The Staff and the Blade: Irin Chronicles Book Four (31 page)

“So Volund holds Istanbul now.”

“His sons killed Ava’s mate. But not Ava. Her voice was too powerful.”

A dark thought twisted at the back of her mind. “Is her father Grigori?”

It was possible for Grigori to have children with human women. It usually didn’t end well, but sometimes both mother and child survived. Oddly enough, some of the most gifted human artists and geniuses over the centuries were Grigori offspring. It was, in Sari’s opinion, the only redeeming feature of their race. Occasionally, their angelic blood showed true and created something beautiful.

“I thought she must be Grigori offspring initially, but I don’t think so. Her father is a high-profile musician. He has relationships with women and doesn’t kill them. And he’s involved in her life. Not deeply, but they do have a relationship.”

Which would never happen with a Grigori, because they were monsters.

“How do we know he’s truly her father? There’s something…”

“Strange?”

“Old.” It felt right when she said it. “She feels old. Perhaps not a Grigori. Her father could be Irin. A very
ancient
scribe. Something like that.”

Damien’s jaw tightened. “Her mother is human.”

Sari looked up. “So?”

He folded his arms and shook his head. “I’m not saying that an Irin male has never had an attraction to a human woman. We are not saints. I know it’s possible, but—”

“Not possible, Damien.
Probable
. Likely even, since the Rending. It’s not as if the scribes have many options for partners, do they?”

“An Irin scribe is not going to take advantage of a human woman just because—”

“Who says he’d be taking advantage?” Sari said. “There is a singer here whose partner is human. Orsala doesn’t like it, but there’s no denying their feelings. She’s not taking advantage of him.”

“It’s not about feelings! I’m talking about biology. Irin scribes are not like singers. We cannot touch humans. We
will
hurt them.”

“It’s taboo,” Sari said. “Not magic. You know how I feel about this. The fact that touching humans is taboo does not mean it’s a biological impossibility. Grigori don’t kill women on immediate contact. Biologically, they’re—”

“The same as scribes?” he erupted. “No, they are not.”

Sari set her jaw. “If Grigori can have human children, then so can Irin. It’s possible, Damien. And it might explain Ava.”

“No scribe would do this.” He crossed his arms. “Maybe it’s biologically possible, but it would not happen, Sari.”

“Why? Because you wouldn’t touch a human? Because you’d never allow any of your men to do it?” She snorted. “Are you still so naive, Damien?”

His eyebrows flew up. “You’re calling me naive?”

“Yes.” She leaned forward. “You may be older than me, but you’re still the noble Irin warrior of ages past. This world is not black and white. It never has been.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“You think every scribe has a conscience and a code of honor because you do.”

He looked away from her.

“Not every scribe is noble. Not every Irin wants the Irina back. Not every one of your brothers would sacrifice himself to protect me or any of my sisters.”

“I know I’m no saint. None of us are.”

“No, you’re
honorable
. And decent. And good.”

“Sari—”

“And I love that about you,” she continued, even as her throat started to close. “I love your honor. I love your decency. But Damien, the world is not like that. It’s a hard, cruel place. People are selfish and weak. We do things…” She choked. “We do horrible things because we think it’s the only way to survive.”

Damien locked his eyes on her. “There is
nothing
you can do that would make me love you less, Sari.”

She gave him a bitter smile. “That’s because you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Do you really think I don’t know?”

She shook her head. He didn’t know. If he did, her honorable mate would be horrified.

“
Milá
…” He held her gaze. “There is no warrior unstained by guilt. We protect. That is what we do. But it’s never without cost. You know the things I’ve done.”

She closed her eyes. The screams of Grigori intermingled with the screams of the children and the desperate pleas of an old man.
Release me…

“Sari.” Damien knelt in front of her. “Come back to me.”

His hands on her knees anchored her and undid her at the same time. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel.

“I’m so tired, Damien.”

“I know,
milá
.”

He cupped her cheek but she kept her eyes closed. If she looked at him…

“Don’t be kind to me,” she whispered. “I can’t be kind to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you make me feel.”

He paused. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“If I feel one thing, I’ll feel everything.”
She took a weary breath and pushed his hand away. “I need to talk to my grandmother about Ava. Maybe Orsala can make some sense of this mess.”

Sari could tell Damien didn’t want to let her go, but he did.

“She’s not a mess, Sari. She’s a person who needs help. She is the widow of a fallen warrior, and we owe her succor.”

Ah, there he was. The protector. The guardian. The commander of men. Loyal to his men, even beyond death. Loyal to a council who’d led to her destruction.

“Until I know who she is and what she’s capable of, she’s a threat.” Sari rose and walked away from him. “I’m sorry, Damien. Call me a cynic if you want, but I no longer have the luxury of trust.”

※

“Our wounds blind us,” Orsala said. “We see monsters in the dark, but the monsters are in the mirror too.”

Sari sipped the tea her grandmother had poured. “You think she’s the daughter of a scribe and a human?”

“From the power she’s rumored to have, I think she must be. No Grigori could father a child with so much magic. I don’t even know if a scribe would, but it’s the only explanation that makes any amount of sense.”

“I’m sorry I had to ask you to stay away. This girl…” Sari frowned. “She’s like an open wound.”

Orsala might have stopped her longevity spells and allowed time to age her, but her eyes were still sharp. Her mind, a silver blade. “Is it the grief?”

“That and the lack of shields. I see a thousand cuts across her mind, and no one has bandaged them. She does need our help. She needs to know she’s not crazy, to start.”

