Then Jericho was next to her, kneeling beside the bed and gripping Jeanne’s fingers urgently. Jeanne sat up in an instant, legs swinging over the side of the bed and arms going around Jericho’s shoulders.
“Are you all right?” Jeanne asked, fingers moving over smooth skin as if trying to find scars or wounds.
“Yes. Of course,” Jericho said, distracted, hands and black gaze moving over Jeanne’s fingers and injured cheek and the bruises on her wrist. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Everything. Tell me what the bells told you.”
“The bells…the Sentinels,” Jericho repeated, understanding.
“Yes, the Sentinels. They were…did they frighten you?”
“When they told me they would take you away,” Jericho admitted honestly, putting her head in Jeanne’s lap. Her body was still tense and her words came f
