Lost Moon

by Dana Davis

  “He is dead,” Kepriah said. One arm pointed to a burnt spot on the stone floor. “Larisa took care of him.”

  Patrice began to cry again, this time out of relief. “Thank you. I got him in the face with an air whip but he grabbed me again before I could get to the door.” Her neck hurt and she put her fingers there only to pull away blood. The neckline of her slip was damp and sticky. Events came back in a terrible flood and her trembling legs gave out.

  Jakon flew to her side. “Whoa, now. Let me put you into bed, Third.” She stiffened and he froze. “I will not harm you, Third Noble. I would never harm any of you. Your sisters can help you into bed if you wish.” She shook her head, wrapped arms around his neck, and allowed him to carry her to the soft mattress.

  Larisa inspected her neck with gentle fingers. “Did he hurt you anyplace else?”

  From her sister’s look and the worry that caressed her senses, Patrice knew exactly what Larisa meant. Her jumbled emotions meant her sisters probably couldn’t tell how far the awful man had gotten in his attack.

  “He didn’t rape me. You stopped him in time.”

  Larisa smiled in relief. “Thank the Moirai. Kepriah, you need to heal this cut.”

  Patrice had heard the story of Sorinieve healing Kepriah with the scepter and the pain it rendered. She felt she didn’t need that added ache just now. A cut wasn’t a life or death injury. At least on Earth. “It’s not that bad. Just put some herbs on it and a bandage. I’ll be fine.”

  “You need healing. Or else I need to put in stitches.”

  “What? No. It’s not that bad.”

  Larisa leaned over her and stroked her hair. “Let Kepriah help you, sweetness.”

  After searching Larisa’s concerned face, she finally agreed and realized Kepriah had already positioned herself near the bed. Her eldest sister would have healed her whether she agreed or not. Kepriah held the scepter over Patrice’s wounded neck and the jewels began to glow. A pretty sight. Then the pain came. Patrice tried to protect herself from the onslaught but all she could do was grip the sheets, arch her back, and moan. Flesh pulled and tore in her neck and spots all over her body prickled. Then it was over. The pain, the lighted jewels, all of it. Tears rolled into her hair and tickled her ears. She suspected only mere seconds had passed but she felt exhausted.

  Jakon smiled down on her. “You are healed now.”

  She nodded, sniffed, and swiped at her tears. “Who was that man? How did he get in here?”

  “He is one of my new hires.”

  The male voice wasn’t Jakon’s and Patrice bolted to a sitting position, yanking the covers around her. Damon stood in her doorway. Two large men with swords flanked him. Though they were past their primes, she had no doubt they could kill efficiently. Jakon stepped back in haste, almost hidden between the bedpost and the wall, no doubt to get a weapon ready if anyone came near Patrice. She felt comforted by his presence.

  Damon stepped inside and focused on her. “I am sorry. Truly I am. Tibur is a new hire. My personal servant noticed the spare keys to your rooms were missing. When we went to question him and saw that his room was vacant, I suspected he was after one of you. I got here as quickly as I could.” He took another step toward the bed. “Are you all right, Patrice? Did he hurt you?”

  “He tried. My family killed him.” It felt good to refer to Kepriah and the others that way. Somehow, she felt safer.

  Damon studied Kepriah, who now stood silently at the foot of Patrice’s bed. “Where is the body? I need to post his head as a message to any others.”

  Kepriah crossed to him. “Uh, Damon. We need to talk.”

  He looked to his men. “Keep guard outside this door and those leading to the adjoining rooms. No one else gets in without Kepriah’s or my say-so.”

  “Yes, Royal,” they said in unison.

  Patrice watched as her eldest sister left with Damon. She accepted the handkerchief from Larisa and blew her nose. “Thank you.”

  The healer stood, her gaze settling on Jakon. She moved to him, placed a hand under his chin, and turned his head to the side. “She got you good but you do not need stitches.”

