Because he was curious to see if his master would deflect the blades just as she'd deflected that rock, Killure didn't try to stop the knives. If necessary, he could always intervene at the last second.

He let them fly towards her unhindered, watching with eager, gleeful eyes to see what would happen.

And just as he'd predicted, his unconscious master's wrist flicked up instinctually and a blue shield appeared in the air just long enough to absorb the impact of the blades before disappearing again. The blades clattered harmlessly to the ground.

Faye stumbled back in surprise. "Witch!" she screamed, pointing a finger at her sister. "She did it again!"

Killure noticed the brothers looking at his master in awe.

"Again?" her father asked with a grin that looked like it was about to split his face in half.

"Calm down," her uncle finally snickered. "She's not a witch. If she was, both your father and I would be too."

With the flick of his hand, he produced a swirling, black flame. It was connected to the tips of his fingers by what looked like tiny black threads, and hovered over his palm.

"What is that?" Faye whispered, taking a step back.

"It's called projection. Only myself, your father, your brother, and your grandpa were born with it, as far as I'm aware. Only a few others in our family tree have ever had this ability, which makes it quite rare indeed."

Killure's blood boiled at the mention of their grandfather, and he had to bite his tongue hard enough to make it bleed in order to stop himself from spewing out a harsh string of words that would most certainly get him killed.

He continued. "It's extremely rare. Only the strongest of Designers have the ability."

"And now my precious daughter!" the other whooped, patting his unconscious daughter on the cheek as though she were a cute baby animal.

"Levi, calm down," his brother growled impatiently. "We don't yet know the extent of her ability."

"But we will soon enough!" Levi cheered, practically bouncing in place.

Faye released an unattractive growl. "Why aren't either of you angry? She had my fiancé killed!"

Her uncle shrugged. "It's a shame we won't be merging with House Gallanthus, but on the other hand, eliminating the competition is never a bad thing. In fact, I'm quite pleased with this turn of events." He turned to Killure. "You're quite the assassin, aren't you?"

Fahrem's wrist barely moved, but the needle came flying through the air towards Killure like a minuscule rocket all the same. Killure brought his hand up lightning fast, and managed to catch it between his fingers a centimetre from his forehead. The needle had been thrown at a speed easily twenty times faster than Faye's knife throwing, and it was searing hot to the touch. He'd probably have welts on the insides of his pointer and middle finger tomorrow.

Killure eyed Fahrem in a new light. This man was extraordinarily powerful even without his energy. Even with the needle, he'd hardly made an effort.

"Interesting," Fahrem smiled, appearing pleased.

"Besides," Levi grinned at Faye, completely oblivious to everything that just went on, looking devilish with his small, curved horns. "Do you really think your sister could harbour enough ill will in her heart to do that? My bet is on the Icix."

"Oh come on," Faye sneered, looking Killure up and down. "Do you really think he has the brains to act out on his own like that?"

Her uncle narrowed his eyes at Killure. "Of course he does. You can see the hatred in his eyes. It practically radiates off of him. There's intelligence in there, as well. Killer instinct."

"You killed my people," Killure couldn't help himself. His voice was icy and sharp. "Surely that warrants a little hatred."

Levi burst out laughing, much to everyone's surprise. Then again, everything he did was a surprise.

He was such a strange character. Personally, Killure found him quite annoying.

"True, true," Levi grinned widely, as if they were speaking of something trivial. "I like this slave. He's as blunt as a broken nail. Now, about my poor daughter . . . how about you take her up to her room? Granted that your hatred doesn't extend to her, which it appears not to."

Broken nail? What the hell kind of phrase was that?

Killure shrugged silently in reply and headed up the long, winding staircase to the second floor.

Learning that his master's father and uncle both had this mysterious power—above and beyond the ability to merely heal or destroy—fascinated him. It also made his desire to snap their necks even stronger.

While her father just seemed like an idiot, her uncle gave off the opposite impression. He was calculated and intelligent, and his eyes were deep and penetrating. However, both had probably been alive for hundreds of years, if rumours were anything to go by. Both had to be formidable.

Killure decided to keep an eye on them. They were powerful, and powerful men always had devious plots.

He dumped his master onto her bed none-too-gracefully. Before he pulled up the blanket over her small body, Killure allowed his eyes to travel over her.

Her dress riding up her thighs, leaving her long, toned legs bare for him to see. Killure tilted his head to the side as he imagined what it would be like to have those long legs wrapped around his waist, and her intoxicating scent enveloping him as her hands roamed his body.

As he made her so wet for him that she would have to beg him to let her get her release. He could practically hear her screams in his ears right now, calling out his name over and over until her voice was hoarse and nearly gone.

