Immanuel's Veins by Ted Dekker Page A

head. She chuckled once and swayed slightly, like a schoolgirl singing, lost in her fantasy.
    All the while we watched, Alek as well, fascinated by her. His eyes caught mine, held steady for a moment, then shifted away as his grin fell flat.
    Now, remember, I knew Alek like a brother. I knew his eyes. His heart. His limits. And I knew in that moment that something had happened to push Alek past his limits.
    Lucine was looking at me, face ashen. Only she and I seemed to have maintained a grip on common sense and propriety. Kesia was too liberal in all matters, and these two lovebirds had been intoxicated by some elixir of the Russians’ making.
    I loved Lucine even more in that moment, because we shared the knowledge that only we were the wise ones, the two cut from the same finer cloth. I dipped my head to acknowledge her unspoken request that I step in and make sense of things.
    â€œAlek, a word in private.”
    He held up a hand. “No. I know, I know, Toma. No need for secrets. Natasha promised not to go back, I promised not to go back. We . . . we, both of us, promised not to go back. Yet we did. But we didn’t mean to. We just went out to the garden and found ourselves so delirious with love that we thought we must dance.”
    â€œAnd you can’t dance here?” Kesia asked.
    â€œNot like you can dance there, Mother,” Natasha said, biting into an olive. “Isn’t that right, Alek?”
    He started to smile, then grew quickly serious, addressing me. “There is no concern, Toma. I assure you. It’s totally innocent.”
    â€œHow can any emotion that draws you on an hour’s journey in the middle of the night for a . . . dance be totally innocent?” Lucine demanded.
    â€œThe kind of emotion that eludes you, dear Sister.” Natasha sat, slouched somewhat, legs spread rather unladylike.
    Lucine faced Kesia. “You see, Mother? This is what your wild philosophy gets you, this disregard for doing things the proper way. This obsession with emotion and pleasure.”
    â€œI don’t see the problem.”
    Lucine pointed at Natasha. “She’s half dead!”
    â€œOr fully alive,” Natasha said, still grinning.
    â€œEnough!” I thundered. “I want to know what is drawing you both up there. Against agreement, I might add.”
    Alek looked sheepish. “Toma, you know me.”
    â€œWhich is why I ask. Lucine is right. You’ve set your common sense aside for . . . whatever this is. Now what is it?”
    Alek stood, blurting before he was out of his chair. “Food, wine, women, dance, all of it!” My concern deepened. “What do you think?” he cried. “That we’re sleeping with demons up there? Think!” He slapped his head. “We are a man and woman in love and we go to party. Is that forbidden in Moldavia?”
    â€œNo. But in my company your tone is!”
    He sat. “Forgive me. Sorry.”
    â€œAnd now so are any further escapades to the Castle Castile. Under my direct order, I forbid it. Do you hear me?”
    He didn’t respond.
    â€œAlek—”
    â€œI hear.” He looked at me, eyes grayer than I recalled. “And I obey. Sir.”
    And with that my concern was even further aggravated.
    â€œMadam.” Godrik, the butler, bowed at the door. “You have a visitor.”
    â€œPray tell, who?”
    â€œThe duke, madam. Vlad van Valerik.”
    He might have shot a gun for the shock that followed. Alek and Natasha immediately sat straight up, and I twisted to the door.
    â€œWhat does he want?”
    â€œTo speak with Lady Cantemir,” Godrik said, bowing. “He would prefer the garden.”
    â€œHe would, would he?” Kesia stood and smoothed her bodice.
    â€œAnd he also inquired if Lucine was in today.”
    â€œHe wants to see her?”
    â€œHe only inquired, madam.”
    â€œWell, then . . .”
    â€œTell him I’m