“Keep her safe, Neph,” Valor replied, his voice sounding hollow through the helm. She had never actually seen him wear a helm before and it seemed somehow to add more menace to him.
A wave of shock passed through her bond with Finn, followed by pain, and the dull throbbing in her head shifted to blinding white pain. She felt something break in her mind and grabbed her head with a hand, leaning back against Neph as memories came pouring into her mind.
Her fist pounded down into the boy’s face drawing more blood. His left eye was swollen shut and he was crying but she wouldn’t stop. He had teased her too many times about being an orphan brat. This time he had gone too far, though. He had called her a whore’s whelp. She smashed her hand down into his face again. Her breath was coming ragged as she shifted her weight to keep him pinned in the dirt beneath her. Hands pulled her from behind, trying to get her off the bully, but she clung to him, her anger pushing everything else to the side. …
The room around her was utterly destroyed. Pieces of furniture lay in smoldering ruin surrounding her. Gretchen cringed back by the wall, staring at her in mute horror. Jala glared defiantly at the woman, daring her to say another word. The surly housekeeper had accused her of stealing from the kitchens. Then she had the stupidity to suggest it was in her blood to steal. No one insulted the memory of her family. The anger burned in her chest like a living thing.
Father Belson was sitting before her with three strangers standing in the room behind him. “Jala, your temper is going to be your ruin, child. It isn’t right to hold such anger. This man is going to help you.” The elderly priest motioned toward a tall slender man with dark red hair. He wore the tattoos of the Fionaveir on his arm and had a kind look in his green eyes. He approached slowly and knelt beside her with a gentle smile. The scent of mint washed off him and she felt herself relax a bit.
“She nearly killed the baker’s girl this morning. I don’t even know what the fight was about, but it is getting worse. Something has to be done, Milord, she is constantly fighting. It’s as if the child doesn’t know how to walk away from anything. Either she is going to get herself killed or she is going to kill someone,” Father Belson said in a hushed voice to one of the other men. This one had dark hair and sharp features and the look in his black eyes seemed anything but friendly. His entire presence unsettled her but she set her jaw and refused to let it show. The man simply nodded at the priest’s words but never took his eyes from Jala. She clenched her jaw and returned the gaze, showing him that he didn’t scare her any more than the baker’s daughter had.
The last man moved forward toward her. He had grey hair the color of good steel and swords strapped on his back as well as his hips. He dropped to a crouch beside his red haired companion and studied her with eyes that had seemed black from across the room. Now as the firelight hit them she could see the purple in them. She stared into his eyes, the other man completely forgotten. This man before her was the first she had ever seen with eyes almost like hers. He wore shiny black armor that seemed to cover his body in one solid piece. No seams showed as he bent his legs. It was as if the metal were as supple as leather. Without speaking a word, he took her hand and held it up, looking at the scraped and bruised knuckles. With his other hand he tilted her chin up to get a better look at her black eye. He smiled then, a faint thing that was barely visible. “Such a fierce little thing,” he said quietly in a voice that seemed almost familiar. “You did right, Jala. Never let them tell you what you are. Only you can determine what you are and will be.” His voice was so soft she had to lean forward to hear him.
“Don’t encourage her Vaze,” the dark man by Father Belson snapped. “Remedy, fix her mind. This does her no good here. Repress the anger and block her magic.”
“Lutheron, she is holding so much anger, if I simply lock it away she will notice. The void it will leave will be immense,” Remedy objected.
“Fill the void then with things that will better serve her. Give her caution and fear. Give her the basics of being a lady. She is twelve and still refuses to wear dresses. Fix so she will blend in here better and have a chance at surviving,” the dark man answered.
“I don’t need fixed. I’m not broken!” Jala screamed, her anger flaring once more. The idea of walking away or being afraid of the bullies sickened her. She didn’t want to blend in with these people. She didn’t even want to be near these people. She wanted to go home.
“You are asking me to change her entire personality, Lutheron. I have to object,” Remedy said as he stood and faced the dark haired man.
“You are not broken. You are nearly perfect. Now is not the time to show that, though. When the time comes you will know, because I will be fighting right there beside you,” Vaze said as the two men behind him argued. “You will get a chance to punish those that deserve it. Don’t look at it as losing your anger, look at it as saving it up.”
“You will do it because I command you to do it!” Lutheron bellowed and Remedy backed up a step.
With a grudging nod he turned back to face Jala with remorse clearly written on his face. “I’m sorry child. You have my promise that the moment he gives me word to lift this from you I will. I promise I will only lock it away. I will not destroy anything that is you.” He knelt before her again as he spoke and placed a gentle hand on the side of her head.
She locked a defiant gaze on him and smiled bitterly. “Even Oblivion couldn’t destroy what I am. I doubt you are capable either,” she said quietly as the room around her began to fade to darkness. With an iron will she focused on the smell of mint and braced herself against his magic.