Memory of an Immortal Heart (Immortal Hearts) (21 page)

“Simon
Francis.” They moved outside again. “He must have drawn guard duty tonight. He
helps Bryan watch Stronghold’s perimeter.” Eva clutched the blanket tighter
about her shoulders. They strode across the snow-covered walk to the main training
building where the Infirmary was located. He opened the door and saw Eva relax
at the warmth that rushed at them.

Eva
didn’t say anything as he led her up to the well-lit second level of the
building. Brand turned left toward the holding rooms…and stopped.

Khael
faded out of an empty doorway, thick arms crossed, blocking the corridor with
his massive frame; even in a faded black t-shirt and jeans, his brother was
imposing and Brand heard Eva gasp behind him. He took firm hold of his
self-control and kept his body between the two of them.

Hell if
his instincts didn’t choose that moment to rise – for even though Brand
logically knew Khael would have no sexual interest in Eva, he also knew that
– if it came to a fight between the two of them – his brother could
pound him into the floor.

Keep
between Khael and Eva.
That was all that mattered right now.

“Dmitrei
was here.” Brand said evenly, studying Khael’s features, the leashed
gold-tinged wildness in his brother’s stone-colored eyes; he tallied the
flecking of red in that gaze and mentally braced for whatever might be coming
next. There was no leeway in Khael, no give. Just close-leashed violence. “He
spoke with Nikandria?”

“Briefly,”
Khael rumbled, his voice rough as if from lack of use. It probably was. “When
he brought the cub in.”

“What
about?”

“The
girl’s circumstances.”

“Nothing
more?” Brand gritted his teeth in annoyance at Dmitrei while Khael gave the
slightest negatory shake of his head. “Did they even acknowledge each other?”

“They
knew each other,” Khael said impassively, his gaze dangerous as he surveyed
Brand. “That was enough.”

Brand
swore. Dmitrei had spoken to Nikandria only three times in the past three
centuries. They were siblings, and yet, no matter what Brand tried to do,
Dmitrei refused to know his sister.

“It’s
not her fault she was born,” Brand growled, more than irritated. “The least he
could do is acknowledge
that
.”

Khael’s
gaze traveled to Eva; his expression didn’t change as he studied her. Brand
tensed despite himself. If Khael knew Eva was his amati, Brand had no idea what
his brother would say. What his brother would
do
. Khael’s flickering
eyes came back to Brand and pierced through him. They saw too much.

“I
doubt that is Dmitrei’s problem with her.” Khael rumbled. “Best remember Brand,
the aversion between them isn’t one-sided.” Then Khael slowly uncrossed his
arms and shifted aside just enough for Brand to continue down the corridor.
“Nikandria is with the cub. I will be waiting for you in the training room.
Afterward.”

Brand judged
his brother’s mood – then moved past. He looked back to see Eva hesitate.
Her eyes had latched to Khael’s, wariness filling her silver gaze, but his
brother didn’t so much as twitch as she slipped past him to rejoin Brand.

“Who
was that?” Eva whispered after they turned down the next hall, glancing
nervously back. She tucked her hand in his. “His eyes. They were…they
looked…with the red in them, they almost looked like he was on the edge of…”
She shuddered. Brand couldn’t blame her.

“That
was Khael. My oldest brother.”

“You
mean
Khael
, your
Resh?
”

Now she
sounded panicked. Brand shrugged and tightened his hold on her fingers. “He’s
less civilized than most.”

“
Less
civilized?” Eva huffed a soft, nervous laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
She swallowed.  “Is he okay? Did something happen to upset him –
does it have to do with the girl? The one Bryan was talking about?”

Brand
didn’t immediately answer. Had something happened to Khael? Yes –
centuries ago. Did it have to do with the girl he was going to help? No. But
a
girl? Yes…yes, but Khael’s secrets weren’t for Brand to explain. Not even to
his amati.

And,
Brand knew, the time for his own explanations was close at hand.

