She jerked back to the headboard when she spied Omort's yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.
After hastily covering her scanty nightgown with an illusion, she made the room appear to blaze with fluorescent light.
This was why she could never sleep through a night. Omort could have bound her wrists behind her back, a simple move that would have blocked her ability to cast illusions-her only defense. "You've crossed a line by coming into my room, brother."
"Wasn't that just a matter of formality? One soon to be done away with?" He was sending his mental probes out like sonar, but she'd learned to block them com-pletely. He often demanded others open their minds to him, but never Sabine-as if, deep down, he didn't really want to know her feelings about him.
"What does that mean?"
"With Rydstrom's capture, we are one step closer to ... the inevitable."
How much longer can I put Omort off? His trespass in her room boded ill. Once she surrendered her virginity to the demon and bore the child, she would have no sanctuary to protect her. She hadn't thought he'd be waiting like a vulture, especially not with Hettiah to tide him over.
When he approached the bed, she kept her demeanor composed. Barely. "What do you want?"
"Your covenant is still intact on the east wall. It doesn't go well with your captive?"
"He is as determined and strong-willed as you said."
"Maybe I should go see-"
"No! That's not possible. He doesn't need to be reminded of our connection," she said, then hastily asked, "How goes the search for an oracle?" They were caught in a vicious cycle, locating weaker and weaker soothsayers. Each one invariably made mistakes and was executed. Then an even weaker oracle replaced the dead one. "Finding any talent?"
He gave her a look that let her know he'd allowed the change of subject. "I've selected one and dispatched fire demons to collect her."