The Unseelie palace was a grand building; where Jehovah was accustomed to buildings like something out of Norse mythology, here stood a palace that couldn't even be compared to anything at all. A vampiric castle perhaps? There was a large, stone staircase splitting the lower floor down the middle making the entrance to the castle on the second floor. Strange design but certainly dramatic. The windows were bright red as if stained by blood; perhaps they were. Jehovah gulped, pulling the makeshift 'crow' mask over his face. Stepping out from the trees when no one was looking, he smoothed himself off from leaves and twigs before looking around at the other Unseelie folk. It was strange; they looked, normal. Observing everything around him, he noticed that the women blushed and giggled like their Seelie counterparts and the men smoothed their hair and beamed at the ladies just as he would do himself back home.
The building was thick with some sort of black bricks that made the whole place seem even darker than it was, the only light emitting from the large lampposts and windows. Ascending the steps, Jehovah's heart quickened as he approached a large man standing to attention at the door. Large was an understatement – the man had to have giant in him somewhere he was at least seven foot tall!
Eyeing the man closely, he began to see the tell-tale signs of giant; the sentry had scruffy, unruly bleach-blonde hair and a thick roman nose. He was kind of handsome, in a rugged way unlike Jehovah who was handsome in more of a gorgeous sense.
He held an iron-tipped spear – Jehovah's weapon of choice. If there was trouble, perhaps he would have a chance against the marvel of a man if he could steal his spear otherwise he was as good as dead.
To his surprise, he managed to slip past the sentinel with little effort, he had to remind himself that he looked exactly like an Unseelie faerie. Relaxing a little and tending to his attire, Jehovah began his inspection of the throne room. Now this was where the true Unseelie likeness came through.
To his right, there was a crowd of faeries, all dressed in various masks, surrounding two bloodied and battered trolls. Jehovah knew that trolls ranked lower in the pecking order of fey, even in Seelie lands, but never were they made to fight each other for the entertainment of their superiors. Curling his nostrils, he turned away and lifted a hand to his nose, trying desperately to quench the stench of blood.
The entire room smelt of blood, fire and sex. And roses. The strong scent of roses filled every corner of the room, though, the emission of the scent was not too hard to find; he stood out like a lion amongst sheep.
Deploma Dondarion sat before him. He couldn't help but think about how much his soldiers would kill to be in this position right now; mere feet from the dastardliest tyrant to ever rule in Avalon. Even though Leana had debunked the myth that he had murdered his own mother, Ariana, this man's hands were far from clean.
The most striking thing about him was that he was astoundingly attractive! Jehovah was never one for the company of men but he could sure appreciate when another man looked good. His hair was blood red, long and straight, tickling his shoulders over the white cotton shirt he wore. His eyes looked as if they were lined but he wasn't sure if that was the case or if they were just that naturally piercing. His skin, a shade darker than Jehovah's, was perfect, not a single blemish or mark. Jehovah's skin wasn't exactly troubled, but the odd small beauty spot dotted him. For that, he cursed the man.
He looked like the character out of an erotica novel. Though, he knew that there was a reason why women were not swarming around him – he had a reputation.
After spending the better part of half an hour lurking in the shadows, watching the beast overlook his empire of fey, he decided that he wasn't going to find Leana here. Slipping past multiple fey, who didn't even bat an eyelid at his presence, Jehovah slinked into the ambient halls of the palace.
There were no guards appointed around the doors, they were most likely strewn about the grounds where the majority of guests were mulling around. The only sounds were the low humming of guests cheering and chattering in the throne room, the flickering of the candles on their iron stands and Jehovah's own feet clicking against the stone floor though he made an effort to walk along the crimson carpet in an attempt to stifle the noise.
The corridors of the Unseelie palace were a complete maze! Soon, Jehovah had become lost in the endless passages of doors and hallways. Everything looked the same! Except for one door that was situated to his right.
The door was made clearly of purpleheart – the only wood that grew in that shade that he knew of. There was something that called to him, that this was Leana's room. He stopped and stared for a moment, inhaling and reliving himself of the shakes. He knew that Leana would not be expecting to see him. Would she be angry? He didn't have time to ponder about her rection, he walked forward and tapped the door.
It turned out that his anxiety was all for naught, only silence replied. Plucking the courage from somewhere deep inside of him, he placed a shaking hand on the knob and turned. The second he opened the door, his thoughts were confirmed that this was, in fact, Leana's chamber. It reeked of her.
