Weak from the experience and recovering slowly, Mercy opened her eyes and met Judah’s concerned gaze.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told her.
“It was my fault,” she said. “I let my guard down.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to do, especially around me.”
She nodded. “Would you please put me down now? I’ll be all right.”
“Are you sure? I could-”
“No, thank you. Just put me on my feet.”
He eased her down and out of his arms, slowly, maddeningly, making sure her body skimmed over his. When he released her, she staggered, and he grabbed her upper arms to steady her.
“Should I get Sidonia?” he asked.
“No, I’ll be all right. Please…” She wriggled, trying to loosen his secure grip on her arms.
He released her.
“I need to be alone for a while,” she told him, then turned her back on him, afraid she would succumb to her weakness for a man who was not only dangerous to her, but to her daughter. Seconds later, the door to her study closed, and she knew Judah had left the room.
After a half hour on the phone with Claude, discussing the fact that Cael had not returned to Terrebonne and had somehow dropped off the Ansara radar, Judah had gone in search of his daughter. He needed to build a strong rapport with Eve as quickly as possible. Only if he bonded with her, if she trusted him completely, would he be able to persuade her to leave the Raintree sanctuary with him. So, he spent hours with her that Thursday morning and afternoon, every moment under the vigilant supervision of Nanny Sidonia. The old woman watched him like a hawk, as if she expected him to sprout horns and a tail. Wouldn’t she be shocked if he did just that? he thought And he could. At least, he could create the illusion of horns and a tail, enough to scare the crap out of the old woman. It would serve her right if he did. But it might frighten Eve and possibly give her the wrong impression of him. He was sure the grumbling old hag had already badmouthed him to his child, telling her all sorts of improbable stories about the wicked Ansara.
He supposed there was some grain of truth to it. The good Raintree. The bad Ansara. But all Raintree weren’t saints. And not every Ansara was the devil incarnate.
From time immemorial, the Raintree, as a people, had chosen the straight and narrow, taking the high ground, showing an emotional weakness for the welfare of the Ungifted and preferring peace to war. Wizards with far too much conscience.
The Ansara tolerated humankind, manipulated them when they were useful, disregarded them when they were not. Ansara prided themselves on their skills as warriors and defended to the death what was theirs. But they were not monsters, not evil demons. They lived and loved and cherished their families. In that respect, they were no different from the Raintree.
But there were also Ansara like Cael. A few in every generation. Depraved. Evil. True monsters. Often innate sorcerers, they possessed the ability to lure the dregs of Ansara society into their service. They killed for the pleasure of killing. Took great delight in inflicting pain, in torturing others. They were as unlike Judah and his kind as they were unlike the Raintree.
When circumstances required it, Judah had killed. To protect himself and others, or out of necessity, when killing was simply a business decision. He didn’t tolerate disobedience or disrespect. As the Dranir, he possessed unequaled power among his people.
He liked power. Respected power.
He used and discarded women as it pleased him, Ansara and human alike. And once, even a Raintree princess.
Eve tugged on his hand, reminding Judah that he was tied to Mercy Raintree through their daughter, a bond that only death could break.
Sidonia’s agitated voice called Eve’s name.
“Hurry, Daddy, or she’ll catch us.” Eve urged him to walk faster as they sneaked away from Sidonia on the pretense of playing hide and seek.
Judah swept Eve up into his arms. “Hold tight,” he told her.
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Judah ran, taking his daughter away from unwanted supervision. When they were out of earshot of Sidonia’s threats, Judah set Eve on her feet.
“We got away!” Grinning triumphantly, Eve clapped her hands softly. “She doesn’t know where we are, and she can’t find us.”
“So what do you want to do, now that we’re on our own?”
“Mmm…” Eve deliberated her choices for a couple of moments, then laughed excitedly. “I want to show you something really special that I can do.” She looked up at him, eagerness shimmering in her eyes. Mercy’s green eyes.
“Something new?” he asked. “You’ve already shown me how talented you are.”
“It’s something I’ve never tried before, but I know I can do it.”
Judah glanced around and noted that they were not near the house or any of the cottages. Open meadow lay north and east of them, a bubbling brook to the south and a wooded area to the west. If Eve tried a new skill and it backfired, she couldn’t do much harm way out here. Besides, he was with her to counteract any fallout.
“Go ahead, Princess Eve, test your powers. Try something new. Show me.”
Eve smiled broadly, then stood very still and concentrated. Seconds ticked by. She focused inward, calling forth her power. The ground beneath their feet trembled.
“That’s it. Command your power,” Judah said. “You’re in control.”
The fingers on Eve’s right hand twitched, moving faster and faster. A tiny circle of energy formed in her palm. An orb of golden light, shimmering like translucent diamond dust, grew larger and larger until it filled her hand.
My God! Eve had created an energy ball, the most powerful and deadliest power in any Ansara’s or Raintree’s arsenal. No child before had been capable of creating an energy bolt, and only a select number of adults could do it.
“Eve, be careful.”
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
He zoomed in on the energy bolt his daughter held in her hand, as casually as if she were holding a baseball. “It’s very beautiful, but it’s extremely dangerous.”
“Oh.” Eve’s eyes widened in surprise, a hint of curiosity in her expression. “What does it do?”
Judah considered his options. He could probably dissolve the ball, but if he did, it might injure Eve’s hand. He could ask her to give the ball to him, and then he could dispose of it. Or he could allow her to find out for herself, under his strict supervision, just what such power could do.
“Turn and face the woods,” Judah told her. She did. “Now choose a tree.”
“That one.” She pointed to a towering elm.
“Aim your energy ball at the tree and whirl it through the air.”
Eve swung her right arm backward, lifting it over her head, and flung the psychic energy bolt in the direction of the tree she had chosen. She and Judah watched as the blast missed the elm tree entirely, zooming past it and exploding as it hit a stand of twenty-foot pines. At least half a dozen of the evergreens splintered into minuscule shards and rained down in heavy ash particles to the forest floor.
Holy crap! His little girl had just shot one of the most powerful energy bolts Judah had ever seen, taking out not one object but six.
“I missed my tree, Daddy. I missed it.” Eve puckered up, her bottom lip quivering.
He knelt down in front of her and tucked his knuckles under her chin, lifting her little face so that she looked directly at him. “You might have missed the elm tree, but look what your blast did. All you need is practice and you’ll be able to hit your target every time.”
Tears hung on Eve’s long, golden lashes, and her eyes shimmered with moisture, but she smiled and threw her arms around Judah’s neck.