Come to me, Lyssa. I'm here.
“Get me back to the castle. I'm a third-marked . . .
servant. Jacob's blood will restore me. I'm all right.
It's the pain and blood loss, not an injury.” And that pain was fierce on a couple levels. The spear hadn't kil ed her, but her heart had been punctured by Rhoswen's venom. Her half sister wanted her dead. Which was a ridiculous thing to care about, because they shared blood and nothing else. Sharing a father didn't make them family.
“Get me to Jacob,” she repeated, realizing her voice was fainter, more breathy.
Keldwyn nodded, swung her up in his arms. The dragon's approach was a darkness over the sunny sky, and then Keldwyn was settling her in the dip of the creature's neck, directly before him.
“You bastard,” she murmured. “She was right, wasn't she? You planned this.”
“I thought it might be good for the two of you to have a more private confrontation. I thought you might prove something to her. You did. Something vital.”
“Remind me to put my foot up your backside, when I feel more up to it.”
12
THE urgency Jacob felt was as potent as a dragon's fire by the time Keldwyn reached their guestroom.
Lyssa had lost consciousness on the flight back, but she was alive. He knew the lack of consciousness helped her conserve strength. The wound wasn't mortal of course, but she was severely weakened, and that was never a good condition for a Fae or vampire, particularly when they were surrounded by few, if any, friends.
On that note, he barely managed to keep from snarling at Keldwyn like an enraged bear when he came into the chamber. As the Fae lord laid Lyssa on the bed, Jacob brushed him aside and slid his arm beneath her. He reached for his knife, but a blade appeared before him. Glancing up at Keldwyn, he nodded and averted his head, letting the Fae make a deft slice at Jacob's carotid. The blood well ed up fast and thick as Jacob brought Lyssa up to that flow, letting it meet her lips.
Instinct could be blessing or curse. Fortunately, this time it was a blessing. Her body knew what it needed, even passed out; she latched on and began to drink. As Jacob held her even closer, he spoke, not looking at the Fae lord. “I think it's best if you leave. Because when she gets done, I won't have the control to keep from tearing out your throat.” Keldwyn flipped the knife over deftly, shoving it back into his scabbard. It was an arrogant response, one he fol owed up with a short, impersonal bow. “I'l see you both at dusk. A servant will bring you appropriate riding attire.”
He stopped at the doorway. “Be warned. Earlier this morning, Queen Rhoswen informed me that she has divined your quest. You will be provided a special mount for tonight.”
As usual, the bastard didn't give him anything useful. Just an ominous portent of more trouble to come. Of course, right now Jacob didn't real y give a Fae or rat's ass about what the night would bring.
Stroking Lyssa's hair, he worked to get his pulse to stop racing. A rapid bloodflow might choke her. He kept seeing that throw, the spear shooting through the air and thudding into her chest, knocking her slight body back.
His hands had added to the blood on her, because he'd torn his palms, the result of hitting the rough textured wal s in frustration during those interminable moments. He'd had enough rational thought left to stay put, knowing he'd be no help to her if he burned himself to a crisp trying to rush to her side. Of course, if Rhoswen's spear had taken her life, he would have done it without hesitation, hoping to at least make it to her side before sunlight turned him to ash. If it had, he'd will the wind to carry that ash to her, damn it.
Jacob's binding to Lyssa had been will ing from the beginning, so it hadn't mattered to him one bit that Lord Brian wasn't able to confirm the elements of Lyssa's original third-marking were stil upon him, beyond the serpentine mark. She'd had the ability to speak in his mind in the months before he found her in the mountains and gave her the third mark to protect her and their unborn child. However, he knew she wasn't able to plumb his mind to the soul-deep level that Jacob could hers.
Brian hadn't had the chance to examine them until after Jacob had marked her, and therefore couldn't determine what residual elements of her third-marking existed under the shadow of his. A fledgling's mark shouldn't be able to conceal a much stronger vampire's, but in this case, Lyssa was no longer a much stronger vampire—she'd given that strength to Jacob. As Lyssa herself had noted earlier, if Jacob was kil ed, she would likely die, the proof of his third-mark soul bond upon her. But they had no proof that was a two-way street. At the time, Brian had been will ing to try further tests to confirm her original markings, but Jacob met with him privately while Lyssa was occupied with other matters and refused. In those days during her pregnancy, when she was coping with everything that had changed about herself, he'd rather have the uncertain possibility that the bond she'd given him was stil there than confirm it was gone.
