Hidden Deep (19 page)

I was thankful for that. I fervently hoped he did
not
remember the excruciating pain or my frenzied screaming. I shuddered and tried to push it back out of my own mind.

“I ran and called for help until two of your people found me. They were tall men with wavy hair, dressed like you.”

Lad smiled weakly. “Sounds like a description of every male here over the age of thirteen. You must have been convincing to have lured them out into the open. I’m actually shocked anyone responded and went with you.”

“Well, I don’t think they liked the idea much, but I was waving your necklace and yelling your name over and over.”

“You were very brave, Ryann,” Lad murmured softly. “I owe you my life.”

I shook my head and started to protest. I was the one who was indebted to him for saving me. Lad tried to roll onto his side as he reached toward me but hissed sharply through his teeth and fell back again, clearly in pain. A wave of guilt washed through me.

“Does it hurt a lot?” I touched his chest with my fingertips.

“Not very much,” he said, probably lying. “I assume our healer, Wickthorne was here last night?”

“Yes, someone came and removed the bullet and gave you something for the pain. He didn’t tell me his name, though. No one here’s told me
anything
. Or
asked
me anything. In fact, no one’s said a single word… to me or to each other.” The frightening fact sank in and reverberated through me.

“Yes… as I told you before, we communicate… differently than you’re used to.” Lad covered my hand with his much warmer one, pressing my cool fingers harder against his chest. “Poor Ryann, you must be very confused and frightened right now. This is not how I planned to reveal the details of my life to you. In fact, I had no real plans to do that at all. I guess the truth had to come out eventually, though.”

“So… what
is
the truth?” Now that he was well enough to speak to me, I was dying to know what was going on.

Lad’s brow lowered. “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Well, you can start with the communication thing. Doesn’t anyone
ever
talk around here? It’s kind of creepy. They come and go in total silence.”

“It doesn’t sound like silence to us.” He chuckled. “We’re hearing things all the time. You’re familiar with the concept of mental telepathy, aren’t you?”

I sat stunned for a second before answering. “You mean, you’re all reading each other’s minds?”

“No. No, it’s not mind-reading. That implies that we know what everyone else is thinking all the time. It’s more limited—more…intentional. It’s like…” Lad paused, and his eyes brightened as he came up with a good comparison. “…like sending a text. I have to formulate the message in my mind with the purpose of communicating it to the other person, then I hit the mental ‘send’ button.”

“And then everyone hears what you thought?”

“Only the person I send it to. And that person hears only what I want them to hear. They don’t know
all
of my thoughts.”

I considered it for a minute. It explained a lot. Like the strange, knowing looks Lad’s people had been giving each other, and how the two men who rescued Lad had started to leave me then reconsidered and let me follow them here.

“Lad, after you were shot—you told those men to let me come with you?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, causing him to wince. “I’m not sure what I told them. Everything is pretty foggy. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. I only know I was desperate to keep you with me.” A small smile bent the corners of his mouth. “I probably shouted it at them. No doubt that made them even angrier with me.”

“Angry? How do you know they were angry?”

He looked at me as if the answer would be obvious to the smallest child. “Ryann, everyone’s angry with me now. I told you contact with outsiders is forbidden. Now that you’ve seen this place, you must be starting to understand why.”

Actually, I wasn’t understanding much at all, but I did get the fact that Lad wasn’t quite like the others here.

“
You
talk to me out loud. Are you the only one here who can do it?”

“I’m the only one who wants to. The others could do it, if they chose to. It takes some practice.”

“So nobody ever makes a sound? That’s so weird.”

Lad laughed again. “I can see how you would think so, but for us, it’s quite normal, just as speaking out loud is normal for you and everyone you’ve ever known. It’s not completely quiet here, though. We do vocalize. There’s singing for instance, and of course, laughing or crying produces sound you or anyone else could hear.”

“Do you sing?”

A flush swept across his cheeks. “A little bit. We all do—we’re a musical people. But I prefer playing the aelflute.” He nodded toward the strange stringed instrument in the corner.