“It is
an old pain, Eva,” he said as they took a quick flight of steps. “All that
matters is that Khael is in control of it. Still, I’ll ask you to stay away
from him. For right now, at least.”

As Eva
mulled over that, Brand quickened his pace until he picked up the sound of
Nikandria and Samuel’s low voices in far hall. Then he made the mistake of
glancing down to meet his amati’s too-curious, too-discerning gaze.

“Your
brother had a tattoo. On his neck,” Eva’s expression was baffled as her hand
rose to cover the right side of her throat. Brand flinched, caught her fingers
and pulled them away. He understood her confusion: Kaspians couldn’t be
tattooed. Their skin healed too quickly and rejected the inks. But what Khael
displayed on the right side of his neck wasn’t anything so simple as a human’s
tattoo.

It was
a Marque.

Every
time Brand saw that Marque, he cursed himself.

Partially
for the death of Khael’s amati – he should have helped Lis. He should
have
listened
to her. But mostly, Brand blamed himself for what had
happened to Khael after. Brand blamed himself for that…and for what he was
about to do again, in only a matter of moments.

Sometimes
his ability helped, sometimes it hurt. Brand was never quite sure which he was
doing.

Khael
should have hated him. But he didn’t, and Brand never understood why.

Brand
stopped outside the connecting door, shaking his head as age weighed on his
soul. Age and a thousand’s-thousand memories, none of them his own.

“Brand?
Are
you
okay?” Eva tentatively touched his arm.
She needs to be
warned. Before I go in there, she needs to know.

Brand
turned to grip Eva’s slender fingers – they were the same ones she had
touched her throat with; her silver eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. There was
one thing she needed to understand, one thing she could never forget when
dealing with Khael. For both her and Khael’s sakes. And Brand’s own.

“Never
ask Khael about that Marque, Eva,” Brand ordered. Eva’s eyes widened. “
Never
try to touch it. Not even by accident. It’s not a tattoo. And if you have
any sort of mercy in your heart, any sense of self-preservation, you will never
ever
risk mentioning that Marque in his hearing again.”

Eva
looked bewildered. “But if he doesn’t like it, why does he display it? Why not
get it removed?”

She
still thought it was a tattoo. Difference being, it
couldn’t
be removed.

“Khael
displays it so
he
will never forget.”
It is all he has left
.
 

Brand
felt the smoothness of Eva’s skin beneath her shirt, smelled the lush clean
scent of her. If he wanted, he could lean forward and take one of those
beautiful lips between his teeth, nibble his way over her mouth and down her
throat. Brand could breathe in her scent so deeply, so fully, that he would
never risk forgetting her. Perhaps it would wash his own memories away.

He
stepped back and dropped his palms.

Don’t
fucking deserve to
.

He
wanted to cry. To roar. To kill something.

He
wanted to Marque her. To fuck her. To consummate the bond.

He
wanted…many things.

“You’ll
remember, Eva?” Brand asked finally, roughly, but he was no longer asking about
Khael. But Brand needed her to agree, he needed the reassurance of her nod
before he went and did what he had to do.

“Yes,
of course.” Brand watched Eva’s delicate forehead crease as she studied him. As
if – suddenly –
she
saw too much. Before she could say
anything, Brand turned away, pulled open the door and entered the outer area of
the holding room the female cub was in.
Can’t answer any questions now
.
Brand didn’t want to go into other people’s memories, much less his own.

Nikandria
turned when they walked in, her purple gaze falling on Eva, and her eyebrows
arched: amazement grew on his sister’s tired face, transforming into a rare
brilliant smile. She walked across the room to wrap Brand in a hug.

He
leaned into it perhaps more than he should have; but he needed her comfort just
then. “This is Eva,” he said quickly, in Old Greek. “She will need someone to
set her up in our family’s visitor’s quarters.”

“She’s
not staying with you?” Nikandria asked, surprise in her tone. “I can feel what
she is to you.”

