Blood and Fire

FIVE

Lazarus leant against the wooden pillar, his arms folded over his bare chest. He hadn't bothered to find a shirt in the hours since they had arrived in his friend's home, and he had no care for one. The temperature here was pleasantly cool against his too-hot skin.

The red haired beauty stretched out on the bed in the room behind him, groaning softly as she did. He heard the whispering of her nightgown against the floor as she padded over to him, a soft, feline smile on her face. She sat herself on the ledge of the small balcony, resting the back of her head against the pillar opposite the one Lazarus leant on.

She watched him with those uptilted pink eyes of hers, a slow smile spreading over her face. "Tell me what you're thinking about, Laz," she said softly, her voice gentle.

Lazarus sighed and looked out into the night. His eyes dropped to the courtyard so many levels below, and he found the woman easily. She had curled up against the base of the Rift Tree, and appeared to be sleeping. She hadn't ventured out of the courtyard for hours, instead staying to just stare up at the sky until she apparently needed rest.

"I made a blood oath to Acedia," he told the redhead. She tilted her head, her long hair falling over her shoulder like a waterfall of blood. He met her curious stare. "She asked me to bring her daughter to our world."

Innara frowned, her eyes flicking down to where Mara slept, then back up again. "Acedia has a daughter?" She shook her head, a smile spreading over her lips. "I shouldn't be surprised, really. My mother always said that those witches kept secrets incredibly well."

Lazarus smirked. "Better than even you?"

Innara's eyes glittered with the challenge. "Of course not," she scoffed. "Why did Acedia want her brought here anyway?" The woman turned her inquisitive stare onto the sleeping mortal below.

"She would have died if she stayed in the mortal realm," Lazarus confessed quietly. Innara raised her brows at him. "Acedia mentioned nothing about her having magic, but her father was Mieru."

Innara blinked, her rich skin blanching. "How is that possible? Mieru was destroyed after the witch war—"

Lazarus shrugged. "Acedia kept secrets, though it seems that the wisps have being keeping even more. Mieru's power was stripped from him, leaving him with the breath in his lungs and the sin magic he took in the war, but he wasn't entirely destroyed." Innara's lips pressed into a thin line as Lazarus went on. "The wisps, it seems, offered him the same deal they gave to Acedia and her sisters: leave, and live out the rest of their lives in the mortal realm."

Innara's eyes practically glowed as she put the pieces together. "Mieru chose to stay with Acedia," she murmured, looking out again at the sleeping woman. "And they had a child together." Her eyes snapped back to Lazarus, a frown tugging at her full lips. "You're letting the child of Acedia and Mieru sleep outside?"

Lazarus backed away from the balcony, raising his hands in surrender. "Feel free to deal with her yourself, but she has the temper of legends."

"I'm not surprised, if you dragged her here with no explanation and left her under a damned tree."

"I wouldn't have left her if she hadn't demanded that I take her back to Dawnguard—"

Innara moved to stand in front of him, and she stabbed a pointed nail into his chest. "You took her to Dawnguard?" At his slight nod, Innara let out an unimpressed noise and stalked towards the door of her bedroom. She paused at the door, glaring at him over her shoulder. "At least tell me you were in and out quickly?"

Lazarus felt his neck redden. "We were ambushed by a pack of rogue shifters," he muttered.

Innara narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to make you sleep under a tree if that's how you treat other women." Without waiting for him to argue, she flung open the door and stormed out.

—

He had taken her to Dawnguard. The daughter of Acedia and Mieru, dragged through the ruins of Dawnguard. And attacked by a rogue pack. By the gods, Innara was going to murder Lazarus, lover or no.

She was debating exactly how she would do it when the door to the bathroom opened, and the woman stepped out, her body wrapped in one of the fluffy towels Innara had lent to her. Innara swallowed, making an effort not to let her eyes wander down to those long, long legs. She had no idea how Lazarus wasn't drooling over the woman.

"I'll get you some nightwear," Innara murmured, feeling her skin flush as the woman turned her gaze onto her. "You can pick something yourself, if you'd like?"

Mara smiled, a tentative thing, and Innara wondered just how daunting this all was for her. "Thank you," the woman said. Even her voice was beautiful, a husky, almost rasping tone layered in velvet and honey. Innara could listen to her speak all day.

Instead, she led the woman through the winding corridors of the southern wing of the palace, until they reached her personal dressing room. It was larger than some of the bedrooms here, with two levels and countless alcoves carved into it along the curving walls. Innara let the mortal woman down the wide, sloping steps, and waved a hand towards the racks of elegant nightgowns.

"Take your pick," she said. "Anything you like is yours."

Mara's brows lifted, and she reached out to touch the fine materials. Those blue-grey eyes met Innara's, and she shook her head. "Why are you being so generous to me?"

Innara frowned. "Why wouldn't I be? You're an honoured guest here: anything you ask for, you'll receive."

"And if I asked to go home?"

Innara's chest ached at the longing in the question. "That's down to Lazarus," she confessed. "I know you don't want to be here, and I understand that you probably don't feel safe enough to stay, given all that's happened to you." She swallowed. "But it was your mother who asked Laz to bring you here, to keep you safe. He asked me not to tell you, but I figured it can't do any harm to know."

Mara turned her attention back to the gowns. She plucked one off its hanger, and Innara nearly gaped at the indecency of it. She kept her mouth shut, though, as Mara dropped her towel and shrugged the silk shift over her head. No shame, not a lick of it, in this woman. It set something on fire in Innara's blood.

"I'd like to speak to Lazarus," Mara said now, her voice harsher, more businesslike. A woman used to being listened to. Innara could just imagine the spats that were bound to happen between this mortal woman and the prince lurking upstairs.

Innara bowed slightly. "Of course."