Knowledge Protects

Chapter 4: The Question Remains…

Chapter 4: The Question Remains…My thoughts were far away as I toiled, the sketchpad resting against my bent knee and the charcoal moving steadily over the paper, despite my lack of attentiveness. The weather was glorious, azure blue skies and brilliant sunshine, yet I remained stuck inside, in a villa which was rapidly becoming a prison.

I'd cautiously requested permission from Archangelo to leave the villa five days ago, wanting only to venture as far as the grounds, to sit in the manicured gardens I could see beneath the windows. His response had been a resounding refusal. Feeling in good health, I'd disagreed, arguing that some fresh air and exercise would be good for me.

Archangelo's reaction had been explosive, his temper erupting into a furious tirade because I'd questioned him. His outburst was terrifying, and I'd been left quaking in fear, unable to meet his eyes before he'd slammed through the villa door, tearing it from the hinges.

He'd returned a few hours later, deeply repentant. He blamed his fury on the pressure he was under, caused by the preparations for the final assault on Zaen. Holding me close, he kissed me repeatedly, whispering his apologies and begging my understanding. To keep the peace, I had offered him forgiveness, but I remained deeply troubled by his temper. Had he always been this volatile? Not for the first time, I questioned why I'd allowed myself to be bonded to him. If I was honest, I had no answers, couldn't understand what I had found attractive in this man.

Sighing heavily, I turned my attention back to the sketchpad and gazed, wide-eyed at what I'd drawn.

I'd sketched a man – and I had no idea who he might be.

I traced over the face repeatedly with my eyes, trying to place him, where I might have met him. He was incredibly handsome, with intense black eyes and a well-defined jaw. I'd drawn a hint of dimples in his cheeks, and the muscle in his neck and jaw had been sharply defined with a few deft strokes of the charcoal. He seemed immensely powerful; potent and sensual and my eyes wandered across the lips I'd drawn. They were full lips, carnally seductive and I trembled when I imagined touching them with my own.

Startled by such an intense physical reaction, I dropped the sketchpad and stood up abruptly, stepping over to the window to gaze outside while I gathered my thoughts.

Was he someone I'd met? Did I know him in the past? He didn't look as if he were Fae. He seemed to be human, although there was something rugged and wild about him, an almost animal-like slant to his eyes.

“You do know him.”

“You promised to leave me alone!” I hissed. I glanced back at the sketch anxiously, wondering if there was a link between the darkly handsome man I'd drawn, and the deep voice emanating from inside my head.

“You love us both.”

“Angel, cook wants to know if you are ready for lunch—”

I shrieked when Nissa spoke unexpectedly and she eyed me in alarm. “You look like you've seen a ghost,” she remarked, hurrying to my side.

With a deep inhalation of breath, I tried to steady my nerves. “I'm fine.”

Nissa's attention turned to the window, surveying the scene below. “Did you see something untoward?”

“No, it's nothing.” I glanced anxiously towards the sketchpad and quickly refocused my attention on Nissa, but she'd seen where my gaze landed if only momentarily. She turned and picked up the sketchpad, studying the picture I'd drawn.

“Who is this?” she demanded quietly, her voice deceptively calm.

“I— I don't know,” I admitted. “I was daydreaming, and when I glanced down at the sketchpad, that's what I'd drawn.”

Nissa tore the page from the pad, hurrying across to the fireplace. She snatched up the matches and lit one, holding it to the page until it caught alight and then dropped it into the grate, watching as it burnt. “You must never draw him again,” Nissa warned resolutely, turning to face me. “Never.”

“Do you know who he is?” I questioned, watching the paper darken and curl.

Nissa shook her head.

I stared at her for long seconds, seeing the lie in her orange eyes. The Fae can't lie, but I suspected she was lying by omission. “You do know him, don't you?”

Nissa gripped my arms and shook me a little. “Angel, for the love of the Gods, you must never tell Archangelo about this,” she pleaded, her eyes filled with panic.

A trickle of alarm swam through my own veins. “Why?” I demanded. “Tell me who he is.”

Nissa released me abruptly, slumping onto the couch and dropping her head into her hands. “I can't tell you, Angel. It's more than my life's worth to reveal that information.” She lifted her head, her gaze serious. “All I can say is that you must never let Archangelo know you drew him. And never draw his likeness again. If Archangelo or Bran were to find out—” She stopped, biting her lip nervously.

“If they find out? What?” I dropped onto the couch beside her, taking her hands in mine. “Please, Nissa. What's going on? Please tell me what you know.”

Nissa scrambled to her feet, her usually smooth motion lost to panic. She paced the floor nervously. “I can't tell you anything.”

“I think you can.” I scrutinized her, watching her pace back and forth. “Who is he?”

Nissa shook her head. “No, Angel! I won't tell you, and we cannot discuss this! I can only tell you one thing – if Archangelo discovers you've drawn him, he and Bran will increase the dosage of that medication they are giving you.” She took a deep breath and turned towards the door. “I'll tell the cook to prepare your lunch. And then, I must go on an errand. I will be back before darkness falls.”

She slipped from the room before I had an opportunity to argue, and I stared after her, wondering why the usually brave Nissa was so frightened.