No, they didn’t—but they knew the other one wasn’t dead. That’s what she meant, and right now Rule would define okay as “not dead,” too. He studied Cynna’s face. She talked strong—she was strong—but she had a bruised look around the eyes that worried him. He kneaded her shoulder lightly. “Maybe you should eat.”
She gave him a wry glance. “Cullen’s always trying to feed me, too. I promise you, it won’t help right now.”
“Hmm.” Humans did benefit from regular meals, if not as dramatically as lupi, but Rule didn’t argue. “I don’t know if it will help you, but I remind myself frequently that we would have already heard if he’d died. The waiting is hard, but bad news would arrive quickly.”
“True. And he’s going to be okay. I know that in my gut. It’s just that my head knows other stuff—like that it shouldn’t take this long. I don’t know a whole lot about healing, but I know it doesn’t take this long, so whatever Nettie’s doing isn’t working right.”
Hard to argue with her when she was right. He did his best. “Her healing may not be working normally against this poison, but he isn’t dead, so it is working.”
“Right.” She gave a firm nod, grimaced, and said, “Give me a hand up, okay? I’m stiff.”
He stood and helped her rise. He wasn’t sure how much she really needed the help—her center of balance was disrupted, but she was extremely fit.
Once on her feet she ran both hands through her hair, glanced at the room’s other occupants, and said quietly, “Guilt always makes the other feelings worse, doesn’t it?”
Startled, he blurted, “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.”
“Of course I do. I didn’t say the guilt was accurate, just that I feel that way. This wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t gotten married. My choices led to him being attacked. His choices, too,” she added, “not to mention the bastard with the knife. But that doesn’t eliminate my guilt-o-meter.”
Now he truly didn’t know what to say.
She nodded as if he’d spoken. “Yeah, I hate it, too, but who could attack him at Nokolai Clanhome except clan? And why would they? Cullen makes people mad all the time, but mad enough to stick a knife in him at his baby party . . .” She shook her head. “It’s the marriage thing. It sent someone round the bend.”
“We don’t know that for fact, but if it was someone in Nokolai, my father will find him. He declared the attack an offense against the clan.”
Her brow wrinkled. “He did? Oh, yeah, I sort of heard that, I just wasn’t paying attention at the time. That’s . . . shit, could that mean clan war? I mean, if it wasn’t a Nokolai who did it.”
He’d meant to reassure her. It sure as hell reassured him, since it meant his father hadn’t been involved in the attack, however indirectly. “No. You’re thinking of the clan wars of the 1600s.” Cynna was learning clan history from the Rhej, he knew. “This isn’t the same situation. Ah—put roughly, back then, several of the dominant clans were too even in power, which encouraged excesses. The only clan that is equal in power to Nokolai today is Leidolf.” Several others were strong enough to be a problem if they acted together, but he decided not to go into that possibility.
“Obviously it wasn’t anything Leidolf did officially, because you’re their Rho. But is there any chance someone from that clan acted . . . you know, unsanctioned?”
“If they did . . .” One of the mantles in Rule’s gut stirred, and a chill place opened inside him. His voice dropped. “If someone took that upon himself, Leidolf will deliver a full apology to Nokolai.”
“You’re worrying the Parwanis.”
“The what?”
“Them.” She waved at the other end of the room. The Pakistani family—matriarch, youngish couple, and toddler—were staring at him. The toddler giggled. The others, as Cynna said, did look anxious. “I’m not hungry,” he growled, annoyed. “Do I look hungry?”
“You look pissed. You look like you meant you’d deliver a body, not an apology.”
That was precisely what he meant, but in an effort to do better with the reassuring, he didn’t say so. “In some ways it would be convenient if the attacker were an unsanctioned Leidolf assassin, but I can’t imagine one penetrating Clanhome at such a time. Even if he got past Benedict’s guards and no one recognized his face in that crowd, he would still smell of Leidolf.”
She frowned. “Lily said something about it maybe being an Asian guy. I don’t . . . What is it?”
He’d turned away from her to face the door. Footsteps in the hall . . . soft-soled footsteps like dozens of others that had passed, almost inaudible even to him with so many other noises masking them. He didn’t know why these particular footsteps had brought him to alert, but—
A tall woman in green scrubs paused in the doorway. Smiling.
“He’s good,” Cynna said, bouncing on her toes. She took two quick steps toward Nettie, stopped, and grinned back at Rule. “Didn’t I tell you? I told you he’d be okay. My gut knew it.”
“You did.” He came to her and put an arm around her, right where her waist used to be. “You’re crying.”
She dashed a hand across her face, her grin shining through the dampness. “Of course I’m crying. It makes sense to cry now. Can I go see him? Lily said I need to watch out for him. The perp could try again. I need to . . .”
She wobbled suddenly. Rule tightened his arm. “You need to sit.”
“Weird. I’m not going to . . . I don’t faint.”
“Of course not, but you will sit down now.” Rule half carried her to the nearest chair—which was a couple seats from a young teen, who’d been texting the whole time she’d been here. The girl looked up, amazed. Perhaps she’d just now noticed there were others in the room. He lowered Cynna carefully and knelt in front of her. “Head down.”
“I don’t faint,” she repeated, but didn’t resist when he gently pushed her head as far toward her knees as it would go with her expanded tummy in the way.
Nettie sat in the chair beside Cynna and rubbed her bent back.
“I’m fine,” Cynna informed her feet.
“Of course you are,” Nettie agreed, “but keep your head down a moment or two. It will make the rest of us feel better.”
The barest intake of breath alerted Rule. Lily stood in the doorway with Jason directly behind her. She stared at Cynna, stricken.
TEN
“CULLEN’S okay,” Rule said quickly, rising and going to her. “Cynna turned dizzy from relief, that’s all.”
“Okay.” She nodded firmly. “That’s okay, then.”
He asked very low, “Did you find him?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t expect you to leave the scene this soon unless you’d identified the attacker.”
“Turns out I know one of the deputies they sent. He’s a good cop. He’ll do the job.”
He understood what she hadn’t said: she’d wanted to be here, with him, in case the news was bad. Rule took her hand and squeezed, then glanced at Jason, lifting his eyebrows in question.
Lily answered the unspoken question. “Cullen will need a nurse. Ah, Rule, who gave you that T-shirt?”
“Modean Webster. She’s a large woman, so she thought it would fit, which. . . . ah,” he said, looking where she was. “I hadn’t noticed that.” The T-shirt read in small letters, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.”
“It needs a postscript,” he said. “Something like, ‘I’m Rule Turner, and I approved this message.’ ”
That made her grin.
“Approved what?” Cynna said. “Oh, never mind. I’m fine, Nettie. Really.” She stood to prove it. “See? No one listens to me, even though I was right. Wasn’t I right, Rule? I said he’d be okay.”