Page 73 of The Guardian's Curse

“And what about Lucia? What did she do to Armina?”

“She did nothing,” Paris said, averting his gaze as his fingers drummed on the wooden arms of his chair. “She was a sweet dhampir girl who fell in love with Kova. She was the sun to him. She never hurt anyone. Never even crossed the witch’s path, and still Armina took her from us. And he could not bear it, so he took himself from us, too.”

Alistair’s heart ached with the memory, when they realized that all they had left of their brother was his last journal. The words of that final entry dripped with guilt, begging them to forgive him for leaving. “When he was gone, I swore to take care of her, in case something ever changed.”

“If you can fix any of this, you fix her first. She is innocent and far better than any of us,” Paris said firmly. He gripped Shoshanna’s wrist tightly. “Do you understand?”

Her eyes shone with tears. “I will.” Her hand closed on Paris’s arm, but her eyes drifted to Alistair. “And when.”

“What?”

“When I fix this,” she said. “Not if.”

His lips curved into a sad smile. “I envy your confidence.”

She set her jaw. “I need to look at you,” she said. “And the others, when we can. The more I know, the better.”

“Naked or otherwise?” Paris quipped.

Shoshanna smiled. “Ah, that’s better,” she said. “Serious Paris was very confusing. You can keep your pants on.”

“A pity,” he said, shedding his jacket and tossing it over a chair. Shoshanna bustled out of the room in a rush of warm air. Her feet pattered across the house.

“Thank you for not telling her everything,” Alistair said.

“You can tell her what you wish in your own time,” he said. His gaze drifted up again, and his expression brightened. “How would you like me?”

“Sitting in that chair,” she said primly.

Alistair watched as she scooted closer to Paris and took his hands the way she had taken his before. He bristled at the memory, the way that primal animal lust had roared through him. That was for him, not for Paris. Sure enough, it was as if Shoshanna flipped a switch in Paris. He sat bolt upright, blue eyes shifting to red as they widened. But there was no lust in his old friend’s gaze; there was only sheer terror.

“It’s all right,” Shoshanna said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Her peaceful expression was a marked contrast to the tension on Paris’s face, the veins standing out on his neck. Finally, she opened her eyes. “That’s strange.”

“What is?” Paris asked.

“No red,” she said, looking from Alistair to Paris. “What’s different? Maybe it’s the death curse. You said Alistair’s was different.” She almost seemed to be talking to herself rather than looking for answers from them.

She began sketching with her right hand. As she drew, she held out her left hand for Paris. He went rigid again as her power swept over him, and she continued to draw in bursts. After nearly an hour, Paris was pale and drawn, and Shoshanna had a full rendering of whatever she saw.

“Did this help?” he asked, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Alistair had not seen him look so distressed in a very long time.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, staring at the arcane drawing. “I don’t understand why you have no red. Alistair does, and Lucia definitely does.”

“What does the red mean?” Paris asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. Her brow furrowed. “Do you think Dominic would let me look at him?”

Paris glanced at him. “I’ll ask. But I’d suggest you have more to go on beforehand. Dominic is no fan of magic, and if what you just did is any indicator, he’s not going to have a good time.”

Her jaw dropped. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.”

“Not at all,” he said, gently holding her hands. “But it stirred up some things I’d rather forget.”

“Paris, I—”

“Shoshanna,” he said sharply. “I would let you do far worse to me if it means that Lucia would be free. I’ll speak to Dominic. If you can gain something from it, then I will ensure that he helps.”

She nodded eagerly. “Thank you.”

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