Praetorian Rising, стр. 95
"Safety from the virus, yes I know."
Langhorn shook his head, his mossy eyes narrowed with intent. "No—safety from yourself. Without it, the Praetorian Virus would overwhelm you with its intoxicating power. You'd become an unchained Praetorian, losing complete control of your humanity."
Vesyon nodded, already understanding this clearly and yet struggling to wrap his head around why Langhorn was telling him. "I know this already. What's so bizarre about her medallion?"
"Her medallion has no pulse, no vibration at all—just like when you rescued her from LeMarc eight years ago. I had thought that instance was a fluke, perhaps because she'd been so weak. But it appears I was wrong. The medallion is doing absolutely nothing for her, and I'm almost certain the virus within her bloodstream hasn't had many restrictions for quite a long time."
Vesyon's eyes widened. "Are you saying she's no longer a Praetorian?"
"I can't honestly say what I think," Langhorn said, sipping his tea. "I need to do more research to be certain. Most unchained Praetorians are unable to control their emotional functions. One specific emotion would take over, leaving the Praetorian to be a shell of the person they once were. This is different though, something I've never seen. I don't believe she was ever just a Praetorian, to begin with."
"What do you mean? How's that possible?"
Langhorn opened his mouth as though to respond, but instead snapped his lips closed again on a lengthy pause, gathering his cloak more firmly around his thin shoulders. Despite the plethora of lines scrolled across his features, he carried himself with a young air as though a twenty-year-old man lived within a ninety-year-old body. There was age and wisdom in his almond-shaped eyes but also an abundance of vitality. "Did you happen to see them?"
"Them?" Vesyon asked, his stomach dropping like a lead ball in his gut. He watched as Langhorn's expression glittered with wild excitement in the way they always did when explaining a new theory. It was remarkable to watch his massive enthusiasm, sometimes even awe-inspiring. In some instances, it was terrifying. In moments of discovery and quick judgment, especially when concerning an Asperian life, Langhorn could make some of the most impossible decisions. It was the requirement of being a successful physician: cold-hearted ruthlessness in dire situations.
"LeMarc's new army. They're called Night Raves—unyielding from what I have heard."
"How did you know about them?" Vesyon asked, bewildered so far beyond surprise he wasn't yet able to be angry Langhorn hadn't sent word of what he'd known.
"Well, I haven't known for long," Langhorn said matter-of-factly, obviously recognizing a possible flicker of heat in Vesyon's words that could flare into full-blown fury. "I found out recently what they are. I had no idea if they would be at Romeo Village or not. But from the look on your face, they were absolutely there."
Not able to process the information fast enough to respond, Vesyon merely nodded. "Why is this relevant?" Vesyon asked, trying to keep his voice under control, but it was useless. He saw the gleam of exuberance flutter through Langhorn's expression and felt the burning heat filtering through his own system at a rapid pace. "No," he said, desperate to halt the information he was undoubtedly about to hear. "It's not possible; it can't be possible."
The puzzle pieces unwillingly slipped together in his head, and he knew without Langhorn uttering a single word what he was about to say.
"It's just a theory, a possibility. I can't be certain, not until I do more tests," Langhorn replied, appearing uncertain for the first time. The old man's lips twitched in apparent acknowledgment of what he was about to say to Vesyon, but he bravely continued, knowing that it wasn't going to end well.
"Remember how I discovered the Praetorian virus?" Langhorn began lightly, as though they were talking about the weather. "And when I told you about the Dai'Cia Kingdom and my dalliance with Queen Isis before I met my wife?" He said it with a straight face, but Vesyon knew it was difficult for Langhorn to talk about his past so openly.
"They're incredible beings, the Dai’Cian—bred as soldiers from birth," he continued, taking a small sip inbetween sentences to give Vesyon ample time to take in the information. "They are strong and powerful, with an immune system unlike anything I've ever encountered. I was curious to see what made them so incredibly different than Asperians. Geographically speaking, they aren't so far north of us to be considered out of reach. I wanted to know what made them…them. My small curiosity turned into a much larger experiment, which led me to create the Praetorian virus in the first place. It was something I never should've explored," he said, sighing into his mug. "I had no intention of allowing my discovery about the effects of Dai'Cia blood to fall into the wrong hands, but it did. Anyways, my point is that Night Raves aren't created, Vesyon—they're born. A Dai'Cia native and an Asperian mating is the only way to birth a true Night Rave."
Vesyon's head spun. "But I know Camille; I watched her grow up. There were no signs of her being anything but a normal, Asperian child."
Langhorn's frank stare leveled on Vesyon as he set his teacup back on the smooth wooden table. "I know this is hard to hear, but think about it: we don't know who Camille's birth father is. Jesabelle came back to us after seven years serving with the High King as an Equestrian, and she was already six months pregnant. It very likely could've been on her travels, or it could have happened—"
"No," Vesyon said, shaking his head violently, not allowing Langhorn to finish