His eyes flickered in the shadowed room and a shiver coursed through her. “I have failed in controlling myself in the past. It is unwise to consider me anything close to human, Isabel.”
“I know that,” she defended. “I’m not that much of a fool. I can see with my own eyes that you’re different, and even if I couldn’t, I’d truly be an idiot if I lived in Sanctuary for eight days and didn’t know I lived among…supernatural creatures. Because you are different does not equate with being a monster.” She stepped toward him, her stance aggressive because she could see clearly he underestimated her opinion on the matter. “What proof have you that you’re a monster?” she demanded.
“Morshiel and I were created in a laboratory by Usan,” he stated flatly.
“That is no proof of monstrosity. Haven’t you heard of test-tube babies?”
He gave her a dark look. “Test-tube babies possess one hundred percent human DNA. I don’t, although I do possess some,” he added under his breath. “Usan is a great scientist—or alchemist, as he calls himself. It is a sort of scientist and magician, melded, in the far-off land from where he comes. Usan fashioned me from a human with certain inhuman abilities, along with elements of his own DNA. And Usan is not from this planet.”
“Oh, I see. So you’re a monster because you have alien genes?” she asked without missing a beat. Her cheeks were burning hot now, but she couldn’t have said whether they did so because of anger or passion. It was as if she’d been blinded somehow emotionally when it came to him. She felt—she felt greatly—but she couldn’t comprehend her intense emotions.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a backward attitude?” she challenged. For some reason, she felt it was of utmost importance to assure him that she wasn’t disgusted by his revelation.
“Backward?” he growled. His stunned look gave her a small measure of satisfaction in the midst of her bewilderment. She sensed it wasn’t easy to unsettle Blaise Sevliss.
“Yes. Surely you’re not so provincial as to think you’re a monster because you have alien genes. Hardly anybody in this day and age truly believes Earth possesses the only life in the universe,” she said more blithely than she felt. “So—where do Usan and the Magian come from? And what are they doing here?”
He shook his head slowly, still looking a bit flummoxed. “I don’t know. I’ve told you what Usan has revealed to me over the years. The Magian tell my brothers and I little.”
“When you mention brothers, do you mean there are more than Morshiel and you?”
“No, Morshiel is my clone. He’s no brother to me,” Blaise replied. He must have heard the harshness of his tone because he quieted when he continued. “I refer to the five others, whom the Magian have designated Sevliss princes. We are spread out in cities across the globe. Once, there were seven of us, before Shin was killed by his clone. Each of us is watched over by a different Magian. We speculate about our overlords, but as I’ve said, we know little. We are nothing to them in power. They are elusive. We cannot locate them. They must contact us, and they do so infrequently. It is Usan who set the mandate in my blood to control Morshiel. I keep my clone in check because I must. I could as easily stop trying to control Morshiel’s bloodlust as I could cease to take vitessence and end my existence.”
A silence stretched between them. Isabel shut her eyes briefly and felt the burn. She’d heard his misery, she’d felt it in her bones, in her throbbing heart. She walked toward him and looked up into his face.
“Wouldn’t you, even without the mandate?”
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t I what?”
“Even if this mandate didn’t exist in your blood, wouldn’t you try and control Morshiel?”
“You may as well ask me how a human would behave if the sun ceased to rise every day. I have no idea. This is my reality.”
She reached to touch him on the arm, her awareness of his suffering, his loneliness, making her forget he was Lord Delraven, a man she barely knew.
And yet…she did know him. She did.
It pained her when he moved back, avoiding her touch, but then the ache was gone. She blinked and glanced around the room, feeling slightly disoriented. She recalled all the details of their former conversation, but as bizarre as the topic had been, it didn’t overwhelm her. The news he’d given her was not common, of course, but given the already strange circumstances, it seemed…digestible.
“I’m afraid my answer remains the same, Isabel. I will not play Marc Antony.”
She lowered her head, trying to hide her disappointment. “It’s all right. I hadn’t really expected that you would.”
“But since you have gone to the trouble of tricking my guard, and since you hold the script in your hands…”
“Yes?” she asked breathlessly, looking up when he paused. He wore a small smile. The sight of it nearly devastated her. Her frozen heart began to beat again erratically.
“I would be honored to practice your lines with you…if you think it would help matters.”
“It would help me tremendously, Lord Delraven.”
“I thought I had asked you to call me Blaise.”
She laughed as she tried to flatten out the rolled script, suddenly feeling ridiculously lighthearted. “Not that I recall. You have not let me near you since I’ve arrived.”
“Well, do. Please,” he said after a pregnant pause. “Here, give me the script. I have heard from Margaret that you speak the lines like you were born knowing them. I will look like a fool attempting them with you,” he grumbled under his breath.
“You won’t. And Blaise?”