"It is known." The words were a knife, cutting away the cords of feeling. His jaw clenched, unsure how he felt. Her hand squeezed and it was as if his heart were compressed.
Unshed tears formed in his eyes, hot and full, and for the moment nothing existed but him and her. He wanted her to know his daughter. Lissandra. God, but she was an Atharim to make the Atharim tremble. To make the world shake! She was his successor, his heir. Power incarnate. He was so proud.
Of course the enemy- there was an enemy- a force, an adversary- he battled against. Of course, it would take his beloved. Stole his dear daughter. Stole the future.
But he wanted his love Valeriya to know his daughter. His teeth clenched and his hand squeezed back. He did not resent Rowan. She had a role to play. No. But role or not, Lissandra was his to share with only Valeriya. He wasn't sure why. Or maybe he was. Her womb was the holy field. Fecund. The Eye. And he was the one who took her as consort.
It was his duty to fill her with his seed and give her a child. And he had done the former. He had filled her. Often. But it was dead. Lifeless. He had seen to that. Long ago. An operation to make sure no possibility existed.
The truth she didn't know.
He felt no guilt. He did what was necessary.
And yet he knew she hungered to continue to Eye. And he couldn't deny the Eye. He didn't know if he was Rasputin reborn. It made sense. Or at least it was flattering to think so. And he couldn't deny the resemblance or the tunnel drawings. He'd had a purpose.
And for the first time, Armande felt torn. He had spawned a god. He carried something in him. But...he also was clearly something foretold. As was his seed. And the consort given to him was the Eye, a visionary of the beyond. Bonded to him through some sort of destiny. If he failed to give her a child, mankind lost a weapon and tool to aid their fight after he died killing Apollyon. Their death was only the first part of the war, he now understood.
And strangely, he wanted to give this to her. His destiny. His seed.
He looked at Rowan. Her role was less clear. Still, she was brought here for a reason. Valeriya and Rowan were sisters. He had more than ample proof. As revolting as it might be, his seed might have to be spread through her as well. Not something he contemplated with joy. And yet, two Eyes....when he was gone mankind would need every possible advantage. Did he have the courage?
A moot point at this moment. With him and his operation. Was it something he needed to undo? He would need to think on it.
The shift in air pressure, the slight change in scents presaged the words of Valeriya. Someone was here.
No one should know. Had someone betrayed them? Matvei? His eyes went deadly black, hands to his weapons. He turned, nostrils inhaling the changes. "Be careful. Follow me." The two small women were relegated to his back and he strode cautiously, telescoping blade in his hand, as he peered around the door and headed out.
Unshed tears formed in his eyes, hot and full, and for the moment nothing existed but him and her. He wanted her to know his daughter. Lissandra. God, but she was an Atharim to make the Atharim tremble. To make the world shake! She was his successor, his heir. Power incarnate. He was so proud.
Of course the enemy- there was an enemy- a force, an adversary- he battled against. Of course, it would take his beloved. Stole his dear daughter. Stole the future.
But he wanted his love Valeriya to know his daughter. His teeth clenched and his hand squeezed back. He did not resent Rowan. She had a role to play. No. But role or not, Lissandra was his to share with only Valeriya. He wasn't sure why. Or maybe he was. Her womb was the holy field. Fecund. The Eye. And he was the one who took her as consort.
It was his duty to fill her with his seed and give her a child. And he had done the former. He had filled her. Often. But it was dead. Lifeless. He had seen to that. Long ago. An operation to make sure no possibility existed.
The truth she didn't know.
He felt no guilt. He did what was necessary.
And yet he knew she hungered to continue to Eye. And he couldn't deny the Eye. He didn't know if he was Rasputin reborn. It made sense. Or at least it was flattering to think so. And he couldn't deny the resemblance or the tunnel drawings. He'd had a purpose.
And for the first time, Armande felt torn. He had spawned a god. He carried something in him. But...he also was clearly something foretold. As was his seed. And the consort given to him was the Eye, a visionary of the beyond. Bonded to him through some sort of destiny. If he failed to give her a child, mankind lost a weapon and tool to aid their fight after he died killing Apollyon. Their death was only the first part of the war, he now understood.
And strangely, he wanted to give this to her. His destiny. His seed.
He looked at Rowan. Her role was less clear. Still, she was brought here for a reason. Valeriya and Rowan were sisters. He had more than ample proof. As revolting as it might be, his seed might have to be spread through her as well. Not something he contemplated with joy. And yet, two Eyes....when he was gone mankind would need every possible advantage. Did he have the courage?
A moot point at this moment. With him and his operation. Was it something he needed to undo? He would need to think on it.
The shift in air pressure, the slight change in scents presaged the words of Valeriya. Someone was here.
No one should know. Had someone betrayed them? Matvei? His eyes went deadly black, hands to his weapons. He turned, nostrils inhaling the changes. "Be careful. Follow me." The two small women were relegated to his back and he strode cautiously, telescoping blade in his hand, as he peered around the door and headed out.