I looked over at it then let my eyes wander around the room. “This is your room?”

“Yes.”

“And, the huge rooms they led me through, and the halls with all those doorways? It’s all part of your house?”

He nodded.

“Wow, you live in sort of a mansion.”

“Well, my parents entertain a lot of guests, so the space is useful. And this is a hereditary family estate. This home has been lived in by generations of my family.”

“Do you have a big family?”

“No. Most couples here can have only one child, very rarely two. It’s me and my mother and father. And well, I have a… um, brother of sorts.”

“How do you have a sort-of brother?”

“He’s not my biological brother. He’s actually my cousin, but we’ve been raised together since we were boys.”

“That’s cool. I always wished for a brother or sister.”

There was a pause before Lad answered. “Yes. It
can
be. We used to be inseparable, except for the usual he-wants-whatever-I-have rivalry. But lately we’ve grown apart.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“Nothing actually
happened
, until very recently, in fact.” Anger flashed through his eyes. Or maybe it was just annoyance. Since I’d never had one, I could only imagine the sort of quarrels that might arise between siblings. “He’s always been different, but he can’t help it. He’s a relative, but their… branch of the family lives by a different set of rules.”

I sat forward, enthralled by Lad’s revelations. I had longed for even the tiniest trickle of information about his life and family, and now it was pouring forth like a flooding rain. “Like which rules?” I asked.

“The ones pertaining to involvement with your kind, mostly. They’re not hesitant to mix with your people, and if it suits them, to take advantage. They use their… special talents to get their way. It was never really an issue with my brother since he was raised with us—but lately he’s spent more and more time away from here. He’s been gone more and more often this year and barely checked in during the past few months, and he doesn’t talk about where he’s been or what he’s been doing.” Lad’s eyes narrowed and he scowled. “I think I
may
have a pretty good guess, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. I… can’t really talk about it, and it’s going to be resolved very soon. I’ll make
sure
of that.” His expression told me he was done with the topic. “Speaking of family drama, you met my parents, I guess.”

“Yes, last night, if you could consider it meeting them. I watched your father storm in, stare at you, and storm out again. Your mother stayed for a while, though, and she at least looked at me before she left.” Remembering the way she’d stopped and stared so purposefully into my eyes the night before, I said, “Oh. I think maybe your mother tried to say something to me. She must have thought I was completely dense.”

Lad smiled gently at me. “No, I’m sure she understood you’re at a distinct communication disadvantage here.”

“She was so upset last night, Lad. I hope she doesn’t think I deliberately did something to hurt you.”

He reached over and stroked my hand. “Of course not. You may not be able to hear our communication, but you definitely send out messages in your own way. She would have picked up on that.”

“Messages?”

“I mean your feelings are pretty loud in there. You must have some latent talent for projection. It makes sense that some of you would. Every now and then I’ve even been able to pick up a word or two from you.” His grin widened.

My face heated as I considered it. “What words?” I shuddered to think which thoughts I’d felt so strongly around Lad they’d been audible to him without my even speaking the words.

He reached out and slid a large hand through my hair, grazing my cheek and neck with his thumb. “Good ones,” he said softly. The fire returned to his impossibly beautiful eyes.

My heart started to pound, and I felt a new wash of embarrassment, wondering if I was projecting any revealing words at him that very moment.

“It might be an ability you could develop. It could be useful. I’ll help you practice, if you like,” Lad offered.

“Okay. We can try, I guess. Send me a message.”

Lad smiled then got serious and looked into my eyes intently. I stared back at him and tried to “listen.” I didn’t know what his mind was saying, but Lad’s expression was certainly sending a message—his eyes sparked hot green fireworks. My gaze was torn between them and his lips, which had kissed me so tenderly and passionately before. I was starting to feel
very
warm now and a little weak and shivery.

The memory of those stirring kisses and the desire to touch and kiss him again was almost more than I could resist. Here I was supposed to be focusing on hearing Lad’s message, and my own heated thoughts flooded my mind. I fought to rein them in. It took a minute before I was able to discipline myself enough to speak.