The room was simple, it looked like any other; a four-poster bed donned with violet chiffon, a large table in the centre where maps and coins lay. Of course, she was a knight as well as a lady.
A large dark wood vanity was pushed against the wall between two large windows. Closing the door, he made his way over to the dressing table, lifting a small bottle of fragrance to his nose. It reminded him of the way she had smelt that night when he was closer to her than he could mentally conceive.
Gently, he placed the bottle back and turned to face the large mantle which had been lit not long ago. But what truly caught his attention was the large portrait above the fireplace. At first, he gasped, thinking that it was the king. However, the more he studied the portrait, he realised that it was not the same man he had just encountered. There were stark differences in the two men.
The man in the portrait was a little older, closer to thirty than he was to twenty, his smirk was fun and cocky rather than demonic and sadistic like that of the kings. Was this the kings father? They sure looked similar. His hair, like the kings, was long and red though it put the length of Deploma's to shame. His handsome, rugged face was decorated with iron loops pushed through all corners of his face. His eyebrows, his lips, his ear. You name it, it had some form of jewellery. He wore similar armour to Leana's, dark and grey. However, what really gave away the identity of the man was the sword that was attached to his back. It was identical to Leana's! That was her father's sword! This man was Nydale Payne.
Gasping and even feeling a little faint, he began to back up but he seemed to stumble upon a sharp object that pressed into his back. "Who are you?" A female voice asked. Peering over his shoulder, he studied the banshee behind him.
From the look of her, she was a cook of some kind, perhaps even a maid. Her eyes were completely white – as per usual for a banshee – and her skin was a pink so pale that it was nearly white! The woman was old, at least fifty years old perhaps even pushing sixty. "I asked a question boy," She snarled, pushing the knife harder against his spine causing him to hold his hands up in surrender.
"Leana has enough trouble without men poking around in her chambers," The banshee barked. She called her by her name! That must mean that she was somehow friends with the servants in the palace.
"I'm a friend," Jehovah assured her but she pushed the knife again, this time causing him to wince.
"She has no friend's but us," The woman snarled.
"You're mistaken," He blurted, trying his best to convince the woman. How could he have been so foolish? He glanced to the door out of the corner of his eye, knowing that he had left it slightly ajar, cursing his own stupidity.
"Very well," She complied much to Jehovah's surprise. "We shall go to her, if you are lying, she can gut you herself," The banshee growled, animosity to her threat. Even though Jehovah knew that Leana would call the crazy bitch off, he still gulped as the woman lead him out of the room. Luckily, the halls were still empty but still, she dragged him to a tapestry and pulled it aside, nudging him into the servant's passage.
"Why are we sneaking around?" He asked, relaxing a little as she had dropped the knife to her side, only holding his arm in her claw-like hands. She told him darkly, that he did not want the king to find out about him. Wasn't that the truth! Only then did it don on him that the banshee woman had no idea that he wasn't Unseelie. "Wait," He began, turning to look at her in front of another wooden door. "Why were you in there?" He asked the woman. Rolling her eyes, knowing full well that she was under no obligation to answer him, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a stunning golden necklace that he remembered from the open jewellery box on the vanity. "Oh," He muttered, turning upon her request and entering the room, the banshee yanking him to attention.
"You know this man, Lea?" At the table of the small kitchen, Sat a small pixie child with light purple skin, trying to reassure a woman dressed in lavish clothes and heavily made up even under her gold and violet mask, he could see that. Her hair was pinned up in a beautiful arrangement on her head. A sort of glorified ponytail. She was so radiant she could have been the queen even though he knew full well that Deploma was not married.
Looking up tearful eyes, Leana gasped. Standing but remaining where she was from shock. "Jehovah," She gasped, trying to hide the fact that she had been crying. Leana turned to the banshee. "It's alright, Annette," Reluctantly, the woman let him go and went to stand by the counter as Leana dashed over, encasing him in a crushing hug. He raised a hand to hold her back and another to cradle her head. He shot a glare in the banshee's direction as if to say 'Told you so'. The woman just pretended to ignore him.
Once Leana had gotten over her initial delight and relief, she pulled away from him and hit him with flat palms on the chest, causing him to stumble. "What are you doing here?" She hissed, looking away frightfully. "If he finds you here, he'll kill you!" Jehovah knew full well that she was talking about the king.
"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" He asked with a raised brow. Annette looked away, knowing that she did not want to be involved and Leana shuffled her hands.
