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Stay away from my daughter, Judah said. She is off-limits to you. Don’t try to contact her again.
The pain stopped as quickly as it had hit him. Cael staggered to his feet, thrust his fist into the air and cursed his brother.
Get ready. I’m coming for you. Do you hear me, Judah? And when you die, our people will rejoice that they have a true Ansara leader, one who can return them to the old days when we ruled the world.
Judah heard Cael’s threats like a distant echo as he shut out his half brother’s ranting. Cael had finally crossed that thin line between instability and full-blown insanity. He wasn’t surprised. It had always been a matter of when, never if.
Knowing that, sooner or later, Cael would force his hand, Judah had put off killing Cael all these years for one reason only: his father’s dying request.
“Do all you can to save your brother. Kill him only if you must.”
In his own way, their father had loved Cael and had chosen to overlook his many faults. But in his heart of hearts, he had known that the seeds of insanity needed very little nourishment to burst open, bloom and ripen.
Kill him only if you must.
I must, Father, to save the Ansara. To save Eve.
Daddy?
No, Eve. Don’t use your thoughts to speak to me.
I’m sorry. It’s just that bad man tried to—
Shh…I’ll come to you.
Undoubtedly Eve had heard Cael’s threats. Damn his brother! Damn him to hell! Hurrying downstairs, Judah took the steps two at a time.
He found Eve alone in the living room, sitting on the floor amid an array of colorful construction paper, crayons scattered all around her. She glanced up at Judah when he entered but didn’t rise to meet him.
“I saw him, Daddy,” Eve said. “I drew a picture of him and of where he was when he tried to talk to me. Come see.”
Judah walked across the room, stood directly behind Eve and looked down at her artwork. His muscles tightened when he saw the remarkable likeness of Cael that she had sketched in crayon. She had depicted his brother standing, his fist in the air, an expression of sheer madness on his handsome face. The background appeared to be gray cinder block walls, rough wooden flooring and outdated metal furniture. Interesting. He had never known Cael to rough it, not when it came to accommodations. His brother preferred luxury above all else.
“Amazing,” Judah said, awed by his daughter’s talent. “You’re a remarkably gifted artist.”
Eve looked up at him, smiled and laid down the yellow crayon she had used to shade Cael’s hair. “Am I, Daddy? Mother says the same thing. But she told me that she has no idea where I got such talent, because she and Uncle Dante and Uncle Gideon can’t draw pictures like I do.”
“My mother was a renowned Ansara artist,” Judah said. “The pala—” He caught himself before the word “palace” escaped his lips. “My home is filled with her paintings.”
“She wasn’t your brother’s mommy,” Eve said with certainty. “His mother was bad, just like he’s bad.”
“Yes, Nusi was a very bad woman.”
Eve stood and looked up at Judah. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt my mother the way Nusi hurt my grandma Seana.”
Judah stared at his child, amazed anew at her keen insight. Her abilities were not only unnaturally strong for one so young, but far more numerous than those of even the most powerful members of either clan. “How did you know about what happened to my mother?”
Eve laid her left hand over her heart. “I know in here. That’s all. I just know.”
“What do you know?” Mercy stood in the open doorway, her features etched with concern.
Eve ran over to her mother. “Guess what? I know where I got my talent for drawing such good pictures.” She beamed her radiant smile at Judah. “I got it from my grandma Seana.”
Mercy shot Judah a questioning glare.
“My mother was a gifted artist,” Judah said. Seana Ansara had been the most talented Ansara artist in generations. Not only had Nusi’s bitter jealousy robbed Judah of his mother and Hadar of his beloved wife, but the world of an artistic genius.
“Did you draw something for Daddy?” Mercy entered the room, Eve at her side.
