Anne Bishop - Heir to the Shadows

"Of course it isn't tainted," he snapped back.

"Then why won't you accept the gift? You never refused before."

There were clouds and shadows now in her sapphire eyes. It seemed that, for her, the price of humanity was vulnerability and insecurity.

Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles and wondered if he could delicately suggest that she put on a robe without her taking offense. One thing at a time, SaDiablo. "There are three reasons I don't want your blood right now. First, until you're stronger, you need every drop of it for yourself. Second, your body is changing from child to woman, and the potency of the blood changes, too. So let's test it before I find myself drinking liquid lightning."

That made her giggle.

"And third, Draca has also decided that I need fresh blood."

Jaenelle's eyes widened. "Oh, dear. Poor Papa." She bit her lip. "Is it all right if I call you that?" she asked in a small voice.

He put his arms around her and held her close. "I would be honored to be called 'Papa.' " He brushed his lips against her forehead. "The room is a little chilly, witch-child. Do you think you could put on a robe? And slippers?"

"You sound like a parent already," Jaenelle grumbled.

Saetan smiled. "I've waited a long time to fuss over a daughter. I intend to revel in it to the fullest."

"Oh, lucky me," Jaenelle growled.

He laughed. "No. Lucky me."

Saetan stared at the tonic in the small ravenglass cup and sighed. He had the cup halfway to his lips when someone knocked on the door.

"Come," he said too eagerly.

Andulvar entered, followed by his grandson, Prothvar, and Mephis, Saetan's eldest son. Prothvar and Mephis, like Andulvar, had become demon-dead during that long-ago war between Terreille and Kaeleer. Geoffrey, the Keep's historian/librarian, entered last.

"Try this," Saetan said, holding out the cup to Andulvar.

"Why?" Andulvar asked, eyeing the cup. "What's in it?"

Damn Eyrien wariness. "It's a tonic Jaenelle made for me. She says I'm still looking peaky."

"You are," Andulvar growled. "So drink it."

Saetan ground his teeth.

"It doesn't smell bad," Prothvar said, pulling his wings tighter to his body when Saetan glared at him.

"It doesn't taste bad either," Saetan said, trying to be fair.

"Then what's the problem?" Geoffrey asked, crossing his arms. He frowned at the cup, his black eyebrows echoing his widow's peak. "Are you concerned that she doesn't have the training to make that kind of tonic? Do you think she's done it incorrectly?"

Saetan raised one eyebrow. "We're talking about Jaenelle."

"Ah," Geoffrey said, eyeing the cup with some trepidation. "Yes."

Saetan held the cup out to him. "Tell me what you think."

Andulvar braced his fists on his hips. "Why are you so eager to share it? If there's nothing wrong with it, why won't you drink it?"

"I do. I have. Every day for the past two weeks," Saetan grumbled. "But it's just so damn.. potent." The last word was almost a plea.

Geoffrey accepted the cup, took a small sip, rolled the liquid on his tongue, and swallowed. As he handed the cup to Andulvar, he started gasping and pressed his hands to his stomach.

"Geoffrey?" Alarmed, Saetan grabbed Geoffrey's arm as the older Guardian swayed.

"Is it supposed to feel like that?" Geoffrey wheezed.

"Like what?" Saetan asked cautiously.

"Like an avalanche hitting your stomach."

Saetan sighed with relief. "It doesn't last long, and the tonic does have some astonishing curative powers, but…"

"The initial sensation is a bit unsettling."

"Exactly," Saetan said dryly.

Andulvar studied the two Guardians and shrugged. He took a sip, passed the cup to Prothvar, who took a sip and passed it to Mephis.

When the cup reached Saetan, it was still two-thirds full. He sighed, took a sip, and set the cup on an empty curio table.

Why couldn't Draca fill a table with useless bric-a-brac like everyone else? he thought sourly. At least then there would be a way to hide the damn thing since Jaenelle had put some kind of neat little spell on the cup that prevented it from being vanished.

"Hell's fire," Andulvar finally said.

"What does she put in it?" Mephis said, rubbing his stomach.

Prothvar eyed Geoffrey. "You know, you've almost got some color."

Geoffrey glared at the Eyrien Warlord.

"What did you all want to see me about?" Saetan asked.

That stopped them cold. Then they began talking all at once.

"You see, SaDiablo, the waif-"

"- it's a difficult time for a young girl, I do understand that-"

"- doesn't want to see us-"

"- suddenly so shy-"

Saetan raised his hand to silence their explanations.

Everything has a price. As he looked at them, he knew he had to tell them what the past two weeks had forced him to see. Everything has a price, but, sweet Darkness, haven't we paid enough?

"Jaenelle didn't heal." When no one responded, he wondered if he'd actually said it out loud.

"Explain, SaDiablo," Andulvar rumbled. "Her body is alive, and now that she's returned to it, it will get stronger."

"Yes," Saetan replied softly. "Her body is alive."

"Since she's obviously capable of doing more than basic Craft, her inner web must be intact," Geoffrey said.

"Her inner web is intact," Saetan agreed. Hell's fire. Why was he prolonging this? Because once he actually said it, it would be real.

He watched the knowledge – and the anger – fill Andulvar's eyes.

"The bastard who raped her managed to shatter the crystal chalice, didn't he?" Andulvar said slowly. "He shattered her mind, and that pushed her into the Twisted Kingdom." Pausing, he studied Saetan. "Or did it push her somewhere else?"

"Who knows what lies deep in the abyss?" Saetan said bitterly. "I don't. Was she lost in madness or simply walking roads the rest of us can't possibly comprehend? I don't know. I do know she is more and less and different than she was, and there are some days when it's hard to find anything left of the child we knew. She told me that she'd put the crystal chalice back together, and from what I can tell, she has. But she doesn't remember what happened at Cassandra's Altar. She doesn't remember anything that took place during the few months before that night. And she's hiding something. That's part of the reason she's withdrawing from us. Shadows and secrets. She's afraid to trust any of us because of those damn shadows and secrets."

Mephis finally broke the long silence. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "if she could be persuaded to see us in one of the public rooms, just for a few minutes at a time, it might help rebuild her trust in us. Especially if we don't push or ask any difficult questions." He added sadly, "And is being locked within herself while she lives in her body really any different than being lost in the abyss?"

"No," Saetan said softly. "It's not." It was a risk. Mother Night, was it a risk! "I'll talk to her."

Andulvar, Prothvar, Mephis, and Geoffrey left after agreeing to meet him in one of the "smaller parlors. Saetan waited for several minutes before walking the few yards that separated his room from the Queen's suite. Once Jaenelle established her court, no males but her Consort, Steward, and Master of the Guard would be permitted in this wing unless they were summoned. Not even her legal guardian.

Saetan knocked quietly on her bedroom door. When he got no answer, he peeked into the room. Empty. He checked the adjoining sitting room. That was empty, too.

Running his fingers through his hair, he wondered where his wayward child had gone. He could sense that she was nearby. But he'd also learned that Jaenelle left such a strong psychic scent, it was sometimes difficult to locate her. Perhaps it had always been that way, but they'd never spent more than an hour or two together at any given time. Now her presence filled the huge Keep, and her dark, delicious psychic scent was a pleasure and a torment. To feel her, to yearn with all one's heart to embrace and serve her, and to be locked out of her life…