Vampire in Atlantis

it.
    “You, first. What happened after you pushed me down through that trapdoor, to the hiding place underneath the shop?” She paused for a moment to confirm her sense of the Emperor, and then kept walking, not giving Daniel a chance to argue. Still, they walked along in silence for another five or six minutes before he finally spoke.
    “I did my best, but I was a foolish boy. The soldiers who attacked were well-armed and no strangers to battle. Or looting and raping and pillaging, for that matter. I probably would have been better to have hidden with you.”
    “You wanted to protect me,” she said, touching his arm. “You wanted to protect the shop, too, over your sense of loyalty to your absent mentor.”
    He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Right. Absent. He was there all the time, all those days I thought he was out buying things for the shop. He was sleeping beneath my feet, hiding from the sun. Sleeping in the dirt like an animal, like he taught me to do.”
    She shivered at the stark bitterness in his voice. “But I thought he helped you. He was so elegant, the few times I met him, and the jewelry in the shop so exquisite. Where did he find that?”
    Daniel shrugged. “I made some of it. The not-as-elegant pieces, although I tried so hard—Well. That’s another story. But he purchased some of it, and I did see him fashion some of the more amazing abstract pieces himself. I remember thinking at the time that he had uncommon strength in his hands and fingers, the way he could bend the metals.”
    She remembered the unusual look of many of the pieces. So very lovely—styled with classic lines and simplicity, instead of the ornate design that had been in fashion then. She’d wanted one for herself, but her father was strict about such purchases, always telling her that one day she’d have a husband to buy things for her.
    The wave of anger that swept through her at the memory caught her off guard, as did the sharp loneliness that followed. Though she’d had so many differences with her father and had once hated him for what he’d done to her, he’d still been her father. Now he was gone, along with her mother and brother, her friends, and everyone else she’d ever known. She was alone in a world that had moved on without her, and only Daniel had survived as her single constant from then till now. She slipped her hand in his and squeezed, needing the comfort, and was relieved when his fingers tightened around hers in response.
    “One of the soldiers who believed strongly that he deserved a free helping of rings and bracelets stabbed me in the side and smashed the hilt of his sword against my head. That’s the last thing I knew,” Daniel said. “I suppose I should have been grateful that he didn’t use the sharp end and rip out my throat. I knew how to forge a sword but not much of how to use one, at least not in a real fight.”
    “I think they must have thought you were dead. There was so much blood, Daniel. You had bled so much that I was sure you were dead when we first found you.”
    His hand tightened around hers with gentle reassurance. “I nearly was.”
    “Yes, you nearly were,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I hid down there, terrified, until long after the shouts and stamping of the horses had passed. After I’d heard only silence for nearly half an hour, I finally gathered the courage to come back up and find you. But I couldn’t move the door. I tried with all my strength and even pushed with a board I found down there in the dirt with me, but to no avail.”
    “I’d fallen right over top of the trapdoor,” Daniel said. “My last-ditch attempt to hide you, I remember. And all I did was cause you more fear and pain.” He kicked a tree root.
    “No, you can’t think like that. You did your best, and you saved my life. Or, at the very least, you saved me from being used as a plaything for those horrible men.” She shuddered at the thought of being violated like that. Death wouldn’t have been worse—death was final, with no chance of healing. But death might have been easier. Ice ran through her veins at the thought of what she’d escaped.
    “You were too valuable for that, mi amara ,” he said gently. “You would have been treated as a precious commodity to become some warlord’s wife.”
    She stumbled over a fallen branch, uncharacteristically clumsy in her shock at his use of the Atlantean term for “my beloved . ” He’d called her his