  That’s when Patrice saw the bloody scratches that ran the length of his face. “Oh, Jakon! I’m so sorry.” She scooted out of bed and reached for his wound.

  He stopped her hand with a gentle touch. “It’s all right, Third. You were trying to protect yourself. I will be fine.”

  “Still. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “I know. Now, get some rest. We will stay right here.”

  “Um, I really need to pee.” She wanted the distraction, too, just to keep the tears from flowing again.

  “Jakon?” Larisa said.

  “I will wait in Kepriah’s room. If you need anything, just call.”

  He moved into the next room and left the adjoining door open slightly. Despite the horrors she had just gone through, Patrice felt comforted by Jakon’s presence. He had done nothing but protect her since she arrived on this planet. She emptied her bladder into the chamber pot, got out of her soiled slip, and scrubbed herself at the water basin. Larisa helped her into a fresh slip and tossed the old one into the fireplace. They sat on the edge of the bed to watch it burn.

  “You are going to be all right, Patrice. I will see to that.”

  With a sigh, Patrice rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. Larisa put an arm around her and crooned a lullaby. Her sister had a pleasant voice and the sound relaxed her until she began to drift off.

  “Let us get you into bed.” Jakon’s voice. When had he come back into the room?

  Patrice scooted to her pillow and pulled the blanket under her chin. Jakon and Larisa sat on either side of her until she fell into a fitful sleep.

  She woke several times during the night to find one or the other of her new family pacing the room or staring into the fire.

  ****

  When Patrice awoke in the morning, light streamed in through the small window. Larisa slept on the bed beside her, while Kepriah and Jakon were sprawled in chairs near the fireplace. Neither looked very comfortable. Patrice moved slowly, so as not to wake the others, and sat up. Her gaze took in the burnt spot on the floor. The memory of last night surfaced all too vividly and she buried her face against her knees, arms wrapped around her legs.

  She had no idea how long she sat like that before she felt Larisa’s waking presence against her senses. “Patrice? You okay?”

  “No.”

  With that, Larisa put arms about her and the two sobbed quietly together for a moment. Patrice pulled away, sudden anger replacing all other emotions. “What took you so long last night?” Kepriah and Jakon jerked awake. “What the hell took you so long to get here?”

  “Calm down, Patrice,” Larisa said.

  “Like hell I will. A man tried to rape me. I know you both felt it!” Her sanity felt close to breaking and she sobbed and screamed at the same time. It took several minutes for Larisa to calm her. Afterward, she felt foolish blaming them for something that clearly wasn’t their fault. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping last night, too. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right, sweetness.” Larisa stroked Patrice’s hair. “I felt you in my dreams. It was not until after I woke that I realized the fear was real.”

  “Same here.” Kepriah sat alert, alongside Jakon on the end of the bed. “I came as fast as I could once I woke.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Larisa said in a firm voice. “None of this is your fault.”

  “I know that.”

  “I know you know. But we are here to reassure you.”

  “Thanks.” Patrice chuckled and worry caressed her senses from both sisters. “I guess you really fried him.”

  Larisa nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  Patrice expected to feel satisfaction from her middle sister, but what caressed her senses felt more like remorse. A knock on the door startled her and she immediately knew wha
t the saying “jumped out of my skin” truly meant. Larisa’s warm touch calmed her again.

  “It is I,” a muffled voice said. “Damon.”

  Kepriah stood. “I will take care of this.” She exchanged a secretive nod with Jakon and disappeared out into the hall.

  Larisa turned a gentle face to Patrice. “Let’s wash up and get dressed.”

  “Yeah. Good idea.”

  After Larisa retrieved her clothes from her room and returned, Jakon excused himself and went into Kepriah’s room. Patrice scrubbed her skin as though the act might wash away her memories of what happened last night. And of what could have happened if it weren’t for her sisters. She fought tears but was grateful Larisa stopped that man before he actually raped her. She couldn’t imagine what she would feel like now if he had succeeded. He probably would have killed her anyway. Or raped Larisa. That thought terrified her, as well. Her sister had dressed quickly and crossed to help Patrice with her skirts.