“God
save me from nosy little sisters,” Brand replied with affection, then tweaked
her nose before he pulled back to kiss her forehead. He became serious. “She
doesn’t know yet, Nikandrie. And tonight – I won’t be good for anything
tonight. Much less telling her the truth. She’s been through a lot.”

Nikandria
gave him a sharp look from narrowed eyes that clearly said she wasn’t any more
fooled by Brand’s excuses than he was himself; sometimes, she looked so much
like their mother.
But different
. There was a warmth to Nikandria that
Ashtoreth would never possess.

Nikandria
sighed and kissed her index finger before lightly touching it to the middle of
Brand’s forehead. “Very well. I’ll introduce myself. But I think I’ll let her
get just a little bit more jealous, first. It’s healthy, you know. And perhaps
it will make your ‘
telling
’ her go all that much easier.”

“Don’t
torture my mate, Nikandrie.” Brand grinned, shaking his head, then stepped back
to glance at Eva. She wasn’t looking at them, instead staring fixedly through
the glass partition of the room.

In a
corner on the far side of the wall huddled a young Kaspian tigress.

The
girl Dmitrei had brought in.

Brand’s
good humor disappeared, and Nikandria moved to stand beside him. Her crossed
her arms were a mirror to Khael’s posture, and she shook her head with the same
fierce gravity their elder brother possessed. Her thick blonde braid trailed
down her spine as it had when she was eight years old and, as ever, Brand had
to curb his urge to tug it. “I can’t reach her, Brand.”

“You
tried?” Brand hated to ask Nikandria that, he hated it. He knew of no one else
who would try as hard as Nikandria to help someone in trouble. But what she was
asking of him…Brand didn’t want to do.

Even if
it was something he had to do.

Every
time he did it, he hated himself a little bit more.

But the
panting, matted, too-thin adolescent tigress cringing in the corner of the
cement holding room clearly
needed
help. When Brand turned again,
Nikandria’s face suddenly looked too thin to him, too tired. Her lips were as
unsmiling as Khael’s, her eyes twice as weary.

“I know
you have enough nightmares, Brand,” she began, regret filling her voice. “If
you want…”

“She
tried,” snapped a rough voice in English from the front of the room, and
Brand’s gaze settled on Samuel; the healer had turned to glare at them. “She
tried so much that I won’t let her try again. I won’t watch her run herself
into the ground.”

Nikandria
frowned. “If you would just let me…”

“You’ll
burn yourself out,” said Samuel, uncustomary gentleness entering his tone. “No
matter how much you like to think that little ‘clouding’ trick of yours works,
it won’t in this case. Some wounds people don’t recover from, Nikandria.
Sometimes a healer needs to take the arm, or leg, for the patient to heal. Even
Kaspian patients. You know this.”

“I can
recover from being burned out just
fine
, Samuel,” Nikandria snarled, but
the healer’s words were enough for Brand. He would be able to judge for
himself, once he started to work. So Brand glanced once at Samuel, intercepted
the healer’s nod, and moved into the small, enclosed room behind the window,
shutting the door behind himself. It effectively cut off Nikandria’s stubborn
argument. 

His
sister thought she could save the world.

But if
Samuel thought Brand’s form of “healing” was necessary, then it was necessary.
Samuel didn’t lightly ask Brand to use his ability. The healer was as unwilling
to give up on others as Nikandria – although Samuel was more of a
realist. And neither of them would willingly see Nikandria exhausted and in
pain from overuse of her ability. She would recover eventually, but in the
meantime she would be easy prey.

It’s
not that she’s forgotten the Sakai of Europe
, Brand thought grimly
as he crouched before the adolescent tigress. No.
She just doesn’t value her
own life enough
. For Brand, that heedlessness was as infuriating in his
sister as it was terrifying in Khael. That same heedlessness had gotten their
father killed, and then their brother Iah.

The
young tigress’s pelt was an orange so pale as to almost seem yellow, her
stripes stark red markings down her back. She cowered away from Brand into the
corner, as no Kaspian should do, and the air stank with the acidic tang of pure
terror.