"She is beginning to blister," one informed them softly.
It was not a good sign. It meant she had received the equivalent of a lethal dose of radiation. The Monks of The Pride would be hard-pressed to help her recover without long-term effects of the damage.
"You will do your utmost," Syreena reminded them, her voice that of a monarch for the first time in her life.
The command was stolen right out of Elijah's mouth, so he speculatively narrowed pale eyes on Siena's sister. His voice would no doubt have little influence in this room. He had not earned any authority or loyalty from them as yet. He'd not even had the chance to do so. It made him relax a little to see Syreena advocating so powerfully where he could not. That was when he understood these women loved Siena as deeply as he loved Noah, and for all the same reasons.
"What a waste…over a Demon."
Anya went stock still, her eyes widening when the words passed the second Monk's lips. Remarkably, it was not Elijah who reacted to the offensive remark. Instead, it was that moment that Anya truly learned how fast the Princess was.
And how volatile she could be.
Before anyone could twitch, Syreena had leapt for the Monk, doing the unthinkable by grabbing his entire weight and body off the bed with a single hand around his throat. He squawked in shock as she slammed him brutally into the nearest stone wall. The resounding smack of his head making Anya wince and gasp with shock.
Syreena's harlequin eyes bored into those of the dazed man who had once been one of her mentors.
"Speak thusly ever again in your lifetime and you will find yourself taking an involuntary vow of silence for the rest of your existence." She tightened her grip on his throat to make certain she had his unwavering attention. "I swear it, Monk. I will have your tongue should you ever do so again. Siena has sacrificed everything for peace, and I will never tolerate anyone belittling her efforts in such a disrespectful manner. Am I being understood?"
"Child, you will release your brother," the second Monk commanded her, pulling that tone of authority that parents used with disobedient young.
All Anya could do was watch with queer fascination. She would never in her life have even considered laying hands on a member of The Pride. In fact, by law, it was pretty much a capital offense. She had not thought Syreena capable of such a thing until she saw it happen right before her eyes.
The Pride was so old, and so powerful, that they were considered even by other races to be the ultimate scholars and the most learned fighters. They knew techniques for fighting that were ancient and deadly, handed down amongst them as well-guarded secrets for generation upon generation. To challenge one was akin to suicide, or so she had always been told.
And apparently Syreena had paid close attention to her lessons in the more deadly categories.
Until then, Anya would have labeled the Princess a pacifist, more interested in her studies, her meditations, and her position as Counselor than in fighting or joining in the training programs the Elite held in a rigorous manner on a daily basis. Now it was quite clear it was because she did not need the practice. And clearer still, by the look in the eyes of the Monk trapped beneath her grasp, was the fact that even this learned man of The Pride was not willing to fight her, not even to protect himself.
That gave Anya a chill down her spine.
Everyone fears the lion, but what does one feel toward something that frightens even the mighty cat that tops the food chain?
Anya's glance flicked once more to the glimmer of light green eyes watching the actions of the Princess with a remarkable, dispassionate calm. Anya's respect for the warrior hiked up a few notches as he let Syreena deal with their own without interfering. She had assumed he would be pushier, more volatile, and begging for altercation opportunities. It was frighteningly enlightening to realize you were in a room with two creatures of power you clearly knew too little about.
"He is no more my brother than you are, Konini."
Syreena turned to look at the other Monk with frigid eyes, and Anya was once more shocked by what she saw in the expression of the Princess. It was the unmistakable temper that the royal family had been tragically famous for during all these generations. Siena controlled hers remarkably well. Apparently Syreena did as well.
Until now, at least.
"Heal her, or answer to me," the Princess hissed.
"I do not perform to threats," the Monk said serenely, clearly not understanding that his pious ways were only getting him deeper into trouble. "You will cease this foolish violence, sister."
Before Anya could blink, one Monk was released to crumple to the floor and the other was between Syreena's fingers in a peculiar grip the Elite General had never seen used before. Syreena used the leverage of the hold to force Konini's face close to his patient's blistering countenance.
"What you see before you, Monk, is a true sister. My only sister. My only brother. At my heart, my mother. You had best save her, because if I become Queen, you will know not only my wrath, but I suspect the wrath of her husband's people as well." Syreena glanced up even as the Monk did, his eyes widening with fear as he looked at the only feature of the still Demon male he could see.
Those pale eyes glowing in the darkness.