  “I’m okay now, Larisa. Really.”

  Those light brows lifted. “Remember who you are talking to. I know better. We stick together from now on. You, Kepriah, and I will sleep in my room the remainder of our visit.”

  “I won’t argue with that. What about Jakon?”

  “He can stay in Kepriah’s room.” Kepriah opened the door to the hallway and motioned Larisa to her. “I will be just a minute.” Not long after, Larisa returned with a tray of food and placed it on the small table near the window as she called Jakon back in.

  Just after they each had a plate and sat to eat, Kepriah strolled in and took up a roll. “Damon’s really upset about last night. He’s posted every available guard around this place and they are working in short-shifts. Seems that dead man, Tibur, was a new hire like he said. Damon thought his cousin recommended him and vice versa, so neither of them questioned him. He’s assured me no one else will get hired without a written and sealed recommendation from another trusted royal.”

  “How did you explain that?” Larisa pointed to the singed spot on the floor.

  “I told him the truth.”

  “What!” Larisa and Patrice said together.

  “Kepriah, how could you?” Larisa said. “That is dangerous. We cannot have everyone knowing about us.”

  Kepriah straddled a chair, elbows resting on the back, and waved her bread at them. “Calm down, both of you. I trust Damon’s word if he says he will not tell anyone.”

  “But how do you know?” Patrice said. They might be able to sense each other, but they couldn’t do that with anyone else, not even Jakon.

  “He swore on his mother’s grave and his father’s crown.”

  Jakon whistled. “He will not tell.”

  Patrice’s heart slowed and she felt tired, weak, despite Kepriah’s healing. Too much adrenaline had pumped through her body recently and she had slept only in spurts last night. She sank back into her chair. “But how do you know for sure? People break promises all the time. How do you know Damon isn’t just telling you what you want to hear? You said yourself royals can’t be trusted.”

  Jakon stepped from his spot near the window to her chair. “Because, Third Noble, to break an oath on your mother’s grave or your father’s crown is not done without serious repercussions. Damon made both. Any royal would kill himself if he broke such an oath. And if that royal failed, his household would be obligated to finish the job.”

  “But there are those who’ve done it, right? Who have broken their oath?”

  “Once. That anyone knows of. But he is dead now.”

  “So, what would stop Damon from blabbing our secrets all over the place before he killed himself?”

  “That is counterproductive, Third. He would gain nothing. He does not even have an heir.” Jakon knelt, took Patrice’s hands, and waited until she caught his gaze. Those golden eyes bore into her. That’s when she realized he had been without her camouflage spell since they went to their apartments last night. And why he had hidden himself when Damon showed up. “We cannot always live in fear. We have to trust someone.” He stood. “If Kepriah trusts Damon to keep our secrets then we will support her decision.”

  “Damon might be an asset to us.” Kepriah’s voice was as tender as Patrice had ever heard and sympathy washed against her senses. “He is a royal after all.”

  Patrice studied her eldest sister. “But he said you were even, didn’t he? That he’d paid his debt to you.”

  “Yes. And he would probably turn me into the bounty hunters if I return here without his blessing. But he has told me that. He has not lied to me.”

  “Why would you trust anyone who’d narc on you?” Magic didn’t always translate perfectly, and from her expression and the feeling Patrice got against her senses, Kepriah obviously didn’t understand that comment. “Why trust someone who would turn you over to bounty hunters?”

  “He was up front about it. Damon has never lied to me. If he had not warned me and then had me arrested when I returned, I would never trust him.”

  “I don’t get it.” Patrice shook her head. She would never trust anyone like that. She began to doubt her sister’s ability to lead and the longing to go home to Earth filled her.

  “What was he after?” Larisa said as she eyed Patrice then Kepriah. “Our magic?”

  “Damon thinks the man was just after a thrill. There are not many women here. And the three of us just showing up like we did were too much of a temptation for him.”

