, he could see her remembering, and could almost smell the fear the memories brought.
"There were six, I think. The leader…his breath stunk. I think he'd been drinking. He had a Red Jewel on chain around his neck..." Her head was tilted to one side, and her nose was scrunched up in thought. For all that she looked like she'd been through Hell and back, she was cute, he'd give her that. Now that she realized he was trying to help, she relaxed minutely. He waited for her to say more, but after two minutes of silence, he figured that wasn't going to happen.
"Is there nothing else you recall? What about the other men? Do you know what Jewels they wore?"
"No. I'm sorry, but that's all I can remember." She paused slightly, a light coming into her eyes. Daemon leaned forward, hoping to hear something that would identify them. "Wait…the man with the Red Jewel…he had really white teeth." Satisfied, she sat back and looked at him, and smiled, clearly pleased with herself.
Shit. She had just described about fifteen different men that he could think of, and there were probably many other Red Jeweled males that he didn't even know about. With a low growl, he began to pace, trying to figure out the best way to go about what he had in mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Analia lean towards Marcus and ask him something.
"Daemon Sadi. He's the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. He's here to help, I think." Marcus had yet to properly mastered the art of whispering. She must have asked him who he was. Had he forgotten to introduce himself? He must have. For some reason, this pricked his already honed temper. Coming to a stop in the middle of the room, he turned on his heal and stalked back over to the table, not halting until he stood inches from the young man.
"Sit down." Marcus looked up in surprise, and the cold glare in Daemon's eyes must have stilled any arguments because he quickly took the seat next to Analia.
"I want to try something, if you'll let me." Daemon said, taking the chair on the other side of the young woman. "I can use craft to take the image of the men from your mind. I don't think it will hurt." He knew Jeanelle had done it before, but he wasn't sure that he knew enough of the intricacies of craft to try it. Ah well, there was no time like the present to try. Of course, he would be learning on landen woman that could be accidentally killed by even the slightest mistake, but he really didn't have a choice.
I don't think it will hurt. Gods, and he expected her to be reassured by, 'I don't think it will hurt?' Was the man insane? He must be, because only an insane person would propose invading the mind of a woman who had recently been knocked out by a member of the Blood. She had just opened her mouth the object when Marcus beat her to it.
"I don't think she can handle it right now. She's had a pretty rough night, so why don't you wait a few days and then come back?" Marcus spoke, his eyes taking on that she's-my-little-sister-so-leave-her-alone look. Unfortunately, Ana hated that look. It implied that she was a weak little child who couldn't stand up to the big bad bully so she needed her big strong brother to protect her.
"Actually, I'm perfectly all right. If you think it will help, then feel free to try." Ana smiled sweetly at her brother, who looked like he wanted to strangle her.
Apparently it wasn't just Blood females who were stubborn bitches when it came to fussing. Daemon almost felt sorry for Marcus before he realized that she had consented to open up her mind to him. "If you feel any pain, just yell and I'll stop." He said before he sent out the first Black tendril of power. She almost jumped out of her seat when she felt the push against her mind, but she didn't look hurt. Good. This was good. He might actually be able to do this. He gently brushed her core, and the only thing that showed she had felt it was the tightening of the fists she had curled her hands into. He pushed a little more, and suddenly he was inside her mind and her body. He had had this kind of connection with others before, but with Analia, it was different. He had access to her every thought, feeling, and memory, whereas she had access to none of his.
It was then that he heard her scream. He quickly pulled away and tried to focus, shaken by the sense of utter power he had felt during the connection. Analia was clutching her head, and tears of pain ran down her cheeks. Marcus and Elise jumped up and ran to her, trying to understand what was wrong. Slowly, the young woman lowered her hands and wiped away the tears, struggling to look as if nothing was the matter. "I'm fine, Marcus, really. It just stung a little, that's all." Analia looked from Marcus to Elise and back again, trying to smile reassuringly.
She was lying. People didn't scream when something stung. Cursing himself, Daemon leaned forward in his chair, taking her chin in his hand. She tensed automatically, now more frightened of him than she had been when he'd thrown her in her chair. He forced her head up so their eyes met, and the fear in her gaze sent sharp jab of pain into his heart.
"Are you all right?" He asked, gently sending a psychic tendril to probe her body for any injuries. Finding none, he reassured himself that she was physically okay. Mentally, however…that was a different story. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it would cause that much pain." He racked his mind, searching for the answer. He needed to know who attacked the village, but he couldn't think of a way to gain the information. Jaenelle could do it without even causing the slightest discomfort, but she was at the Hall. A lump formed at the back of his throat at the thought, but he quickly swallowed and it mostly went away. But maybe…maybe there was one other who had the knowledge of craft it would require…
Are you busy?
Yes. The answer came with an annoyed mental jab.
Tough. I need you. Now. Daemon could almost sense the sigh that accompanied his words.
Fine. Where are you? Yep, his son was defiantly irritated. Too fucking bad.