"It's complicated," She revealed, not meeting his eyes. Making him jump almost, she looked up, battling to keep tears from falling again, she exploded. "I promise I was going to tell you!" She gasped, the young pixie came to her side and hugged the large skirt, scowling at me for 'making her cry'. For a pre-teen she was quite brave.
"Leana?" The banshee encouraged but she held her hand up to stop her and composed herself.
"I'll take him out," Taking his hand, she yanked him back out into the servant's passages, completely forgetting to take the necklace from the banshee. Looking back, he could see the child clutching her hands to her chest whilst the other woman folded her arms and shook her head. Jehovah knew that he wasn't welcome here.
He followed Leana in silence, unsure of what to say to her. Even though he had come to the conclusion that the king most certainly had something to do with Leana's behaviour he could not, for the life of him, decern what. She had already revealed to him that the two were engaged to be married yet, as far as he knew, Leana was not married. Just to be sure, he glanced down to her left ring-finger. No ring. She was still a maiden. Selfishly, Jehovah found himself sighing in relief but Leana was too preoccupied with something to notice.
Reaching a tapestry, she pulled the cloth aside and collided with yet another maid! The woman stumbled, though I reached forward out of instinct and grabbed her arm.
Pulling her up, her eyes locked with mine for a moment before Leana chirped in. Was that jealousy? Why did he like it? "Marion!" she gasped, diverting the woman's attention from Jehovah's alluring eyes under the mask.
"It's the king," The woman gasped, suddenly remembering why she was in such a hurry in the first place. "He's looking for you," Leana stiffened; a movement that Jehovah caught from the corner of his eye. After a moment to compose herself, she nodded to the woman and signalled for me to let her past. With a nervous prick to her mouth, she scuttled off – presumably towards the kitchens.
"Jehovah," She began, taking his forearm in a tight grip. She stared into his eyes from behind her own mask though the mask couldn't hide the tears welling in her eyes. "I want you to leave this place," Leana begged. Before Jehovah could argue, she tightened her grip, her nails desperately digging into his skin through the jacket. He hissed a little but she ignored him. "You shouldn't be here!" Tears flowed now. "Go back to my place, wait for me. I'll tell you everything," She promised.
Nodding, Jehovah took Leana's trembling hand in his own, bowing and raising it to his lips, kissing her gently, his eyes never leaving her own. "Alright," He agreed.
In response, Leana smiled and turned to scuttle off down the halls, leaving him alone.
Not a chance was he going home. There was something going on here. Resisting the urge to thrust himself against the dark stone walls of the castle corridors, Jehovah sauntered back to the throne room as he knew that the best method to not being detected was to act normally.
The throne room wasn't too difficult to find, he simply followed the voices of laughter and drunken women screeching. Slithering between the crowds of people, he managed to slink into a corner, away from anyone who may notice him and where he could observe the whole room.
Deploma Dondarion was gone. Perhaps he was just amongst the other guests, he paid the king's absence little attention. "Sir?" A calm voice made Jehovah jump out of his own skin, that was it. He was dead; he'd be hung drawn and quartered as a spy!
Inching his eyes open, a young Faerie boy stood before him. He was an adorable young man! Sapphire blue hair and azure eyes. Freckles dotting his face under a natural blush. He raised a brow at the child – who was no older than sixteen – before realising what the boy wanted. He was stood right in front of the wine table! Jumping to the side, allowing the boy access. The child beamed at him as he took two crystal glasses in his small, frail hands and turned on his heels to disappear back into the crowd. For a moment, Jehovah wondered who the other drink was for as he lazily took his own. After the evening he had had so far, he certainly deserved it.
In that short moment inside his own head, he thought back to Leana and how spellbindingly beautiful she had looked. She truly was a diamond in the rough of the Unseelie court. He recalled how she stood there before him, her ivory shoulders exposed and her iris curls tumbling around her effortlessly. Her lips, carefully tinted noir and her skin was flawless as usual. Leana's amethyst eyes shining like diamonds under the dim candlelight of the kitchen. Her dress, fit for a queen, fitting her figure perfectly, spilling out into a large skirt at the waist which only accentuated her attractive childbearing figure. Children, now that was something that he had never thought about before.
Shaking him from his blissful daydream, a thin, blue hand gripped his jacket sleeve. "Hey, handsome," a drunken nymph slurred with a beaming, seductive smile. "I've never seen you here before," her eyes met his own. "And trust me," the nymph looked him up and down. "I'd remember," Oh boy, this was the life or death moment he'd been dreading; someone not recognising him. Flipping herself to lean against the table, Jehovah got a full look at her. She was a slender woman, with deep, blue twists reaching down to her waist. Like Dronolas, the woman would have clearly had a black human glamour. Her dress, unlike Leana's, was a plain blue satin that showed off her large chest and miniscule waist.
