Yet she tried to learn her new role with a selflessness that struck him now as incredible. Everything she did, she did for him, even if she feared him. Jule had always said he inspired men to follow him, though he saw nothing different in what he did than what his deputies did. He'd been as gentle with her as he'd known how, and still she suffered under the weight of the visions. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless to help the small form of the woman before him.
He rubbed his face, mind going to Dusty. Despite his reserve, he could tell Dusty liked her. He suspected it was because the same mettle lining Dusty's backbone lined hers. They had similar cool reserve, unlike Damian and Jule, and had both survived ordeals that would cripple anyone else. He understood why she'd looked at Dusty before telling him about Claire. She'd found courage in a kindred soul.
He leaned forward. He'd hurt her tonight. He didn't want to hurt her. Ever. Even with all his powers, his armies, his ability to read minds, he didn't know how to make things right with her. True, they had eternity to figure each other out, but he didn't want her turning cold like Dusty or jaded like Jule. He loved her fresh innocence, her selfless courage. He loved her hugs, though he'd never experienced hugs since he was a babe. He liked that she sought him out, not as the leader of the Guardians, not as the White God, not as the Defender of Mankind. She wanted him, the man behind the titles and the power.
He'd treated her like shit tonight, and he was at a loss as to how to prevent the tortured existence that became the fate of most Oracles.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He snatched it and Travel himself out of her room before he woke her. Jule's text message brought him back to the unpleasant task ahead of him.
I'll be in town in a day or two. Dusty told me everything.
Grimly, he returned grudgingly to his duties of entertaining his guests, feeling as if he needed to do something for his little Oracle.
*****
"Sofia."
She stirred from her trance at the voice, mind replaying scenes of Darian's death. Darian had quieted as the scenes of his violent demise played through her dreams. He sat in the dark corner of her mind, still and silent.
"We must go, Sofia." Pierre spoke from her doorway, framed against the light of the hall. The clock read 2:38.
"Right now?" she asked, confused.
"It's important."