. Powerful men quaked in their boots if they displeased him. He had broken arms and legs, snapped off heads and sent traitors to a fiery death. He was Dranir Judah. But he could hardly proclaim himself to be the ruler of a mighty clan, not when the Raintree believed the handful of Ansara left alive after the great battle had scattered to the four corners of the earth and, for the most part, been absorbed into the human population. It was best if she continued believing that Ansara such as he were few and far between, only a handful who still possessed their ancient powers. A talented Ansara here and there could be dealt with easily; but a reborn clan of mighty warriors would pose a threat.
“We shouldn’t argue,” Judah said. “We have the same goal—to protect Eve.”
“The only difference in our goals is that I want to protect her from you as well as your brother.”
“You really think I’m the devil incarnate, don’t you?”
“You’re an Ansara.”
“Yes, I am. And proud of the fact. But you seem to believe I should be ashamed to belong to a noble, ancient race.”
“Noble? The Ansara? Hardly.”
“The Raintree don’t have a monopoly on nobility,” Judah told her.
“If you believe that the Ansara are noble, then our definitions of the word must differ greatly.”
“Loyalty to one’s family and friends and clan. Using our abilities to provide for and protect the people for whom we are responsible. Revering the elderly ones who possess great knowledge. Defending ourselves against our enemies.”
Mercy stared at him, a puzzled expression on her face. Had he said too much? Did she suspect he was more than just a single Ansara with power equal to any Raintree? Was she wondering just how many more like him were out there?
“The Ansara used their powers to take whatever they wanted—from humans and Raintree alike. Allowed to go unchecked, your people would have subjugated everyone on earth instead of living in harmony with the Ungifted as we Raintree do now and have done for thousands of years.”
“You Raintree took it upon yourselves to become the guardians of the human race, and in doing so, you chose those who are mere mortals over those of your own kind. That decision locked our two clans into what seemed like an eternal war.”
“The Ansara are not our kind,” Mercy said emphatically. “Even your ancient Dranirs recognized that fact. That’s why they issued the decree to kill any mixed-breed children.”
I have revoked that decree! But Judah couldn’t tell Mercy what he’d done, didn’t dare reveal to her that he was the Ansara Dranir.
“Are you saying you agree with the decree?” Judah asked, deliberately baiting her. “Do you think mixed-breed children should be put to death?”
“No, of course not! How can you ask me such a question?”
“Eve is Raintree,” Judah said. “She is your kind. But she is also Ansara, which means she is my kind. Her bloodline goes back over seven thousand years to those from whom both the Ansara and the Raintree came. We were once the same people.”
“And for that reason, Dranir Dante and Dranira Ancelin did not annihilate all Ansara after The Battle two hundred years ago. The few Ansara who remained were allowed to live, in hopes that they would learn to coexist in the world with the Ungifted and find the humanity they had once shared with the Raintree thousands of years ago.” She looked Judah in the eyes. “But knowing you, I see that that hope was not fulfilled. You and your brother hate each other. His mother killed your mother. And he intends to kill you. He wants to harm Eve, and you want to take her away from me. The Ansara are still violent and cruel and uncaring and—”
Judah grabbed her by the shoulders. Mercy quieted immediately, glaring at him, her rigid stance challenging him. “You judge me without knowing me,” he told her. “My half brother isn’t typical of our kind, nor was his mother. Cael is insane, just as she was.”
When he felt Mercy relax, he eased his hold, but he didn’t release her. They stood there for several minutes, looking at each other, each trying to sense what the other was thinking. Mercy wouldn’t budge, keeping her defensive barriers in place. He did the same, not daring to risk her realizing who he really was.
“Because of Eve, I’d like to believe you,” Mercy said. “I’d like to know that the Ansara part of her will never turn her into someone totally alien to me. I know she’s high-strung and mischievous, but—” Mercy swallowed hard. “What you did to me was cruel and uncaring. Can you deny that?”
Judah ran his hands down her arms, from shoulders to wrists; then he let her go.
“At the time, I didn’t consider it cruel. I wanted you. You wanted me. We had sex several times. You gave me pleasure. I gave you pleasure. No promises were exchanged. I didn’t declare my undying love.”
Mercy’s expression hardened; her face paled. “No, but I told you that I loved you.” She bowed her head as if the sight of him caused her pain. “You must have found that amusing. Not only had you taken the Raintree princess’s virginity, but she told you that she loved you.”
Judah reached out and tilted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I knew you weren’t in love with me. You were just in love with the way I’d made you feel. Really good sex can do that to a woman when it’s a new experience for her.”
“If I had known you were Ansara…”
“You’d have run like hell.” He grunted. “Actually, that’s what you did do when you found out, wasn’t it?” He studied her briefly, then asked, “Why didn’t you abort your pregnancy? Why didn’t you just get rid of my baby?”
“She was my baby, too. I could never have…”
Mercy went still as a statue. Her eyes glazed over, then rolled back in her head as she shivered. Judah realized she was experiencing some kind of trance.