Until he'd completely and utterly exhausted her.

Killure rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket over his master. Fantasizing over something that would never happen was pointless.

She was . . . mostly human aside from her horns, and he was an Icix. She'd never see his claws, tail, or wings as anything less than unattractive flaws, and his copious scars anything less than repulsive.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

Right now, what he wanted from her most were answers.

He wanted—no, needed—to know why she would risk everything for him. She didn't owe him anything, and he sure as hell didn't do anything to deserve it.

It just didn't make any sense to him.

———

When Remi awoke a few days later and all she saw was a foggy haze of blurry colours clouding her vision, she couldn't help but wonder if she was still dreaming.

The scent of sweet plums and lavender filled her nostrils.

Her mind felt groggy and disconnected. Where was she? How did she get here?

Remi tried sitting up, but her head began to spin wildly and she immediately fell back down onto her back.

She tried to open her mouth and say something—call for someone—but nothing came out. Her throat was too parched, and her tongue was like sandpaper against her mouth.

Slowly this time, Remi managed to sit up. She braced herself with an arm, and glanced around the room.

She was in her room, much to her delight. No white.

Even a few articles of clothing still lay strewn across the floor, just how she'd left it. Forever a mess.

Blue and Bliss sat on the nearby sofa, fast asleep. She doubted they'd been awake long, and had probably fallen asleep soon after coming into her room.

Bliss blinked slowly a few times, before opening her eyes fully and seeing her cousin awake.

A grin immediately spread over her face. Bliss jumped up so fast that she knocked Blue onto the floor.

She wrapped her arms around Remi's exhausted body, squeezing tightly. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other.

Bliss still had a few yellow-ish green bruises on her body from The Unseen Duke, but the swelling had gone down a lot and she was looking much better than before. She was happy they were no longer purple.

"I'm glad you're healing!" Remi said, tracing beneath her cousin's eye. Not even a hint of swelling.

Bliss raised an eyebrow and mouthed, 'I should be saying that to you.'

Blue's groans interrupted them. He fixed a fierce death stare on his sister. If looks could kill, she'd be long dead.

"I was sleeping," he snarled, clearly annoyed. His brows were furrowed and he'd flattened his mouth into a thin, hard line.

Bliss giggled and shrugged, obviously not feeling even a hint of guilt.

"You're a waste," he decided, nestling back into the couch.

He's always so grumpy, Bliss wrote on Remi's arm with her finger. She pouted and scooted off to the side of the bed. By the way, that kitchen girl has been pacing outside your door almost non-stop, and our meals haven't tasted near as good these past three days.

Remi let out a breathless laugh. "And that's my fault?"

Bliss nodded seriously. She began to write again, and Remi struggled to keep up. You need to tell her you're okay so that she'll go back into the kitchen and food will start becoming edible once again. Without her, those cooks made grey goop that tastes like horse manure.

"You've tasted horse manure before?" Remi teased, pulling away her thin sheets because she was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

Bliss rolled her eyes in reply. 'You missed a lot, by the way,' she mouthed.

"Such as?"

Your slave killed Lord Gallanthus, and Faye tried to kill you. Also, our dads keep talking about something called projection, she drew.

"Faye tried to kill me?" Remi pursed her lips in confusion. She could hardly remember anything that happened. She also didn't understand how she'd been in bed, out cold, for three days, or who got her back home.

'Yup,' Bliss mouthed. 'She's mad. I'd be careful if I were you.'

"Why?"

Bliss shifted on the bed, causing it to creak beneath her. Once again, she took Remi's arm and began drawing words. Remember what happened when Blue was assigned to kill Faye's last boyfriend? The one your dad didn't like?

"He doesn't like any of them."

Yes. Anyhow, after that happened, Faye hired a hitman to go after Blue.

"Good point, I'll watch my back from now on."

Remi glanced around again, only just now realizing that Killure wasn't around.

"Where's Killure?"

She furrowed her brows in confusion for a moment, before realization finally lit up her eyes. Oh, your slave. He's down by the pond, I think. Hasn't really left since he brought you back here. I don't mind; he creeps me out. Looks like the cheshire cat. Still devilishly handsome, though.

Remi frowned slightly. "I'm going to go find him."

'You shouldn't get out of bed,' Bliss mouthed. 'You're still recovering.'

Remi ignored her, turning and getting up so that Bliss couldn't dissuade her by mourning or writing anything else.

She had to talk to Killure and make sure he was okay.

———

A/N: 4000 views!! Guys, I can't thank you enough for all your support. Here's a longer chapter—finally one that doesn't end in a cliffhanger(; Hopefully you enjoy(: