"Then why ask me for help?"
"Ianthe said you might be able to help me. Your talent lies within wards, but it's rumored that you understand sorcery and the barriers a mind can put up against it."
Something brushed against his trouser leg, the same cat who'd been toying with Ianthe's skirts the first morning. Luc picked it up, feeling the warm purr against his chest. He still couldn't look at his father.
"The question isn't: can I help you? The question is more along the lines of: will you let me? I need to explore your aura, and that requires a great deal of trust. You need to open yourself up to a psychic probe."
Ash couldn't have tasted dryer in his mouth, but he didn't feel the Prime would ask this of him if it weren't necessary. "I'll try." He had Louisa and Ianthe to think of.
"You'll also need to describe the assault in full. I need to understand what happened so I can perhaps treat the barriers your unconscious mind has put in place. From the sounds of it, there was trauma involved, and perhaps your mind associates your power with pain. Now, every time you try to channel your power, some part of you remembers what happens. It's like forcing yourself to touch a hot frying pan after you've already burnt yourself badly. You could be subconsciously stopping yourself from performing sorcerous works. The mind is a powerful tool, and when sorcery comes from your will, your conscious mind, then it is like fighting yourself every time you try to wield it.
"It's also not the sort of thing that can be dealt with in a single afternoon either, Lucien. This will require frequent visits and meditation to reroute the way your mind thinks when it comes to sorcery. If you've subconsciously allied sorcery with pain, then it's going to take a great deal of effort to retrain yourself."
These were words he understood. It was far easier to deal with fact, rather than emotion. Emotion had beaten him bloody over the past twelve hours. "Then I'm going to be of no use this afternoon?"
"It is unlikely that you will regain your abilities within the space of a day," Drake said carefully.
There it was. The truth. "I can't sit by and watch her walk into danger."
"Then don't," Drake replied. "Let me examine you. There's a possibility you could act as someone else's wellspring, if you're not mentally scarred too badly."
"Wellspring?" A cold trickle traced his spine. Lord Rathbourne had wanted him to act as wellspring to him a year ago—to give his own power up to the man, to use as Lord Rathbourne desired. Look how well that had gone.
"I'm sure you trust Ianthe," Drake replied. "She could do it, if you allow it."
Lucien licked dry lips. Every muscle in his abdomen tightened, as though anticipating a blow. Bloody hell. Anything but this... But then, how else could he be of use?
Squeezing his eyes shut, he didn't want to accept that fact. But he trusted her, didn't he?
After all, had she not placed her own trust in his hands by giving him the truth? How easy it was, when you were the one asking for trust, not the one giving it. "How do we do this then?"
The Prime turned the weight of those silver eyes upon him. "You will need your Anchor."
It started with a faint tracing probe that lit along his nerves like ants marching a hot trail over his skin. Lucien's muscles locked tight, but he forced himself to remain still on the daybed, trying not to instinctively shove against that tentative touch.
"It cannot hurt you," Drake murmured, the words sounding as though they came from a distance.
A warm hand slid into his, and a familiar perfume caused him to turn his head slightly to the side. "I'm here," Ianthe murmured. "You're safe. Your father and I are both here."
Confusion reigned. He danced between both memory and the present. The words 'Your father' brought to mind Lord Rathbourne's face. Lucien shook his head. "No. No." That was the day he'd learned the truth and his entire world had split apart.
"Take me back to that day, Lucien," Drake murmured. "It cannot hurt you, not now. Take me back to that moment when I sent the demon back to its master."
Fire. Pain. Betrayal. They all lashed through him, leaving him twisting on the daybed. He relived it. Fought against the demon, throwing all of his power at it and feeling it burn him up from within...
"Begone!" he screamed, and the demon flinched as he turned his will upon it.
Then a smile stretched over its lips. “For the moment, perhapsss... But one day soon we shall have a reckoning.”
Seconds later, it vanished, and he was left lying on the floor of Rathbourne's house, panting, with his skin on fire.
Lucien sat up with a scream, pain lancing through his skull as he jolted free of the memory. There were warm hands on him, two sets of them, and the pain instantly lessened as Drake's power washed over him.
Gasping, he held onto Ianthe's shoulders. "I didn't remember it saying such a thing. It told me that one day it would be back to take its revenge upon me."
Both of them were silent.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, turning his gaze upon the Prime, who looked just as troubled.