Remember the girl who was found in the stable? I'm in her house.
I'll be there in five minutes. Jhaec broke the Ebon-gray spear thread that connected them, but Daemon quickly reestablished it. After tersely reprimanding him for severing the connection, Daemon told him what would be required of him. After Jhaec let out a stream of explicative potent enough to make even Lucivar blush, he told Daemon he might be able to do it. If the conditions were right.
The man's eyes took on a slightly glazed look for a moment, and Ana took the time to push her chair away from the table and get up to get a glass of water. Anything to show her brother that she was okay. She was scared he would try to do something rash, because he didn't seem to understand the power that the Blood could wield. He was a young man, almost in the beginning of his prime, and that made him stupid sometimes. To distract herself and him, she asked, "Marcus, where's Father?" She expected him to say outside taking care of the sheep, or something, but he simply stared at her for a moment before looking away. She looked over at Elise, and on close inspection she realized the younger woman's eyes were red and puffy as if she'd been crying. Worry clamped on her heart, and she quickly grabbed Marcus' arm and dug her nails into, trying to get his attention. "What's going on, Marcus?" Her voice was soft and low, and she could feel him shiver slightly at the sound.
"He…he tried to stop them from taking the horses, Ana, and…" he paused, swallowing hard, "…and one of them used their magic to throw him against the barn." Marcus stopped then, unable to go on. He shook her hand from his arm and walked quickly out of the room, not wanting her, Elise, and especially the Warlord Prince sitting at their table to see him cry.
Ana simply stood still for a moment, stunned. This couldn't have happened! Nathan was all right…Their father couldn't have been killed! Nathan…oh shit, Nathan! He didn't have any parents now! He was an orphan! She was an orphan.
The thought made her feel nauseous all over again, and it was all she could do to not throw up into the sink. Prince Sadi must have noticed something had changed in her demeanor, because he suddenly appeared at her side and guided her back to her chair.
"What is it? Is it your head? Shit!" He snarled, before turning to Elise, "Do you have anything cold?" When she shook her head in confusion, he once more focused his attention on Ana, who was trying to get a word in edgewise.
"No, my head's fine. I'm fine." Unfortunately, the silent tears that began flood her eyes showed her words to be false. She could hear the man cursing under his breath, but she wasn't really paying attention. All she could think about was the fact that her father would never frown at her and mumble under his breath again. Odd the things the mind remembers and cherishes. She stared at the table, her vision blurred by the salty wetness that refused to stop falling from her eyes. She heard the Warlord Prince approach Elise and question her, and could hear his intake of breath at her answer. But when he placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured his condolences, she shrugged it off and turned to glare at him. Through her sadness she could feel an anger more potent than she had ever known rise within her. How dare that hypocrite try to comfort her when it was one of his own that had caused the pain? The two-faced bastard!
"Are we finished?" She asked, her voice coming out more shaky than she liked, but still firm all the same.
"No, Lady, we're not." Lady. What the Hell did Lady mean? "My…Prince Jhaecyn will be here shortly and he is much more versed in the details of craft than I am. He'll be able to get the information we need without hurting you." Oh. So this was still about the damn description. Ana glared at him, trying to will her anger to make the sadness go away. It didn't work, but then again, she didn't expect it too. Prince Sadi sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his heavy-lidded gaze glaring right back into hers. They were still sitting like that when someone entered through the back door without knocking.
Ana turned, her glare fully in place, to berate whoever it was for not having the common courtesy to announce himself, when the angry fire in the man's eyes made her want to squirm. He crossed the room to stand next to Prince Sadi's chair, and they commensed to have a conversation that no one else in the room could hear. Well isn't someone rude, Ana thought to herself, taking the time to study the new intruder. He was as tall as the other one, and it didn't take a genious to tell that the two were related. This one was younger; his shoulders were slightly less broad and his body seemed a bit more agile, but besides for that they could have been brothers. Except for three things. The younger man wasn't as beautiful as Prince Sadi, but besides for him, he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Another difference was his eyes. While the Prince's were golden, this man's were a deep sapphire, and almost looked out of place with his dark skin and wavy black hair. Finally, instead of a Black Jewel, this man's was slightly lighter, a sort of sooty gray. She had absolutely no clue what it was called.
"Do I pass inspection?" Ana almost jumped out of her skin at the man's voice. Looking up into his face, she wanted to smack him for the arrogantly amused expression that she found there. How long had he been standing their watching her study him? Choosing to ignore his egotistical smile, she nodded slightly and then glared up at him.
"Are you Prince Jhaecyn?" When he nodded, his startled expression giving away his surprise at her knowledge of his name, she continued, "Good. Then can you please do whatever it is your supposed to do because my family and I have much we need to get done today." She surprised herself at her own audacity, and the knowledge that she could sass a member of the Blood and get away with made her want to smile.
