Morrigana purred as her father
nuzzled her hands. “They still won’t close?” Shalafae asked,
licking the puncture wounds in her palms.
The hybrid sighed. “They’re
getting better. Slowly.” Shivers raced up her spine as Ulrin drank
her blood. “Though, they itch something fierce.” He doesn’t
need to know they keep me up at night, that I hear that sword singing
to me.
He held her closer, their bed
warm with the curtains closed, and paused in his feeding. Her father
stared at her with a musing frown, fingers tracing veins beneath her
milky skin. When he spoke, much of his weariness came through. “It’s
one of Stormbringer’s ways of getting you to use it again. The
itching will go away if you just pick it up, and it seems like it
will never end.”
Still weak from the recent
assault, Ulrin returned to feeding on his daughter.
Morrigana sighed and trembled,
aware of the pull of energy as he took. Two weeks since she’d
wielded Stormbringer to end a battle, and he still wasn’t back on
his feet. Intermittently conscious with with great weakness, his
health was cause for concern. Especially since none of them could
explain what had happened, why his very soul seemed so wounded. Ulrin
didn’t need to feed all the time normally, but he’d been nearly
empty lately.
For a few days, she’d been
certain she was empty too.
Not that she would admit it.
Especially when her father needed her so much. Aunt Kyra was
researching the incident, finding out exactly what had happened, and
Elthanael was managing the clean up. War still threatened to break
out, and the school was falling apart without Shalafae to be the
headmaster. There was too much to be done for her to whine about a
little tiredness.
Lord Shalafae slipped into
sleep, and she sighed in relief when the draw of ki stopped.
Morrigana had no reservations about feeding him, but he’d been
taking too much in his need. So many ages since he’d actually
depended on an outside source to boost his ki, it came as a surprise
to both of them. Not that he talked about his wounding, or why it was
so hard to recover.
He’d fed so deeply this time
that she was dizzy as she got out of bed. The half-dragon intended to
go hunting to replenish herself. Fresh meat would take much of the
edge off, would restore her strength so she could finish some tasks
around their property.
Kyra stepped out of the aether
in a puff of honeysuckle scent. Morri’s vertigo grew stronger when she
stopped before her aunt. “How is he?”
Weakness stole through the
assassin. “Sleeping. Feeding well.” Her heart raced and vision
swam.
Kyra reached for her niece.
“Are you all right?” Her concern followed Morri into darkness.
***
She came to slowly,
reluctantly. Morrigana ached all over, and the heaviness of her limbs
suggested she needed more sleep. The hybrid rolled over and snuggled
deeper into the pillows to do so.
Kyra touched her forehead,
keeping Morrigana awake. “You need to drink this. Sit up,
dearheart.”
Groaning, the hybrid struggled
to a sitting position. White hair straggled into her vision; being
albino still caught her by surprise. “What is it?” Morri asked as
she took the large mug.
“Milk and honey. And some
herbs I haven’t used in a very long time.”
She took a long drink,
recognizing the thickness of cow’s milk. “Why haven’t you used
them?” The hybrid immediately began to feel better, aches and
weariness leaving. Morri gave her aunt a grateful smile.
“Because your father grew
strong enough to not need them.” Kyra moved closer to stroke
Morri’s back.
The hybrid paused with the mug
half way to her mouth. “You mean when he was young and didn’t
produce his own energy?” Wasn’t I just thinking about this?
Warmth spread from the older woman’s hand.
“Yes. It’s a shame I didn’t
recognize the signs.” Kyra fed more energy into her niece. “It
didn’t just change your color. It changed aspects of your
physiology.”
Morrigana took another long
draw of her aunt’s mixture. It was Stormbringer, her
father’s cursed sword. There was a dark history surrounding the
sword, and it had already tried to kill her once.
Was molding her into her father
an attempt to kill her, or to find a way to be used again?
Another sip filled Morri with
heat, and she settled back in the pillows. Only then did she realize
she wasn’t in her and her father’s bed. “Why am I here?”
Kyra took her free hand and
began stroking Morri’s palms. The hybrid’s wounds itched sharply,
and she bit her lip as her aunt healed the puncture marks. Annoying
little holes where Stormbringer had joined with her, they were
channels for the sword to feed her while taking her blood. Damned
if I will ever willing pick up that sword again.
As healing energy stirred,
Morri realized how empty she really was. She hadn’t just been a
little tired or a little hungry. Ulrin really had been draining her,
drawing on her limitless depths of energy that weren’t so limitless
anymore. But he needed it more than her, needed to be strong if he
were to beat their faceless enemy.
“I couldn’t let you stay
near Ulrin. He would have kept feeding, and you’d have allowed it.”
Kyra spoke quietly, and it almost hid the tremors in her voice. “You
need to be nursed back to health before you can be allowed out of
bed.”
She growled at Kyra. “I’m
not staying in bed.”
Blue eyes were sharp as Kyra
glared. “If you want to make it through this, you damn well will
stay at rest.”
“I’m not a mewling baby.
There are things to be done, and I can’t just lay here and act
helpless.” Morrigana’s hand twitched as itches turned to aches.
The sword’s song sounded loudly behind her eyes, and her anger
increased. She’d known picking up the Chaos blade could kill her,
but she’d done so willingly. It was the only way to protect her
father and family.
Kyra’s voice was restrained,
but the anger was still there. “When Ulrin awakes, I am certain he
will say the same thing. You are not to put yourself in further
danger.”
What was unsaid was that
Morrigana might always be in danger from this change. They’d all
already come to the conclusion that none of them could correct her
coloration. If neither a Chaos lord like her father nor a healer like
her aunt could change something as simple as forced albinism, what
chances did they have to fix her energy channels?
The hybrid grimaced and
finished the rest of her drink. “So this is what I get for saving
the day?” Even in the middle of their frustration, the women
managed to laugh.
