effectiveness of the blocker had brought on exhaustion and desolation, sending her into unconsciousness. When she woke, they hadn’t been there, and there was no paint on her body. She’d looked thoroughly for any trace of it, and found nothing. During the days that followed, where she remained mute unless Lord Brian needed an answer to a question, she realized the men touching her had been some strange mental defense against Stephen’s torment. But it felt more real than the most hideous nightmare he’d sent her, and since what made the nightmares so awful was how very real they felt, that was saying something.
“Alanna?”
She lifted her head to see Jacob, Lady Lyssa’s servant, standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard the heavy portal open. Exhorting herself to focus, be attentive as she should, she slid her weight to the balls of her feet and tried to rise gracefully in one motion. It worked, but the effort was phenomenal. She was still so weak.
Offering assistance to any InhServ was a deep insult to them. Requiring help was a mark of shame. But the broad-shouldered Irishman with steady midnight blue eyes was an odd sort, not the usual kind of servant. One never knew what he might do.
She stepped into the chamber. The dimly lit oval room with stone walls, iron chandelier and crescent-shaped table elevated on a platform was as intimidating as it was intended to be. Even the floor-length velvet tablecloth was the color of dried blood. It was easy to imagine black-cloaked Inquisitioners here, staring down upon hapless souls.
She’d expected to face the whole Council. Instead, only Lady Lyssa was present.
The oldest living vampire was a master at that eerie stillness that could make her almost invisible, except for the itchy feeling suggesting a predator was watching. Correctly realizing she didn’t need any props to make her more scary, the queen had the head Council chair positioned on the flagstone floor, not on the raised dais behind the table. An empty chair faced her, several paces away.
Alanna knelt, keeping the proscribed distance from a Council vampire. “I’m here to serve, my lady. What is your will for me?”
“You are aware of the dilemma your existence presents, Alanna. What do you think we should do with you?”
Even without looking up, she felt the weight of those jade green eyes boring into her. Lady Lyssa was barely over five feet. The porcelain skin and sharp nails, the long black hair she often kept clipped over one shoulder, enhanced her beauty, but they also reinforced how striking and untouchable she was. Except to Jacob, who stood behind her chair now.
An InhServ, when requested to respond, only offered opinions on how something should best be done to serve her Master’s interests. So Alanna framed her answer accordingly.
“I am a liability, because I cannot help you find my Master. He might use my mind to determine what your plans are, if I am kept in proximity to Council. I submit to your judgment and willingly sacrifice my life.”
“The treatment Brian found blocks Lord Stephen’s hold on your mind. The pain as well?”
Alanna flushed, her knuckles pressing hard into the cold flagstone. “Yes. I am too weak to bear the pain he inflicts on me when the blocker is not present. It blinds me to his location. I apologize for my failure.”
“You are apologizing that your will is not strong enough to overcome your Master’s?”
Alanna shook her head. “Forgive me, my lady. It’s clear I am not worthy of my training. I await your judgment.”
Please, just get it over with. Let this end.
Instead, she stiffened as a male hand closed on her elbow.
“You will permit Jacob to assist you.”
She couldn’t refuse the queen’s order, but her shame was nigh unbearable as Jacob lifted her into the empty chair. She’d become stiff, sitting on her knees. He put a woman’s cloak over her shoulders, a ruby-colored thick fabric that smelled like cloves. Had it come from Lady Lyssa’s chair? It had retained some of the body heat of the previous occupant, so it could be no other’s.
Pushed into a paradigm she couldn’t comprehend, she looked up at Jacob blankly.
“You’re shivering,” he said. “Your skin is ice-cold.”
Why would that matter? Staring at him, she registered he was handsome, not unusual for a servant, but there was a directness to his midnight blue eyes, the way he touched a woman, that suggested a knight of medieval times. It gave him a unique appeal, but what made him truly