As if sensing it, Lucien looked toward her sharply.
"Thank you," she mouthed.
"I would not be careless with such an offer," Drake said, crossing to take his son's hand. As their palms clasped, a shudder went through Lucien and through their bond; Ianthe felt something settle over him and take hold.
"We have company," Lady Eberhardt called, turning to face the back garden. A barrage of rampaging imps spilled out of the greenery like a flock of howling monkeys. They were followed by a tall figure in a black velvet coat with a froth of white lace at his throat. Two other sorcerers made their presence known, settling in behind him.
"Tremayne," Lady Eberhardt spat.
"Eberhardt," Tremayne replied. His eyes narrowed as he settled his hands around the hilt of an ebony cane, but he was smiling. "Fancy seeing all of you here."
"Told you it was a trap," Lucien murmured.
But Ianthe wasn't so certain.
"Well, it looks like someone's been dabbling in areas he shouldn't have been," Lady Eberhardt said, stepping forward. "I was fairly certain you couldn't so much as ignite a fart in a teakettle with your sorcery restricted, Tremayne. What did it cost you to overcome the Council's restrictions? Your soul?"
"Oh, Agatha, I always thought you said I didn't have one." Tremayne traced a circle on the lawn with the tip of his cane, pouring power through it. "But let's just say... I have friends in high places these days."
"Low places, Tremayne. Not high. And I wouldn't trust a demon as far as I could throw him. He'll eat you alive. Eventually."
"You never did have the guts to reach for power."
"I prefer good, decent common sense." Lady Eberhardt grunted and used her finger to chisel a line in the turf with a lance of pure fire. "I must admit that hearing rumors about the Relics Infernal and then finding you involved is rather disappointing. I grow weary of always being right about people."
Ianthe took a few steps backward. Nobody wanted to be caught between the conflagration of whatever was about to be thrown in this vicinity. "Do you need help?" she called, eyeing the imps. Lady Eberhardt's lion was pacing in front of her, keeping them at bay, but they were starting to grow bolder.
"I've got this," Lady Eberhardt called, pushing up the black chiffon of her sleeves and facing the horde of imps. "Bishop, you can stay right here, you can. Drake, perhaps you'd better go see to that raging storm that's about to erupt inside. I can feel all of my neck hairs rising again. Quite gives an old woman the chills."
"Stay here with Lady Eberhardt," Lucien insisted.
Ianthe frowned, catching at his sleeve. "I don't think that wise."
Lucien clasped her cheek, pressing a swift kiss to her forehead. "I need to stay with my father." His thumb stroked her cheek, his eyes intense. "And I cannot protect you, not with my attention split."
"I'm not quite certain when it was that I needed protection," she replied tartly.
"You're Louisa's mother," he replied. "You should take care of yourself for that reason alone, if not for the fact that you're also my Anchor."
Anchor.
Her heart twisted. He would not say anymore. She knew it. Clenching her pride tightly in hand, she nodded, then took hold of his lapels. "And you're her father. Be careful." And then she reached up on her tiptoes, before her courage failed, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "You're also the man I love. Be careful of my heart, Lucien Devereaux. I've only just given it to you, and it's quite precious to me."
His eyes were wide, startled, as though he couldn't get used to such confessions. "Ianthe."
Biting her lip, Ianthe stepped back. A violent explosion rocked the garden as Bishop flung a wall of shadow toward Tremayne in retaliation for the explosion. "Go," she mouthed, then turned her attention back to the fight. It didn't matter if he didn't feel the same way. He had given her enough of herself back. She felt more certain of herself than she ever had.
The lion roared as it leapt toward an imp, its marble teeth crunching into the creature's bronze throat and slamming it to the ground. Lady Eberhardt's hands were moving in eerie patterns, scarlet battle globes circling her as Tremayne flung a set of his own.
Ianthe snatched power into her body, fairly humming with it. The gauntlet tightened around her wrist as she activated it, and she flung a punch of pure power from its metal knuckles toward Tremayne's blue battle globes. The force as they met rocked her back, her skirts streaming behind her in the wind. Blue lightning spewed over the garden, earthing itself in sizzling spots on the lawn.
Lady Eberhardt turned black eyes directly upon Ianthe, as Lucien and Drake strode toward the front door, snatching at her sleeve. "You'd better watch your young lad's back, my dear. I did a reading this morning."
"What did it say?" Ianthe demanded, flinging another wave of power toward a pair of imps. It knocked them into the roses, and one hissed at her, crouching low behind a shrub.
"Staying behind's all very noble, but you're not the one in danger, my dear."
"Lucien?"