Tipping her intoxicated head back, and throwing out her chest she groaned. Jehovah gulped and held his drink close to his own chest, feeling mighty uncomfortable. "Name's Keomie," she told him. "You?" Jehovah froze. He couldn't tell her his real name!
"Ugh… Dimetre," He uttered as he cautiously took her extended hand. His father was long dead, he doubted that he would mind him using his name. Either way, too late now. The woman raised a brow but she seemed satisfied and turned, groaning again.
"Here's me thinking I would get a night off, but an alchemist's job's never done huh?" Keomie asked with a low laugh. Alchemist? Jehovah's eyes widened as he placed his glass down on the table, gripping the woman by the arm which certainly caught her attention.
"You fixed Leana the other night?" He asked, eyes meeting hers. Keomie turned from a drunk woman who looked as though she wanted to kill him for so much as touching her, to pure rage in a split second.
Snatching her arm away, she threw herself against him as he felt a sharp prick against his leg. Smart woman. Anyone who looked over would have simply assumed that they were lovers getting a little close. "One wrong move and I sever the most vital artery in your entire body," She hissed into his ear, sounding much more sober now. "Now, talk. How do you know about that?" Her voice changed to that of desperation. "No one is supposed to know!" Keomie sounded on the verge of tears. Gently, Jehovah raised his hand to her arm and pushed her just enough to look into her eyes.
"Because I'm the one that hurt her," He revealed. In an instant, the alchemist's body froze. Dropping the knife, she backed off completely speechless. This time, she studied the man before her. Gorgeous, mossy green hair and emerald eyes. Tanned skin under that perfectly fitting outfit. This was the man that Leana had fallen for. He was a marvel of a man to be sure. Snapping herself from the trance, she snatched her drink from the table and turned her back to him; she didn't want him to see her cry. "Help her. I beg of you," She muttered. Before Jehovah could even argue that he had no idea what the woman wanted him to do, she interrupted him. "Down the west corridor, first right, third door to the left," Keomie told him before disappearing into the crowd.
What a strange woman, Jehovah thought, cocking his masked face in her direction but failing to locate her. Mysterious as ever – much how he had anticipated an Unseelie nymph. Not wanting to waste another second of precious time, Jehovah looked to the west corridor and began his second exploration of the night, at least this time, he had directions. The credibility of them was still up in the air but he continued on anyway. If the woman was lying, he would be lead into a trap that would undoubtedly result in his gruesome death, however if she was telling the truth, Leana was truly in trouble.
Following the directions, he began to hear shouting coming from further down the hall. A woman shouting. Skidding to a halt outside the grandest door he had seen in the entire palace, he listened in, cautiously pressing his ear against the door. If he was spotted now, he was dead. Bringing something other than a well-concealed dagger probably wasn't wise. Magic was off the table; he was no alchemist, and neither was Dronolas. He was all alone.
"Stay with me," A dark voice beckoned. Jehovah's eyes widened. The king's voice was deeper than he had imagined; almost as if a feral growl was edging closer to release with every syllable.
"Deploma, you know I can't," Leana. Jehovah's entire body stiffened. She was bedding the king? His heart shattered as he exhaled sharply at the betrayal. Even placing a shaking hand over his heart as if it was going to stop it aching.
"I don't think that you have a choice, Lea," He could hear the smirk on his lips as there was a rustle of fabric. Jehovah could only assume that he had grabbed her.
"Don't do this," A quiet voice quivered. The voice of a woman who was desperate not to appear weak, not to crumble before the beast that was the Unseelie king. "Stop that," Careful steps across the stone floor echoed into the halls, as the heels of Leana's shoes kissed the hard floor. There was a tap of wood before a shallow cry of pain. "Please," A quiet gasp. "This isn't you," She shook.
"You keep saying that," The king smirked back. "But I've never felt more alive," His tone darkened as that feral tone within him came through finally.
Jehovah had heard enough. Standing with gritted teeth, he kicked in the door, catching the attention of both predator and victim. A look of arrogance flooded the king as Leana looked as if she was about to faint. Though, it wasn't Jehovah's sudden appearance alone that caused it, blood loss also played a large part.
The once confident, raging white knight fell speechless, his eyes looking between Leana, the king and the jewelled knife that he had currently lodged into her abdomen.