"Remember, Monk, that even without his fury there are ways I can destroy your precious Pride." She leaned closer to whisper more harshly to him. "I beg you to recall just how good and thorough a student I really was, Konini. And I know you know what I mean, brother."
She let go of him after that cryptic remark, and he fell onto the bed awkwardly, gasping for breath until his purple face began to change back to normal. To Anya's further amazement, he argued no further, threatened no punishment. Konini dragged his compatriot healer to his feet, slapping away his hands when they went to touch the cut the wall had left on the back of his head. He glanced worriedly from harlequin eyes to jade with clear trepidation and disquiet.
Anya watched Syreena march back into her guarding position with two steps and an about-face that would have put most of the General's fighting corps to shame.
"I noticed you left the room for a few minutes just now, half-breed," she remarked coolly, not even looking at the other woman.
"I…" Anya cleared her throat. "I was thirsty," she agreed, knowing full well she'd rather dehydrate than ever leave the Queen unprotected. Just as much as Syreena knew it. "Anything…uh…unusual happen while I was…um…"
"Out of the room?" Syreena prompted. "Not a thing."
"Good." Anya smiled an amused smile. "Good."
In the darkness, Anya could swear she heard the stoic warrior her people had feared for centuries chuckling under his breath.
The medics left Gideon's room, letting nature do what it could do best. They had done all they could, and the rest was up to Destiny and the Ancient's own resiliency.
Bringing his life signs back had been easy enough. So long as it was soon enough, an Elder Body Demon could time his own vital signs to take over those of the victim's, rather like a person-to-person bypass mechanism. The Elder took over the damaged autonomic systems, bringing the victim instantly back to life. However, healing the body fast enough and far enough to take over on its own had been the trick. Gideon had suffered enormous damage to vital organs and a blood loss that few could recover from.
The medics believed it was only Gideon's age that had saved him. Everything else aside, his was the fastest-healing immune system in the world. The only thing he was not capable of doing was replenishing his own blood supply rapidly enough. Nor was Gideon able to do the deep, complex healings that, while in reach of some of the Elders, lacked his artistic finesse for perfection. It had been difficult to sort out venom and rabies, bacteria and bone marrow, the clots and the residual scarring that had polluted his systems.
He should have died. Might still die. It was only his natural healing that could save him from whatever they had missed or had deemed out of their range of skill.
Hours passed and darkness swept over the castle that doubled as a hospital. There were guards outside all of the doors, a mixture of Demon warriors and Lycanthrope Elite that was eerily unprecedented. More so, the Lycanthropes brooked no argument to their demands to guard the door of the Warrior Captain and his bride themselves.
Baffled by Noah's command to comply, the warriors did so despite the loyalty that tempted them to disobey even the King's command. The castle was swarming with other forces, most of them out of doors, protecting the perimeter. Noah had left his sister long enough to spell Corrine, who had been given the care of her sibling's baby. Sitting by the comfort of his fire, holding the snug bundle of warmth over his heart, Noah could allow himself to release his pain. He was not an emotionally demonstrative man in public, but in his solitude of the moment, with only the nameless child to witness it, he allowed himself to be so in utter silence.
The weight of the little babe upon it was the only thing keeping his heart from splitting apart.
CHAPTER 15
In the darkness of the recently fallen night, a figure of perfect stealth moved with imperceptible speed toward the guarded perimeter of the Demon King's home. He would pass the guards completely undetected, his skills so far beyond anything they could perceive that he would be able to do so with an almost laughable ease.
He could sense the occupants around and within the stronghold with just a sweep of his eyes, the body heat they all exuded flaring infrared within his remarkable sight. He knew the cooler, more pinkish blobs of heat indicated Demons, whose body temperatures ran colder than the others by a few degrees. There was a human signature in a distant room, and then about a dozen beings who bore the bright red heat of the Lycanthropes. It was the one he determined to be in a horizontal position that attracted his attention most. He stepped past the perimeter of guards with silent speed, springing up with silent ease from the ground to the second-floor balcony that led into the room.
The Vampire Prince hesitated before using the door, sensing that someone was in the room besides the Lycanthrope Queen. Whoever she was, and he could sense that she was indeed a female, she was alert to her duty. If her heart was anything to judge by, she had noted his intrusion. Her fierce heartbeat was unbelievably compelling, so strong and so fast that it was circulating her blood almost too fast for her to oxygenate her cells.