“She should know that by now, don’t you think?”

Sari raised an eyebrow. “Ava has been told her whole life that she’s insane. You think falling into our world has helped? She needs shields. Quickly. Maybe once she has them, she can start thinking clearly. Can you imagine not being able to shield your mind from the humans?”

“No. It’s as automatic as breathing for all of us.”

Sari stared out the window. Her grandmother’s cottage was set away from the rest of the haven and against the trees. Orsala liked her solitude—loved being near the forest that reminded her of her mate—but she wasn’t forced into it. For Ava, solitude had been a means of survival.

“She’s solitary by nature,” Sari said. “She won’t take help easily.”

“She had to be solitary.” Orsala’s eyes went to the forest. “You think there’s more out there. More humans like this girl?”

“I think there has to be. Maybe not as powerful as she is, but do you really think thousands of scribes have been celibate for two and a half centuries?”

“No.” She shifted and took a deep breath. “She has magic. It’s uncontrollable right now, but the power is there.”

All Irin children were born with magic. Genetically, they were half-angelic. But a child born of a human and an Irin would only have a quarter of that blood. As far as Sari knew, that wasn’t enough to control magic the way scribes and singers did.

“It could be her father was ancient,” Orsala said. “If he was of an earlier bloodline…”

“One of the first generation?” The first generation of angelic children had been granted far more power and were damn-near godlike. Many human myths of gods and monsters sprang from those days.

Her grandmother shrugged. “It’s possible that would make a difference. What other answer makes sense?”

Sari could tell Orsala wasn’t convinced. “I’ll bring her to you tomorrow, and you can see for yourself.”

“I’ll start her training immediately,” Orsala said. “No matter where she comes from, the poor girl needs to take control of her future even if her mate is gone. He died, but she didn’t, and she’s going to have a long life in front of her. Best she not wait to start living it.”

Sari kissed Orsala’s cheek and walked away, but Damien’s words wouldn’t leave her alone.

Fight with me, damn you. Kiss me. Hit me. Shout at me. Do
something
. But stop living this half life. Stop pretending we both died along with our child.

CHAPTER FOUR

D
AMIEN
could almost hear his mate shouting in her head. She had not wanted him to go with her and Ava to meet Orsala, but Damien decided he didn’t care. In fact, he decided the situation amused him. Sari’s reaction to him the day before had been more than satisfactory. They had talked—truly talked—about their estrangement for the first time in a century.

“You make me feel.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“If I feel one thing, I’ll feel everything.”

Damien had always known Sari’s icy reactions to violence or grief had never meant she didn’t feel. If anything, his mate felt too keenly. Some men might have taken that as a sign to tread gently.

Damien had trodden gently too long.

“So, why does she live so far away?” Ava asked. “Is it because of the empath thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Orsala. Why does she live away from everyone else?”

“She can shield herself from the emotions around her,” Sari said. “But it costs energy she knew she was going to need to read you the first time. So she went to her house. She likes her solitude, but she’s often in the main house.”

“That’s why you haven’t seen her,” Damien added. “After today, she’ll be around more.”

“I feel bad she had to keep away.”

Sari said, “She doesn’t have to do anything. She chose to. It’s no responsibility of yours, so don’t feel bad.”

Ava was still so human in her reactions and manners. Damien could tell that Orsala’s isolation bothered her.

“Still, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Sari interrupted Ava’s attempt to make amends. “My grandmother hates it when Irina apologize too much.”

Oh, his gentle girl. Damien sighed to keep from smiling; Sari must have heard it.

“You didn’t need to accompany her,” she muttered.

“I’m paying my respects to your grandmother, Sari. It would be rude of me not to see her.”

“She’s not your grandmother.”

“No, but she’s yours. And, unless you’ve forgotten, I am your mate. Therefore, she’s my family too.”

“Trust me. I have not forgotten.”

Something must have been bothering her that morning. They’d left on relatively pleasant terms the day before. What could have happened? He leaned toward Sari as Ava walked ahead. “Are you sure about that?”

He slid a finger over the soft skin at her wrist. The air between them sparked, and a surge of sexual energy jolted him. Damien caught his breath as the impact traveled from her skin to his.

Someone was frustrated, and thank the heaven it wasn’t only him.

He woke every morning with the memory of her taste in his mouth and his body raging. Dream walks were growing darker and more vague, as they always did when they were in physical proximity. While their basic physical hunger for each other was served through dreaming when they were far apart, their souls were not apart from their bodies. And everything in Damien’s body recognized his
reshon
was near.

Their eyes locked for a moment before Sari tore her gaze away.

Ava was losing patience. “You guys are impossible. You should hear yourselves.”

“Then stop listening,” Sari said. “It’s rude.”

“Don’t you think I would if I could?”

Ava was saved further headaches by their approach to Orsala’s house. When they reached it, the old woman was standing at the doorway, holding out her arms with her eyes locked on him.

“Damien!” Orsala called to him. “Oh, my son. I was wondering when you would come visit me.”

He wondered if Sari minded that her grandmother had always kept in contact. Orsala and Damien had bonded centuries before over their love of Sari. As the years passed, they’d become more than family, and Damien considered the old singer one of his truest friends.

“Mother,” he greeted her in her own tongue, “does the fire still burn in this house?”

“It does, and you are welcome to its light,” she answered. “You and your own.” Her eyes flicked to Sari, who was pointedly ignoring them. “You came back for her.”