"Lost boy?" A bone chilling voice snarled, snapping Jehovah back into reality. Looking to his left, he grabbed the metal candlestick, approaching the king and hitting him over the head, knocking him to the ground. He stared at the body, breathing deeply however, his attention was caught when Leana's limp body slid down the wooden bedpost onto the floor beside the king.
With no time to focus on the man and Leana loosing blood, he scooped her up tenderly in his arms, looking back only once more to assure that he wasn't getting back up. In that moment, he realised that he could drive a knife right through the monster's scull but those extra few seconds could be the difference between life and death for the trembling woman in his arms. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take. With his mind made up he made his way back to the throne room.
As he rounded the corner, he clashed with a small woman, getting blood all over her dress also. It was only then when he looked to see blood caking his own clothes. Brilliant.
"Leana!" The woman gasped as she dropped her glass and began making a fuss uneasy to touch her. It was the water nymph! "Oh god," She cooed as she raised her hands as if to cradle her face but they hovered as if she was afraid that the touch would kill her. "What had that monster done to you," Tears stained the woman's face as she looked up to Jehovah. "We have to take her to my place, but not through the throne room, no," She planned out as she began to pace a little. "We'll go through the servants passages," Did every young woman in this damn palace walk the servants quarters in their spare time? Her eyes scanned his body, holding her proudly, but she kept flittering her lashes as if trying to convince herself that she wasn't looking. "A little muscle could be useful," Keomie hummed under her breath as though she didn't want him to hear the compliment.
The truth was, that Keomie was just as sceptical of this mysterious Seelie boy, who had shown up out of nowhere to save the day, as Dronolas was of Leana. The mistrust between the courts was a plague that pained Avalon.
Blindly, Jehovah followed the woman out of the palace, wading across a shallow brook that was once a great moat, Keomie not even bothering to hold up her chiffon dress. Looking around at the ruined graveyard of a defence tactic, he piped up. "Why is there no longer a moat?" He asked the woman who didn't look back, only continued on, determination on her face.
"No mortal would wage war upon the devil," Jehovah gulped, looking down at his love's face which was growing ever paler. Clutching her tightly to his own blood-stained body, he silently promised her that she would live. If it was the last thing that he ever accomplished in his life, she would live.
After a short walk, the three of them reached a large lake with a huge tree protruding from the bank. Slamming open a small door carved from the bark of the tree, the alchemist lead him inside.
Jehovah had never seen such a fantastical home in his life. In fact, he had only ever visited the home of one other fairy – Dronolas. Whom – before his wife's untimely death due to an unknown sickness, he lived only in a simple cottage much like Jehovah. He began thinking of Dronolas' wife. If he was totally honest, Dronolas' time with Rosaline was mostly a young fling. He was only seventeen when they married, she died only three short months later. Even Dronolas himself admitted that he thought of her fondly as nothing more than a friend in death though she had loved him dearly. She was a beautiful summer sprite. A pretty enough girl, with tumbling ginger waves, snow-white skin and dotting freckles over her cheeks and shoulders. He missed the hospitality of her sometimes.
"Put her there," Keomie yelled as the door shut behind him. Keomie's home was more like a brothel. Coloured chiffon hung around the walls. He followed her slim, pointed finger to a large chaise (laden with pillows and colourful satins) blocked from the rest of the home by thickened layers of the organza. Pushing aside the fabric, he carefully knelt, laying her tenderly down.
To his surprise, Leana stirred, loosely grabbing his finger. "I didn't…" She began. "Want you to find out… like this," the bleeding woman gasped, not even possessing the strength to keep her own eyes open.
Jehovah's eyes swelled with tears. He wasn't sure if it was anger or sorrow that caused this reaction but either way he wanted to kill the Unseelie king now more than ever. He began to rub her hand in his own sweetly.
Breaking the tender moment, Keomie dashed in, carrying all sorts of plants and bottles, she threw him aside causing him to stumble. "Out of the way lover-boy,". To be honest, he hadn't expected the nymph's hospitality to last much longer anyway. He uselessly folded his arms and backed into the corner watching the woman work. She knelt beside her weary friend and held some sort of root above her ghostly face. "I'm going to put you out," Leana nodded in consent and tipped her head back to conserve her energy. The blue woman snapped the root in front of Leana's nose causing her to inhale deeply and sink further into the chaise. Keomie stood once she was sure that her friend was out, turning to face Jehovah who was turning white himself. "We need to get that dress off of her," A lump gathered in his throat as he gulped it down. He had to undress her?