He knew—from both sides of the coin now—how vital that bond was, how much it meant to his queen, the emotional value of it. He didn't care about science or the gods, not when it came to this.
Whether or not the lingering effects of her original third-marking on him would make his death inevitable from hers, his heart made it inevitable.
That was all that mattered.
His threat against Keldwyn wasn't an idle one. The Fae Lord might wipe up the floor with Jacob. But if will alone would take the fight, it would be Keldwyn reduced to a pile of bones, the truncated wings perched pertly on top.
Shhh . . . It was her voice, her hands touching him, stroking his shoulders, as she recovered her energy.
It's all right.
Palming her delicate skul , his fingers tight in her hair, he pressed her mouth closer to his throat, feeling that physical proof of life. “You took a huge risk, interpreting the lore that way. What if I'd embel ished the story, merely to entertain you?”
“Then I would have been extremely miffed with you.” She dropped her head back, rubbing her lips together to take away the excess blood. Her color was better, and he could feel the strength in her grip on his arms. “You wouldn't embel ish, because you knew I was seeking facts from the stories you were tel ing me.”
“What if my mother, who told me that story, was embel ishing?”
“Then we'd blame your mother.” Lyssa gave him a smile. “I've been told that's what all children do, as long as she's around to blame. If not, they go for the father.”
She trailed off then. “It's likely as simple as all that, isn't it? For Rhoswen. Though not in her behavior toward us, I see the elements of a fair, strong queen in the way her people react to her. They've shown a patience and loyalty that doesn't happen if it's not deserved. She obviously has her people's devotion, though they've learned to be careful of her temper.”
“Not unlike someone else I know.” Jacob straightened to a sitting position on the bed, one foot on the floor as he shifted her into the cradle of his thighs. He wasn't ready to let her go yet. “You've opened an old wound, one she's been carrying around for a thousand years, a new personal record for how long a woman can hold a grudge. I'm guessing that when you were just a lowly vampire, she could justify hating you from afar, ignoring you.
But now that your Fae blood is developing, it's reopened the wound. It was a slap in the face, hearing what your capabilities are, then seeing them up close and personal. He not only gave his love to a vampire; he also gave his blood and some of his abilities—actual y, it's starting to appear like quite a bit of his abilities—to the daughter she bore him.”
“There's more to it as well.” She told him what Keldwyn had said about Rhoswen. “I'm stil missing some pieces, but it does explain why, after all these years, it's a sore point to her. As you said, an old wound that's been reopened.”
“God save us from girls with daddy issues.” Jacob dodged her swat, catching her wrist and placing a kiss on her palm to mol ify her, though he eased his grip as she pushed against it to stroke her hand through his hair, touch the side of his neck. “No wonder Cayden has been walking around with that permanent, ‘oh shit, what is she going to do next?' expression.”
She sobered. “I don't like Keldwyn's veiled warning about your mount. She's shifting her temper from me to you tonight.”
“Which is where I prefer it to be.” At her warning look, he sighed, gave her an admonishing squeeze.
“She knows it's all the same, my lady. She's trying to find the weakness that will bring us both down.” He knew Lyssa couldn't argue that one, and so they sat silently for a moment. She played with the hair at his nape, then spoke. “I know you're not disposed to think kindly of Keldwyn, but in some confused way, he may be trying to help her as well. I believe Cayden knows that, though he gets on the guard captain's nerves almost as much as he does yours.”
“Good. Something else for the two of us to bond over.”
“Hmm. My mother never spoke of another child, or another woman who held my father's heart.” Lyssa frowned. “I wouldn't like to think of my father being deceitful in his love, either to my mother or another, but of course it's possible. I never had the chance to know him, and it is easy for a child to romanticize a dead father.”
“Maybe it's time to ask Keldwyn a direct question.
And if you want me to pul off any of his appendages to get answers, just say the word.”
Riding clothes for Lyssa meant a beautiful high-waisted dress with embroidery at the block neck, and point sleeves that had a long drape at the elbows to match a flowing train. Rhoswen had sent attendants to help Lyssa once again, only this time it was waiflike Fae women with long thin arms and quiet, shadowlike movements. The one in charge had suggested, in a rasping voice, that Lyssa all ow her to pul her ebony locks up enough to keep them out of her face, yet let the bulk of it trail down her back in a thick mass. They'd produced different accessories, a necklace of jade stones, matching ear bobs, lavender flowers for her hair that matched the dress. There was silver thread edging at the hems of the sleeves. Along the back of the train was a more elaborate, Celtic-style embroidered design.