Dark Slayer - Christine Feehan [37]
“You are swaying with weariness,” Gregori said. “If I said anything to make you think I wish you harm, I apologize. Surely you can see my only concern is your health. While we stand here, the parasites have had more of a chance to spread their poison through your body.”
“I am well aware what parasites can and cannot do.”
She reached for Razvan, desperate now. The healer was closer than she was comfortable with, perhaps within striking distance. Ivory wasn’t foolish enough to disregard the man’s reputation. He was known far and wide throughout the community as a dangerous, ruthless defender of the prince and of the Carpathian people.
Unless I allow him to give me blood, I have no choice but to fight my way out.
You will not have to fight. I give my life for yours. Follow my lead. Talk to the woman, distract them for another couple of minutes.
There was something reassuring in his tone. She had left him a broken, fallen warrior, but he had risen something altogether different. There was confidence in his voice. Razvan was Dragonseeker, one of the oldest and most powerful of all Carpathian lineages, and he had endured torment and suffering for hundreds of years without succumbing to darkness. She had been in his mind, and his memory was long. He had absorbed fighting skills, techniques and strategies. He knew more about Xavier than any other living being and he had more cause to destroy him than any other. She wanted to believe in him. Shaken and weak, she needed to believe in him.
The healer is trying to outwait me. He knows I cannot last.
You will last.
Strength poured into her. “Sara,” she said softly. “I appeal to you. Ask the dark one to step aside. I have done harm to no one here and I want only to leave in peace. You indicated the need to repay me for saving the life of your child. This is what I ask. Simply have your healer step aside.”
Sara looked up at Falcon and then to Mikhail. “I think she sounds reasonable. Please, Gregori, just step aside.”
All of them looked at Sara, who angled closer, more protectively, toward Ivory.
Dirt geysered beneath the heels of the prince and a body materialized behind him, one arm locked tight around Mikhail’s neck, the blade of a knife pressed against the heart of the prince. Stormy, merciless eyes locked on the face of the dark one with absolute resolve.
5
No one moved. No one breathed, remaining statues frozen in time, as if one small mistake would start a bloodbath, and judging by the death in Razvan eyes—and Gregori’s—there was little doubt there would be.
Gregori released his breath in a long, slow hiss. “It is a death sentence to threaten the life of the prince.”
Razvan shrugged his shoulders, a casual ripple of power. “I have been under a death sentence since my fourteenth summer. It is nothing new to me. There is nothing you can conceive of to do to me that has not been done already. I accept that I will die this night.” He inclined his head to Gregori, his expression unchanging, as if giving the Carpathian leave to kill him.
A man with nothing to lose, Gregori, often emerges the victor, Mikhail pointed out, a trace of humor in his voice.
Gregori’s silver eyes flashed, and there was no answering amusement in them. No one lays his knife at your heart and walks away unscathed.
“Step away from my lifemate. Once she is away, you can do as you will,” Razvan instructed.
“No,” Ivory protested. “I remain with you. We will fight our way free.”
Sara tried to step closer to Ivory. “This is crazy. Mikhail,” she appealed to the prince. “Stop this. Let them go.”
“Do you know who this man is?” Falcon asked softly. “Ivory, do you have any idea of the crimes Razvan has committed against our people?”
Again Razvan didn’t flinch—and neither did the knife.
“You know nothing about him,” Ivory said. “You have no right to pass judgment when you do not know the facts.”
There is no need to defend me.
Razvan was shocked that she would. She stood there swaying, looking far too deceptively fragile for the warrior he knew her to be. Her body was tall and straight, her