"Me?" He stuttered. Keomie groaned in frustration.
"I can barely lift that damn dress let alone her in it," It was true that the woman was incredibly slender and would likely be unable to lift Leana in her current state of dead weight plus the dress which looked to be made out of curtain-like material.
Cautiously, Jehovah removed his jacket, revealing his blood soaked shirt, and rolled up the sleeves carefully kneeling beside her and sliding his hands under her limp body as carefully as he could. He managed to sit her forward so that Keomie could unlace the dress from the back, carefully working it down her shoulders so that she was in nothing but a corset. "Lift her legs, we need this thing fully off," Gulping again, Jehovah silently obeyed as she slid the gown down her legs. I his arms, Leana lay with only a thin collection of white underskirts and a tight corset – now with a hole in it from the kings dagger. Under a quick glance, Jehovah noticed that the wound was in a very similar place to the injury he had caused her. Scarred tissue would hurt even more.
Biting his lip, he turned away. Keomie straightened her back and looked in the strange man's direction.
"The corset too," She wanted him to strip her completely! At first, he thought to protest but knowing full-well that the woman was right, he hauled her up a little further allowing the alchemist to unlace the corset and pull it away.
Laying her back down, Leana was completely bare before him for the second time now though, this time, the event was hardly as pleasant. "Leave us," The woman commanded as she knelt beside her friend and set to work. Not wanting to hinder her, Jehovah turned to explore the home.
This was next exactly how he had anticipated his evening. This was the missing piece. Leana was being sexually assaulted by him. That was why she crippled at a man's touch, why she buckled at the scent of roses which flooded every inch of that place. Casting his makeshift mask down onto the table, he began to pace.
He wasn't sure how long he had spent pacing in the kitchen when the alchemist appeared again, this time, her hands bloody. Looking up, hopefully, he raised his brow. "How is she?"
"She's awake again but she's no use to talk to," Jehovah nodded and dropped his head to rub his forehead. Keomie watched the man. He was genuinely worried for her friend. "What do you want with her?" she asked catching his attention.
"Pardon?" Keomie chuckled nervously.
"Do you want to hurt him? Because your people have done enough of that already," The woman turned, washing her hands in the basin behind Jehovah.
"Why would my involvement with her hurt him?" He asked, genuinely confused. The woman turned ridged, in a mental debate of just how much she should tell him.
"He cares for her, regardless of what you might think," The woman muttered. "At one point, he would have died for her," Keomie turned, tears welling in her own eyes. "He fought for years just for the right to make her his wife," Her voice became graver as she approached him. "Deploma Dondarion was the best man I had ever met. A loving fiancé, a good friend, an angelic son," She listed as Jehovah was backed against a countertop. "And your men killed him!" She screamed. Tears began to collect in the corners of Jehovah's eyes. It broke his heart to know that the people he had trusted his entire life had ruined the lives of so many innocent people. "He was my friend!" She yelled before she recoiled and began to cry.
Cautiously, he placed his shaking, also bloody, hands on her exposed blue shoulders. "Ma'am," he muttered causing her to look at him with sad, sorry eyes. "I assure you, what happened to this court was an inside job. Even the general had no idea," This seemed to calm the woman. She wasn't sure why she believed him, he just seemed to have that trustworthy look about him. For a moment, she even understood why her dear friend had fallen for him.
Keomie shook herself. "She can't stay here," she pulled himself from his hand and raised a hand to her chin and began to think.
"What about her flat?"
"No," She told him. "He knows where she lives," Of course he did. Jehovah thought for a moment, there was an obvious answer here.
"What about my place?" He asked, stopping the alchemist in her tracks. "I could take her back with me and she'll be safe," Keomie was astounded. Every moment that she was around this stranger she began to trust him more and more. He seemed to be willing to lay his own safety on the line in order to protect her. The woman grasped his arm.
"Go, take her," A small smile pricked in the corner of her mouth as Jehovah nodded respectfully. He turned to push through the chiffon and knelt beside Leana who was still slipping in and out of consciousness. Her body was wrapped, including her breasts for modesty. In his head, he thanked Keomie for that. Leana moaned as he slipped his hands under her again to lift. He shushed her and smiled tenderly.
"I'm going to take you where he wont find you, okay?" Leana didn't respond, she only fell unconscious again. Grunting, he lifted her to his chest and stood as Keomie entered with a blanket, covering her limp body.
"If something happens to her, I'll kill you," She warned. "She's all I have left," Jehovah nodded before turning and setting out for the gate.