The fireballs warming the room grew a little brighter with his anger and he quickly tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to set the place on fire.
In his arms, Kett stirred, cuddling closer, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. Overwhelmed with love, he clasped her tighter to him.
Albhar had tried to kill her. Twice.
Maybe three times.
Because who else could have turned her to stone when she was a baby? Who else would have?
He would burn.
The buzz of Kett’s scryer startled her awake, jolting her against him. Bael smiled at her as she opened her eyes, the silver fire in them banked by sleep. He brushed his lips gently against hers, eliciting a drowsy smile from her before she picked up the scryer and yawned, “Yeah?”
“Did I wake you, pet?”
It was Striker. Bael felt that prickle of unease run through him, like an animal sensing a predator. Annoyed that the last vestiges of his warm, satisfied stupor had been blasted away, he scowled at the handsome face smirking out from Kett’s scryer.
“Yes, you did wake me, actually,” Kett said, apparently unafraid.
“I’d pretend I’m sorry, but I ain’t. We all set for tomorrow?”
“Think so, yeah. Have you spoken to Chance?”
Striker grinned. “She wants to come.”
“Did you tell her she couldn’t?”
“Yep.”
“Did you tell her why?”
Striker grinned wider. “Nope. Stupid girl ought to be able to figure it out herself.”
“Yes, well.” Kett shrugged her beautiful shoulders. “These things are often more apparent to other people. Is Dark coming?”
“Yeah. Apparently he can’t get enough of fighting the bastards.”
“A man after your own heart. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
She ended the call, letting the little hemisphere of rock thud onto the sofa, and curled back against Bael’s body, nuzzling his shoulder. Her back shook with a small laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“Chance. I bet she’s livid to be left out.”
“Left out of what?”
“A good fight.”
Bael couldn’t help smiling, wondering who she was going to fight. Then he frowned, tilted her face up to his. “Now, I know why she shouldn’t fight, but what do you know?”
“I know she’s pregnant.” Kett shrugged. “Animal senses.”
“She smells different,” Bael agreed. “And her fa- Striker knows?” He couldn’t think of that hideously evil man as being anybody’s father-let alone his queen’s.
“He always knows,” Kett said. “He knew Nuala was pregnant before she did. And he knew they were going to be triplets. And he knew there’d be two girls and a boy. He even knew the birth order.”
Bael whistled.
“Of course, being Striker, he wrote it down somewhere and didn’t tell her. Hey,” she said, sitting up and pushing her springy hair back, “will Chance and Dark’s kids be Nasc? I mean, she’s human. Well, almost human.”
Bael shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know any Nasc who’ve mated with non-Nasc. Hell, I don’t know any other Nasc at all, except for them.”
“None at all?”
“No.” He idly stroked her back. “I was always too frightened of being discovered. I listened for news about the king and his sister, but I never tried to find anyone. My father put the fear of the gods into me about the Federación. I heard news about the Nasc, kept my ears open, and I heard about what the Federación did to freaks like me.”
She gave a half smile and lightly punched his shoulder. “If you’re a freak, what does that make me?”
“Gorgeous,” Bael replied promptly. “Sexy.” He kissed one side of her jaw, just under her ear. “Perfect.”
“Give over,” she protested.
“Nope. I love you, Kett,” he said sincerely, not allowing her to duck away from him. “I’ll do anything for you.”
“Kill Albhar,” she said tonelessly, and he straightened.
“Seriously?”
“That’s where we’re going tomorrow. Striker’s good at finding people. Plus he likes exploding things. I’m going to find him, I’m going to give him a chance to repent, and then I’m going to-”
“Move away while I incinerate him,” Bael finished for her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Kett, quite apart from the fact that Albhar is the closest thing I’ve had to family for twenty years and he intended to sacrifice me in a ritual, don’t you think I’d go after him for what he did to you?”
“I can take care of myself,” she said stiffly.
“I know you can, sweetheart, it’s one of my favorite things about you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “But you’re going to have to put up with me trying to protect you now, I’m afraid. That’s just the way it’s going to be.”
“You are so full of-”
“Love and admiration for you,” Bael said, kissing her mouth again. “Seriously, Kett. He tried to kill you, three times by my count. He had you turned into a statue for eight years! What sort of person does that to a baby?”
“A ruthless one,” Kett said. She frowned. “How do you know Albhar did it?”
“Who else would? He beat and starved you,” Bael said, his fingers tightening on her arms. He will burn.
“On your orders.”
Bael winced. “Yes. Well. Have I mentioned many, many apologies for that?” He gathered her in close.
“Bael,” she interrupted. “Look. You said he’s the closest thing you have to family. You shouldn’t be the one to kill him.”
“Yes,” Bael said grimly, “I should. Not just because of what he did to you, but because he’s supposed to be my family and he tried to kill me.”
“Don’t kill him for revenge,” Kett said, her eyes flashing. “Kill him because it’s the right thing to do.”
Bael, who’d never bothered hugely with what was wrong and what was right, frowned, but he nodded.
They were both silent for a while, then Kett said, “Anyway, it’s academic. Striker’ll probably get there first.”
“What grudge does he have against Albhar?” Bael asked, thinking of his mentor’s extremely minor talents.
“Oh, none really. Well, apart from Albhar being involved with the Federación, who are responsible for that huge scar on Chance’s back. But really he just likes killing people. Chalia doesn’t let him do it very often.”
“Lovely,” Bael said. “How-and I realize I may regret asking-how does Striker know where Albhar will be? He’s probably left the Vyiskagrad house by now.”
Kett nodded. “Yeah. Striker reckons he’s gone south. He’ll know better once we’ve crossed the Wall, but his guess was Pra-”
She froze.
“Pradesh?” Bael asked, and Kett gave a mechanical nod. She breathed jerkily for a few seconds, and when she spoke her voice came out very calm.
“Bael, when you said you used to know the Maharaja of Pradesh, you were just bragging, right?”
“Sure,” he said, and she relaxed. “But it was true all the same.”
Her eyes went distant, panicked. Her fingers traced the faded scar on her thigh.
“Kett?” Bael prompted.
“Does Albhar know him?”
“Probably. He used to brag about being friends with the Governor, when Pradesh was still a colony. Now it’s been handed back to the-”
“Maharaja,” Kett said, “who I was performing for the night before I found myself strung up in that cave with you.”
“Performing what?” Bael asked, terrible jealousy ripping through him.
“Shape-changing. As an entertainment. I don’t do it often. I just did that as a favor. Shape-changing, Bael, the day before the cave.”
A terrible silence followed.
“Albhar knows him,” Bael said.
“I know him,” Kett said. “He took me in when my leg was hurt. He was kind to me. He helped me get hold of my parents and Striker. I went back there to perform at his daughter’s wedding as a favor.”