  “He didn’t want sex,” Patrice uttered. Then she shivered. “He wanted control. Domination. He was violent.”

  Larisa placed a comforting hand on her arm then turned back to Kepriah. “But why Patrice? Why not me? Or you?”

  Kepriah shrugged. “Maybe he did not much care as long as he got his pecker into one of us. I sure wish he had come after me.” Those blue eyes hardened.

  “I’m just glad he’s gone.” Patrice stared at the fireplace and anger filled her again. “I’m glad Larisa killed him.” She remembered her failed attempt with the ring last night. “I only wish I had done it.”

  Jakon placed a hand on her shoulder. “Wishing a man dead and killing him is not the same. Once you take a person’s life, yours changes. Forever.” He eyed Larisa. “Look at your sister, sense her, and tell me you like what she is going through.”

  Patrice felt like a fool when she realized how she’d been ignoring Larisa’s feelings. The healer was an emotional mess, conflicted by her concern for Patrice and what she had done to that man last night. “Larisa—”

  Her sister held up a hand. “Do not say it, Patrice. Do not say you are sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. Jakon, shame on you. What Patrice went through last night is a fear of every woman.”

  “I am not minimizing what happened, Second. It was a terrible ordeal. But I do not want her to get bloodlust.”

  Those blue eyes that mirrored Patrice’s narrowed a moment. “You are right. I would not wish what I did on her, either. I am a healer and I killed a man. I should have let Kepriah or you take care of him, but I killed him. The Healer and the Destroyer. Just like Honor said.”

  This time, Patrice moved to Larisa’s chair and put her arms around her sister’s shoulders. “He would have killed me after he got his jollies. I’m sure of it. I’m so grateful you stopped him for good. If you hadn’t, he would have gone after another woman. Or maybe a girl. Men like that don’t change.”

  They finished breakfast in a solemn atmosphere and Patrice jumped at every sound, much to her dismay. She was truly grateful her sister had killed that despicable man, despite how Larisa felt about it now. She wondered how many others like him they would run into on this world. A world of royals and violence and bounty hunters. A world without cops to protect law-abiding citizens. A world that wasn’t hers.

  Chapter 20

  Kepriah had led her family to the seer’s place on their way from the Cities of Sleep. The old seer had given them what information he had about the Faytools, which only confirmed what lit
tle they already knew.

  The shriveled face that had seen too many years in the sun tilted to one side. “Yes, Larisa of Donigere, the Sacred Eye will have answers I cannot provide.”

  “Will I be safe there?”

  “Only the Sacred Eye knows that, child.” The seer took her hand again and his hazy eyes looked off into nothing for a moment. “I do see you and your sisters traveling there.” The old eyes moved back to Larisa and he released her hand. “That is all I can tell you, except to warn you that magic is fickle now. It will work in one place and not another until you fulfill your destiny as Trine.”

  Kepriah studied the man. “We have already experienced that. The scepter at times will not create an archway for me. Is there anything we can do to avoid these cold spots?”

  He smiled, deep wrinkles increasing around his mouth and eyes. “Cold spots. A good description. But no, there is no way to tell their location until you try to use magic.” He stood with the help of a cane. “I am sorry, but that is all I have to share with you. Be safe on your journey, Trine. Until we meet again.” He motioned to the door, where a boy not yet in puberty, struggled just outside with a bleating goat that seemed to want more food.

  A future seer, perhaps? That thought gave Kepriah hope as the Trine left the seer’s home and headed toward their unknown future.

  ****

  The Moirai only knew how many times Kepriah had tried to open archways without luck the past couple of days, thanks to cold spots she encountered. There was just enough magic for her to ward off sleep, which she had done the past two nights. If she went too long without sleep, she would start hallucinating, but she was able to take short naps during the day so she had not reached that point. Someone had to remain awake during the night while the others rested. Jakon offered to relieve her, but Kepriah needed him sharp and strong if they ran into trouble out here.