"But…" Her face flushed. Falonar, you son of a whoring bitch.
"I guess Falonar didn't mention that when he agreed to teach you how to use a crossbow," Lucivar said, giving her a thoughtful look, as if a few pieces of a puzzle had just fallen into place.
"Doesn't matter."
"What does matter?"
"Jaenelle."
He took a step toward her, then stopped and looked at the crossbow. "Is she all right?"
"She needs to start training again to rebuild her strength. You're going to help her."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!" Swearing viciously, he turned away and paced, giving her searing looks every time he turned in her direction.
"Lucivar?" Surreal said quietly. "How long are you going to keep her an invalid? How long are you going to block her from being strong enough to stand on her own again?"
He charged toward her, stopping before she was within reach. "You bitch! How dare you?"
She lowered the crossbow. "I dare because I love her too."
He stared at her, fury in his eyes. "She's too frail."
"She's not as frail as you think." She saw hope, confusion, fear. "I understand that you're afraid of doing anything that might hurt her. I really do. But she needs you, Lucivar. She needs your help to regain what she lost."
Pain now as he looked away. "Not everything she lost."
"No, not everything." She vanished the crossbow and took a step toward him. "She learned how to call in her shoes today."
He snapped to attention, surprising her. "Jaenelle called in her shoes? She could never do that before." He walked over to the desk and leaned back against it. After staring at the floor for a long moment, he sighed. "All right. I'll take her through a warm-up.We'll see after that."
"I'm surprised you gave in so easily," Surreal said, joining him at the desk.
He shrugged. "Marian's been muttering similar things over the past few days."
"You married a smart woman."
His only response was a grunt. Then he turned his head and studied her. "Are you coming back to Ebon Rih, or do you want to stay here for a while?"
"Actually, I had my eye on the town house in Amdarh. I've missed city living." When she came to Kaeleer, she'd ended up signing a contract to serve the Prince of Ebon Rih, so, technically, Lucivar could demand that she go back to Ebon Rih with him.
"If that's what you want," Lucivar said.
"Well, I don't really want to watch Falonar make kissy faces at Nurian."
Temper flared in his eyes, confirming that Falonar hadn't wasted any time declaring his interest in the Eyrien Healer. "I can take care of that."
Being related to Warlord Princes was such a joy. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Daemon. If I'd wanted him dead, he wouldn't still be among the living."
"Twisting his cock off wouldn't kill him."
Surreal laughed. "That's what I like about you, Lucivar. You're so subtle."
He gave her a grudging smile before he pushed away from the desk.
"Unlock the damn door so I can see Jaenelle and decide if I should be pissed off with myself for being wrong or with you for being right."
She released the Gray lock on the door, watched him walk out…and hoped.
Seeing Jaenelle's hesitant pleasure as he handed her the Eyrien sparring stick bruised Lucivar's heart.
Are you sure you're not clipping her wings instead of helping her learn how to fly again?
Had Marian been right about that? Had they placed Jaenelle in a cage because they were so afraid of letting her do anything that might harm that terrifyingly frail body? They'd done it for the best of reasons, and certainly out of love, but a cage was still a cage.
"Partnered warm-up," he said, taking his position in front of Jaenelle. "Go easy. Don't push. When you feel tired, we'll stop."
He mirrored her slow movements, always watching, always assessing. She remembered the moves, but couldn't complete any of them. Not fully. Choppy motion where there had once been fluid grace. She began panting by the time they'd gone through the first third of the warm-up. By the halfway point, her arms and legs shook from the effort to shift from one move to the next.
Then one end of her stick hit the floor, and she used its support to stay on her feet. Refusing to look at him, she shuffled to the couch and sank down on the cushion at one end.
"So," she said. "You were right."
He took her stick, vanished it along with his, then crouched in front of her. "No, I wasn't." He waited until she looked at him. "Do you remember when you went into the Twisted Kingdom to mark a trail for Daemon to follow?Your body was already strained from healing the landens who had been trapped by a jhinka attack, and by the time you got back to the Keep after finding Daemon, you'd made a mess of yourself."
"I remember," she whispered, staring at her hands.
"As soon as you were able to stand on your own, we started working to rebuild your muscles and your strength."
"What's your point?" She looked weary, defeated.
He placed one hand lightly over hers. "You didn't get half as far that first time as you did today. So the point, Cat, is I'm sorry. I wanted you to come back to us so much, it got in the way. I clipped your wings instead of helping you learn how to fly again."
"So you'll be my sparring partner again?"
He smiled. "We'll get there. I'll come back tomorrow."
She made a face. "Can't tomorrow. Surreal and I are going to Amdarh for what she calls a female indulgence."
"You're staying at the town house?"
Jaenelle shook her head. "Surreal says it's easier to be pampered if we stay at that… whatever it is. Besides, Daemon's at the town house right now."
So? He didn't ask because there was something odd about her tone. Something… nervous. And Daemon had become edgy over the past few weeks…and subtly territorial in a way that made all the male servants at the Hall wary of drawing his attention. "Then let me know when you get back."
He stayed at the Hall long enough to assure Surreal he'd start working with Jaenelle once the two women got back from their female indulgence, whatever that meant, then caught the Winds and headed for Ebon Rih. But before he went home, he stopped at the Keep to have a little chat with his father.
Eight
Baffled by the worried glances he'd gotten from the servants and too restless to stay inside, Daemon left the town house shortly after breakfast, walking aimlessly until the shops opened. Then he headed for the bookshop where he could fill an hour or two browsing. Since love stories had lost their appeal, maybe he could find something else Jaenelle would find intriguing…and find something for himself that would catch his interest enough to keep him occupied while he waited for some word from Surreal.
After she left for the Hall yesterday morning, he'd summoned Marcus and had exhausted the energy and patience of his man of business by reviewing every possible business transaction that might come up in the next few weeks. If Surreal succeeded in finding out what was troubling Jaenelle, if she actually managed to fix the problem so that Jaenelle wanted his company again, he wasn't going to allow anything to intrude on his time with his Lady.
But he needed to keep busy until he heard from her…or from Jaenelle. Maybe he'd contact Lucivar and invite him to dinner. Or go to the Keep and spend a few hours with his father. He'd been choking on his fear of losing Jaenelle but had said nothing to anyone except Surreal. Now… Maybe he should get another male's opinion? But Lucivar would be too blunt and probably have the unfortunate effect of honing a temper that didn't need honing. Saetan, however, might be able to offer an insight into Jaenelle's emotional retreat… or even an assurance that it was a stage of healing and would pass. Maybe… Maybe even talking to Saetan about the nightmare that kept plaguing him might help, although lately, the erotic dreams were giving him more physical and emotional discomfort.