Jhaec wanted to throttle her and hold her in his lap and comfort her at the same time. Everytime he had seen a landen woman or child his feelings had been much the same, but this time they seemed to amplify themselves until he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himselffrom doing something stupid. For looking at her, he could tell she'd been crying, and the stiff way she moved set his nerves on edge. While he understood his father's need to know the face of the leader of the raid, and while he very much wanted the debt to be called in, he was having a hard time understanding why it had to be done today. But Daemon had made it clear that he wanted the information now, and even Jhaec was not dumb enough to argue with him when he began to talk with his sleepy, cajoling voice.
It was somewhat ironic that Jhaec, who was only twenty-eight, could take what was needed while his father, who was over 1700 years old, could not. But that's what happens when you're the son of Witch. Besides for Jeanelle, Jhaec knew more about craft than anyone in the realms, even more than his grandfather, the High Lord of Hell and the Prince of the Hourglass. It made him one of the most dangerous Blood males to walk the realms…not because of power, though the Ebon-gray was nothing to be ashamed of, but because of knowledge.
Instead of taking a chair, he knelt down in front of the one that held the woman and rested his hands on the armrests of the seat. "All right, Analia. In order for this to work, you have to trust me. If you don't, you're life will be at risk, understand?" He waited until she nodded before opening his mouth to continue.
He had barely gotten the next word out when she said, "Ana. My name's Ana." He blinked, surprised.
Nodding as if he understood the importance of the nickname, he said, "When you feel a push, don't resist it. You have to completely open your mind…Ana." Even though she smiled slightly to show her understanding, he could tell it didn't really make sense to her. For the Blood, opening one's mind to another person was the ultimate symbol of trust, so the fact that she didn't even hesitate to comply unnerved him. But she also most likely didn't actually know how to do it. She didn't have any inner barriers. All she had was her core, her self. Mother Night, this would be difficult!
After asking if she was ready and getting an affirmative nod, he let his Ebon-gray power surround her, let it slowly seep into her mind until it began to brush her core. Sat there for a long time, looking into her tired eyes and letting her get used to the contact. In the far corner of his awarness he felt his father get up and start pacing, impatient and maybe slightly jealous of his son. Putting it out of his mind, Jhaec turned his full attention to the young woman in front of him. After about ten minutes, he felt her relax slightly. "Remember to trust me," he whispered under his breath before sending a thin tendril of power to probe her self. He smiled slightly when he felt the connection. Analia...no, Ana…stiffened slightly, but she didn't seem to be in any pain. He instinctively threw open his inner barriers before he realized that she was not a Blood female and therefore that sign of respect and submission was not due. But then again, maybe it was. Deciding to leave his mind open to her and knowing she would be too shy too look anyway, he slowly sorted through her surface emotions; fear, sadness, anger, and a slight exhileration, most likely caused by the intimate link they shared. This would be the first time she would ever have felt something like this, especially since she must know that she could puruse his every thought and feeling if she dared. Of course, he had to give his permission, whereas Ana had no say what-so-ever.
He slowly descended deeper, not touching the memories he didn't need. When he finally found what he was looking for, he let out a low snarl and he could feel the air around him become much, much cooler. Ana started, slightly, and began to pull away. Shit. Breaking the connection, he sat back slightly, slowly drawing his power back to him. He focused on the girl in front of him and felt his anger rise at the paleness of her face. Her golden eyes were glazed with pain, but at least she hadn't screamed, which is what Daemon told him she had done when he'd tried it. If she hadn't gotten scared, she wouldn't have been hurt.
"Do you know who it is?" His father asked, his eyes gaining the slightly sleepy quality that alerted Jhaec to watch what he said. Nodding, he sent the image to Daemon, who immediately turned on his heal and stalked out of the room. The other girl, who had been sitting at the opposite end of the table at his arrival, and gotten up and left for some reason. This left him and Ana alone. Slightly uncomfortable, he stood up quickly and backed away so there was about four feet between them.
"Are you alright?" She nodded and rose slowly to her feet, playing with the hem of her huge, tattered sweatshirt. She frowned slightly and the angry glare she had given him at his arrival once more dominated her eyes. She had just opened her mouth to say something when the other woman reentered with a tall, burly man in tow. He looked somewhat sheepish, but it was clear that Ana was happy to see him.
"Marcus, why don't you go wake up Nathan and take him outside to help with the animals?" She asked, smiling up at him. Something was going on, but Jhaec couldn't glean it for the life of him. The man, apparently named Marcus, ran his right hand through his hair a small muscle jumped in his cheek.
"Ana, we don't have any animals left. What they didn't take they killed." Ana let out a breathless "Oh," and then bit her lip in thought.
"Well give him something to do. We'll wait until tonight to tell him about Father, okay?" Nodding, Marcus left the room through a different door, probably towards the bedrooms. Now very uncomfortable, Jhaec muttered a few condolences, said a hasty good-bye, and fled. Something about that girl had set him on the edge, and if he had heard one more word about the pain the attackers had caused her, he would have killed something.