“Did you do it?” I asked, a little breathless.

“Yes. Do you know what I said?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a mischievous grin.

I giggled. “No. What was it?”

“I’m not going to
tell
you. You have to figure it out. We’ll have to keep practicing.”

At the sound of the door opening behind us, I scooted my chair away from the bed. Lad’s father entered the small room, filling it with his imposing presence. He looked between the two of us suspiciously. I concentrated hard on listing state capitols, not wanting any damning “words” to leak out.

He strode to the bedside where he and Lad engaged in what I now understood to be a conversation. I shouldn’t have “eavesdropped,” but I couldn’t stop myself from watching the captivating display on their faces. They were definitely not discussing the weather. Whatever was being said, it was pretty heated.

All traces of the previous night’s worry and concern were gone from Lad’s father’s face. Now he only looked incensed. Lad seemed angry as well, but there was also a subtle sense of respect in his expression as he regarded his father. I noticed a few quick glances in my direction and was momentarily
thankful
I couldn’t hear the conversation.

After a few minutes, Lad’s father turned on his heel and left the room, bumping shoulders with Wickthorne, the healer, on his way out. Lad let out an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. He gave me a quick wink before glancing up and smiling widely at Wickthorne.

The healer looked at Lad with a half-smile, like a tolerant uncle regarding a naughty young boy. He set to work examining Lad, efficiently checking the wound, looking at his eyes, listening to his heart and breathing. When he seemed satisfied with his findings, he gave Lad another dose from his flask.

I expected the healer to ignore me as before, but he startled me by coming directly to my chair and kneeling in front of me. I froze in place as he reached into his satchel and withdrew a soft cloth. He doused it with liquid from the metal flask, and then applied it to the multitude of scrapes and scratches on my legs one by one.

I tried to protest, embarrassed that my insignificant flesh wounds would receive any of his attention when Lad’s injuries were so much more severe. But the man simply continued, finishing with my legs and moving to the injuries on my arms and hands.

After a few minutes, I was glad he had disregarded my attempts to stop him. I felt an unprecedented sense of well-being. My skin was warm and tingling in the places where the wet cloth had touched me. Perhaps I imagined it, but the cuts and scratches already looked better.

When the healer finished his quiet ministrations, he nodded to Lad then left the room.

“Well?” I looked at Lad and raised my eyebrows.

“What?”

I stood and went back to his bedside. “What did he say?”

“The healer or my father?”

“Both of them!”

Lad grinned widely. He was purposely tormenting me. He reached out and took one of my hands, playing with my fingers. “Wickthorne says I’m healing well. The bullet did very little damage, other than causing blood loss. My father on the other hand, is considering causing
further
blood loss.”

“That bad, huh?” I felt rotten. I was the sole reason for Lad’s injuries and family turmoil.

“Well, he let me know I’ve been foolish and reckless, could have gotten myself killed, and that he’s extremely disappointed in me.” He gave me a smirk. “The usual.”

“It’s all my fault. I really should leave.”

He enclosed my whole hand in his and squeezed tightly. “No, I want you to stay. Now that I can actually be truthful with you, I don’t want it to stop. And don’t worry—I’ve been disappointing my father since long before you came back into my life.”

His grin was carefree, but I saw past it. His father’s disapproval bothered him.

“Why do you say that?”

“As I told you, he has certain expectations of me. As his son, I have responsibilities, and my father wants me to spend every moment at his heel, learning to perform my
duties
.”

“And you don’t want to take over the family business? What does your dad do, anyway?”

He laughed and reached up to run a finger softly down my cheek. “You’re adorable. The family business—yes, that’s one way of putting it. His job is… hard to explain to an outsider. It’s not that I don’t want to do my part. I just don’t want it to be my whole life. I want a certain measure of freedom that’s not exactly congruous with the job. And now that I’ve been out in the world among your people, he and I have some different ideas about how things should be done. My father does not take kindly to ‘different.’”