Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

Tension tightened his shoulders. For an instant I thought he would enter, but he simply kept his hands clasped behind his back, though I had a feeling they were in fists. “Kara, reconsider your quarters,” he said. “It is too soon for you to be away.”

“Yes, you’ve made your stance on that quite clear,” I shot back, voice laden with bitterness.

“I speak of the immediate concerns,” he replied. “Though the other is what I came to discuss.”

I took a steadying breath. “I can’t talk to you now,” I said. “It would not end well.”

He remained silent for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Accepted.” He paused again before speaking. “Kara, reconsider your quarters,” he repeated, “if only for a few nights.”

“If I go back to your rooms now, my lord,” I said, calmly and quietly, “you might as well put the collar back on me.”

An expression of dismay flashed across his face, then melded into a neutral mask. “That is…” He trailed off, shook his head. “So be it. Rest well, Kara Gillian.”

My hand tightened on my pen as I gave him a nod. He remained just beyond the archway for a few seconds more before turning and heading back down the hall.

There was no point in trying to study or write letters, not with my focus this screwed up, and so much uncertainty and hurt churning through me. Eventually I gave up and went to bed, but it was a long time before I could fall asleep.

I jolted upright, anguished scream choking off before it could fully form. The nightmare coiled around me, refusing to fully disperse even though I was awake and aware.

“You are mine,” Rhyzkahl says with a snarl. “None other may touch you thus.” A drop of crimson slides down the keen edge of his blade. My blood. My pain. “You are mine.”

Throwing off the covers, I stumbled out of bed and then to the balcony. The cool night air washed over me as I stepped out, but my shivering had little to do with that. If Mzatal was here…I squeezed my eyes shut. No. Mzatal wasn’t here to ease the nightmare. And now I understood his words, his desire for me to “reconsider my quarters.” He’d kept the dreams at bay while I stayed with him, let me sleep in peace.

But I need to be able to stand on my own at some point, don’t I? I couldn’t expect him to be there every second of the day to ease my boo-boos or hug away my fears. And I had no desire to live my life so thoroughly protected. Rhyzkahl had made sweeping decisions about my “safety” as well, such as when he’d denied me the grove. This situation was nothing like that, I knew, for Rhyzkahl’s intentions had little to do with my personal safety and everything to do with his own goals. Yet, in a way, knowing Mzatal had the best of intentions—while deceiving me into an agreement that could trap me here forever—was the hardest part. At least I thought he had the best of intentions. But how could I really be sure?

I returned inside and went to the bath chamber. My thoughts tumbled over each other as I took a long soak. Dawn came, but when the faas arrived with food, I could barely choke down a few swallows of chak. I tried again to study, but at the morning bell gave up, gathered up all my papers, and headed to the workroom.

Sitting at a table against the back wall, I spread out my notes and sought calm, which proved tough to do when I felt haggard on innumerable levels. I gently pulled power from the grove, as much to mask my thoughts as to seek an elusive peace.

Mzatal entered, and I stood. I didn’t do the “Lord Mzatal” thing. He got that message clearly last night.

“Greetings, Kara Gillian,” he said, eyes on me and holding himself with a too-smooth façade that spoke volumes more than any expression of hurt or anger could have.

Taking a deep breath, I gave him a nod of acknowledgment. “We could engage in some bullshit about getting down to work, or we could talk about the other shit. Which would you prefer?”

He stepped forward. “The work has no value or substance while the other hangs between us.”

“Agreed,” I said, a bit surprised at how calm I sounded. I sure as hell didn’t feel it. “A question for you then. Assuming we had no agreement stating otherwise, if I were to ask you to have Idris send me home, would you?”

Mzatal shook his head slowly. “No.”

I gave a snort of humorless laughter. At least he wasn’t lying to me. Though it felt like too little too late, at this point. “Then why did you even bother with that bullshit in the agreement?” I asked. “To lull me into some sort of false ease?”

His eyes narrowed. “You asked what I would do if there was no agreement,” he replied, voice oddly tight. “Were there no agreement, there would be many other factors considered as well. There is an agreement and it is not…bullshit.”

“And where in all of those factors is a trust in my own judgment?” I demanded, feeling the hurt of it all keenly. “Am I a toddler who needs her hand held to keep her from running out into traffic? Or am I a grownup who can be told, ‘Hey, there are cars out there that’ll flatten you. You need to look both ways.’” I shook my head, eyes on him. “After Helori took me away, I came back here, back to you, for two reasons. First, was that I’d come to understand the danger to myself and to my loved ones if I went back to Earth, and I knew I needed further training.” I paused, took a deep breath. “But second was because you told me I wasn’t a prisoner.”

His head lowered, eyes remaining on mine. “Under the agreement, you are not a prisoner.”

My mouth twisted. “And you made damn sure I’d agree to it, too. You used that well-honed qaztahl deceit to fudge your answer to my question so that I’d buy it. You knew damn well what I wanted to know.” I met his gaze steadily. “You’ve said yourself—repeatedly—that you can’t help reading me. But you chose to give me the answer that would ensure I became your prisoner by my own goddamn agreement.” I spread my hands. “By all means, let me lock myself in this gilded cage you’ve created for me.”

A whisper of anger or frustration passed over his face. “And what has changed in the time frame given? Nothing. I fully intend for you to complete that term and pass the shikvihr initiation. You are creating your own cage by doubting your ability to do so.”

Anger churned in my gut. “My doubt or lack of doubt has nothing to do with this,” I retorted. “What’s changed is that I see the fucking bars now. And you still refuse to admit that you employed deceit, because you don’t fucking trust me to judge for myself what my best course of action is!”

A shimmer of silver-blue potency flashed in his eyes. “Kara Gillian, you have four qaztahl holding you at the top of their target list,” he said, near spitting the words. “I had no time to toy with the devastating introduction of doubt into your process of learning the shikvihr. You do not consider doubt a factor. I do. I have watched it eat away at the potential of so very many. You see bars because you choose to see them rather than the door that is open for you.”

“Yeah,” I said, giving a slight nod. “Well, at least you admit it. And yeah, you did all this for my own safety and for the best reasons, blah, blah.” I shrugged. “Only problem with all that is, now I know I can’t trust you. From here on out I’ll always be wondering what the catch is, where the hidden trap is. Wondering what else you do because you know what’s best for me.” I slowly released my hold on the trickle of grove power. I didn’t want to shield my hurt from him any longer. “You said you want to work with me. That can’t happen. Not like this. I’ll work for you.” I lifted my chin, mouth tight. “I’ll abide by the terms of the agreement. From here on out we are student and Lord.”