But Leesil did see her, knew who she was, though he didn't believe she was standing before him.
"One more," Leesil whispered and jabbed the stiletto in the air at Magiere. "Always one more. Always necessary!"
Leesil looked at the bed, as if he had to go to it, and if he didn't, it would cost him more than he could live with. But he held his place, cowering in the corner.
This wasn't sorcery or any magic. It was madness. And that was so much worse, Magiere almost rushed to him. Leesil was drowning in his past, and she didn't know how to follow and pull him out again.
Magiere realized she was shaking and set the lantern on the floor for fear of dropping it. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't swallow.
"You weren't there, and I have to do this," Leesil insisted. Sweat now matted tendrils of hair to his face, and he closed his eyes so tightly his features twisted. "Get out!"
"No!" Magiere growled back. "I am here, Leesil… look at me!"
Leesil's eyes snapped open, anger plain on his face. Suddenly he became blurred in Magiere's vision, and she felt the tears drip off her jaw beneath her watering eyes. She inched forward toward him.
"I'm not leaving," she insisted. "We're alone. We are in our room at Byrd's."
Magiere lunged in and snatched his wrist.
Leesil didn't try to bring the stiletto in at her, but every muscle in his body twisted against her efforts to make him lower it. He began shaking from the effort, pushing at her with his free hand. His strength was more than Magiere could counter.
Hunger rose in her throat until her strength matched his. And with it, her fear grew… of what she might do to him. Her jaws began to ache. She clenched her teeth, fighting back the change. Her dhampir nature was in her flesh, in her eyes, making Leesil's hair and amber irises searing bright in her vision.
All the pain Magiere felt in watching Leesil suffer-in losing him this way-turned her hunger to anger. She wanted to rend and tear every memory that tortured him.
"Don't… leave me!" she managed to get out. "Come back."
Leesil's eyes were so bright. For an instant the madness faltered, and he seemed aware of her as she struggled with him.
Magiere released his wrists and grabbed for his face with both hands, lunging in close. Leesil stiffened as she pressed her mouth to his.
She heard the stiletto clatter to the floor. His fingers closed tight on her upper arms, pulling and pushing to throw her aside, but she held on to him. Magiere didn't lift her face from his until he finally quieted.
Leesil looked at her. His expression was sad and wild, like he'd woken from a nightmare but still believed it was real just the same. Magiere slid her fingers up into his drenched hair.
He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again as his eyes searched her face. Then he was kissing her, but harder than he'd ever done before. He pulled her close as they slid to the floor.
Words weren't enough for Leesil at that moment, and Magiere wrapped herself around him. He buried his face in her neck, his arms tightening around her until she felt the muscles in his back clench beneath her hands. His mouth slid to the top of her shoulder, and Magiere began pulling off her own shirt.
She would not let him leave her again.
Hedi rode beside Lieutenant Omasta across the long bridge, the keep seeming to grow and fill the night as she approached. It was built like a gigantic square with a wide courtyard in its open center. Its four corners were reinforced towers rising above the main structure. Firelight from massive braziers atop the towers reflected across the water. As they crossed the lowered drawbridge, the double gates opened wide, and she passed through a long tunnel into the courtyard at the keep's center.
Omasta helped her dismount. He led the way across the courtyard as his men took away the horses. At the courtyard's far side, they entered through a set of wide doors and into the keep's main floor.
Hedi tried to remain impassive. She slowed her quick breaths and forcibly relaxed her face to show no expression.
Once inside, Omasta called for a servant. A middle-aged woman scurried out from a vast dining or common hall on Hedi's right. To her left was Darmouth's council hall, and straight ahead was a wide stone staircase leading upward. To the sides of the staircase were two corridors running in opposite directions, north and south.
"Welcome, my lady," the woman said with a submissive curtsey. "I am called Julia. I will show you to your room."
Hedi scrutinized the woman. Her hair was tucked under a muslin cap, and she had a round face with reddened cheeks. Her expression was open and warm, if a bit simple, but the woman kept nervously twisting the edge of her apron with two fingers. She carried no keys. This was not what Hedi had expected.
Lieutenant Omasta sighed in relief. "Well, then… I bid you good night, lady."
He seemed glad to release his charge into someone else's care and turned toward the council hall. Perhaps he did not enjoy abducting women for his master and pretending to play bodyguard.
"Come this way," Julia said. "Are you hungry, my lady? Do you need water to wash?"
Her kind tone made Hedi waver again. What was happening here? If Omasta had dragged her to a room and locked her in, at least she would have known for certain that she was a prisoner.
They ascended the stairs. When they reached the third floor, Julia turned left down a corridor. She opened a door midway and stepped back with a polite bow of her head as she ushered Hedi inside.
A fire burned brightly in a small hearth to the right, and to the left stood a cherry-wood wardrobe and desk. Against the back wall was a matching bed with a thick mattress, covered by a deep blue comforter. Her chest of personal effects had already arrived ahead of her, likely by Omastas men. Darmouth must have been quite terrifying in his orders for her careful retrieval.
"I hope this is acceptable, my lady," Julia said. "I prepared the room myself by our lord's instructions."
He is trying to please me, Hedi thought. She remembered Emel's words and smiled. "Yes, it is fine. Your effort is appreciated."
Julia's nervousness faded a little as her smile broadened. "Can I bring you anything, or help you out of your gown?"
"No, I can manage myself. I would like to unpack my things. You may go."
Julia hesitated, but Hedi remained poised and waiting. Ladies did not unpack their own clothes, but neither did servants refuse dismissal. Julia nodded, and Hedi watched the woman leave. She listened, her body tense.
No click or rattle followed after the door's lever settled. Waiting a moment longer, Hedi stepped to the door and opened it herself. It was not locked. Prisoner of the keep she might be, but it appeared her personal room was not to be treated as a cell. She took a slow, shaky breath, and her thoughts cleared enough to turn elsewhere.
She now had an exceptional opportunity to gather more details of the keep for Byrd. But how would she ever get such information to him?
And poor Emel. He must be suffering by himself at the inn, worrying about her. Perhaps she could bribe a servant to take him a message? No. Their fear of Darmouth was greater than their desire for coin.
The hour was late, and Hedi opened her travel chest. She took out the heaviest nightdress and her robe. As she laid them upon the bed, someone knocked at the door.
"Julia?" she called out. "I need nothing more. You can retire for the night."
The door swung in, and Lord Darmouth stood in the opening.
Hedi froze at the sight of his tall and wide frame filling the doorway. His cropped hair appeared more brown than gray in the dim light from the fire, but she still made out the faint scars below his left eye. He crossed his knotted arms over his leather breastplate.